#maybe if i don't lazy fool i can make it

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb) | x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

tagging @starkeysprincess bc she saw it first <3

[etherfabric]

Messages from Your Protector

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

Pile 1

The Fool, The Moon rx

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Oh my dear. I see how scared you are. I know this is nothing like anything before. But somehow also exactly like the thing you were running from your whole life. I know how unclear everything seems. How uncertain. You don't dare to move one inch.

Let me tell you now: The inch is enough. And you can take all the time you need. You can't see that from where you are, but from where I am, I can tell that time isn't important. Not at all. It doesn't make sense to you, nothing lately really does. All you had was your mind to rely on, and it's slipping away from you in ways you tried to avoid your whole life. They called you crazy, a liar, a drama queen. So you swore to always pay attention to the exterior, and only stick to the hard facts, to never be accused of that again.

And now suddenly everything turns to smoke. Nothing solid, no foundation to lean on, no former structure you recognize.

You might feel doomed, cursed, imprisoned. Imprisoned in something only you can see and feel, and not even those sensory informations seems reliable. Let me tell you, my precious lightbeam: This is your initiation. It is not for nothing. Far from it.

Not everyone is called to do this, and those who are, rarely feel "good" (in the former sense of the word) during it. It's one of the highest gifts the Universe can bestow upon you, but the process of shedding and rebuilding has phases of liminality that can't be skipped. You ask why this is happening? So you have only one thing left to use and turn to, so it becomes stronger than ever: Your faith. That crazy, invisible, unprovable thing you felt your whole life and ran from. Now it's your last resort. It seems cruel, but once you allow yourself to fully embrace it, be assured, we will bathe you in light and miracles that will carry you across this abyss. Just ask. Invite us, and we will come. The famous leap of faith is your only means of transportation right now, so to speak.

We love you so, so much. And honestly, you are doing amazing already. On our plane, your light is shining brighter than ever. We were never this close to you, and we love it. We know it doesn't feel this way all the time for you, but please listen to your intuition more. It's there to help you, not harm you. Those that judged you anytime you acted upon it are on their own, separate path. Don't let them sway you. Deep inside, you know it's something big and important, what is happening right now. You are doing amazing. We love you so much. I can't say it enough. You will get through this and be thankful. Later. Maybe you can find a smidge of that gratitude now. When you let your true opinion arise within, and dare to listen.

Pile 2

7 of Pentacles rx, 10 of Pentacles

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It's already done. The seeds are planted. This is a time of winding down, breathing in what you already have, let it enrich and nourish you. No one will come and take it away, claiming you are "too lazy" or "ungrateful" to "deserve it". Who told you this? Don't you know they were talking to themselves? To their own shadow, which they cast upon you, to not be blinded by your light? My dearest soul star. Can't you feel it, behind the worry and fear, underneath it all - the hum of completion? It surrounds you, it permeates the space between your atoms, it carries you across this cosmos.

Just imagine this gigantic planet you sit upon, its own attraction to you keeping you grounded. You belong here. You deserve everything that Life gave you. You deserve everything you worked for, and also everything you never worked for and just have, AND you deserve everything that is to come. Oh, there is a lot to come. So many blessings. You don't know even half if it yet. And that's exactly how it's supposed to be.

We don't want you to be exhausted from worry when we bring it to you. We want you to be soft and open, so it can touch your inner being - the only place where true satisfaction can take place. Look around you. The room you are in, or the environment you reside in for now. All this exists at the same time as you. Isn't that proof enough? Who else should it be for? Dare to connect to it, through whatever means sound right. Dare to delve into it. Dare to lay your hands on it, smell it, taste it, observe it, hear it. Draw pictures of it, in your mind, on a canvas, in the dirt on the ground. You are a part of all of it. You are part of the world to everyone else!

The time it takes to get you there is meant for you to enjoy what you have so far. Things will change, and the present will be another shape than the current one. So enjoy it while it lasts, until the upgrade arrives. Remember how desperate the past version of you was for so many of these circumstances? Get back in touch with them to feel their bliss and satisfaction. They are always there to help you. All the versions of you, past, present and future. They all love you in their own way, and they all are connected to you and bring their talents and wisdom as soon as you let them speak. This can be in a dream, a song, a memory, a word you read somewhere that tugs at you. Maybe a smell, or a name. Follow the thread, make space for the unraveling, and be assured we are always protecting you from what could truly be harmful. Nothing you can't take.

Admittedly, our relationship to pain is a rather abstract one compared to your incarnated self - so apologies for sounding aloof - but it carries deep truths, and is never the whole story. Promised. It will pass. You are doing so well. We love you so much more than you can imagine. For now. Soon, you will have a better idea. If you ever need our help, just call us. However feels most authentic. A thought is enough. Then listen for our signs, and dare to believe them, just like we believe in you.

Pile 3

The Star, Knight of Wands

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We are sending you support on all dimensions. You won't see it coming. It won't look like it moments before the event (or several events...) and you will be close to giving up on hope. The rhythm of the recent days was just the "right" wrong mixture of stagnation and overwhelming, sudden changes, and you are exhausted. You have lost things that you held very, very close to your heart, and you thought they belonged to your destiny.

Memories, associations, dreams, fragments of what is lost haunt you, and you try so desperately to make it fit into the picture. Sure this mean it will come back...? Well. Yes and No. Yes on the spiritual, emotional, ethereal plane - what you felt with them is just an appetizer compared to what's to come. It's a manifestation upgraded tenfold. But no, it won't be them exactly. I am so sorry for your pain - but I am not sorry for the context in which this loss happened, because I see the purpose it serves clear as day. You have to wait and see for it to unfold before your very eyes (at least the first two of them), and many fears and worries birthed from past disappointments will pop up.

Don't read those as prophecies - they are asking to be purged! So the canvas is clear for your upcoming masterpiece. It will happen at just the right time. It's not going anywhere. It is yours, and it will wait until you are ready. Promised. Your pace is just the right pace. Listen to your emotions, as untamable they might seem at times. Learn to dance with them, instead of fighting against them, and be it just one intentional second for starters. Your limits are there for a reason, and no one wants you to hurt yourself unnecessarily in the process. You deserve the reassurance and patience you need, and we hold that frequency towards you all the time.

There are judgements from people from your past still attached to what you deem true, and to which you assigned great meaning and weight in how you should be treated by the Universe, and all the people in it. You don't dare to go near them - they bite back. Like a wounded animal. Let's see how gentle you can go with them. We assure you, they will calm down as soon as they know you mean no harm. As soon as they feel you have the same patience and reassurance avaible for them you deserve. Watch the alchemy unfold, and bask in your accomplishments. This is the stuff transformation is made of. We are so freaking proud of you!

Pile 4

The Hermit, The Moon

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What you bring to the world is something not many will understand. We see your dedication, and be assured, you are on the path that was agreed upon before you came here. The unfolding of your inner voice is a marvelous endeavor without any witnesses, just yours to experience. You have never been so lonely and so rich in your whole life. And this is just the beginning.

We protect you from the harm that could sway you, but not the harm that can teach you. There are people around you who are blind to the light within, even scared when it shows up. They don't know what it means, at least not from their limited perspective they deem the whole truth. We see you trying to extend a helping hand, but this is our influence when they don't take it. You need all this energy for the next phase of transformation.

Your discipline and strategy so far has served you well, and we command you for your endurance. This is a whole new game, and you play it quite well. But be warned - this won't last forever. You might dream about what soon will finally be, to exchange it for what is right now. You will miss this once it's over. Not because the future is so grim - on the contrary. But because the beauty of inner transformation is not a constant or easily accessible one, and you either pay close attention to decipher the music in it now, or you will only have the tinted glass of nostalgia as a way back to it. What seems like a chore now will soon be the holder of self love when you look back on it. This might mean nothing to you, or even come across as accusatory, or threatening even.

We never mean harm. We are light. We are love. Just like you. What we want to invite you to is daring to be grateful to be you right now. This version of you won't last forever, so why not love it? Just for what it is?

That is why we send you this tsunami of solitude. So you and you can finally get a room and connect. Look each other in the eyes, deeply. And see how you are just perfect for each other, and exactly what you need and want. After all, this is what you chose. This is exactly your style. And it suits you so, so well.

[crows-in-the-house]

Bill Cipher x Reader possesion hc's

tw: harm to reader, violence and blood?

i think he would posses you in your sleep, making sure you are deep in nightmare realm, getting in only when he's sure you won't wake up :

he will start his fun with drawing eyes on your eyelids and your forehead, maybe whole body if he's in the mood,

and the best part? It's going to be with a the pernament marker sucker!

if he gets bored he might start drawing triangles or riddles, sometimes just in places you won't see, like "Bill's property" on your nape (ha! you still have that you fool!)

oooh, and maybe he will tattoo that if you've been ignoring him lately

just so you know haha

will try to see if he can bite of ur fingers

will eat spiders (his fav human must be well feed)

will bath you in nailpolish so you're "well preserved"

will prank call random people hoping he finds any of the Pines numbers (so you two can go on a murder date!!)

will make a fashion show!

but don't hope it will turn out well, he will cut out "clothes" out of your curtains, make a shawl out of toilet paper and use a grater as a bracelet. Later you may just find yourself half naked cuz he bearly knew how to put back normal clothes on you (he will defend himself saying that real clothes are boring and out of style)

on the other hand he will also put on lots of jewelry and accesories - so you may also wake up with three hats, old winter glove, two bowties (which you didn't own earlier?) and 6 rings on your toes. enjoy!

sometimes Bill will just watch tv. Maybe he will comment on "my little ponny" or other shows, what else can he do? He has to talk to somebody, you know, while waiting for his lazy human. The next day you can feel ur throat burning and eyes itching

"what about building a portal?" - you would ask. Well no, he obviously does that. It's just that it's not so enjoyable when you don't have anyone to boss around! So he gets bored quickly and nags you about it later. Or send you more nightmares about it, cuz how dare you be so sloppy with your work!?

he will also draw himslef on all your mirrors so you can look at him every time u try to look at ur relfection (if you try to clean that off, he will just scratch it with something sharp the next day, so better be cearful, theres going to be lots of glass shards everywhere)

prolly will just throw brokade everywhere cuz its pretty

if he's feeling lonely or desperate he will start rewiring your brain, maybe adding a few fake memories where he's your hero, or putting himself in a place of somebody that helped you in hard sytuation. Remember that one time you got sick and somebody was next to your bed 24/7? Yeah it was Bill, do thank him.

will read all your thoughts about him

will drink a soup made of energy drinks and candy

will write his name on ur brain. or heart. or lungs, maybe just everywhere, why not?

will act like you in front of the mirror and compliment himself!

will try making a piercing. if he fails with your ears he will just practice on your tights! And neck!

will haunt down your friends, you better tell them you were just playing tag with them. Yes, with a knife, who doesn't?

will try to lick your eyeball

and elbow

also will hurt your body in weird ways but that obvious

(buuuut maybe, just maybe, he will make you not feel all the pain the next day. If he likes you that enough, that is)

[simplyreveries]

I don't know if someone has already requested this, but can I request the first years with GN!Reader who always falls asleep in weird places like on a tree branch, in the closet, under the table, or in the middle of the field, etc.? So the boys have to carry them back to Ramshackle Dorm.

ace trappola

at first, he was confused and even shocked at your strange ability to feel comfortable enough to sleep practically anywhere but of course it turns into him snickering and laughing whenever he catches you. he'd nudge deuce and tell him you're doing it again. he seriously could've died laughing and had to hold it in when he saw riddles frustrated and confused expression when you were passed out asleep underneath a table after an unbirthday party.

it comes to a point where he doesn't seem fazed or concerned if you're missing from class or something- he'd probably shake his head playfully and think you're just off sleeping somewhere unusual. he'd go off to find you most of the time. doesn't know how to wake you up, he's a, (loving) ass but he likes to stack random things on you either until you wake up or it falls. he's gotten in trouble multiple times for which in class. he'll call you a "sleepyhead" and sometimes tries to fool you and tell you you've slept through the whole day-!

much to his surprise,,, during an instance where you're just too hazy and too tired to be fully there. he groans and resorts to helping you back to ramshackle having you lazily use him as some support when walking back together. he'd tease and tell you you're lazy- but ace has never left your side when it's getting late, and he needs to wake you up or help you get back to ramshackle with the help of deuce.

deuce spade

ok not going to lie he's a little concerned. he's literally wondering how you manage to remain perfectly fine and unharmed when you somehow fall asleep int he most inconvenient and even dangerous spots. he's usually nervous and has a look of worriedness for you. deuce literally never felt more confused and SCARED when you fell asleep once inside the alchemy room... it's just waiting for disaster with mishaps in there.

deuce felt unsure if he should wake you up half of the time and when he does try it's too light of shaking or too quiet of talking to do anything. around that time ace or grim try suggesting splashing water on your face. he'd immediately figure out how to wake you up as soon as they mention that.

the time when he visited ramshackle and found you curled up in front of the steps asleep (doesnt matter how many times he's used to this he still is freaked out a bit akjshjhksk) he'll probably end up asking the ghosts for help in getting you back inside... it's almost dark too! he worries at the thought if he hadn't come over. doesn't really scold you but nervously does try to remind you to be more careful-! the last thing he wants is for you to end up getting hurt yourself because of this unique quirk of yours.

jack howl

the first time he witnessed this was an... experience, he was in the middle of track, and you were just sprawled out laying in the grass in a sunny spot. at first, he thought you were resting maybe... not actually fully asleep. he kinda just stares and tries to figure out in his head only for grim to tell him "...ya this is normal for them".

jack gets concerned like deuce and genuinely doesn't know what to do. he wants to help you but not abruptly wake you up. so, in other times where he finds you doing it again and again- he gets kind of used to it by now and doesn't seem to question it. he silently does make sure you're fine. like that one time you were peacefully asleep on a bleacher, and he quickly had to catch and stop you before you quite literally ROLLED off. you have this poor guy sweating.

though, in another time when its getting late and knows you should be back at ramshackle, he huffs and prompts to bringing you back there himself - a little annoyed by grim's snicker and climbing onto his shoulder but he does seem to make sure to look out for you. jack just prays you don't wake up, so you won't have something to tease him about later on...

epel felmier

epel silently stared for a few seconds in shock, letting himself slip cursing slightly in confusion. he regains his composure and doesn't bother waking you up if you seem- alright? he seemed to tell ace and deuce about it and they were already used to this, ace only laughed.

he panicked slightly as he found you sleeping on the floor in pomefiore once- vil would not be impressed or happy to see that and give you and probably him some small lecture. or when he found you sleeping on the steps inside the school?? does your back not feel pain?? those are times he'd actually try to wake you up, even if it took him a few attempts.

he does take it upon himself to help you get back to ramshackle, when you're not too far from it yet still managed to fall asleep right by the gate. he found grim complaining and trying to wake you up, with no luck with his paws. like ace would, grim would have you lean on him groggy and tried and he'd help bring you to ramshackle, sighing but he started to even laugh at the whole ridiculousness of it all when he's telling you to be more careful outside.

sebek zigvolt

initially, he didn't even notice you fall asleep as he loudly going on about something. he was a little shocked at first but quickly didn't hesitate to wake you up, claiming with his booming voice that it was improper at school and dangerous...! "and i thought silvers sleeping habits were terrible...!"

he is a knight (in training) and is keen with good senses and quick reactions- so like with jack, if you're literally about to fall or roll in your sleep when your off asleep in some crazy spot he'll swiftly move and stop you. grumbling how unusual it is. and he would never admit it, but you did once startle him when he found you sleeping in a tucked area, he literally reached for his magic pen. would die if you found out and deny it profusely.

it doesn't matter with all the scolding... sebek does help you. and like all the other times wouldn't dare to admit it and his slight soft spot for you. after a few failed attempts at waking, you he'd make sure you get to ramshackle himself, which is no sweat for someone like him. he couldn't believe you were sleeping outside for so long it was starting to rain!

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 5)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 4, Part 6

summary: You deal with the aftermath of last night. Lyla has a party.

warnings: very suggestive. mentions of sex, vulgar language, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this is so so so self indulgent i cannot express it enough. probably ooc asf: you've been warned.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8.5k (i'm on a strict plan and had a lot to get through lmfao)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and they were good.

Eventually, you're bundled into your room in a fit of giggles and with shaky legs. Even in Miguel's hoodie, insisted upon by the man himself, the sheets feel a little colder after he leaves. Initially, he had collapsed on top of you; smothering you with the heat of his bare skin and the sweats that ride down his hips, dangerously low. You're pushing him off, or trying to, heavy and leaden-limbed. Whether it's the weight of that orgasm or the remnants of that blunt that turns your arms to jelly – you don't know.

Honestly, you don't think you care. He's resorted to laying his head on your chest in mock sleep – clearly still high as fuck – and stretching out on top like a housecat. He's warm on your lap; so you bring a hand to card through dark brown curls that rest on the flat of your sternum. 

You'd never have known it: Miguel has a playful side, beneath all the sarcasm and red tape. 

In the morning, he's gone - with only his hoodie as proof that something happened. For you, it's a hazy memory - warmth tinged in the lazy light of last night's high. It comes and goes like the tide on a quiet beach: remembering how he touched you, the feel of bare skin on bare skin, the way it burned when he kissed your shoulder…. 

And it's gone, again. You're left tracing the hickey at the base of your neck, and it aches . A little moment like that, fooling around like teenagers on prom night, and it shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Groaning into your pillow, you burrow into the expanse of your roommate's hoodie. With a busy week incoming, you can't afford to be distracted – not like this. 

And so, you bury the urge to knock on Miguel's door, and put your lips around the words that mean… more. You want more. It feels greedy to verbalise it, as if you've seen too much of him already. The irony; humping almost fully clothed and yet, feeling so bare. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth – blood, maybe. Maybe he's finally done it: stuck the knife between ribs to find out what colour you bleed. Miguel's a scientist after all; prone to making things go pop and snap , slicing into specimens with a steady hand.

It's too much, too close for comfort and you can't afford it: affection and intimacy in any shape or size was a fatal wound , especially after last time. Instead, you let the morning waves crash over its outline left in sand. A body – blood and gristle and guts – washed away by the tide. 

You find yourself pushing down dangerous feelings. After finally getting comfortable with Miguel, all that progress seems for naught; bumbling around the apartment like a deer finding its legs. The first morning, you're spared a confrontation as he's already gone from the apartment. Earlier than usual, and you hand-wave away that little voice in your head that says: he's avoiding you . 

He's not. He can't be. And you know it because he's able to look you in the eye. Briefly, but it's much longer than you can last. You have a whole conversation when he comes home and it only makes you want to rip out your eyeballs a little. 

You're on the sofa, hands in your lap and antsy. There's a stupid soap on the TV, but you can barely concentrate; head too full of cotton to make sense of the screen. You're so lost in thought that when the door clicks open, you jump half a foot into the air. 

"Shit." You turn, watching Miguel kick his shoes off at the door. Flashing him a nervous smile, you wave limply and turn around to cringe. 

"Heeey," God. You burrow into the cushions. 

"Hey." He's got a plastic bag in hand. He drops the rucksack on his back, and goes straight to the kitchen. 

You call out. "Takeout's in the fridge." 

He hums, and you hear clattering from the doorway. Turning, you watch; sleeves rolled up in a smart shirt. You can see the muscles in his back from here; the ripple of hard lines under cotton. Craning your head, you can't help but be curious. 

"Stop sticking your nose in."

You're halfway off the couch, and stop dead in your tracks. 

"M'not-" 

He peeks out from the doorframe; catching you in the act. 

"You're not allowed to look."

It leaves you spluttering, getting off the sofa like a spoilt child. He's telling you not to look, and like clockwork you're itching for it; padding towards the counters. Miguel must have superpowers the way he catches you, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his broad chest. You're on your tiptoes and trying to get a glimpse into the kitchen. He shifts in the way, tight-lipped and shaking his head. 

"Meant it. It's a surprise." You cock your head, like you can't believe what he's saying. 

You step to the other side and he steps along with you, blocking your view. 

"... Miguel ." You say it slowly, incredulous. You're stepping closer, ever so slightly, but he stays stony-faced and resolute. 

For the first time in 24 hours, since you basically fucked him in the room next door, you're looking each other in the eye. Squinting, you hold his gaze but he barely cracks a smile. 

"Sit down." He says it sternly, but his voice is soft. "Please."

With a flourish, you bring your hands up in surrender and inch back towards the couch. It's the usual chopping and thudding of cabinets being opened and closed. It takes everything not to look back, but you force yourself to concentrate on the TV. 

Finally, he places a bowl in front of you before flopping to your side. He's still in his work clothes, adjusting the waistband of black slacks and popping off the buttons at the top of his shirt. You're trying not to stare, not to drool at the way he just melts ; sinking into the seats like a lolly on a hot sidewalk. When he brings his bowl closer, that's when you inspect the contents of yours. 

"Is this…?" You start, and he hums; taking a healthy slurp of noodles in the process. 

You shake your head to no one in particular. It's the very same instant ramen you've stopped buying, after constant complaints and lectures from the man himself. There's enough salt in here to banish a demon, he'd spit. In retaliation you'd bite back, saying, maybe you'll fuck off where you came from, and retreat to your room to eat in peace. It's your favourite flavour; perfectly salty and flavourful and definitely not good for you. In the broth, there's the milky white and yellow of an egg, with spring onions and fresh veg breaking the surface. Even before you've taken a bite, you feel that warmth at your chest, again. 

He doesn't even look at you, pointing a finger at the screen instead. 

"I thought Jenny was dead?"

You clear your throat of that lump, rising up like a fishing boat spit up by the waves. 

"That was her twin sister, Jane."

"...I thought Jane was dead." He frowns. 

"No, no, Jane faked her death in the mining accident; and ran off with all that inheritance money… were you paying attention last episode?"

"No, you watched it without me."

"Yeah, but you said you hated this show–"

" –only because it's a total rip-off of La Patrona ," 

"And yet, you're begging me not to watch without you–" 

"Begging seems a little strong–" 

He's kept his sharp tongue, and you're too occupied with arguing to notice the hand wrapped around the back of the sofa; how you're both inching closer until your legs come to rest on his own. You're focusing on his lips, drawn in by a pull that seems stronger than gravity. 

He's saying your name, and you snap out of it. Blinking up at him, a deer in headlights, you remember yourself and look away. Tension pulls at the both of you, a string as thin as fishing wire that snaps with your realisation. You like the way he looks, flushed and flustered after a long day. You could make him feel even better, right now, if he wanted it. You'd drop to your knees and wrap a hand around his cock, pulling those beautiful sounds out of him – the very same ones you'd fucked yourself to the thought of, not so long ago. 

If, being the key word. And with the way he shifts back, away from you, you're not too sure if last night was a flash in the pan or something more. 

Everything about Miguel screams dangerous; flags in deep scarlet that are telling you to stay the fuck away. He doesn't commit, sleeps around; refusing to define or put a label on any significant relationship in his life. He won't even admit, say the words, that he's fucking a half-dozen girls right now; even when you've got concrete proof in the form of messy lips and banging on the walls. Okay, maybe half a dozen is a stretch; but three girls, on three separate, multiple, occasions for sure. Probably; you haven't technically seen anything but if the precision of last night was any indicator – the terrifying speed at which he made you fold like a lawn chair – he had significant experience. He was a fucking veteran; dedicated to the sport for the love of the game. 

You find yourself caught in his web all the same; kicking yourself at your naivete. He's turned away now, seemingly unfazed, making little comments at the show you've got on TV. It's becoming increasingly clear where you stand: caught in a game of chicken with your roommate – a man with balls of steel, if last night was any indicator. You're ill equipped to deal with such levels of conflict avoidance, despite years of hands on experience. 

The question remains, stuck in the gaps of your teeth like udon, thick and dense and chewy: how exactly does he feel about you? Where do you belong? 

~~~

It's been quite the week and a half, mostly spent trying to make sense of Miguel. One minute you're at each other's throats, and the next, he's talking you through rate laws and kinetics equations. Apparently , you've got a lecturer he used to have, and he insists on sidling up to you on the dining table; prodding at your paper and liberally crossing out errors. His inconsistency has you irate ; and it means you get petty, picking fights and laying easy bait. Frustratingly enough, all it does is make that tension worse; thick and choking ; in your little apartment. 

The only thing you have to look forward to is the party at Lyla's; of which you've volunteered to help set up. It means food, and drink, and a couple hours of respite, hopefully. 

On the day, you get to Lyla's early. Miguel's at work, promising to be there in a couple of hours, and so you take the subway instead. Yet again, walking up to her apartment feels like another world – one of marble and faux fur and lots of animal print. When she lets you up, you're left with only your thoughts and the quiet hum of the elevator. In the mirrored wall, you take stock of your outfit: snug denim and a little shirt. Admittedly, your wardrobe felt a little lacking – jeans and a nice top being your go to. Right now, your only hope is that the dress code would be more forgiving. 

The door swings open and Lyla's pushing you towards the living room, chattering away at a mile a minute. It's overwhelming as you're dragged into the light, half a dozen boxes and its miscellaneous contents strewn onto the floor. 

"–and Jess has the nose of a bloodhound, so if anything seems even a little off, she'll know… "

You nod slowly as Lyla squeezes your arm with so much force, it cuts off blood supply. 

"Like clockwork. We need this to run like clockwork."

Fingers numb, you watch as her features set; a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and shadow that cuts her face just so. Overcast and dramatic; simply put, it's terrifying. 

There's a loud Pop! from behind, making you jump. 

"... sorry !" Peter's voice rings out, and there’s a tangle of brown hair and dark eyes peeking over the kitchen island. 

Walking over, you can see he's splayed out on the tiles, balloons littered all over the place. A balloon pump, long discarded, sits in its packet at barely an arm's length. More importantly, though, he's got a bundle of red hair and freckles in his arms; little May, sniffling and whining with what's left of a balloon between chubby fingers. 

"Might need some help, over here…" He says it softly, rocking the little girl in his lap. 

Lyla rolls up non-existent sleeves, face scrunched up in concentration. She closes her eyes ; fingers dancing as if typing on non-existent keys. 

"...okay, okay, change of plans." She turns to you, eyes wrenched open and hands clasped together – Machievellian in nature. You suppose; with the sheer extent of her party planning skills, able to pull strings this way and that; it fits. "We've got exactly 3 hours and 23 minutes before everyone else arrives, plus about 17 minutes, give or take, before Jess does."

"How do you kno-" You start, but Peter presses a finger to his lips. She's in the zone, he seems to mouth. 

“I need you and Pete to get these balloons done, and then we can set up the archway. I’ll call Ben, ask him where the fuck he is, and then we’ll see if we can get some banners and streamers up…. God , and the food…. think I need to threaten someone at the catering company, give me a sec,” She stalks off, muttering something that sounds important. Pete shrugs, kicking over a box of balloons; black, white and gold, a lot fancier than you had expected. May is eased off of his lap, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sniffles, holding her head up bravely. It's probably the cutest thing you��ve seen all year.

“I give her 5 minutes before she realises Miguel’s going to be late.”

“...and God help us when she does.” You finish for him, settling down on the cool marble. 

You make a start on the balloons, opening the untouched packets and pulling out a shiny pump.

“How long have you known each other?” You busy your hands by stretching the neck of a deceptively small balloon.

“Oh, Lyla?” He frowns. “A couple of years, maybe. We met because of Miguel – same with Jess and Ben, actually.”

It's your turn to frown. Miguel was the glue? It’s a picture that doesn’t quite match up with the meet-cute that you were painting in your head. If they met because of your roommate, it must’ve been a contentious group project, or someone rear-ended in the parking lot, that brought them together: something with a lot of shouting and arguing, you decide. 

Maybe Pete sees the surprise on your face, because he adds, “I’ve known Miguel for longer, though… and he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for.”

“...I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Nice? Not a chance. 

“But you were thinking it. Promise, once you get to know him–”

He’ll give you a mind-numbing orgasm and pretend it never happened. Or something like that.

“ –he gets less confusing?” You grumble. “I’ve seen enough, I think.”

“So maybe he’s a bit of a prick. But under that cold, stony exterior; buried deep, deep, deep…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Deep down , somewhere, he’s got a heart.”

“I just,” You pause, choosing your next words more delicately. “I didn’t expect his friends to be like you guys. Fun and–” …a little batshit, and… “ – spontaneous. He’s so stoic sometimes, it’s worrying. Like, he’ll just blank out on the couch–”

“–frowning in the corner like the wall’s pissed him off personally? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”

“He’s just so hot and cold! Sometimes we’re good and almost friendly, and then all of a sudden he’s avoiding me at all costs, holed up somewhere. A-And then he’s making me breakfast, like that blip didn’t even happen… did I do something wrong? Has he said anything to you? I-I just want him to–”

The man besides you chuckles. And then, you flash him a violent look that has him flattening his features in a hurry.

“He just… takes some time to warm up, s’all. He’s changed – changing. I mean, we went to highschool together and I didn’t even realise ‘til we met again in college.”

“You went to highschool with him?”

“Yeah, but I was like, 2 grades ahead of him. We didn’t really talk except… we were both in this robotics club afterschool.”

“Robotics? Wires, and circuit boards, and–”

“ –robots. Honest-to-God, hand-on-heart, stupid little robots. And being teenagers with way too much time on our hands, we’d build ‘em, and then make ‘em fight to the death. Miguel… he took it way more serious than everyone else there. We’d mess around with goobers and battlebots – hell, sometimes we’d skip to get food. He was.. He was always there, though, hunkered down in the corner and tinkering away at something.” 

“Now, I wasn’t popular in highschool, at all – I went to Robotics Club , so I think that about sums it up – but I remember… no-one could really understand him. Top of his class, always up for awards, but people thought he was a little weird. Come rain or shine, he’d always be in that corner seat with a screwdriver basically glued to his hand. And we didn’t have a clue what he was building.”

He seems wistful, thinking back to that time. 

“When I finally asked him what it was, at the end of maybe… 2 semesters,” He smiles, one that deepens his dimples and brushes the corners of his eyes. “He finally told us. It was a… a fucking arena for all the stupid stuff we built. He’d really thought it through, too: all our equipment would get jumbled up, so he made little boxes and sections to separate them in. There was an LED pad he’d programmed to keep a scoreboard. It was made out of this… self-healing vinyl so we wouldn’t need to replace it too often. He got so excited when he was explaining it all; about how it folded up so we could bring it with us when we changed classrooms, and… honestly, I think they still have it there.”

He sighs. “I think that’s all he knows how to do, y’know. That’s the language he speaks, the only one he really understands. Taking care of people, giving them what they need. You’re barely friends with Miguel, then all of a sudden he’s giving you hangover cures cooked up in his kitchen, and cussing you out in the morning, ‘cus you went a little too ham after a breakup. Or…he’s bringing pizza to your apartment at 3 in the morning, ‘cus he knew you were lying about being okay after your Uncle’s funeral.”

He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, an absentminded hand in May’s. Her stubby fingers curl around his, and then he’s back, snapped out of that distant daydream.

“Give it time. He’s been through some shit. Miguel’s got layers, like–”

“Like an onion?” You offer, weakly.

“No, no. Like one of those cheese wheel things that May likes so much. With.. with the wrapper and the waxy red stuff on the..?” He handwaves it away. “Forget it. MJ knows what they’re called.”

~~~

You put your back into helping set up. You don't quite get the theme, but Lyla explains it all whilst you hang the contents of those boxes on the wall: a maximalist, hedonistic mish-mash of food, drink and decor. She wants it to feel like if Gatsby three raves, and actually fucked that sad twink – whatever that means. The visual representation of an orgasm, but classy, she says. More, more, more; and if your back doesn't hurt by the end of it, then it's not enough. 

She's got you hauling ass across her front room, draping fabric and moving furniture like it's your job. Ben arrives and between the four of you (five, if you include May clambering on decor), it's all done. You can't help but think she's done a great job: the whole room decked out to look like the cover of an expensive wedding in Vogue – excessive but in a way that's only classy when rich people hire someone else to do it. Lush fabric in lieu of streamers draped on the walls, balloons sculpted into arches and tastefully dotted around the floor. The theme is black and white, with hints of gold, and gentle strings of pearl hang from ceilings and walls. It looks good, because it has to; Lyla's made you move everything around about a million times. 

Gleefully, she rubs her hands together, turning to all of you. "Food's going to be here in 10, I think. You guys get changed and I'll double check when Miguel's bringing the cake."

Peter and Ben disperse into various rooms – with Peter noticeably rubbing his back, May on his arm. You're left with Lyla, awkwardly looking towards her for guidance. 

"...get changed?" You look down at your woefully casual outfit. It seems you've come completely unprepared. 

"Yep. Miggy didn't tell you about the dress code?" 

…it's becoming increasingly difficult to cut your roommate some slack. With everything that's happened, rather conveniently, he's neglected to make any mention of a dress code. 

Sheepishly, you start, "I didn't know, shit –" 

Lyla cuts you off and brings a hand up to silence you. Bouncing on her toes, she's almost giddy with excitement. 

"I know exactly what you can wear!" 

She leads you upstairs to her room. You perch on her bed; and whilst you grapple with the fact that she even has an upstairs, you lose her in the deep depths of a walk-in. Lyla rummages through almost cartoonishly; wading through fur and leather and giant coats like an explorer hacking through dense forest. Eventually, she resurfaces, waving a bundle of white fabric. She hands it to you with a grin. 

She gives you some room, pushing you through the double doors of her closet to get changed. The dress feels amazing on: well-made, thick fabric and endlessly snug in all the right places. In the mirror, you marvel at how such a simple garment transforms you: a silky slip that stops about mid thigh, draped beautifully on your shoulders, and hugging your hips like a glove. There's a little slit at the side that stops just a bit higher than you'd usually be comfortable with, but… it works. Incidentally, your makeup and hair compliments the look; soft and pretty and–

You hear a small gasp from behind the door. Lyla's got her head peeking out into the room, and then she's at your side with a gentle hand on your arm. She spins you around in front of the mirror. 

"You look…" Her eyes light up, marvelling at you. " Gorgeous. You have to keep it."

"No, I can't… I won't . I was already underdressed, and this must have been expensive. I can't."

"No shit, of course it was expensive. But that's not a good enough reason… I barely wear it, and I've got more than enough clothes. Keep it ." She's smiling, head just over your shoulder in the mirror. 

"It's not too much…?" 

"Honestly, babe, it's not enough." She giggles. "D'you like it?" 

It feels weird to look at yourself like this, dolled up and pretty – contrasting how you've felt in the past few months. It feels like you've been in survival mode; exhausted and perpetually tired. On, all the time, and sick with worry about one thing or the other. You've forgotten to take care of yourself, and as a result, this feels different. 

Lyla notices: the way you stand up a little straighter and adjust your hair; the way you try your hardest to clamp down a smile. Do you like it? Slowly but surely, you nod. 

"You're allowed to like it, y'know," She says, softly. "You look happy. You look good. "

You believe it, when she says it. You let that feeling carry you down the stairs; one hand on the railing and Lyla babbling away with an arm looped around yours. 

~~~

Miguel is late – really late .

He was meant to be at Lyla'a about an hour and a half ago, which means he's rushing to get the cake. For once, at least that goes smoothly; and he picks up a little red velvet affair, piped to perfection and with " Happy 27th, Jess!" written on its face. It keeps him company on the way to the party, sitting snug on the passenger's seat as he drives more carefully than before. He figures it's better to be safe than sorry; already this late, there's no need to add cake smasher to the list. 

The day's been draining, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his favourite podcast. He knows his friends like the back of his hand, and knows that when Lyla says a small celebration for Jess, just a house party ; what she means is going the whole 9 yards, an excess of food and drink and disgustingly expensive decor, all for the sake of a birthday. He's had a glimpse of the guest list, and recognises about half of the people there – Lyla's too friendly for her own good, he thinks. He'd tried to talk her out of it, knowing Jess would be more than up for a smaller dinner, but she had her mind set. And it's impressive, what she's no doubt managed to achieve in the past few weeks of meticulous planning. 

Nevertheless, it's not something he has the energy for, right now. Work had been a slog; and he'd had a couple hours of lectures before a meeting with his thesis supervisor – where she had ripped his outline to shreds, frankly. He's still sore from that verbal lashing, but fears the one he'll get from Lyla more, if he doesn't come. 

And… and there's you, headstrong and stubborn and insisting on attending; even though he had made it abundantly clear you were under no obligation to do so. It must be out of spite, he thinks. But with the dress code, he can't help but daydream as to what you'd look like; maybe, a pretty little dress on, hair done a bit different, and… ohhh fuck. He didn't tell you about the dress code. 

He's gripping the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for such a little slip up. And it's not just the fact that he's forgotten; but he knows, considering the past few days, you might take it the wrong way. He's not stupid ; he knows he's been wishy-washy, all because it's hard to decide how he wants you or if he should. More than anything, he feels guilt; getting you high and oh-so close to fucking you, just the way you deserve, and then… he can't. It's hard to explain, and even harder for him to wrap his head around. That logical part of him screaming: you can't fuck your roommate without consequences. But he's already had a glance into Pandora's box, a taste of that sweet fruit – of temptation , strong and heady. 

It's that taste left in his mouth, of something sweet, that lingers when he walks into the party. The door's open, but even from down the hallway he can feel it: the rattle and shake of pumping music. He squeezes himself in, dodging the mass of bodies packed into the main room. The lights are low, music loud and the celebration well underway. More than anything, he's hoping it's so busy he can just show his face for a bit, and then slip out. 

He towers over other people, shuffling past, giving a nod or hello to all the people that slap his back and greet him. A scattered chorus of 'Hi' s and 'S'up, Miguel's, and then he's placing the cake on the counter, pushing past half-empty drinks and beer bottles. He snatches one up, looking around. He's watching for the furred collar that Lyla's no doubt wearing, or mousy brown in the neon lights; but with the pumping mass of bodies, he can't see much. 

He's ready to check upstairs when the crowd parts, and he sees you ; swirling in the mass. It makes his chest bloom with heat; you're gorgeous, dressed in white like an angel and smiling in a way he's never seen before. And then, his heart stops as someone else comes into view: another man, somewhat taller than you. There's an arm wrapped around your waist, and the man dances up against you in a way that makes something cold and bitter flare up within him. Miguel stays glued to the spot, for some reason, unable to take his eyes off of you: illuminated in the light, beautiful and flowing like a spectre. And like nails on a chalkboard, all he can do is watch as you dance up against someone else. 

His mouth goes dry, and then he's making a beeline for the double doors at the back; a glassy entrance to a balcony tucked away. The air is stifling in there, but when he's on the balcony, finally, he's able to breathe. 

There's someone nursing a brightly coloured drink, in its corner. Jess, big hair braided back and a velvety red jumpsuit on. She turns at the clatter of the door opening, before bursting into a wide smile. 

" Miguel!" She cheers, enveloping him in a hug. 

"Hey," He smiles warmly, sinking into her arms.  "Happy birthday, Jess."

"Thank you, kindly." She curtsies, producing a faux southern twang and laughing all the same. Then, she wags a finger at the man in front of her. "You're late . "

He rubs his temples. "I.. I know."

"Lyla's gonna fucking kill you. "

"I know."

She gives him a playful punch. "You okay, over there?" 

He gives her a rueful smile. "Yeah, Jess. Of course. When am I ever not okay?" 

"I've got a list, big guy, but we'll be here all day." 

She laughs and Miguel glances over through the glass; drawn to you even now. The song's changed, a bass line that rattles the panes, and you're still glued to that guy . Just as quickly, he looks away. 

With a front row view to that display, Jess raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze, connecting the dots. 

" Oh. " Her voice is gentle. "S'that her?" 

" Her?" Miguel echoes.

" Her . Your roommate. The one Lyla says you're fucking."

"You and I both know– " 

"Okay, okay, maybe she didn't say those exact words…. but there's something there, for sure."

"Not possible . " He says it plainly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

She leans against the railing, taking a careful sip of her drink. 

"Xina says you're doing stupid shit to impress her. Peter says you're making heart eyes whenever she's in the room. Ben says– "

"Xina? What's she got to do with anything?" He's deflecting, Jess notes. Miguel, usually so quick with the sarcasm, and he's refusing to touch the other half of what she said. 

"...you're tutoring half of her classmates."

He purses his lips. "Yeah, but I didn't think –" 

"...you didn't think girls would talk?" She splutters. Of course it sounds stupid, when she puts it like that. 

"Yeah, well, Xina's still not talking to me , so…" He trails off, shaking his head. 

"It's almost as if you broke her heart into a million tiny pieces, Mig." She rolls her eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, man." 

She turns to face the city and Miguel does the same, with a heavy sigh. It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of cars below and dull thrum of speakers behind to keep them company. He's always liked this, he thinks. A moment of calm with Jess, the only sane person for miles around. They're able to sit in comfortable silence, in a half-minute that transcends words. 

He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a little parcel that's wrapped up in red paper. He nudges Jess, handing the present over. 

"Happy birthday." 

She smiles, tearing into the little package. Then she stops halfway, heart melting at what peeks through. 

" Miguel… " She coos, a hand on his arm to steady herself. Out of the packing paper, she produces two little boots; red and blue and made of soft wool. "How did you…?" 

"It wasn't obvious, but… sick in the mornings, switching to soda when we go out to a bar…" He allows himself a smile. "And I asked what's-his-face, just to be sure."

"See, I can't tell if you actually don't know my husband's name or–" She cuts herself off with watery laughter. "F-Forget it. Fuck, I'm gonna cry all this makeup off,"

He takes a sharp intake of air. "They were… mamá made them." 

"Thank you, oh God . I know how much this–" 

He cuts her off with a hand wave, as if to say; don't worry about it. "Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding. Your husband seems nice, and he treats you well. Although , he's kind of–" 

" Corny . Yeah, we get that a lot." She's half laughing, half crying, fanning her face to stop her mascara from running. 

He wraps a big arm around her, pulling Jess into his side. Happy tears, he hopes as she blubbers. 

"I think m'getting too old for this… we don't see each other enough, lately… a-and I would've been happy with the dinner, then Lyla told me there was an emergency over here–" 

"She did good. Really good. Don't tell her I said that, though."

She nods, bringing a finger to her lips with a smile. "And you don't tell the other's about…"

"Of course not. When you're ready, Jess."

"I love you, man." She grins wide, and Miguel returns it with one of his own; an increasingly rare megawatt smile. It quickly falls with her next words. 

"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll break your kneecaps and blame it on the hormones." 

She grabs his beer, opening it with her teeth, and hands it back to him. A little scared, Miguel takes a healthy swig. 

"Oh, shit. " Jess exclaims, batting his arm. "I completely forgot. Lyla's got some stupid games on, upstairs."

"Who with?" 

"The usual suspects, Mig – though Peter's long gone and… I don't even know where Ben goes, actually. But you can bring your girlfriend up, if you promise not to eyefuck her across the room."

" Gross , Jess."

She raises a hand up in surrender, leading the way back inside. 

~~~

Miguel's here all of a sudden, and in a moment you thought would be more of a bang ; you lock eyes with him as Jess herds you upstairs. It's less of a sharp pain at the ribs and more of a crescendo; pooling warmth spreading to fingers and toes. He's still in his work clothes: crisp white shirt with a couple buttons undone, and black trousers. A little formal, and yet, he doesn't feel out of place; wearing the monochrome of the dress code, and looking twice as good as any man in the room. Somehow, you've forgotten how tall he is; lumbering over everyone else as he cuts between the crowd. He snakes behind you, giving you a strange look as you walk up the stairs. All of a sudden, you're weary of your dress, tugging down its hem as best you can. Miguel stays behind you, a gentle hand at the small of your back. 

"You're okay," He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. " I've got you ."

He doesn't mean it like that , but it's too easy for you to close your eyes and imagine what it could be; words he kissed into skin when you're on top, struggling to take his length. 

You ignore that coil tightening at the pit of your stomach, choosing instead to focus on Lyla stumbling through the door,  trademark pink shades slipping down her nose. Behind her, there's a little sitting room; plush furniture and a massive tv – with quite a few consoles in the corner, you note. She shouts your name, barely audible over the music. 

" – oh, and hi, Miguel!" She's too drunk to be mad, and you don't notice Miguel visibly relaxing. She takes your hand, calling over to Jess just behind you. "We saved you a mocktail, J."

Taking your seat, you settle down next to Lyla; perching with your legs crossed on the seat. Miguel sits some way away, on the opposite side of your makeshift circle, clearly trying not to make eye contact. Jess elbows him, and he turns to her, before having a heated argument; all hushed whispers and hand gestures. It's the most animated he's been in the past week, for sure… 

"We're playing Never Have I Ever, Jess! Like back in college."

The woman in question rolls her eyes, giving a flash of pretty dimple. Back in college, Lyla says, when they'd drink cheap beer and spill their guts in dive bars – a tradition Jess wasn't too upset to see go. She didn't have the stomach for it then, and she doesn't now; but it probably wouldn't hurt to relive some of that fun. 

It's a warmup round, so to speak; a strong drink thrust into your hands. You take turns going around the circle, starting off relatively tame. First, it's Never have I ever skipped a class. Everyone, all college aged or older, drinks to that one. It's practically a given. And then someone chips in with Never have I ever broken a bone . Again, most people drink – taking advantage of the freebies to get a little tipsy. 

It's Lyla that throws out the juicy ones, after a couple of duds. 

" Never have I ever faked an orgasm." She says it from behind her glass, giggling. 

Less people drink, this time. Sheepishly, you raise your glass, taking a healthy gulp. Lyla takes the opportunity to gasp, clutching at her chest and fanning her forehead dramatically. 

You're whispering back, half laughing and half telling her off, "That's not that weird, Ly. Hasn't everyone…?"

"Not me. How's your partner meant to know it's shit if you fake it?" 

It's her sincerity that makes you laugh; wide-eyed and completely incredulous. You're clamping down the giggles when you look around, immediately locking eyes with Miguel. He gives you an odd look, as if amused. 

You're up next, and roll up metaphorical sleeves. "Never have I ever had a threesome. "

There's murmuring around the room, and a couple of people take a drink. Lyla does, with glee, and someone else you don't quite know the name of. What surprises you, however, is when Miguel takes a swig; eyes locked onto yours. 

You feel heat rising, blinking away as best you can. You still feel his gaze, of course. That game of chicken, the one you've so desperately been trying to avoid, rears its ugly head. You think Miguel is winning. 

The questions get more and more provocative. Never have I ever been pegged… or pegged someone else. Lyla drinks, Jess takes a gulp of her fruity mocktail…. and so does Miguel. Never have I ever been cheated on. Most people drink to this one, including yourself. A shitty teen relationship barely counts, you suppose; but you're taking every opportunity for a drink right now. 

Never have I ever cheated on someone. One or two people drink, and at least they have the decency to be ashamed. When Miguel drinks, however, you shift in your seat. Something settles within you, discontent. Yet again, your image of the man in front of you changes. For someone who sleeps around, maybe it's not too much of a stretch for him to cheat ; but the word feels so final, too cruel. It doesn't match up, for some reason, with your Miguel, who brings you piping hot noodles and hot water bottles on a bad day. 

This time, he doesn't meet your eye. 

Lyla decides she's bored, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

"New game – truth or dare!" There's faux groans from around the room. Lyla sticks a tongue out, ignoring them, and continues. "Jess, as the birthday girl… you get first pick."

Jess lights up, gorgeous , with the hoops at her ears swinging to and fro when she looks around. You haven't spoken much to her, but she seems like good fun; making a whole song and dance of picking the first victim. 

It's obvious, in hindsight, who she'd pick. There's only one person in the room visibly squirming, almost sweating , at the idea of something so out of his control. 

" Miguel," She says, turning to the man sinking into cushions. "Truth or dare?" 

He gives her a look, and she combats it with one of her own; the kind that could melt steel beams, and says It's my birthday, don't be a dick. 

" Dare ." He grits his teeth. 

"I dare you," She pauses for dramatic effect. "...to show us your porn watch history." 

Imperceptible, his eyes flash towards you. You notice , mouth dry. He groans. "We're not 19 anymore, Jess. It's childish. I'm a grown ass man–" 

" Truth or Dare , Mig."

"Truth." It's quick – which is very reasonable, considering her tone. 

"When was the last time you fucked someone?" 

Everyone turns to Miguel. He's looking at you, of course, wincing at the words he's about to say. 

"I don't…" He's swirling the beer bottle in his hand, and then he shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. A… month, maybe."

" Bullshit!" Someone whisper-shouts, and then there's some laughter. 

Jess' eyebrows jump up, and Miguel bats her concerns away, whispering something under his breath. You can't quite catch it but his body language is clear: don't ask. He downs the rest of his drink, lips around the bottle, as some liquid trails down the side of his jaw. You're watching, unrepentantly obvious, and he catches your gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he swipes a finger to the liquid and licks it up.

Heart racing, you force yourself to look away and try to concentrate on the next few dares. The circle seems to have moved on, more interested in whatever juicy shit they can drag up in the next poor victim. 

You've all but zoned out when it's the turn of Jun, egged on by a couple of friends. You frown. He's that guy you were dancing with earlier, caught up in heady music and swirling lights. Jun is handsome, in that famous starlet kind of way; square-jawed, pretty eyes, and dark, cropped hair. Boy wonder is lean-lined with a nice smile; the very same that had reeled you in on the dancefloor. Maybe it's the liquor, but you think he's looking at you now; raking sharp eyes over your figure. 

"How do you know him?" You whisper to Lyla. 

She cups a hand to your ear, more than halfway to being absolutely wasted. 

"Used t-to work with him. He's nice enough, I think…? There was a rumour around the office; and apparently, he's got a massive di-" 

"Truth or dare?" Someone says. 

"Dare. Obviously." He flashes a smile in your direction. 

You squirm, and Lyla shines with realisation. 

"Oh my God." She whispers, and then she's interrupting before you can stop her. "Makeout with the hottest girl in the room. A proper one, tongue and teeth and–" 

You elbow her, square in the ribs. Thankfully, she takes the hint. Jun cocks his head, as if mulling it over. He gets up. 

Your head spins with the drink, and you're concentrating on keeping your sneakers flat on the ground. Head down, you don't notice the man walking over. He crouches, tapping your knee. 

"Oh." You say, blinking up at him. "Hi, again."

"Hi, again." He smiles. It's like you're the only two in the room, and with the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your lips… "Can I kiss you?" 

The words get caught in your throat, so you nod, fumbling. 

He places a hand to your chin, gently pushing you closer and then you're kissing; sweet and gentle. You separate, and you open your eyes to find his blown . You've got tunnel vision: his lips are pretty and wonderfully swollen – you just can't help it. 

You go back in again, parting your lips to let him in. He's cradling your jaw, tracing a hand up your thigh and it feels good. Closing your eyes, you sink into the heady haze of booze, grabbing at his shoulders. They're not as broad as Miguel's, and Jun isn't as clean shaven. When you snake a hand to the nape of his neck; it's rougher than your roommate's hair, cropped into a boyish cut instead of Miguel's gentle curl. Sighing, you both come up for air, and you're almost disappointed at the distinct lack of red-brown blinking back at you. 

Nails on a chalkboard, and you're back in the room. You look around to amused faces, catching Lyla wide-eyed besides you. Jun's cheeky, placing a quick peck to the side of your mouth before sitting down. From your vantage point, you're scared to look, to really look , in fear of what you'll see. 

Miguel, in the corner, with a white hot grip on his beer bottle. Catching that stormy gaze, something just clicks. Something resembling power, absolutely intoxicating, that heady rush you got from kissing someone else. Or, more accurately, getting a reaction from your roommate. Notoriously unwavering, and yet … he reveals a gap in his armour. A silent swipe to the ribs that doesn't kill, but draws blood. 

People are dispersing now, growing tired of the games. Lyla darts off; with the attention span of an excited pomeranian, and the excessive alcohol, she's already lost interest. You take a breather, sinking into plush cushions and catch Miguel's eye. In the commotion, he's tossing his beer and walking up to you, as if gearing up to say something. 

Someone sits into the seat besides you: tall and handsome, but definitely not Miguel. It's Jun, who smells like fresh flowers and cut grass, nudging your side. 

"You're good at that," He says, with a little smile. 

"Good at what?" You say, confused. 

"That kiss." He seems a little bashful, probably sobering up. "It was… good. "

"Not…" You're distracted, eyes flicking over to find Miguel. He's gone. "Not my best work, I think."

He stretches an arm around the back of the sofa, caging you in a little closer, and all you can do is blink up at him. 

"....you want to try again?" 

He's handsome. He's flirting . And he's present; able to give you clear signs that he wants you. It's more than a certain someone can provide, and you're left with a deep-seated need that no-one else seems to be able to fulfill. Four words ring out in your head, clanging around like pinball. You. Might. Get. Laid. 

It's enough to have you leaning up against Jun, a hand tracing circles in his thigh and fluttering your lashes as best you can. Hopefully it's a look that's says seductive, and not pink-eye. This far into the night, you don't quite have the energy to care. 

Heavy petting and drunk giggling; you spend God knows how long in that little room, whispering stupid shit to each other. You introduce yourself, and so does he. A brief overview of your life; and you find yourself desperately trying to skip the small talk. Jun works with computers. You're a student. Jun is very good with his hands. You're a visual learner. Everything seems to fall into place. 

Soon enough, you're swapping numbers and leading him out the door to somewhere more private . His apartment ; you find yourself hoping, as you make your way downstairs. 

He's draping a jacket on your shoulders, and you wade through the crowd. The lights are spinning a little less, you find, holding onto Jun's palm. In that great big room; people packed in like black and white sardines; all you're looking for is something to tether yourself to – or someone. Relationships, you've learnt, were overrated. You're young, and single, and gorgeous ; able to bag whoever you want. And what do you want? A hookup, clearly; something simple and uncomplicated, without the mess of feelings to untangle yourself from in the morning. 

There's a commotion from a corner of the room, and Jun pulls you back; craning his head to see. A jumble of people, crowded around the epicentre. He nods towards the bustle. 

"Isn't that Miguel?" He shouts over the bass, and your eyes widen.

You push past, trying to get a better look. Flashing lights, pumping music. In the red and blue and black, he's there ; hand wiping a bloodied nose. He's saying something; and a couple of guys surround Miguel, giving rough shoves and shouting something you can't hear. Someone throws a punch and he takes it, barely shifting at the continuous blows. 

It's a sobering sight, and you're worried; looking left and right at the onslaught of bystanders.

"Why isn't he fighting back ?" You say, barely audible. No-one's doing anything but watching; one or two even pulling their phones out to record. The sight makes you sick, and you're shouting his name, trying to get closer. Like a gunshot, sudden and sharp and cutting through the noise, he locks eyes with you. His eyes dark, with that same look he gave you not too long ago. 

Another cruel kick, and he's down on one knee, clutching at his stomach. You notice the broken glass, the blood in his shirt. He's goading them, and still , he refuses to fight back. 250 pounds soaking wet and at least 6"5; he's a fucking killer – and everyone knows it. Why won't he fight back?

There's a pounding at your skull, and something deep and dark and complicated that twists around your insides, threatening to rise up – and then.. and then… 

The lights are turned on, and the music stops. Lyla's at the stairs shouting obscenities; telling everyone to get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops. 

People disperse out the doors, but only a few rush towards Miguel. You do, of course, and then Jess is by his side to help him up. He must look worse than he feels because despite the bruising and pouring blood; he pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does, as if it's just a headache. He's laughing ; the smug bastard; incisors sharp and dangerous and flashing pearly white. Your heart's still racing; betraying complicated feelings. As the last dregs drip out of Lyla's apartment, you're all left to deal with the aftermath. 

Jess looks shaken, Lyla's sobering up; and you're holding Miguel's hand, elbow deep in the oil spill. 

_

_

_

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

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[lowkeyremi]

Random haikyuu hcs bc im bored ft. mattsun, atsumu, iwa, tendou and kags

Matsukawa Issei definitely sits around looking at instagram posts with you, rating any and everyone.

"Hey stink, what do ya think about her?" He asks waiting for you to lift your head from your phone.

When you do, you're met with a picture of an elderly woman. "Bro... I am not rating somebody's grandma." You push his phone out of your face and he snorts out a laugh.

"I will, she's a ten in my book." A lazy smirk coats his lips and you smack him lightly.

"You're so annoying."

"You love it." He kisses your cheek.

Miya Atsumu will give you kisses to try and gain your attention. He's lonely without your eyes on him.

He goes for your neck this time, placing a small peck on it. When he realizes you haven't stopped looking at your textbook he tries again. Your faux blond boyfriend goes for a kiss on your jaw.

"Hm?" You finally respond.

"Look at me :((("

His pout turns upward when your cute fingers slowly close the big green textbook to give him your full attention.

"I'm looking."

"Good." His smile is so pretty. Sometimes it's hard to believe you're dating him.

Anytime you text Iwaizumi Hajime that you'll be joining him at the gym he'll use heavier weights to impress you.

"Wow Haji, are you sure that isn't heavy?" You ask watching him lift a sixty-five pound dumbbell in one hand. (idk how much guys like iwa usually lift in one hand so spare me) (i don't lift more than 25 lbs in my normal workouts 😭)

"Nah, these are what I usually use." And you find it cute that he thinks you don't notice the way his muscles strain when his arm pumps up and down and he tries to quiet his exhales.

"You don't have to impress me, baby. You're already impressive as is." He sighs in relief, dropping the dumbbell to the ground.

"I don't know who I thought I was fooling." He smiles at you.

Tendou Satori is always humming/singing a song you're thinking about.

"Tori! I was just thinking about that." He hears you gasp in shock and excitement. A cat-like smile expands on his face.

"Damn, I think we have couple telepathy." You'd never heard of that but it sound like Satori to make something like that up.

"Babe, I don't think that's a real thing."

"I made it up right now :D" How could you crush his spirit when he's so cute?

"Okay! Guess what I'm thinking!"

Last but not least, Kageyama Tobio sucks at card games because he's so easy to read.

He thinks he has the upper hand in Uno, but little does he know the mirror he's sitting in front of shows off his cards and you can see the wild card he has.

I mean, it was already obvious by the way he was smirking in a triumphant way. A proud huff escaping his lips.

So you decide to knock him down a few pegs and place your yellow skip down, his face immediately sours and he grunts.

"Uno!" You call out.

"Well good luck I'm sure you don't-"

You place down a draw four and he stops talking to look you dead in your face, "Uno out!" You giggle when he throws the cards down.

"Tch. I hate card games." He says getting up.

"Well maybe, keep your facial expressions in check, baby. You're easy to read like a kid's book." (hehe see what i did there? tendou dub line :3)

[okkotsuus]

Hey, just requesting. How r u? Can I request... Barou Shouei, Karasu Tabito, Shidou Ryusei, Raichi Jingo x GN! Ahodere! Reader (Ahodere: Someone who's very friendly, kind-hearted, and high-spirited, but completely stupid when it comes to romance. They're super dense and usually mistake romantic gestures towards them as something else. Matter of fact, they can even be oblivious to their own feelings. They're like Bakaderes, but Bakaderes are more naive and childish.) Genre: crack, #Save[Various], Reader is as dumb as a rock when it comes to romance - [Various] gets encouraged by their friends (Any group of Blue Lockers of your choice) to finally make a move on Reader (or they encourage themselves with their friends watching). After practice, they finally flirt with Reader. Fairly easy right? Not when your crush is denser than a rock. It's honestly embarrassing to watch.

DENSITY (bllk) !

features: barou shouei. karasu tabito. shidou ryusei.

contents: pining. very fluffy. crack. dense reader. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 karasu. i'm down bad for karasu. shidou is his own warning tbh.

notes: i'm good, how are you? i got lazy and didn't do raichi but i hope i did this the way you wanted, thank you for requesting :))

barou shouei

it was no surprise that barou was incredibly hesitant when it came to romance. he was possibly just as dense as you when it came to the subject.

if it weren't for bachira noticing the way that his gaze would stick to you, how little he shouted in your direction: it would have gone unnoticed. all it took was just a week's worth of constant pestering from his teammates to make him nearly start clawing at the walls.

he was so pissed that they had something to hold over him, someone to torment him with. meanwhile, you were so easily unaffected, it made him question if you even held any affection for him.

but barou is not a doubting man, he doesn't get nervous over something as simple as the idea of being rejected. so, begrudgingly, he ends up walking your way after a long practice: wanting to just get it over with.

a few 'woops' and cheers sound behind him, likely bachira and isagi. he only flips them the birdo over his shoulder before stopping in front of you.

"hey, y/n. go out with me." his voice is slightly rough, eyes narrowed. he may never find himself getting nervous over the most simple things, but barou swears his heart speeds up just slightly.

your eyes widen as your head tilts to the side, brows pinching in confusion. "oh? i'd love to hang out some time! shall we invite the rest of the team and maybe go bowling?" the words nearly have him letting out a shout, eye twitching.

he sighs, gritting his teeth. barou can feel the entire team staring him down, too far away to actually hear the words but still watching. "no, not with those peasants. just us." the man grumbles, the slightest hue of pink rising to the tips of his ears as his eyes hurriedly look off to the side.

then, your eyes widened, a smile crossing your face. "am i getting a surprise for something??" you just sound so damn excited that he can't help but internally groan.

strong hands grab your shoulders, hauling you closer. barou's face is dangerously close, his brows are furrowed and a vein pops out of his forehead. "dammit you moron, i'm hitting on you..!"

"but you're only holding me, not hitting..?" he lets out a loud exasperated shout, turning and storming off while the team watches in awe.

it seems the barou will have to try again another day, he ran out of confidence patience.

karasu tabito

karasu has never been one to have trouble with finding someone, much less with being able to attract them. he was a pretty boy, tall and lean, even had a talent to boot.

but you, you evaded his charms so easily. it made him feel like a damn fool. which leads to him ranting to otoya in the locker rooms after practice.

"i swear man, it's like they don't even see me as a man, ugh..." he trails off with a sigh, eyes closing as his head leans back against the lockers. sweat drips down his face before his eyes open to look back at his friend.

otoya lets out a wicked cackle, amused by his best friend's misery. "then ya gotta do somethin' real bold, make 'em remember!" he offers, smirking as karasu's eyes widen like he had an epiphany.

the taller boy jumps up, shouting a thanks as he rushes out of the locker room. he nearly tumbles over as he skids to a stop in front of you, chest heaving.

karasu backs you up against a wall, eyes narrowing as a smooth smirk splits his pretty pink lips. "wanna get out of here, angel..?" his voice is like honey, thick and sweet.

but you don't even flush, no sense of surprise or nervousness, just that same dumb smile. "are you getting tired of the facility? i'd love to show you around the town at the foot of the mountain!" your words are chipper, but there's no sense of truly understanding what he had actually meant in them.

he swears his heart stops for a moment, eye twitching as his mouth hangs open in shock. but he decides to double down, hands resting against your waist as he leans ever-closer.

"no, but i'm awfully tired of you playing coy..." there's a slight rumble to his voice, convinced you were playing hard-to-get. karasu didn't believe that someone could ever be this dense. especially not with how obvious he's made things.

but you just blink at him, lips parting into an 'o'. he feels his heart stop as he realized you really are just that dumb, he would have to literally spell it out for you.

"i want you, in every sense of the word."

shidou ryusei

ryusei had never been one to falter when chasing the things he wanted. he has never backed down. for the longest time, all he'd desired had been soccer: scoring and winning. but that was until his eyes saw you.

like a predator he found himself observing your every moment, quieter than before. he lingered around you while in blue lock, as if someone would snatch you away.

every goal her scored has pink irises flitting in your directing, a wicked smirk parting his lips when he hears your praises. soccer had never felt so euphoric before.

he begins to crave the feeling, like an addict. ryusei scores goal after goal, getting hits from the little gasps of awe you give him so generously. he finds his cheeks flushed hot pink, eyes nearly rolling back into his head.

it's at that moment he decides he can't stand the thought of ever being without that sensation. so, after practice, only with a few wishes of his failure from rin, he decides to strike.

ryusei finds you easily, as if he was attuned to it. he doesn't introduce himself, just wraps his arms around you from behind, chin propping against your shoulder. "i have never wanted to score anything more than a goal, until you pranced so happily into my life..."

your head tilts back to look at him, a confused look on your face. you show no signs of fluster, expression completely neutral. "thank you?" your voice is perplexed, but still warm.

in that second ryusei realize how much he desires to see your facade crumble. how he wants to see you break and finally realize his intentions. he years to see your face painted in red with wide eyes locked on him: and only him.

and he never loses sight of his goals.

okkotsuus 24

[hwnglx]

𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘦 - 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧?

hi loves. i've been feeling this urge to spread some positive energy to some of you who might be struggling a little these days. so, i figured i could make my very first pac. one that will (hopefully) make you feel a little bit more peaceful. breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. take what resonates and leave what doesn't. 𓆩♡𓆪

pile 1-3 (left till right)

pile 4-6 (left till right)

✧ pile 1 ✧ queofp, moon, knofw, 5ofprx, temp, highpr, emper

hi lovely pile 1 person.

so, you're likely to be an earth sign or have dominant earth placements, and some water influences (your moon?). it makes you someone who appreciates hard work and groundedness a lot. however, there might be a tendency for you to lose yourself in your thoughts, and let insecurity take over you sometimes. i can see you blaming yourself for it a lot, and not liking that fact. especially because you have so much ambition and enthusiasm for the things you desire, you hate how your own mind can sometimes stand in the way of you fulfilling it in a way that you wish you could.

but, don't beat yourself up over this. i can see a lot of power in you, especially your intellect can do such amazing things. you're probably very intuitive, but maybe not fully aware of it yet. once you learn how to balance out your deep thoughts and see them as your asset instead of a weakness, you will be able to go so much further in life.

this might take some time, so don't rush and trust the proccess. maybe you still are in need of some more maturing. but believe me when i tell you, you have everything you need within you already. you're an extremely powerful and special individual, who's destined for so many amazing things. i can see you surprising yourself with how much you can achieve, if you just believe in yourself and your capabilites more. the world can be so vast and overwhelming, and this can get too much for you sometimes. but i'm telling you right now, that you were made for this. there's nothing in this world that you can not achieve, the universe put so much potential in you.

you will have your time to be your best self. once you get to a stronger and more stable place, you will be able look back at the times you doubted yourself fondly. stay strong, trust yourself, don't let the unknown make you insecure. you got this. i believe in you 🤍

✧ pile 2 ✧ 7ofp, 6ofw, 10ofw, herm, 10ofsw, fool

hello there, pile 2 person.

my god, i can feel the heavy weight on your back right away. are you very tired and exhausted? i know, you've persevered through so many burdens and draining periods in your life. i know that, eventhough to the outside it might look like you're successful, you're achieving many things and get praised a lot. but deep inside, you feel lonely. i know that constantly being seen as the "hard working, dilligent and persistent person" can be so much pressure, that sometimes you wish you could just give up.

is constantly wanting to look perfect to the outside world draining you? do you sometimes wish you could just let loose, not care about a thing in the world and allow yourself to be free? i know it must be so hard to feel like you can't let anyone in on these thoughts. i know you don't like people looking at you as weak, insecure, lazy or easily tired. but i am here to tell you, that i understand and support you. i am here to tell you, you are not alone in this journey. and there is someone who, even if they can't fully relate, will accept you with all your weaknesses and flaws. who knows, maybe they aren't even weaknesses in anyone else's eyes.

you're so incredibly hard on yourself, and should allow yourself to rest more. you've earned the rest, even by just being you. you don't have to constantly be productive, do or achieve something in order to let yourself relax. you deserve to be at peace at all times, even on days when you didn't do anything.

go outside, let yourself feel the freeing breeze or the beautiful sunshine, allow yourself to just feel life flowing through your veins sometimes. realize how precious you are, by just existing and being you. there is nothing in the world more valuable than the life and soul you were given. don't let yourself be persuaded into having to be anything more than you already are, you and your raw existence are good enough.

i am so proud of you. for enduring through so many burdenful moments in your life. please, tell yourself that it's okay to sit back and enjoy peace sometimes. you are doing an incredible job. celebrate yourself for the beautiful person you are, not only the things you can do.

✧ pile 3 ✧ queofc, 7ofp, pagofw, emper, kingofc, 7ofsw, 9ofp, moon, judg, wheel

hi sweet person who picked pile 3.

wow, there's definitely many things going on in you, hm? you might have some strong water placements (i'm feeling cancer strongly..) which makes you a very emotionally intelligent person. i'm aware of how that can impact you and your practical life sometimes. there is this very unique intertwine between being very mature, but on the other hand still getting humbled from time to time, when it comes to certain experiences like.. "wow. i guess i'm not that far in life yet. i didn't think i'd still have so much to learn." i think it's a beautiful thing for you to be able to take those moments and learn from them. adding them to your life experience and turning into an even better person who's more in control, more self-aware. you're truly an incredible human being. so hardworking indeed.

are you struggling to trust people sometimes? i know, it's a lot easier trusting yourself before anyone else. people are so easy to deceive you, take advantage of your trust and use it for their own selfish good. you're such a strong human being for still going through life just doing your own thing, and it's awe-inspiring to watch. i can see people almost being envious of that trait of yours, and maybe even intimidated.

are there some people who tell you you're too independent sometimes? i know, that can be slightly annoying sometimes. it's almost like.. yeah, there's a reason for that. when i needed any of you, no one was by my side. and now that i'm relying on myself, i'm too self-reliant? it can feel ridiculous and, trust me. i understand you incredibly well. but, could be there be moments where you can tell how this security you keep showing others, is slipping from you.. and you all of a sudden feel lonely? can that feeling of loneliness even surprise you from time to time, like.. you usually are so content being on your own, what the hell happened.. maybe you should realize that, sometimes it's okay to need some guidance from others.

time is an interesting thing, and sometimes it can slip by us quicker than we realize. i can strongly feel, that the universe has a very exact and special plan for you. i know, life in general can just get too much, things can confuse you, not knowing where life is leading you can make you feel so so insecure and unsure.

but i'm telling you, trust divine's timing. and realize you're in good hands. everything that is happening to you, is happening for your highest good. i know these moments of feeling so drained and not knowing where to go or what to look forward to, can be scary sometimes. but, even those moments can be so precious for you and your experience in life. i can see you looking back at your low moments and acknowledging how they were just another part of your journey, that the universe is taking you on. you're never being put through anything that you can not handle. have trust in the universe and divine's timing, and you will realize you're here for a reason. i trust and believe in you, i will cheer you on always. you're much more amazing than you know 💕

✧ pile 4 ✧ 5ofsw&kingofsw, devil&death, knofc, magic, 8ofw, wheel&10ofsw, 4ofsw&4ofc

hi there, welcome to pile 4.

so far, you might have the most demanding energy out of everyone. wow. you're definitely a force to be reckoned with.

do you sometimes struggle with always wanting to win, be the best at everything, maybe have a bit of an ego.. i can tell that you felt defeated by it a lot, thinking it makes you extremely selfish and egocentric. in a "am i going too far? is it really that serious?" type of way.

you should know that, using your charming powers to get what you want isn't always a bad thing. even the fact that you're aware of your toxic traits, already makes you much more mature and admirable than some others out there! i do believe it's incredible how you can recognize what is bad and what is good about this side of you. you're extremely powerful, being able to just transform your unhealthy habits into something more beneficial, is so impressive in my opinion. it's like, you are overly competitive? yes you might be, but that's what makes you stand out. that driven nature of yours makes you work on your skills and talents even more than others. so, don't listen to people telling you you're "too much". as long as you're not hurting anybody, you're doing absolutely amazing.

do you love to talk? i can see you being such a great communicator, you most likely are great at persuading people into things. honestly, i see you as such an endearing and charismatic person.. anyone who says otherwise is most likely just envious of your unique character. they're probably a little too boring themselves, which is why your outstanding personality makes them insecure. don't listen.

i think, you might be going through a period of powerful change, that might be scaring you right now. things might be going a little too quick and you're worried you'll lose control.. time can be a terrifying thing, and i understand you're trying your best to just stay calm. maybe you're even bluntly ignoring some signs the universe is showing you. maybe you're just too exhausted to put your mind to certain things, that could be very important for you to recognize. i know it can be tiring to constantly keep up, trying to stay so self-aware all the time isn't easy. but don't let any of these scary experiences discourage you. you have so much potential in you, and the universe has a higher plan for you right now.

whatever ending you had to go through, whatever changed for you so abruptly, was something the universe had planned for you for a long time now. don't exhaust yourself by trying to understand everything all the time, but also don't get discouraged and give up on your journey or your plans. you're an incredibly talented, magical and beautiful human being. life has a lot of amazing things in stock for you. continue devoting yourself to your plans, there will be so many fulfilling things coming for you. you're more powerful than you know, beautiful soul ❣️

✧ pile 5 ✧ kingofsw&tower, queofp, pagofsw, 9ofc, death, 5ofc, strength

hello, dear pile 5 person.

how are you doing? has something unexpected or sudden happened recently, that caught you off guard? i understand you really hate things falling out of balance, and feel like the universe is testing you right now. you feel like a lot of sharp thinking is asked of you right now, and might feel like even worse news could be coming. i have to say, i admire your ability to remain calm and collected, even during uncomfortable times like these.

do you feel like things were perfect just a moment ago, and there was this crucial and fatal moment of loss, that brought you a lot of sorrow? are you disappointed? do you miss someone? i get, that these sudden transformations must be hard to deal with.. like, i can truly feel your sadness. it's absolutely impressive for you to stay so strong. are you aware of how strong you are? you might feel like you took some things in life for granted before, and are now receiving your "pay-back" for that. were things too good to be true? but i'm asking of you, to not think about over what is lost too much. there are so many amazing and beautiful things awaiting you.

sometimes, it's okay to let your feelings loose and just cry everything out. but don't let yourself stay stuck at that point, and learn to move on. i remember when someone once told me "it's okay to cry. but once you're done, make sure you never cry for the same reason again." as hurtful as this might sound, what is gone is gone. you're so unbelievably precious and special, don't let your beautiful heart suffer too much. let some things go, embrace change, as uncomfortable as it might get. i promise, you will only gain strength from it.

i understand that you're getting wary, like every type of news you get makes you nervous. you're scared of things constantly changing, you not having any control over it. you might feel like you got too comfortable before, and are now realizing how difficult it is to deal with changes. but trust me when i tell you, changes are inevitable, and the earlier you practice the acceptance over that, the easier life will get for you.

i can tell you, one day you'll think back to this, and realize the changes were needed. i'm truly wishing you all the best in the world, and hope that your soul will get everything it deserves. you're an immensely strong soul. and not only i am proud of you.. but the universe is too. stay powerful, dear reader 🖤

✧ pile 6 ✧ hangm, 8ofp, queofc&3ofw, moon, 4ofc, 3ofc&5ofp

hi, pile 6 person. i hope you're doing okay.

have you been feeling like things have been very stagnant lately? perhaps your work has been very monotone. you're so hardworking and put so much effort into your craft or career. do you feel worried over it not paying off in the end? are you still waiting for the results, and scared that all the effort will go to waste? are you still waiting for things to finally change for the better?

i understand, that you might've even neglected your social life to an extent, where you're feeling the loneliness now.. it must be hard to feel so isolated and alone sometimes. you put so much of your heart and soul into working on things, that you can easily forget to sit back and let yourself enjoy life a little more. is it always "work hard" but never "play hard" for you? why are you so dissatisfied still? are the results not reflective of the effort you put into your work?

my god, you must be thinking so so much these days. i can just see all the question marks in your head, all these thoughts in your mind just racing.. all the confusion. i wholeheartedly understand how insecure it might be making you. it's actually crazy for me to think you're still so dissatisfied, despite probably being the most hardworking person in your circle. do you ever allow yourself to look back, and not just beat yourself up over how you're never enough, but realize how incredibly ambitious and dilligent you actually are? why do you always see the bad things about yourself so clearly.. but never pat yourself on the back?

you must miss this feeling of someone telling you, you did well. you're doing such a great job.. you must be missing the feeling of just having fun and being happy in the moment. not overthinking about everything all the time. but i will be the one telling you, you're doing so insanely well. and you deserve to be told that all the time, no matter what you might think yourself.. you're amazing.

i know, you're scared to feel guilty if you get back to having more fun in life.. you're worried things will take a turn for the worse. but i can tell you right now, no amount of work is worth sacrificing your happiness and wellbeing for. you're such a beautiful and deserving human being, tell yourself you're doing well, regardless of the results. have patience and trust in the universe working things out for you. i know, practicing patience must be so draining for you at this point. but i can promise you, hard work will never betray you. you can be extremely proud of yourself.

still, i'm asking you to put yourself first. put your health first, put your joy first. the happier you are outside your work-life, the easier it will be for you to not get stressed over everything. allow yourself more rest, allow yourself to socialize more. trust me when i tell you, you will finally get the emotional fulfillment you're craving so bad, if you prioritize your happiness, first and foremost.

i'm so proud of you, dear reader! and i hope you can let yourself have a day filled with fun times today, away from all the responsibilites. remember, you're doing amazing sweetie. *kris jenner voice* 👏🏻🥰

[voidandabyssal]

Hi, I came across one of you're post and I loved how you write! I was hoping to out in a request!

So in this, could I ask for undertale sans, underfell sans, underswap papyrus, and horrortale sans? In this, they are with reader out in puplic (you can choose whatever) and while reader talks to them, they see in the corner of their sockets, somone reaching into readers purse/backpack and steals their wallet, behind readers back. How would they react and what would they do?

Again, I like you're writing but if you are to busy, don't worrie about putting this out immediately!

Thank you for the compliment, I hope I live up to your standards!

Sans:

Subtly makes the thief fall on his face and drop your wallet

Then just non chalently floats your wallet back into your bag

He prefers to avoid conflict rather than face it head on

Though he does take a little joy in watching the guy eat dirt

Then Sans just swings his arm around your shoulder and walks away, easy as pie

You probably dont even notice the whole thing has happened

Luckily for the thief, because Sans would also call Undyne if the guy kept giving you trouble

Red (uf sans):

Reds not the type of guy to just let it happen

Or resolve it peacefully like Sans

He grabs the thiefs hand, crushing it in his grip

The thief quickly runs away not even risking taking your wallet with him

Red would also loudly yell after him, threats and insults and whatnot

He does not care what everyone else thinks

Letting something like that go in the Underground would almost guarantee being made an target for anyone looking for easy exp

So he’s making sure everyone knows not to mess with you

You will have to calm him down afterwards. Stop him from chasing the guy down for a proper battle

Maybe with a kiss?

Stretch (us paps):

Also another one of the boys who prefers a calmer approach

He wraps his arm around your waist and drags you just out of the thief’s reach

Stretch glares at the thief, lighting one of his sockets with a menacing yellow eye-light

Blows smoke into the thief’s face as well

Stretch seems lazy, and he is. But he really does care for people, if he has to put a little energy into scaring off some low life loser then he will

You notice him doing this and happily press a kiss against his cheekbone.

Stretch blushes before dragging you over to Muffets, he needs some honey😅

Axe (ht sans):

Props to whoever has the guts to rob you while ace is around

I mean??? He’s a hulking 6’0 skeleton Monster with a resting bitch face?? Why would you tempt

Well, to whoever this brave fool is, they have just made a horrible mistake

Axe grabs their wrist, lifts them into the air and snaps said wrist in half

He’s holding onto you tightly, making sure you don’t see what he just did to that poor criminals hand

A small crowd gathers around you and him, some people are calling the police, most are just staring in shock

Shit.

Aliza is going to be so pissed at him.

He drops the the thief and shortcuts back home with you (even though he shouldn’t be shortcutting anymore due to his head injury)

The day ends with some heavy lectures from your more responsible friends and some cuddles between you and Axe

[carmesi-butterfly]

red thread of fate

han yujin + reader. word count 1,3k. warnings none. not proofread

your way to school was interrupted by a strange and unfamiliar sensation on your finger, feeling as if it was trapped in your clothes threads, your gaze went down searching for what was supposedly stuck in your hand, a situation that felt so ordinary ended up being the discovery of your designated other, there was the renowned red string, tied to your finger in an announcement of your soulmate’s proximity. you could even feel how it pulled you to the direction of its origin. should you follow this mystic appearance? who are you trying to fool? the question did not get the opportunity to formulate in your mind when you were already running towards this mysterious person waiting on the other side of the thread.

a few streets from your school another institution could be found, it wasn't near but either far away, probably a twenty-minute walk on foot, it was kind of an unknown place to you because it was on the opposite side of your school and home, there was no need to go there but now you can find yourself rushing towards it, scurrying away through the alleys following the path of your soulmate, a variety of different emotions flew through your body being accompanied by all sort of queries, questioning gender, looks, age, personality, and a lot more that couldn't be answered by you right now. halfway your nerves became stronger and the anxiety started to seize your mind and body, the route felt endless even if just a few minutes passed, the fear of your soulmate going far away and causing the beautiful crimson thread to disappear seeped through your bones while your footsteps became faster, a few voices could be heard near the end of the passage indicating the starting of a new street, your eyes followed in a rush the string which opposite to how it felt when it appeared, tensioned and ensnared to you, now felt loose-fitting, logically indicating that your future companion was near… right?

by looking up and trying to go after the red line your mission ended up concluding because the person tied to you in this lifetime was standing right in front of you, with a surprised face and open mouth glancing at you, a cute boy wearing a high school uniform similar to the one you use, his eyes captivated you in some way you couldn't explain, clearly, it was fate, his agitated breathing also called your attention, was he searching for you too?

“i tried a new way to school today” dropped without any context, “going through the alleys so i could have a calmer walk without my classmates…” it felt like he was trying to explain something, but his calm tone and ‘lazy’ (to put it in some way) way of speaking made it confusing.

your index finger was placed under your lip, posing on your chin while thinking, maybe it could help you think faster! “ooh… we have never been so close before, you taking a route closer to mine ended up manifesting the red thread” your words were more a way of explaining to yourself the most recent events than an answer.

his answer was a simple nod, his face had some sort of awkward smile on it while his hands nervously brushed against each other, his weird attitude was found cute by you, who now admired his expression with a playful smile.

“can i walk with you to your school? we can start to meet each other and exchange numbers!” your cheerful tone made yujin chuckle.

“i should be the one asking you that” mumbled shyly, his hand reached to his head and scratched it a little bit. his response won a good laugh on your side.

“don't be shy! we have a lot of first steps you can take in this new path as soulmates'' your sweet comment caused him to be more ashamed than before, your easygoing personality facilitated you to take the reins of the conversation making him feel as if you knew him for a long time, is this how soulmates feel? a long chat with hanbin is what he needed to understand such strong emotions, it felt inexplicable, stupid even! Breathing in, the young boy tried to gain at least a bit of courage to look at you in the eyes.

“okay, i will walk you to school and… pick you up and walk you to your house too” his chest inflated with a mix of air and bravery, the shy smile that was decorating his face maintained now with less effort and more feeling involved.

“don't you think that's too much?” your comment smashed hard to the floor the bit of confidence he built up, obviously that wasn't your intention, it was just a funny and innocent mention and luckily for you, the boy could see through that.

“it is?...” asked, cheeks adorned by a kind of pinkish tone.

“maybe… but i know what we can do, you walk me to school today and i will walk you tomorrow” this suggestion may seem like something silly to other people, but please, get in the place of the two teenagers who were not only experiencing their first love but also discovering their soulmate, their life comrade, the person they will grow old with! the life-changing occasion most of the populace in this world have the opportunity to go through, people from every corner of the globe wait anxiously for the moment they can find their other half, fate dictates it is your moment now and your young mind will choose how to manage it. “and give me your phone number! do you have any socials? i have instagram and twitter, and i also have snapchat but i never use it, oh and-”

your verbal vomit was interrupted by the quiet boy with such a simple question that surprisingly hadn't crossed your mind since the start of the interaction, “what's your name?”

it startled you, how could you forget to ask something so important? he must think you're an idiot! what a shame, everything was going so well… i guess. “i want to know yours first” your petition came as a playful one, not letting your mistake stop your mood from being at its peak.

“yujin, h-han yujin” his words stumbled upon themselves, he thought the nerves reached out to him again due to the reappearing of a strange sensation on his chest and tummy, but it didn't feel the same, his heart was palpitating powerfully and driving all those sensations to his stomach who felt like a thousand bunnies were hopping nonstop.

yes, he couldn't understand it now and that's okay, no one can manage to comprehend something as difficult and enigmatic as human emotions at a young age, especially in the teenage years that usually turn out to be the most confusing period for us, but there is going to be a moment in the future when all of those sensations will have a name and a reason, discovering that is work of the “now”, and if there is a feeling yujin can detect very well is the excitement he feels to see what future departures him and what destiny (as perplex as it can be) brings him with your arrival. also, thinking about how gyuvin’s face will twist after telling him he has found his soulmate before him was a funny thing to imagine, meaning he's also waiting for that more-near future to happen, the idea of talking to you about it also felt nice and could help to break the ice in future encounters!

hereafter seemed promising for the blossoming young couple, who even after an unusual beginning were excited to see how fate reunited two destined souls in this universe.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 10

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

The studio is silent when you enter, the door clicking softly shut behind you. Neither of its occupants stir, even though Chan had just called out for you to come in when you'd knocked; he's staring at his computer screen now, fingers hovering over a keyboard as he listens. Han is on the other side of the room, fast asleep on the sofa with him mouth hanging half-open. 

A coffee cup sits in the ground next to him and his phone dangles from relaxed fingers, dangerously close to falling. You lean over and grab it just as it starts to slide from his grasp; Han doesn't stir, not even when your shadow falls over his face. You catch a glimpse of his phone screen before your thumb locks it, long lines of lyrics set out in a basic notes app, the top bar lined with notifications; you put it down hurriedly on the armrest of the sofa, not wanting to pry.

When you look up, Chan is watching you, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hi," you say, turning your back on Han. Your hands are awkward after touching his phone - you fold them in front of you, one hand twisting at the fingers of the other.

"Hi," he replies softly, and smiles - something that's meant to be encouraging, you think, but this is so far out of your normal routine that you don't think there's anything that would let you just relax, rather than standing here awkwardly in the middle of the room with nothing else around to draw his attention.

"There's another chair over there," he says, pointing to the corner behind you. "Come and listen to this."

A clear goal. An easy one to achieve too - the breath rushes from your chest as you drag the chair over to his desk, some of the tension in your limbs draining out with it. You sigh again as you sit down, this time as your tired body presses back into the seat and finally finds relief - you've been engrossed in practise all day, sliding right past lunch and nearly dinner too, barely stopping for a break. Not that you'd meant to, you knew better than that, but when you'd felt like you were actually getting somewhere-

"You look tired," Chan comments as he hands you a set of headphones, one hand idly untangling the wire as it stretches out to you. His voice is decidedly neutral, his tongue lazy as it lets the English syllables slide past one by one. He talks to you in English almost all the time recently, you've noticed; ever since the album released, or maybe a little before. Not that you mind. English is...comfortable, in a way that Korean sometimes isn't. It's always been easier for you to be Australian.

"Practise was good today, though," you reply. "I feel like I might actually be able to dance in the group without sticking out now."

"You've been doing that for a while," Chan says, bemused. "Lee Know didn't have anything to say at all the other day."

You can't help the derisive snort that escapes your mouth, swallowing the acerbic laugh that tries to follow it before you can make even more of a fool of yourself. It's so rude; maybe you are tired. You certainly aren't as careful as you usually are, even though you know that can preclude trouble. "I don't think he's being as hard now that I'm not debuting in two weeks," you blurt out, and then drop your eyes down to the headphones in your hands. 

"That doesn't mean he's lying," Chan insists. His hand pats your knee - just a brush of his fingers, there and there and gone again. "You don't really need all this practise anymore, you know."

A shrug works its way up to your shoulders, though it feels more like a defensive hunch than anything else. "I'd rather practise than waste my time sitting around," you answer, and at least the words are strong, even if your body is not. "Especially when there's still a chance I could end up sitting around in Australia by the end of the year."

Something flashes across Chan's face, twisting at the edges of his mouth for just a moment before disappearing - disappointment, or frustration? It twists at your gut twice as hard, whatever it is, upsetting the delicate balance you'd found for just a moment while sitting here. "Do you want to listen to this song?" he asks, changing the subject before you can say anything to defend yourself. "We recorded it roughly, but I need a real version of it, and I think you'll like it..."

His voice trails off as he turns to the computer, pulling up whatever he's been working on. You take that as a sign to pull the headphones over your ears, offsetting one side slightly so that you can still hear him. Music fills your ears - a slow, roundabout beat and a heavy bass, overstrung by lyrics about bravery and fear and the darkness of being alone. Beautiful, in a way you're not sure how to express, and artistic, winding its way into your chest where you won't easily forget it.

You really like this song, so much that you're almost afraid to admit it; because if you did, you'd have to admit too, how its spiralling beat brushes against that dark spiral of anxiety that always lives in your chest, and the cold memories that the words stir up-

"I like that," is all you say when the music ends, one final downbeat cutting through the instruments abruptly.

"Really?" Chan asks, like it's unexpected, or unbelieveable.

"Of course," you insist, headphones sliding down around your neck. "You really want me to sing that?"

"Well, if you're going to spend all of your time working anyway, you might as well do some of our work for us," he says, the tone of his voice and the way his head tilts to point at Han's sleeping form informing you that he is joking. "Listen to it a couple more times, I'll see if Han has the lyrics written down on his phone, and then we'll try it."

"Why wouldn't you be able to sleep?"

Chan's voice startles you, loud after a long period of silence. You hadn't even seen him turn to look at you, or even stop working to check the messages that are popping up in the group chat, his phone propped loosely between his hand and the table. "What?" you ask, one hand coming up to stifle a yawn as it tugs at your jaw.

Chan glances down at his phone screen as another message pops up, and then back at you. "Earlier, you said you wouldn't be able to sleep if you went home," he says, by way of explanation.

"Oh, right." You'd forgotten about that text. You hadn't really thought about it being something that might raise questions at the time; you'd been more focused on the sudden worry you'd had over him assuming that you were regularly here all day and all night. "My house is just too quiet sometimes, I guess. I'm not really used to living alone."

His head tilts, curiousity flaring in his eyes. "You know, I've never actually asked where you live," he says. "Are you still in the dorms?"

"They gave me an apartment," you answer. "I think we're in the same building, actually. That's what they told me, anyway."

"Really?" His eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. "And you've never come over for dinner? Changbin hasn't dragged you to the gym? No one's run into you in the hall?"

"Lee Know sat in my living room for like ten minutes once?" you offer weakly, though you know it's not nearly what he's looking for. You've got nothing to offer him - even Minseo hasn't been over in a few weeks, each of you too busy on your own trajectory to cross paths. You'd had lunch in the cafeteria twice, and that was all, far from the silent walls of your empty house and it's too-big rooms.

A smile ghosts across Chan's face, strangled by the constant turn of his thoughts back to the problem he thinks he has identified. "On his way back from the store?" he questions knowingly, and you nod.

"He said no one was home at your place."

"If he went into our house, why did he-" he starts, and then cuts himself off halfway, shaking his head. "You should come over for dinner or something. Watch one of Han's animes. If I'd known you were in the building, I would have invited you ages ago."

Apprehension rises in your chest at the openness of the invitation, the way he's able to simply pick it up and throw it out there without even a moment of hesitation. Not that you should feel dread over something as simple as an invitation to dinner, with a group of people you now see every day anyway...but you've never really seen them outside the studio, and you wouldn't know what to expect even if you sat here and tried to guess. 

And even this, sitting here in the dark talking to Chan, is something you've never done before, the reason why you'd sat here so quiet when you'd first come in; if your body wasn't so tired, if the night wasn't dragging on into morning as you spoke, you don't think you'd have been able to sit so still in this chair at all.

"Maybe," you say, acknowledging the invitation with a dip of your chin. "When there's time. I'm really busy practising for debut right now, and I don't want to miss anything."

You're surprised by the look that passes over his face, the tightening of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. "You spend a lot of time in that studio," he says - and you're not sure what to think about the tone of voice that he uses, switching back and forth between stern and...soft, like he's worried he'll say the wrong thing or something. As if he could do something wrong here, when he is the leader and you are-

Well, nothing. You're nothing. God knows what he sees when he looks at you, other than the trainee he was unwillingly saddled with.

"Yeah," you acknowledge, because there's no use in denying it when you know they know the kind of hours you've been pulling. There being eight of them just means it's impossible to avoid running into one of them at every strange hour of the day. "If these are the last three months I have here, I don't want to waste any of it."

"You said that at the concert," Chan recalls. "You still feel like you're not going to debut?"

The memory sits awkwardly in the air of the room; you shift in your seat, shrugging as lightly as you can pull down the movement of your shoulders, trying to play it off. "Do you still think I'm scared of you too?" you question, trying to play it off easily rather than having the words slide heavy from your tongue.

Amusement dances in his eyes. "Maybe not so much," he answers. "You made a joke earlier."

You frown. "Is that...weird? I make jokes all the time, don't I?"

"Not as often as I'd like," he says, and then his face softens. "It was nice, though. So is this - us, talking."

"Mm," you hum, your mouth closed around several sentences that spring immediately to mind. The instinct to measure everything you say and watch your mouth is burnt into you, caution wrapping its cold little hands around your throat every time you start to relax. And now you don't know what to say, when it feels too pointed to make a joke after he's just pointed it out, and too crass to pull out excuses for why this sort of one-on-one rarely happens - and then silence stretches too thin, and time ticks too far onwards, and you've missed-

"Can I tell you what I think?" Chan says and leans back, his arms reaching towards the ceiling as he stretches.

A breath hitches in your chest, apprehension freezing it still. "Okay," you say, your hands twisting together.

His gaze is steady when it returns to you, his hand still where it comes to lie flat on the surface of his desk. In the background, Han shifts in his sleep, the couch cushions shifting underneath him. "I think you're scared to be one of us," he says, every word carefully measured against some weight you cannot see. "And you're scared to trust us. Maybe just me, specifically."

Your heart leaps into your throat in surprise, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. "I'm not-" you begin, but his hand lifts in the air, stopping you short.

"I don't mean in a bad way," he hurries to add, before you can go on. "I understand why; I wouldn't trust anyone either after what happened to you with Midnight. And I've been there before, you know, so...so I know why, I promise. But...I wish you would let me help you. I really want to help you."

You swallow hard, but the lump in your throat remains, the tears threatening to gather in the corners of your stinging eyes. Your stomach feels like its been turned upside down, your equilibrium shaken and turned around. "I..." you begin, as if you have a response, but nothing follows it, your mind racing to catch up in a conversation you hadn't expected to have and didn't plan for. "I...this is my last chance. If I stop, if I..."

"Hey," Chan says. "I understand, okay? And I'm not going to kick you out, or yell at you, or whatever it is you think a leader does. I like having you around, it's too late for all of that now, okay?"

The joke is light, struggling to lift itself in the oppressive air of the studio, but it makes its way to you anyway, lifting a little of the weight off of your shoulders. "I really like your music," you tell him, and push a deep breath down into the bottom of your lungs. "I want to be one of you, really, and I don't - I don't think you would do that, I swear, I just...I know that it's not always up to you. The company can do what they like, and if they think I don't look like I fit in, or I'm not working as hard as you do, or they just don't like how-"

"You shouldn't worry about that," Chan says over the top of you, his face changing. "That's my job - you leave that to me, and focus on the things your working on."

You look down at your hands, then over at Han - anywhere but his gaze, when you say, "I can't trust them to listen to you. Not until I make it to debut."

Chan falls silent, long enough that your eyes stray back to him, unable to look away for any longer. You find a mess of emotions written across his face, lit by the illumination of his computer screen as he messes with the mouse, his attention far away from the track he's idly playing with. 

"Okay," he says when he's done, forcing his hand to move away from the keyboard. "I meant to talk you out of burning yourself out, but I don't think that's going to work."

"Sorry," you say mutely, and feel your shoulders hunch.

"It's okay," he says, before you can retract into yourself completely. "It's okay to be scared. It is scary. So, let's come to an agreement."

There's an unintended challenge in his voice, a way that his eyes watch you that incentivises you to sit up straighter and swallow down all that cold anxiety that freezes in your veins. "Okay," you say willingly. "Like what?"

You like the silent approval you see in his face, the way his mouth relaxes and starts to untwist from the frown it had turned itself into several minutes ago. "You promise me that you know how to take care of yourself, and you can practise as much as you feel like you need to until debut and we won't stop you," he says, "but after debut, you promise you're going to slow down. And you're going to trust me."

It's funny - you hadn't thought anything but the result at the end of these three months would make you feel better, but somehow, he strings together the exact right words to lift that weight off your chest and shine a light down the tunnel. You hadn't thought anyone would be able to do that. Maybe that's why you'd been locked away in the dance rooms, all alone; maybe he was right that you didn't trust anyone, and that maybe you should start.

"I can do that," you say, nodding in agreement. "And I can take care of myself. I won't debut if I'm injured, or I collapse or something."

"Good," he says, satisfied, and then adds, "And you come over for dinner, whenever we invite you. And you go out with your friends again. One of the girls from Midnight chased me down the other day to ask about you, and honestly I'm kind of scared of ignoring her."

"Minseo," you say and, inexplicably, you smile. "Sorry. She's...an extrovert."

"Two jokes," Chan points out, and then laughs at the look on your face, turning away to shut down his computer. "It was fine. She was cool. You have good taste in friends."

"We've been here together for a long time," you say, your eyes idly tracking the movement of his mouse. You glance at the clock in the corner of his screen just by chance - and then do a double take when you see the number there, squinting as if you've misread it. "Is it four AM?"

"It is, actually," Chan sighs as the screen goes dark, closing the laptop and pushing his chair back towards the couch. "Time to go home, I think. Do you want to walk with us?" 

His hand reaches out to rouse Han, the other reaching for the boy's phone, left abandoned on his desk. His coffee still sits abandoned on the ground, long gone cold since that first conversation in the group chat that had led to all of this. Funny, how that one little thing, left forgotten on the floor, had led to a night you wouldn't soon forget. 

"I'd love to," you reply, and reach for the coffee before anyone can knock it over, throwing it in the trash. 

TAGLIST

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[cydanite]

"You remember that you are a distinct being with a finite form and a mortal body."

!!SPOILERS for the ending of StP!!

Concept sketch for my interpretation of Slay the Princess’s protagonist. I like the canon vagueness of his design, but I came up with a concept I wanted to explore c:

He has 2 pairs of wings, one on his head and one on his back. The "Narrator", in trapping him, clipped his wings and disguised them as hair and a cloak. Best to not to give any reminder that flying out of the woods is even an option.

The smaller pair wrap around his head like hair, the few remaining primaries folding over each other as bangs. On the “thumb” of the wings are birds feel, decoratively chained together. Don’t be fooled into thinking that chain isn’t meant to hold, though.

The larger pair drapes limply off his shoulders like a cloak. It’s fastened by an X shape. You know the one, when people are lazy with drawing medieval clothing (myself included) we use it as a closure, a formless cross drawstring. You don’t question it when you see it. You wouldn’t suspect it’s two massive metal staples puncturing his flesh.

He can’t see his wings for what they are, so he doesn't feel through them. Not until he can manage to remember...

.

.

.

.

(also i wrote a snippet hehe)

.

The Narrator: The pain is threefold.

First comes stiffness, an ancient ache creeping in from the edge of your perception.

Awareness of this newfound sensation latches on to your mind and pulls, quickly fracturing into a sprawling map of new body parts.

It’s your hair. It hurts, in ways hair shouldn't be able to hurt. Every fiber protests against you despite being just hair mere moments ago.

The fabric of your cloak betrays you as well. You're inescapably aware of the space you now take up. New, itching, uncomfortable, ugly sensations form all down your back.

Voice of the Hero: It's like we just regained blood circulation there. We're being stabbed a thousand times over.

The Narrator: It doesn't end there. Injuries that previously gone unnoticed now make themselves known. You recall running sharp fingers through your hair. Only now can you feel the dried blood. You would've taken better care of that cloak if you'd known it was made up of you.

Voice of the Hero: But what's happening to us?

The Narrator: The web of pain maps out its shape. Two pairs of feathered wings become part of your body once again.

Voice of the Hero: 'Once again'... having wings makes sense, I suppose. But how could we have forgotten this? It seems so inescapable now.

The Narrator: But as you go to reign motor over your limbs once again, the third pain rears it’s ugly head… cold, harsh metal digs into your flesh.

It pins your limbs in their poses. A tiny set of cuffs pull small wings taught around the circumference of your head.

The closure of your "cape" is two enormous staples, staked through your flesh and clamped down hard. There's no blood here, the wound long since healed.

...Who or whatever did this to you, it was never intended to be removed.

Voice of the Hero: Maybe we should keep more vigilant in the future. If we can't trust our own body... I don't want to think about it more than we have to.

[yokohamapound]

how ab head cannons of how good bsd men are at taking bras off like kinda ranking them ig

i have my own theories ab it so maybe we can compare them?

My magnificent friend, @amostimprobabledream, is guest-posting on this one! She's the one who got me into BSD, so this blog is entirely her fault!

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edogawa Ranpo, Tanizaki Jun'ichiro, Kunikida Doppo, Akutagawa Ryunosuke, Nakajima Atsushi, Edgar Allan Poe

Contents: Yiddies

Dazai Osamu

The obvious winner here. The Pro. The champ.

Dazai is a slut, and when they aren't threatening him for not paying back his tab, he's perfectly able to have the ladies falling at his feet. He's definitely got plenty of experience with getting a lady out of her clothing and scoffs at pitiful men who can't figure out how to unhook simple clasps. Fools! Barbarians!

He can do it one-handed. He prefers it when you wear front-clasp bras because he takes it as a sign you're just as eager for him to get at your boobs as he is. Imagine those pretty fingers easily working the little hooks~

He does sometimes wear your bra on his head as a joke. So you know, that's a risk you run.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Listen this man has been around, okay? He almost single-handedly toppled the Port Mafia and Armed Detective Agency, he can handle a silly contraption of cotton and underwiring.

Fyodor doesn't like to tear at your clothing like a beast. He has class, okay? Instead he might as you to strip for him - just picture him lounging back in his seat, wineglass in hand while he watches you with those hungry, purple eyes of his. It's worth it just for that to put on a little show for him.

He likes to kiss you as he does it, distracting you as his nimble, pale fingers get to work. He's so skilled that he can actually unhook your bra without you even noticing and you'll find it discarded on a chair or the floor like a magic trick.

Edogawa Ranpo

Hmph, of course he can take off a bra! Don't be silly!

Ranpo is the ultimate detective, after all. A silly little hook in a piece of clothing isn't going to stump him. However, Ranpo is also lazy when he isn't motivated and while if he's focused on getting you naked, he'll probably whine for you to just take the bra off yourself - you're faster at it, he's seen the way you fling the thing off after a long day like it's a snake, so why not? He just wants to see your boobs!

Don't worry, he more than makes up for it once your bra hits the ground. He's very good with that mouth of his.

Tanizaki Juni'ichiro

Yes, he is good at taking off bras… No, I will not elaborate.

Kunikida Doppo

Yes, he does know how to take off a bra. The problem is that Kunikida rarely gets to practise on actual, living women - he's only done it on a bra just lying limp in his hand or on a mannequin. Doing it while in the throes of a heated makeout session is quite different.

You'll be there, getting all hot and heavy, and suddenly feel a tugging at your bra and a lot of frustrated huffing and puffing. He'll bark at you to hold still - not in a sexy way but in that "maths teacher" voice he still has buried deep. It's rather a mood-killer.

He's also one of those irritating people who won't let you just take the damn thing off yourself - he feels like he has to prove he's worth of touching your boobs by conquering the bra. Also, Dazai would never let him live it down if he couldn't do it.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Not only does Akutagawa not know how to take off a bra, but he's too prideful to ask you to do it. Instead he has a very impractical solution of just using Rashomon to slice it off you. He's too impatient to bother with fiddling around with it - remember this is a man who doesn't even know the name of the frilly thing he wears on his neck.

Don't wear your nice bras around Akutagawa, or just go for a sports bra you can pull off over your heard. Nothing is worth your fancy, expensive new lingerie being ruined by a horny goth boy.

Nakajima Atsushi

I don't even think Atsushi has been near a bra before, let alone touched one. He has no idea how they work - he actually thought it was held together by little magnets. He'll try but he gets nervous and will tug at the material, scared of accidentally tearing it. He knows bras are expensive, he's heard Yosano and Lucy complain about it enough times.

He'll be astonished if you can do it without even looking.

Edgar Allen Poe:

Faints if you even mention the word 'bra'. You'll have to fan him awake or fetch the smelling salts.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x rancher male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: tyler's back in an old town he recognizes, and he recognizes someone else too.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.32k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: suggestive, but nothing explicit (like 1 kiss), very suggestive flirting

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler shoulda known that riding 'round here, stopping in this specific town, would've earned him a run in with you.

In fact, maybe he did. Maybe, some part of that subconscious of his remembered that this was your town, and your old haunt, and it made him stop and get the whole group motel rooms for the night here.

He recognized this town, recognized the bar he led his friends to, recognized the stage in the corner. Maybe he didn't recognize the new teen band performing there today, but they're familiar anyway: a chill drummer and a bassist and guitarist that always bump heads.

And finally, of course he recognized you.

You raise your glass toward him as he enters, beckoning him to sit down next to you at the bar. The rest of the group settles for a booth near the dance floor, leaving Ben to stand nervously at the door. The journalist eventually follows the group, though his eyes don't leave outlier.

"Hey sweetheart." He greets with a lazy smirk, ordering his choice of poison without looking at the bartender so he can look you in the eye.

"Hey stranger." You greet in turn, tipping your hat. "What brings you to town?"

"Well, the season drives me everywhere in Tornado Alley, you know." The liquid courage that makes its way into his hands and later down his throat feeds his smile, which grows wider.

"Should I be worried?" You joke.

"No, sweetie." The name makes you roll your eyes, like you always do when his endearing nicknames get used like that. "You know the brunt of it doesn't get here."

As the two of you mostly catch up, with the nicknames and flirting taking a backseat, Ben looks on. For once, he's not thinking about getting it on a paper, he's just curious. Tyler seems to know at least one person at each town they go on, but he's never seen him so...touchy? No, there's something about it Ben can't put his finger on.

"Eavesdropping, huh?" Lilly chimes in, leaning around Ben the same way the man leans over the corner of the booth seat.

Ben yelps audibly, but thankfully for him, not too loud. "No. No, I can't hear them from here." He shakes his head. In an attempt to hide his embarrasment, he replaces it with a question that'll distract her. "Who's he?"

"(Y/N), our food supplier. He sells for cheap for the tornado recovery meals and stuff." Lilly explains.

Dani, who was previously looking at Boone making a fool of himself on the dancefloor, chimes in. "Because ranches don't run on hopes and rainbows."

Lilly nods her head along.

"That's it?" His eyebrows furrow, and he leans over the corner again to sneak a glance. The two of you are so engrossed in your conversation that you're definitely not going to turn towards the booth, even if Tyler mentions the group.

"Well, rumor has it he's an old link." Lilly suggests with a laugh.

Ben doesn't know what the word means. "A boyfriend?"

"No," She smiles, clearly amused, "but let's just say that. You're probably wondering why you haven't heard anything about him."

Boone practically collapses onto the booth table before Lilly can continue. He steals a tall glass of water from someone and practically gulps down half of it in one go. None of the group seems to mind so much. As he catches his breath, he follows the groups' gaze to the pair at the bar. "Oh, (Y/N)? I didn't even realize he was here."

Dani laughs and pats his shoulder. "Yep. You gonna say hi, steal him for the dance floor?"

"Nah." He waves his hand dissmissively. "I bet the lovebirds are gonna bone. I'll see him at the hotel tomorrow morning."

Ben doesn't know that word either. Dexter whispers the meaning in his ear and his eyebrows raise. "So he is a boyfriend?"

"No." Boone straightens up and stretches. "At least, not anymore. They might've been high school sweethearts or something, but not anymore. While Tyler became a bull rider after high school, (Y/N) inherited his grandparents' farm and got straight to work."

Ben nodded along with the story. So that's how they got you as their supplier. "So they broke up��"

"Allegedly."

"–allegedly because they went down different paths?" Ben huffed. "If it was me, I would've tried."

Dexter chuckled at how the journalist accidentally insulted Tyler. He shook his head. "They might not have broken up. We just know they had a falling out when Tyler officially settled into the storm chaser profession."

"When we first got to 10k subs!" Boone chimes in.

"The food supplying was handled over text, and storm chasing is busy business, you know?" Ben nodded, so Dexter continued. "So then their relationship turned mostly transactional, and their affectionate bonds kind of disappeared, because Tyler didn't have time to reply."

"Wow, that sucks." Ben's empathy showed physically as he frowned. "What about off-season?"

"Disaster recovery is an extensive process." Dani reminded him. "We use (Y/N)'s goods after we get the folks to temporary homes as a kind of food stamp."

"And–?"

"They moved on." Lilly patted Ben on the shoulder reassuringly. "Storm chasing ain't for the weak-willed, Ben. It's all or nothing. You live for it, or you leave it, and someone has to manage the ranch, right?"

"So, basically, Tyler is dating storm chasing," Boone says with a toothy grin, "and has no time to date anyone else."

That's never stopped you from having your fun everytime he shows up around town.

"Storm Par still on your ass?" You ask, swirling your glass absentmindedly.

"As always." He laughs, drumming his own fingers against the wood of the bar countertop. "But we have a new genius in the crew!"

"Do you?" You raise a brow. He gestures in the direction of the booth with the tip of his hat, making you look. Everyone waves at you enthusiastically, even Boone, who you'd caught mid-sip, except for the new guy who shrinks back into the cushions. "The one with the glasses?"

"Yep, that's Ben." Tyler speaking brings your eyes back to him, as it always tends to do. "Journalist, has a way with words. He's going to write about our Tornado Wrangling crew, and storm chasing."

"Hmm," You hum low, kind of with displeasure. "you're not going to make him write about Storm Par too, are you?"

You had him pegged down to a T. He sighed, "Well..."

"That'll get him in trouble and you know it." You shoot him a disappointed look. He's been getting those more and more these days; or he has, since you got that ranch of yours.

To hide himself from the simmering shame it gives him and to get more courage, he downs the rest of his drink. "Yeah, but, um...let's just talk about us, yeah?"

You exchange a look. He smiles, you frown, it's a battle. Eventually, he wins, because how can you say no to him?

You roll your eyes, "You're lucky I miss you, Ty."

"Do you?" His eyes light up and he takes your free hand in his. He can't hide his joy, despite the fact you always say that every time you see each other.

"Yes I do, poppet." You huff out a laugh, "You're a twister of your own, you know? Leaving damage that reverberates for years."

He feigns offense, a hand over his heart. "I leave damage, huh?"

"Yep. You know what? I'm not the only one who misses you. The chickens miss you, the goats miss you, the cows miss you, the ranch dogs miss you." The entire list makes him laugh, but you're not done yet. "So do my horses, and hell, the ranch cats too. You know how hard it is for a ranch cat to get attached?"

"And Brisket?" Brisket, the little indoor dog. He was a puppy when they last met, Tyler wonders how big he's gotten now.

"Of course Brisket misses you." You groan, like it's really a big problem. "You met him as a puppy, he's wondering where his second dad went."

His eyebrows raised. Second dad? Whew, the subtle flirting is making him swoon. "Buy him a couple treats for me." He playfully reaches into his pocket for his wallet to further the joke.

"What is this, child support?" You glare at him with a fake snarl.

That makes Tyler laugh out loud. He reaches for both your hands, hoping the creases on your scary look will smooth out. "I promise I'll be a present father someday."

You roll your eyes again, except this time when they return to him, they soften. "When will that be?"

"How's tomorrow sound?" The smile returns too, and he loves it. "Oh, and you don't mind having five more little helpers, do you?"

"Sounds perfect." You squeeze his hands. "For how long?"

"Ehm..." He bites his lip, and your smile falters. "A day, maybe?"

"Darling..." You sigh, "That's not exactly a present father."

"I know, I know." He shakes his head, letting his gaze fall to your connected hands. "I'm a terrible father, a terrible man as well, to boot. Useless for this family as a hill of beans."

"Well," You shrug your shoulders, disconnecting one of your hands to cup his cheek and pull his gaze back up to you. "season's just starting, so I understand. Make me a promise, though."

"Oh?" This is new, not that Tyler cares for the substance of the promise. "Anything for you, baby."

"God, hear me out first, will you?" You shake your head. "It's two promises, actually. For tonight," With the hand on his cheek, you boop his nose. "we'll dance on that dance floor back there, and–"

"Ugh, seriously?" He groans preemptively. "I don't want that picture on Ben's article."

Tyler is a good dancer, he really is, but he's almost entirely sure that the predominant style of dancing in this here town is silly to those Brits out there and he's going to get mocked 'till high hell. Oh, whatever. All publicity is good publicty, aye? The Brits ought to know how a real man dances, anyway.

"–and, then we'll share your room."

"Woh-hoah."

Tyler's sure that, even if it were anyone else you were flirting with, they'd have caught onto your drift, because you are one hot man and that wink you consequentially send him is sexier than anything he's ever seen. Out of the sheets, of course.

"Cat got your tongue, darl'?" You chuckle, patting his cheek before pulling away confidently.

"No, no, it's just," His mind's still boggled by how handsome you are, so he blinks repeatedly to register all of it. "I'm swoonin' alright? Give me a moment."

He loves that little proud look you give him, and realy wants to return the flirting, even if he's already messed up the flow. Luckily it looks like you'll allow him to.

"Okay," He clears his throat, "why share a room, rancher? You live right on the outskirts o' town. I'm sure that bed of yours with grandma's handmade quilt is a lot nicer than my little hotel room."

Tyler knows damn well what you're going to do in that room, but he's playing along.

"Sometimes the company beats comfort, love." The way you call him love makes his knees weak. "Not that I'm in search for comfort tonight."

He laughs, a little too prolonged as he comes up with something in return. "And why do you reckon I'm good company?"

"You might just be any Alfalfa Desperado's dream: a big, strong man who's technically unemployed and knows how to ride a horse." It's as much an excuse as it is a distraction to shock him more with what comes next. "Plus, a twister like yourself is sure to tumble the sheets well."

"Rougher than an earthquake, I can guarantee that." He grins, sending a smooth wink of his own.

"Don't guarantee it." You huff out a laugh, "I'd have to pay you a little extra."

"I want that little extra." He makes a show of licking his lips. "Anything you can offer, I'll make sure to match, sweetheart."

The both of you are leaning closer everytime you send a comment or compliment. He's missed this, missed you, so much: the easy intimacy and smiles, winks and eventual kisses.

As your lips near, he realizes that all this flirting's making him forget that second promise you spoke of. "What was that second promise, anyway? Do I gotta agree to both to get tonight's?"

"Well, no," The way your inconspicuous eyes snap to the high corner of the room earns his intrigue. "but it'd certainly earn you a little bit o' brownie points."

"Hit me." He grins wide.

"Make a little time for me off-season," The heated atmosphere leaves as you begin, because your flirty facade melting into something less confident, more nervous. "a week, two, or maybe a month...like I said, Brisket misses you... If you can, that is! If not, like, no hard feelings–"

He doesn't like the way you said all that in a rush. He doesn't like that you say it as if it were silly and something he'd never agree to.

He cuts off your doubts with a quick kiss. "I swear."

Because he means it. He will, he swears it.

The way your eyes are on his when they flutter back open makes his heart swell. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." He knocks his nose softly against yours. "I should've done that along time ago."

"Yes indeed, you should've!" You're back to being sassy, and the easy atmosphere comes back. He laughs, but he can't deny you.

He should've made time for you long ago. It's not something he can say whatever to, but he can say it's in the past now, and when the season ends, he'll make up for it.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: no bc how is this 2k words long

[lightlycareless]

I keep thinking of naoya making a fool of himself around y/n and y/n just being confused (idk) like he tries to get her to like him but it doesn’t turn out well😭 , idk if that made sense sorry!!😔

Hello!!

Awww this was really sweet to think about, however I got confused in the end and made it somewhat of a happy ending lmao.

Well, I still hope you like it!! (If anyone wants angst tho, I do recommend reading my valentine's day special. But I too been wanting to write something heart clenching for a while, might get onto it....)

warnings: highschool au. naoya likes you but he doesn't know how to approach you. he is ridiculous.

Happy reading!!

A silly Naoya is more like an overconfident Naoya, the type of guy that will never stop bragging about ANYTHING just to make you look his way.

It's certainly worse when he's barely starting to acknowledge his feelings, getting to that point where he finally says "I think I like her."

To stand out and get your attention is something Naoya never thought he'd need to do, simply believing that his title as heir of the Zen'in and his outstanding achievements as sorcerer would've done the trick—but they didn't, and now, he had to put in the work.

Thus, the borderline ridiculous demonstrations of his persona, courtesy of Ranta's advice; though if it’s worth anything, this is not what he envisioned.

"Can you believe he didn't want to accept my assignment only because I didn't hand it over in a folder? That's so stupid, can't wait to get him fired as soon as I—"

"Wait, Naoya, Y/N's coming!"

"ANYWAYS I WENT TO THE MALL THE OTHER DAY TO THIS LUXURIOUS STORE AND BOUGHT JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING THERE AND STILL HAD MONEY TO SPARE, GEE WHY IS EVERYTHING SO CHEAP NOWADAYS??? AND PEOPLE STILL COMPLAIN ABOUT THE ECONOMY!! I JUST WISH I HAD SOMEONE TO SHARE ALL MY MONEY WITH—did she look??? Did she turn around to see me??"

Ranta sighs.

"No."

"Ughghhhhhhh what do I need to do to make her see me?!"

Though frustrated, he does not give up.

"—yeah, I think we're going to this super expensive resort for the weekend. I personally preferred to travel out of the country, but you know how my father is, lazy as always. If it were up to that old man we’d never leave the—and now??? Did that work?? Is she looking??"

But the results are the same.

Naoya would keep on trying, loudly proclaiming things that in his mind would eventually earn him your interest, or at least a simple glance….

Until he, eventually of course, tires himself out. Sorrowfully finding that his endeavors had been nothing but fruitless as you continue living your own life, without Naoya in your consideration.

You’re slowly becoming someone unreachable to his grasp, and while he doesn’t plan on giving up just yet, he does intend to take a break, maybe reconsider his possibilities… before coming to a conclusion where you might not be involved anymore.

And what better way to clear his mind than indulging in one of his favorite activities—secluding himself at the rooftop of the school building to read the newest release of his favorite manga.

Unaware that someone else might be there, coincidentally… the person he wished nothing more than to be with.

"What are you reading?" You'd ask upon noticing the intense stare of the young, somewhat handsome man, he’s giving his magazine.

"Do you mind? I'm bus—o-oh!" He freezes upon realizing it was the girl of his dreams talking to him, cheeks burning red as he closes the manga and looks away. “Don’t—Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on someone like that?!"

"Ah, sorry!" You chuckle, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to startle you, it's just that you looked so concentrated, I couldn’t help but to be intrigued! Is your story really interesting?"

"...it is" Naoya murmurs, gaze returning to you—he almost glances away yet again at your closeness, but your beauty makes it almost impossible to do so. "It's the latest chapter, I waited a whole month to read it."

“A whole month…?” you repeat. “Wow.”

“Yeah, it was a long time—"

“Hmmm, not quite.” You teased. “I’ve waited years just to see the continuation of my favorite series! Talk about dedication.”

“Huh, well, I don’t think it’s the same—this felt worse because of how good it is.”

“Really? I don’t know, I can’t believe you—I have to see what you’re reading for that. You grin, he smirks.

“Is that so? Then don’t let me stop you from finding the truth.”

And Naoya happily obliges, both excited to share one of the things he enjoys the most with the person he adores most, as well as the fact that you’re finally setting your eyes on him! After all this time!

He considered it to be incredibly unexpected, and perhaps a bit silly how it came to be, unable to believe that it took so little to impress you.

But as soppy as it sounds, there is truth in admitting that there is no better way to get someone to like you, than by being yourself.

omg that was so fluffy agkjasjghasjkghjsa cheesy too ahahahahah damn I surprised myself for sure!!

Rest assured, you heard Naoya do all of those things and consistently thought "Is he ok? Why is he yelling?"

After the two begin to date you'll tell him how weird it was of him to do all that hahahah though... "You didn't have to do that, I already liked you." Naoya feels even sillier :^)

Anyways, I hope you liked it!! I'm sorry this didn't end up in a sad note, I read the request very quickly and ended up understanding you only wanted an interpretation of Naoya being silly—though I do want to write something sad between the two, him messing up and all that. Luckily, I have the perfect excuse for that through other asks hehehehehe

Thank you so much for sending in this ask and for your patience!! Take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[lethby]

Bllk boys when you compliment them! ⍣ೋ

Bachira, Chigiri, Karasu

Compliment war

You could be enjoying a lazy day in the couch, sitting in a cafe or walking around town, but every moment felt like the perfect moment to remind your boyfriend how amazing he is.

He might act startled or flustered for half a second, but don't let it fool you. Prepare yourself to get complimented back inmediatly after. Being as stubborn as you are, you don't back down and both of you start throwing compliments at the other, earning some successful blushes in the meantime.

Too bad for you, your boyfriend has every aspect he loves of you ready to fire and believe me, he loves a lot of you. In the end, you're left speechless as he just keeps going on and on with no intention to stop. The moment you barely hesitate, he excitedly takes it as a win and laughs. When you pout slightly, he gently holds your chin with one hand and angles your head to kiss your cheek softly.

"Maybe next time, love. But I'm a mighty opponent"

Shidou, Kaiser, Reo, Ness

Yeah? tell me more

You're trapped in the arms of your lover on the couch, and just had the great idea of letting a comment on his looks or how much you love his hugs leave your lips. You can tell he's grinning widely even if you're not looking at him. The little shit is already smirking cockily as he leans closer.

"Yeah? Tell me more"

You smile at this and decide to feed his ego a little more. His hands hold you tighter with each sentence. When he still ask for more, you roll your eyes in false annoyance and nuzzle your mouth in his chest so your next words come out muffled and he inevitably doesn't hear them.

"Hey, not fair! Come here!"

He lifts your face and he can see you with a devious smile that he thought was hot as fuck. He starts covering you in quick kisses. You laugh and try to squeeze away from your grasp, but his strong hold refrains you to do so. Only if you knew how much your nice words affected him in a good way.

Kunigami (before wild card), Isagi, Nanase

Bashful, cute mess

The moment those words leave your lips, he's already got a cute blush across his cheeks. He frowns and clings to you despite your height difference, nuzzling his face on your skin to hide the embarrassment. You notice and, being the nice girlfriend you are, decide to tease him about it.

Your comments only make him blush harder. He refrains from speaking up, knowing he'll stutter. You feel his rapid heartbeat against you and start to feel somewhat bad for him; therefore, you sweetly caress his hair. His hold on you tightens as he clearly relaxes under your touch.

"Honey, I can't breathe-"

You let out a strangled breath before your boyfriend loosens up a little. He lifts his now smiling face and kisses you gently. His soft lips make you melt in his arms at the caring affection. He pulls back just enough to look in your shining eyes and whisper.

"I love you so much"

Sae, Rin, Nagi, Kurona

Actions speak louder than words

You two are sitting up on the bed. He has you on his lap and his arms lazily hugging your waist. You lean your head on his chest and listen to his rhythmic heartbeat. You're just silently enjoying each other's touch and company, deciding that today you'll comfortably spend some quality time together.

"You're the best boyfriend I could ask for."

Surprised at your way to break the silence, the boy is left speechless and doesn't know what to say. His heart starts to beat faster and love fills his every being. His hands now travel further around your body as he keeps you close in a protective embrace. He leaves a whisper of a kiss in your forehead and nuzzles the top of your head.

He doesn't have to say anything for you to know that your words had the expected effect on him. Just know that he's gonna pay it back to you tenfold with the best cuddles in the world.

Aaaaaa I have a love-hate relationship with writing general hc. I get to dump my ideas but I'm so scared to make them ooc.

(Also I'm running out of this final sentences if you can't tell ⬇️)

Consume enough nutrients, Lethby ༊*·˚