#morning doodles before working on something else

[dudelymantits]

In my Adler era

[sunnypopoki]

— 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 ; P.2

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

Р.1 / Р.3

The bed was cold whenever you woke up. Your fingers slid across the crisp sheets, feeling for Kieran's warmth even though you already knew he wasn't there. A headache pounded against your temples. Your cheeks were stiff with dried tears. The air was cold and you already wanted to roll back over and go back to sleep, hating the chill in the room.

You didn't feel as distraught as last night. Maybe it was the solid eight hours of sleep, but your brain was fuzzy and lacking. A groan tore through your lips as you stumbled out of bed and wiped at your eyes.

The floorboards were cold and you wondered if Kieran accidentally turned off the heat. You shivered and ran your hands down your arms.

The house was still. Even the dust in the air seemed to move in slow motion, barely drifting through the rays of sunlight that poured through the open windows. You shuffled down the hallway and glanced at the living room. Undisturbed, neat, stale. You almost forgot that you sat there with Kieran last night before he got his phone call. A nasty taste formed under your tongue, lips pursing into a thin line.

If only there was a switch you were able to turn off in your brain. It was the morning and you were already regretting waking up to get breakfast. You rubbed at your eyes and paused at the kitchen doorway and the cold tiled flooring bit at your bare feet.

The clock ticked, telling you it was 4:00 PM. You woke up late again.

A single message was laid on the counter on a pink posted note. You picked it up and noticed Kieran's handwriting that was scribbled down in a rush. Next to it was a small doodle of him holding a heart. It read;

Good morning my кошечка! I'm writing this before leaving for work, but I made you some breakfast and put it in the fridge. Strawberry pancakes and the syrup, if you want any, are in the pantry on the top shelf. I will be back around 5 this evening, remember to eat lunch. I will eat dinner with you tonight. I love you.

You were grateful for any food that he made you. Hell, you were grateful that he even thought of you in the first place to make you food whenever he didn't have to... But you'd rather have his presence instead of some warmed-up pancakes. You crumpled up the posted note and tossed it away. You were hungry but you didn't want to eat, you didn't have the energy or motivation to chew and swallow, much less sit down at the table.

Leaning against the counter, you ran your hands down your face. There were so many things you didn't want to do. You didn't want to brush your teeth, take a shower, or put on a fresh pair of clothes. You didn't want to sleep and you didn't want to be awake either.

The only thing you could think of was Kieran, yet you couldn't shake him off.

The pancakes were left untouched. It was just another meal in the fridge that was waiting to go bad. You couldn't promise that you were going to eat them later whenever you didn't even want to look at them. Kieran would ask later, 'What's wrong? you didn't eat the pancakes I left for you' and you would have to say another lie. It was just your stomach, or you didn't see the note until after you ate something else, or you weren't in the mood for pancakes.

It took everything in your power just to force yourself to go to the bathroom. Even then, he stayed on your mind as you splashed your face with cold water. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you frowned at the dark circles and reluctantly brushed your teeth. A pimple was right above your right brow. God, you didn't want to catch glimpses of yourself either, much less stare into the mirror.

What can I do to make the rest of this day productive?

You hadn't a clue. This only left you waltzing around the house, dabbling in some things, but getting up again whenever you got bored. You couldn't keep still no matter what you tried to do. By six, your mood was bitter, annoyed at your lack of interest in anything and annoyed at why you were feeling so depressed.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, your eyes snapped to the closed door on the right. That was Kieren's at-home office. He rarely ever used it and it was mostly used as a place for him to store things from his rented out big office or important documents. You were aware that all your birth certificates and SSN cards were locked up in a safe in there. But what else? The last time you went in there was like two months ago, but he usually went in there weekly, even if it was just to grab something.

What if he is hiding something?

Reaching out to the handle, you hesitated. However, that lasted only a short time because curiosity got the best of you. You turned the handle and peeked inside.

His home office was small and cramped, which was why he rented out a room in a small building in the city to have his own office for editing and focusing on work. The walls were lined with books and files, and a small desk was cluttered with papers of all kinds. He needed to clean it out. However, you felt grateful that he hadn't already.

A small look around wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Guilt was already threatening to turn you around and march you back to your room, to put yourself in time-out, but you needed to know if something was going on with him. Your hands fiddled with the handle of the door before you stepped into the room and closed it behind you. A small peak. That's all you wanted. It wasn't like you were going to turn the room upside down to look for things against him.

The inside wasn't dusty and you noticed recent documents on his desk. It was good that he didn't desert the small room entirely for his bigger office. You shuffled to sit on the chair and drummed your fingers against the wood.

Where to start?

You didn't know what you were looking for. Something to give you peace of mind that didn't include talking to Kieran about it. If he was cheating, he wasn't going to outright tell you about it. You weren't sure where he'd hide things if he didn't want them to be found. He had his phone on him and that wasn't something you felt comfortable snooping in, but his laptop had everything about his work.

You hesitantly pulled his laptop closer and opened it. A small peak. It wouldn't do anything. It wasn't like you were going to shame if you found anything raunchy. Sure... it was something he probably should talk to you about, but you didn't blame him, since you weren't exactly someone who was giving him fun nights even if the two of you were married.

Maybe he has gotten bored of me because I haven't had sex with him yet, you thought. It's not that I don't find him attractive it's just...

The idea of intimacy like that scared you. All the possibilities of what could go wrong, what would hurt, and what would be uncomfortable.

Kieran always said he understood and that it didn't bother him that the tow is you weren't intimate in bed. But maybe that was a lie. Maybe he found pleasure in stuff on the internet or some woman he kept seeing. You'd be fine living a life with him even if it meant no intimate pleasures at all, but maybe he didn't think the same way you did. He probably had a lot of pent-up stress and desires, so was it your fault for not doing it with him? Right?

Was he going to leave you for someone else because of that?

Your hands were shaking as the screen turned on. His password was his old childhood cat's name: Sonya. At least he didn't bother to change the password into something you didn't know, that was a good sign, right? You swallowed the lump in your throat and tapped at the keyboard. Ding. You were in.

There were a lot of random things on his desktop. You noticed the editor and graphic design apps, such as Microsoft and Blender, and a few games that you haven't played before in your life.  You tapped at the desk absentmindedly and debated with yourself, wondering if you should just go and watch TV, but an app caught your eye.

M?

You noticed the icon at the bottom of the screen with the letter M. It wasn't a familiar-looking app, nothing you've downloaded onto your laptop before, and it was suspicious. The design wasn't good at all. You chewed on your bottom lip and dragged the cursor over to open it. This app would be the only thing you'd look at. Not his search history or anything—no. You'd have to give him some privacy.

That didn't change the fact that it was hard giving him privacy—not whenever his privacy was the whole reason you were suspicious of him in the first place.

The one thing you wanted to know was where he was going with his business trips. As an editor, you knew that he could have a business trip. Sometimes he met up with clients, however, lately, it's been very frequent. You were jealous of it. If it was someone he was meeting, even for work, why were they more important than his wife? he didn't need to go to work that often, right?

The app opened up and you blinked at the messages that were waiting there. All empty chats with numbers as names, except one. It was named 'Sam' and you noticed a couple of messages within the chat. Maybe a client? Or was it someone he was cheating on you with? Your mouth ran dry.

Okay, maybe you shouldn't be looking at his stuff. Just because you were suspicious, shouldn't you wait until you see him in the act of cheating instead of snooping? This wasn't right. It was a shady app, but maybe this was a client that he wasn't supposed to tell you about. As an editor, he wasn't allowed to share the works he was helping writers with, which went against his agreement.

"I shouldn't be looking at this..."

Yes, you shouldn't, but you needed to know. Why was he always leaving late at night and going on long business trips? Why was he always late whenever the two of you went on dates? Why was he always getting calls? Why did he never stay long enough to sleep in your shared bed? It didn't even feel like his bed anymore...

"Just one peek and that's it," you whispered, "please, don't let me find anything."

You opened the chat and gnawed on your bottom lip. There were only a couple of messages, all of them sporadic at what time they were sent. You paused, freezing when your eyes were glued to a specific set of messages.

Sam -- 3:25 AM

Come see me.

Kieran -- 3:27 AM

Make it quick.

Your hands froze above the keyboard. If you had to be honest, you weren't sure what you were looking at. That was about two weeks ago. What was he doing two weeks ago? Your brain wracked to remember what he did that week and how many times he left the house, but it was a blur. Every week was the same in the long run. You glanced down at the most recent message. It was from Sam.

Sam -- 10:00 AM

Where the hell are you at? Respond to this when you see it. You told me you'd see me today.

Your muscles collapsed. Falling back into the seat, you stared at the screen dumbly, lungs gathering in as much air as they could before you stopped breathing entirely. Everything was cold; your bones, muscles, and blood.

Sam was a unisex name. For all you knew, this was the woman he could be cheating on you with. The messages were distrustful enough. The one from two weeks ago was at three in the morning and this Sam person was asking to meet him? He agreed, so even if you didn't remember that week perfectly, it wouldn't have surprised you to know he went somewhere at three in the morning. Just last night, he left at an odd time and has yet to come back.

Is he with her now?

The thought was crushing. You could imagine it at the forefront of your mind; you saw him panting, grinding his hips into some woman you didn't know, moaning her name like some sort of mantra. His hands would be all over her body and her palms would graze down his inked skin, tracing the very same lines that you have. He would hold her hands, he would kiss her lips, and move his hips like a starved beast.

Tears rolled down your cheeks.

No.

No, no, no.

None of this was real. You were just jumping to conclusions again, you didn't know that this person was a woman, and even if it was—him going to meet her at 3 in the morning wasn't cheating, right? That didn't guarantee that he was having sex with her, dating her, kissing her.

Your nails carved crescents into your palms.

You were angry. You didn't quite get it, but all the hurt you felt manifested like a hot steel rod through your heart. Short breaths escaped your lips and a choking sob followed. You didn't want to cry, you were tired of crying, but that didn't stop your heart from collapsing and burning all over again. So you punched, you punched at your knees and thighs until you knew bruises would form later, and you didn't stop.

"Damn it!" you wheezed, fist slamming down on his desk so hard that a pile of papers slipped to the floor. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

He didn't.

He wouldn't.

The chair tipped back whenever you got up. You were dizzy and you blamed it on how fast you were breathing, aggressively wiping at your tears until your eyes turned red and raw. The office door slammed shut behind you as you fumbled to throw on some new clothes and shoes, tossing on a hat to hide your hair. You needed out of the house. Anywhere, yes anywhere! You'd go anywhere that was better than this place.

He wouldn't have done it, right? No, he wouldn't have! You didn't know anything for certain. Yes, you just had to stop jumping to conclusions. In fact, it would be better if you just stopped thinking entirely. Shut your brain off and stop questioning your husband's loyalty, because no way he would cheat on you—

But what if he is? you thought, Sam could be better than me in everything. She could be prettier, smarter, sexier. What if she gives him what he wants with sex? What if he is happy and satisfied with her?

Wouldn't that make you selfish for wanting to keep hanging onto him?

You kicked the pot outside. It shattered when it fell off the porch and you cursed, stomping past it, and going down the street. Your eyes were puffy and red, cheeks blotchy from your stupid waterworks, and you looked messy. You didn't care. You couldn't gather the energy to care. So you walked down to the store that was a couple blocks away at the bottom of the hill, gripping your wallet tightly.

You needed a long walk to calm you down. So you did just that—you walked to the store as slowly as possible, sucking in the cold air, wishing all your foul emotions would melt away like that sloshy snow on the side of the road.

It didn't take long to reach the store. Unluckily for you, you didn't notice the slightly dimming sky. It always got dark early in winter.

The store was welcoming. There was no one inside except two workers who were minding their own business. They flashed you a smile before you scurried to the back of the store, grabbing a pack of your favorite chips and a soda from one of the fridges. You exhaled and glanced at the tempting chocolates near the front. You didn't need them, plus you had a feeling you'd eat them all in one go and make yourself sick, so you refrained from buying them.

Sighing, you walked up to the front and placed your items on the counter. An older lady walked up to the register, the pretty red ribbons styling in her hair catching your eye. They matched the red eyeshadow around her eyes and the red mascara she was wearing.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" the cashier raised a worried eyebrow when she noticed your appearance, glanced around, and then lowered her voice, "Do you need me to call someone for you? Are you in trouble?"

You managed a weak smile. "I'm good, just a rough day."

It took everything in your power to not spill your guts to this lady. Oh, how you wanted to tell someone about what you were going through, what you were thinking, but who would you tell? All your friends were in happy relationships, they wouldn't understand, and couldn't speak to the one man you usually told everything to because it was about him.

The cashier smiled softly, saying, "Oh, I apologize. I heard there have been a lot of kidnappings around here recently, so I wanted to make sure there was no bad person in the store with you. Women need to look out for other women!"

Your chest warmed up at her smile. "Yes, we do. Thank you. I love how your charms and makeup match, it's very pretty."

The cashier bashfully waved her hand and laughed. "Aww thank you! You look like you have a kind heart, so I things get better for you, sweetie. Hopefully, these snacks will make you feel better."

She handed you the bag and you nodded, muttering a 'thank you' and a simple 'I hope you have a good evening' before you turned on your heel and bolted for the exit.

The doors slid open and that warm feeling in your chest faded, pausing to stop and stare at the sky. It got dark quickly. It wasn't fully dark, the sun was just over the horizon, painting orange and pink streaks into the clouds. A bird flew down and perched on a lamppost.

If only you were a bird. They were able to fly anywhere they wanted to go, they didn't have a care in the world, and they didn't have to struggle with whatever mess you were struggling with. You didn't know how you should label what you were going through. You didn't know if your spouse was a cheater, you didn't know if you deserved to be cheated on, and you didn't know why you were dragging it with you.

Just like that, the nice interaction you had was in the back of your mind, and you felt like shit again.

Why can't I just be the type of wife who trusts him?

You always compared yourself to the images of wives you saw on TV and the internet. Smiling, happy, and who had great communication with their spouses—yet here you were, afraid to ask your husband just because you didn't want to face the fact that it might be real. To face the fact you could potentially lose him. You were angry at him too, you didn't want to hear excuses, and you didn't want to look at him.

Yeah, maybe you did deserve to get cheated on, but you were still pissed at him for discarding you if he did. For tossing you out like you were nothing as if he forgot all the years the two of you have been together.

If he cared, you were starting to no longer feel it. That gnawing thought that each time he kissed you, he imagined it was another girl. His touches felt distant at times and you wondered what else he had on his mind to make him so ghostly.

You glanced down at the chips and soda in your bag. So much for trying to eat the pancakes he made later. You didn't have the desire to eat anything he made, you'd end up crying again if you did. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you glanced down, moving the heavy bag around as you struggled to get your phone out.

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive.

Kieran ❤︎  -- 9:48 PM

Where are you?

Your lip twitched into a frown. From what you saw earlier, you didn't want to talk to him at all. Your mind was still reeling with what message you saw on his laptop, wondering just who Sam was, and why everything was so suspicious. Your face was stiff from the bitter cold and all the dried-up tears you sobbed earlier.

It wasn't fair. He was asking where you were but each time you asked him, he either was vague or said some sort of response that didn't make sense! Your teeth gritted together and you felt tears welling back up. Angry. You were absolutely livid at him. You were livid at yourself. Hell, you wanted to scream at something but you didn't know who deserved to be screamed at.

Was it you because you weren't a good enough wife for him to stay around? Or was it him for not staying around in the first place?

You managed to type back. Even so, no matter how angry you were, or how sad, you always found yourself responding the longer you stared at his name on the top of the screen.

You — 9:49 PM

Store. Walking home now.

You watched the bubble appear. Within seconds, before you had the chance to put your phone away and pretend you never saw his message, he replied.

Kieran ❤︎ — 9:50 PM

Stay put and don't leave the store. I'm coming to pick you up. It's not safe for you to be walking out when it is getting dark ❤

You wanted to throw your phone. You stomped your foot and shoved your phone into your pocket, glaring holes into the cement as you stood out on the sidewalk outside the story.

It wasn't terribly dark yet but it was dark enough that it wasn't safe. That was your fault, you were the idiot for giving into your compulsions and going to the store whenever you wanted to go out of the house. Yes, you should wait for Kieran, no matter how angry you were because it was the responsible thing to do.

But you didn't want to wait. The house was only two blocks away and you knew everyone in the neighborhood. It wasn't like you hadn't walked out to the store before in the dark, so what would happen this time? You had your keys and the can of soda in the bag would be a good weapon to swing at someone.

He never tells me where he's going, you cussed inwardly, so he can just suck it up and wait for me to walk home.

Yes, you were being petty.

But who wouldn't be? You just found a very suspicious message on your husband's laptop from someone named 'Sam', and now he wanted you to wait for him to come and pick you up. You were hurt. You were angry. You were confused. You didn't want to see his face but at the same time, all you wanted to do was to snap at him for him to explain everything.

It had to be your fault, right? Why else wouldn't he want to spend time with you if it wasn't your fault?

You let your emotions get the best of you, storming down the side of the street as you ventured farther and farther away from the sanctuary of the store. Street lamps flickered as you walked up the hill with your shoes clicking against the sidewalk. There was no sign of the car he was in.

The thought of sitting down on the concrete and letting your heart out was tempting. There was no one around and you were getting tired of the same bleak, lonely expanse of your home. The sidewalk looked more welcoming than the bed at home you could cry on. You stopped dead in your tracks and sighed, tears welling up. 

You didn't even realize you were sinking to your knees before you were already sitting on the sidewalk. You weren't sobbing, no wailing, but single tears that rolled quietly down.

So many people would say so many things if they saw you like this. Maybe they'd call you dramatic, maybe they were right, but everything felt so suffocating. You felt trapped. You didn't want to go home but you wanted to be home, you wanted Kieran to hold you but you also didn't want to see him. It was all so complex.

Maybe everyone would call you cowardly and pathetic. God, you already knew that. You were crying on the sidewalk instead of going up to him and asking him—but what if he said an answer you didn't want to hear? What if he admitted to cheating? What if he said he didn't love you anymore? The fear of rejection was the one reason you kept your mouth shut... the fear of losing him.

If you lost him, you didn't think you could fall in love again.

You don't think you would want to.

All you wanted was to have the love of your life back; his smiles, his hugs, him holding you to sleep. You wanted the man you saw at your wedding—when he looked at you as if you were the only person to exist. But now maybe that wasn't true. Maybe you were just a woman he didn't want to be around anymore. Maybe you were dragging him down and he was just waiting for the perfect time to tell you.

God, I'm so scared, you thought. What if I'm right? What if it isn't all in my head?

Your phone buzzed. No. You wanted to ignore him, you wanted to stay here, you wanted to cry until all that was left was a numb destroyed path.

The last time you had a good unashamed cry, you couldn't remember. It was always muffled because Kieran was around or you were in your car, but now no one was around, but now you were too tired to sob like you wanted to. Crying made you feel like a crybaby, like some bitch who couldn't keep it together, even though you had every reason to shed a couple tears.

You were angry at yourself for going behind his back to snoop through his laptop because you were too scared to have an adult conversation with him, you were angry at him for always leaving you alone and confused, and you were angry that this situation was even happening.

God, you felt so repetitive. Yeah, you were angry and sad, maybe you should just stop whining and dwelling on it. How easy everything would be if you could.

"Hey girly, you okay?"

You froze. For a split second, you thought it was Kieran, but it was two men when you looked up. Two white men, one with a buzz cut and the other had a short perm, tattoos covering their arms. Cigarettes hung from their fingertips. Maybe it was because you were used to how Kieran looked, but you didn't immediately assume they were 'bad guys' because of how they looked.

You wiped your tears away and sniffled, "Uhm, shit, yes I'm okay."

The man with the buzz cut raised an eyebrow. A shiver shot down your spine whenever he smiled. Okay, maybe he was a bad guy because something about this felt wrong.

"Why is a cute thing like you cryin' in a place like this?" he asked, then glanced at his friend, "a poor girly like this shouldn't be cryin' out on the street, don'cha agree?"

The other man nodded, "Yeah. Where are ya' going?"

Sweat trickled down your back. You stumbled up from the ground, backing away from them, gripping your bag just in case you had to swing it. You cleared your throat and did your best to sound firm, "I'm heading home, so if you'll excuse me..."

The men smiled like preying hyenas. "Oh, we can walk you home--"

"(Y/N), thank god!"

Your head snapped to the side when Kieran shouted. There he was, rushing towards you in a jog, stopping to catch his breath. Why wasn't he in the car? He looked distraught. His hair was a wild mess, sweat on his brow, panic in his eyes that fell into relief whenever he saw you. He didn't give you a chance to speak before he grabbed your shoulders, yanked you into him, and crushed you in a hug.

"Why the hell did you not answer any of my calls? You didn't text me back either, fuck, I thought something happened to you! I told you I was going to pick you up!"

You were stunned. He pulled back and cupped your face, noticing your tear-stained cheeks. He looked like he just got sucker punched in the gut.

"Why are you crying, Котик? Did something happen?"

Oh, how it looked in his eyes. He probably assumed the worst happened to you whenever you weren't at the store and all his calls and messages were ignored. You couldn't blame him for being panicked. Guilt stabbed you through the heart; you just scared him to death just because you were angry and sad over a questionable situation. It was an immature reaction based on an assumption and now he was the one dealing with the aftermath.

Suddenly, you felt like the worst piece of shit in the world.

However, anything you wanted to say was stolen from your lips whenever Kieran looked up. The two men who tried talking to you stared back with unimpressed, raised eyebrows. Kieran's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?"

The man with the buzz cut grinned. "Oh, well we saw this girly sitting on the sidewalk so—"

"I asked who you are?" Kieran deadpanned, "that means your name."

Both the men shuffled on their feet. The man with the shaggy hair spoke, glaring, "What do you want our names for? It doesn't matter."

Kieran pursed his lips. Whatever he was thinking, you couldn't read it, and you could tell they couldn't either by the way they started to glance at each other. He sighed and his fingers fumbled with the edge of your shirt. He glanced down at you, giving you whiplash with how soft he looked at you.

"Did these men hurt you? What happened?"

"Hey! We already said--"

Kieran's voice dropped and he glanced at them, his glare cold enough to send a chill through hell, "I didn't fucking ask you, so keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open."

You didn't try to speak, you just shook your head and gripped his arm tighter. Kieran snapped his head back up to glare at them and they squirmed. He analyzed them for a bit, letting them get increasingly nervous by the second.

"Now that I look at you, you seem familiar. Elliot? Elliot Smith?"

The man with the buzz cut, Elliot, froze.

"I heard about you. I have a friend who works in the police, he told me about you. Weren't you charged with sexual harassment three months ago?" Kieran stared, his expression cold, "There have been some rumors recently that you've been trying to get into gang activity as well."

Elliot's face turned red as if all the air supply was cut off to his face. He looked like a plum when his cheeks grew from red to purple, his eyes shifting through different emotions to gauge what to say next. You blinked. He was charged with sexual harassment? How did Kieran know about something like that? When did he get a friend who was a cop?

Is the cop Sam?

Kieran wasn't a man who watched the news that often, so you doubted he was lying about where he got the information. You shuffled on your feet and his hand held you tighter. Damn it. You really threw "stranger danger" out the window just because you were pissed and wanted to spite your husband by walking home instead of waiting for him.

Elliot stumbled forward and started to stammer out his words. Kieran didn't step back, but you didn't miss the way his muscles tensed up like a wild cat about to lunge forward. He started to drum his fingers against your arm—you weren't sure if he was trying to comfort you or distract you.

"I am not in the mafia, Russian bastard!"

Kieran raised an eyebrow. He ignored the obvious attack on his ethnicity, not caring that he was called a Russian bastard. He tilted his head, "the mafia?"

"Yeah! You're accusing me of working with the mafia just because of some still rumors you heard from a cop. Those rumors aren't--"

"Ah, no," he smiled humorlessly, "I imagine they aren't interested in уличные дворняги. Plus I said gang activity, as in little boys running around with baseball bats and pockets filled with drugs."

Elliot's buddy jumped forward to save his friend's skin. His glare didn't match Kieran's, it was weak and anxious. His hand was shaking and he pointed a hand at you. You feared what bullshit he was going to come up with and you didn't get a chance to interrupt before he spouted it.

"You should give us to her, man. If you go around accusing people of crimes, you probably do shit yourself, like abusing her. I bet you're the one who made her cry. Her eyes are puffy, she looked fuckin' defeated when we saw her. So hand her over before we call the cops."

Time stopped.

Kieran sucked in a breath.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm saying that you probably abuse her or something! If you don't leave her with us, man, we will call the cops on you!"

Kieran's face shifted into something darker. Much darker. That sweet and worried expression he had for you molded into something malicious. The last time you saw a look like that was whenever some kid in your freshman year of high school insulted you. That same kid got two of his teeth knocked out that same day. Kieran never told you he did it, he acted like he didn't know, but you remembered vividly how he tried to hide the blood caked under his nails back then.

You never thought something like this would happen. Sure, they haven't harrassed you, but accusing Kieran of abuse whenever he hasn't done anything wrong made your chest bubble up. You were the one who screwed up and got all of you in this situation, not him.

"Hey, he's not—"

Kieran squeezed your shoulder. You saw the way he glanced down at you, subtly shaking his head, telling you to leave it to him. You weren't sure what he was thinking anymore or what he was doing—all you wanted was to go home. It was you who put everything in this situation because of an emotional mistake, so you should be the one to suck up your responsibility and leave the situation.

"leave her with you?"

Elliot spoke up. "The poor girly was crying and now some tattooed, large bastard like you comes up! You think the police would believe—"

"And they'll believe someone who was recently released from prison for sexual harassment?"

Elliot clamped his mouth shut. His eyes snapped to you, narrowing into daggers, and sweat built on your brow. He pointed an angry finger at you.

"Well isn't it her fucking fault for walking out whenever it's dark? She doesn't have brains if she thinks that someone looking like her would be able to go home without getting hit on! It's normal for good-looking women."

Oh, if looks could kill, you were sure that those two men would have dropped dead. Elliot paled when he noticed how Kieran was glaring at him. He was on the edge, two seconds away from grabbing that hand and seeing how many times he could bend his finger until it snapped off.

It was scary. You'd be lying if you said that you weren't scared of an expression like that, because you had a feeling that the only reason he wasn't violent was because you were there.

Just like when the two of you were younger.

"...Kieran, why—why don't we go home? Okay?" you stammered, "We don't need to waste our time here. We wanted to have dinner together, remember?"

Kieran's lip twitched and his green eyes shifted down to you. They were sharp and calculating, his arm wrapped around you like a coiled spring.

"Let's just go home," you whispered. Please.

By the look of Elliot's face, he was hoping the two of you would leave too, scurrying back closer to his friend who had been quiet throughout the entire ordeal. You didn't blame him. He looked just as grey and sickly as the cement beneath their feet.

Kieran's jaw was clenched. He stared at you as if he was debating all the options he had. You knew him, he didn't like being violent in front of you and always lied in the past about where he was. You weren't naive. You were very much aware that he was violent and you knew that he hated that you knew. To him, he just wanted you to view him as a dazzling husband.

Which he was—just dangerous too.

The two men didn't dare act cocky whenever he finally turned to leave with you. His hand grasped yours and he dragged you back down to the store, not looking back, as if he feared he might actually break their fingers off if he looked at their faces again.

You had a hard time keeping up with his long strides. His head was in the clouds so he didn't bother to slow down, gritting his teeth as he barely managed to make it to the parking lot without turning back.

Kieran sometimes had to use self-restraint when it came down to hurting others. Sometimes, you said, because it wasn't every day that he listened to it. You stumbled behind him.

"Slow down a bit! My legs—my legs aren't as long as yours!"

It was a miracle he actually heard you. Like a dog hearing a special command, he stopped dead in his tracks and you almost rammed your nose into his back. You inhaled sharply and let the burning of your legs rest a bit. He was basically jogging! You barely had enough courage to meet his eye whenever you noticed the familiar sensation of his gaze boring into your head.

His green eyes were dark.

Oh.

He was angry at you.

The silence was loud even though there was the distant sound of cars honking, the wind between houses, and some cat in an alleyway. You didn't know what to say. You wanted to apologize to him, for making him worry and putting yourself in a dangerous situation because of an emotional decision, but nothing would leave your lips. You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again. You must have looked like a gaping fish out of water.

He had every right to be angry at you. You were aware that you tended to blame yourself in situations where you weren't involved, but you knew that you messed up.

Guilt twisted your gut up into one big knot. You didn't know what to do or say to untangle it, much less make it to where Kieran wasn't staring at you in the way that he was. Angry, confused, questioning why the hell you didn't just wait for him—and you felt guilty because you knew you couldn't just tell him why.

"I..."

He wasn't speaking. Was he waiting for you to give him something to work with? Even if it was some shitty lie or bad excuse? Your hand let go of his and started to fuddle at the hem of your shirt.

"...I'm sorry, I know I—I messed up. I, uhm, I made a bad decision—"

Kieran took a deep breath. How odd that such a small action caused every word you planned to speak to collapse, cutting your apology short. You couldn't look him in the eye. Dangerous thoughts started to swirl around in your head like poison; was he disappointed in you? Was dumb mistakes like this the reason he never stayed around you? Maybe he viewed you as a child who couldn't make reasonable decisions? Were you being emotional? Maybe he wasn't mad at you and you were assuming things?

You wished you had the courage to ask him all those questions. You wished you had the bravery to listen to the answers without crying. But you didn't, so you kept your mouth shut.

Kieran shuffled on his feet and placed a hand under your chin, lifting your head.

"Look at me."

His green eyes weren't as dark as before. He wasn't happy, yeah, but he looked as if he was trying to be gentle and understanding. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Thank you for apologizing," he murmured sincerely and he took a deep breath,  hanging his head, "I'm also sorry that men like that decided to target you. You were probably so scared and me acting like... me probably wasn't helping, was it?"

"Well, you—you were with me so I wasn't scared. I was more just... nervous I guess. I don't know, I went off on my own because I was emotional, I'm sorry—"

His eyebrows creased and his hands cupped your face. He was so tender with how his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and he leaned in close, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. He melted at the touch of your skin, fluidly stepping forward and leaning in as close as possible. He drank in your presence, your warmth, the smell of your hair, and the rising and falling off your shoulders.

"Let's... let's talk about this at home, okay? I'm not mad, I just..." he trailed off and his eyes darkened, "I was scared something happened to you. When I couldn't find you at the store, when you weren't responding to my calls or texts, and when I saw those fucking свиньи with you—"

He cut himself off. He closed his eyes and took a couple of breaths.

"We're going home. Come on."

You yelped whenever his hands curved under your knees and he picked you up, carrying you like you were some damsel in distress. Any questions, excuses, or complaints you wanted to say dissipated when you saw that distant look on his face. Just like you've seen before, he looked ghostly, like he saw something you couldn't see. Just where was his head at?

You looked away. Anger buzzed in your bones, guilt was drowning your heart, and you too had a fuzzy feeling inside your head that made you feel distant.

I shouldn't have left the house.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

LINKS :

— 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳

— 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥

— 𝘘𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘷

[ P.3 ]

[lifeisyoung4everyone]

ZAYNE DOMESTIC HEADCANONS

PART 2

cw: suggestive +18 below cut!!!

Zayne who, when he doesn’t want to read research articles to get you asleep- due to how monotonous and tedious they get- instead reads ‘The Little Prince’ to you. Sometimes to tease you he turns the book and points to the picture like he’s reading it to a little kid or something. If you react with a warning paw to his arm he’ll respond with a breathy chuckle.

Zayne who always steals a sip of your drink with your straw when you’re out on a lunch date. Will tell you that a variety of liquids is good for the diet if you call him out.

Zayne who responds to the doodles you make on the calendar hung on his kitchen wall with his own snowman doodles. You can tell there’s a lot of love behind them but certainly also a lazily held pen (which you’ll allow since he does these very early in the morning before work). Other times he’ll just respond with comments like “oh really?” to the nonsense you write and graffiti on that thing.

Zayne who enjoys all kinds of sweet cold treats but always has some classic Magnum ice creams in his freezer drawer because it’s a reliable choice. He can’t nag you and will just give a touché happy sigh about any sort of snacks you store next to his beloved Magnums: it’s your checkmate.

Zayne who has a small potted plant in the desk of his office. He’s never really went too long without watering it, but ever since you’ve put a plant poke with a cute little character to give company to his plant, he’s never been more motivated to water it. It certainly adds a bit of you to his space, and he has the habit of stroking the little plant’s leaves in caress when he thinks of you during work.

Zayne who packs your bag for uni or work if he knows you’ll be too busy to attend to it until the morning or if you’ve dozed off already.

Zayne who readjusts your sleeping positions with the most gentle hands, otherwise he can’t be soothed to continue doing anything else. He gets prickles on his back just to think about you waking up with a hurting back.

Zayne who feels contentment he can’t describe when he slides his closet door open and opens the shallow little accessory drawer, and finds your jewellery in a specialised velvet tray and his prescription glasses on the other end.

Zayne who because of you, has a little egg timer resemblant of a chicken to help out when he cooks. He used to just use alarms on his phone, but ever since your silly little gift, he won’t use anything else. The first thing he did when he found the incongruous little chicken character was ask if you if it had a name.

Zayne who picked up your little habit of storing socks as little balls. When you’re both sat on the bed balling up his and your socks, he’ll grab one like a snowball and boop it to the side of your cheek.

Zayne who when he sees you really sluggish coming out the shower, will get you dressed and have you sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed mattress as he stands and dries your hair with the hairdryer.

Zayne who once put your soiled slippers in the washing machine while you slept before leaving for work in a really early dark winter morning. He kissed your hand and jotted down a little note on the bedside table for you to use his slippers instead, which were faced outwards from where you’d naturally put your feet to get up from bed.

Zayne who has a regime with you of cutting and peeling fruits for each other back and forth. Once outdid you by making his orange to you look like a water lily, knowing and having schemed that you couldn’t do anything more creative. The bastard. All your oranges from henceforth were like that, to rub it in your face with the excuse of vitamin D. Yeah right. You’ll get him.

Zayne who involuntarily (or voluntarily, who knows) flusters you when removing your underwear from the plastic peg rack. Upon meeting your dazzled face, holds the cloth almost touching the side of his cheek.“Should I not take this garment to face value?”

[melanchoire]

PRICE OF CONCENTRATION ──── yu jimin

── ( 📓 ) your focus is laser-sharp on the lecture, but your classmate karina, ever the mischievous one, decides boredom is a personal invitation to drive you wild; first with innocent attempts to catch your eye, then escalating to a secret game of teasing touches that slowly melt your resistance, until a shared, unspoken look seals the deal – textbooks forgotten, and the dorm room beckons for a different kind of study.

pairing. switch!student!yu jimin x switch!student!fem reader

warning(s). cunnilingus, fingering, making out, pet names, scissoring.

word count. 4,5k

request. for some reason this request disappeared from my inbox 💔 anyway, almost all requests are finished and prepared in my drafts to be published in the next few days 🙌🏻 so keep sending stuff, requests or thoughts are always welcome.

the bright  lights of the lecture hall hummed, a monotonous drone that mirrored the professor’s voice, droning on about something you were sure was important, but karina couldn’t for the life of her care. you, however, were a model of academic focus, a bastion of attentiveness in a sea of glazed—over eyes and restless fidgeting. she watched you, her gaze tracing the neat, precise strokes of your pen as you filled your notebook with information. you were a machine, a perfect student, and it was honestly a little vexing.

you were a study in contrast to her current state. your posture was impeccable, your focus unwavering, your pen moving with a rhythmic precision across the page, capturing every nuance of the lecture. karina’s eyes seemed to trace the smooth lines of your handwriting, the neatness a stark contrast to her own messy scrawl.

she straightened a little, trying to emulate your focus. she leaned forward, eyes darting to the screen where the professor was projecting dense formulas and colorful graphs. you could almost see the struggle in her face, her brow furrowing in concentration as she attempted to follow along. but it was like watching a car try to start on a cold morning, sputtering a few times before succumbing to silence. her concentration faltered, her gaze drifting to the window behind the professor, where a few brave sparrows were flitting about.

karina leaned back in her own chair, stretching her legs out beneath the desk, a silent protest against the suffocating boredom of the class. she crossed her arms over her chest, a gesture that screamed, “i’d rather be anywhere else.” she turned to you again, a small frown creasing her brow as she watched you. how could you be so engaged in this? it was like you were a different species entirely. she tried. oh god, did she try. she tried to mimic you, focusing her attention on the professor, willing herself to absorb the words, the concepts. but it was like trying to grasp water — the harder she tried, the more it slipped through her mental fingers. it was as if her ears were working, registering the sounds of the lecture, but her brain was refusing to process them, like a stubborn computer refusing to run a program. her mind was a tangled mess of “why was she even here?” and “does this really matter?”

giving up, a defeated sigh escaping her lips, she decided to go for a different approach. she scanned your pencil case, a kaleidoscope of brightly coloured pens and highlighters, and plucked out a vibrant purple one. she made a pathetic attempt at taking notes, the pencil scratching against the paper, but her handwriting was a chaotic mess of angles and loops, completely devoid of the neatness you possessed. vague, disconnected words filled the page, interspersed with doodles of abstract shapes and grumpy—looking faces.

boredom gnawed at her, a restless beast demanding attention. she turned towards you, poking your arm with the end of the pen. she wanted to talk, she wanted your attention, she wanted anything but this agonizing lecture. you didn't even look up. you knew what it meant. she was like a bored child, seeking attention, eager to find someone to share her misery with. you continued to transcribe the professor’s words, unfazed.

you didn’t miss a beat of the professor’s monotone, your hand still moving across the page. karina felt an inexplicable urge of annoyance bubbling up within her. then came the poke again, this time a little harder. she was persistent, you had to give her that. still, you refused to acknowledge her. so, she poked you again, a third time this time, it was quick as if giving you the pencil. that’s when you reached out, taking the pencil from her fingers. you didn’t even break eye contact with the professor. you didn’t see the small scoff that escaped her lips, the way her eyes narrowed in playful frustration.

she wasn’t going to be brushed off that easily. karina reached for the cord of your headphones, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. she yanked it from your ears, the soft humming of the song you were listening to floating into the air, a low, rhythmic pulse. you finally turned to look at her, one eyebrow arched in a silent question. karina knew that look. she was going to get a lecture about class soon if she didn’t diffuse this now. she’ll take the risk. she loved when she got you going.

you gave her a light punch on the arm, just a playful tap, but it still stung a little. “pay attention.” you mouthed, your voice low, a clear line drawn in the sand, but she couldn’t help but notice the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of your lips.

“class is boring.” she retorted, hitting you back in the arm, a little harder this time. “i’m bored.”

“well, if you paid attention, you might not be.” you whispered back, a hint of exasperation in your eyes, but it was clear you weren’t actually mad.

“you’re weird for actually liking this.” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. you chuckled lightly.

“you know i like learning.” you said. “It’s not my fault you can't focus for five seconds.”

“hey!” she exclaimed, her voice a little louder this time, drawing a quick glare from the professor. you exchanged a quick look, a silent agreement that she had pushed it, before you returned to your notes, effectively shutting her out.

for a good five minutes, she was silent. you figured she had finally run out of energy. then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her pick up a pen and begin to write in her notebook. “okay.” you thought, that’s unexpected. you didn’t let it distract you, though, because you were focused on the next set of formulas.

that is, until you felt it. a touch, feather—light, on the side of your knee. you glanced down, your heart doing an unexpected leap in your chest. karina’s hand, warm and soft, was resting there, seemingly innocent. she was still writing in her notebook, her attention appearing to be fixed on the professor, but that hand, though, was doing more than just resting.

you tried to dismiss it. maybe she was just being absent—minded, maybe she didn’t realize she was touching you. but then the hand started to move, inching upwards slowly, tracing the curve of your leg as it went, the subtle graze of her fingers sending shivers up your spine. it reached your thigh, the warmth of her palm making your skin tingle.

you shifted slightly. surely she would stop now. it was a blatant invasion of your space, and you were certain she was doing it on purpose. but no, the hand kept moving, its fingers now pressing gently into your flesh. it was heading higher, angling to slip under the hem of your skirt.

your breath caught in your throat. the lecture faded into background noise, the formulas on the screen becoming a blur. your heart was pounding in your chest. you could feel the blood rushing to your face, your cheeks getting warmer, and you were sure you were turning as red as a tomato. you glanced sideways to meet her eyes, not before letting out a small cough, trying to sound as subtle as possible.

“karina.” you hissed in a low, barely audible whisper, a warning laced in your breath. you tried to sound stern, but there was a tremor in your voice that was quite embarrassing. her gaze flickered from her notebook to meet yours, the corner of her lips twitching upwards in a knowing smirk. she raised an eyebrow, as if to say “what?”, her eyes wide and innocent.

“stop.” you mouthed, your voice barely a breath.

she simply shook her head, her fingers now almost touching the edge of your skirt, and whispered back, “pay attention.” her voice an innocent whisper that barely reached your ears. the smirk never left her face, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling you everything. she was playing with you, teasing you, testing your patience. and you had a feeling she was enjoying every second of it.

karina’s hand, a warm, persistent weight on your knee, was the culprit. it had started subtly, a gentle brush, and had gradually escalated, inching higher with each passing minute. 

it was a battle against your own body, a struggle to focus on the quadratic equations scribbled on the chalkboard when karina’s hand rested, bold and possessive, on your thigh. it wasn’t just on your thigh, not really. her fingers were creeping higher, inching towards the hem of your skirt, the whisper of fabric against skin sending shivers that had nothing to do with the overly air—conditioned room. 

now, her fingers were perilously closer to the edge of your skirt, threatening to slip beneath and find the delicate lace of your panties. your breath hitched. you couldn’t focus on the teacher’s droning lecture; every nerve ending was screaming under the tantalizing pressure of her touch.

a simple glance, a fleeting lock of your eyes with hers, was all it took. you saw the same anticipation mirrored in their depths, a shared understanding of the unspoken desires crackling in the air between you. a silent promise of something more, something that couldn’t happen within the confines of the brightly lit classroom.

you knew the dance by now; the way her eyes, dark and mischievous, met yours, a coded language spoken only between the two of you. it was a simple exchange, a silent understanding of the desire that simmered beneath the surface.

you were barely registering the teacher’s droning voice, your attention consumed by the escalating heat radiating from karina’s touch. your breath hitched, a small, involuntary gasp that you hoped went unnoticed. you glanced at her, a question in your eyes, and her answering smirk sent a thrill through you. it was time.

karina’s voice, smooth as honey and laced with a playful urgency, cut through the monotonous lecture. “excuse me, mr. kim?” she called, her hand still firmly planted on your thigh. your skin prickled with anticipation. “i think that… well, maybe we should go to the bathroom. she’s not feeling too well.”

all eyes turned to you. you felt your face flush even more, a blush that wasn’t entirely faked. the combination of karina’s touch and the sudden attention had your heart hammering against your ribs. you felt the familiar clamminess of your palms, and the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead was real enough, lending truth to karina’s claim. the teacher, a middle—aged man who barely registered his students beyond the first row, glanced at you with a perfunctory frown. “you alright, miss…?” he squinted, searching his register your face.

you could feel the heat rising more in your cheeks, mirroring the flush you already felt from karina’s touch. you pressed your lips together, trying to look convincingly ill. a slight sweat dampened your forehead, the nervousness and anticipation adding to the charade. you gave a weak little cough, hoping it added to the effect.

mr. kim, ever the gullible academic, peered at you with concern. “oh my, you do look a bit pale. are you alright?”

you managed a feeble nod, grateful for the dramatic flare that karina had instigated. “yes, just a bit lightheaded.”

he seemed convinced enough. “alright, go along then. but don’t take too long.” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand, turning back to the whiteboard, utterly unaware of the charade playing out before him.

you practically bolted from your seat, grateful for the reprieve. you expected karina to lead you toward the bathrooms or the infirmary down the corridor, but instead, she took your hand again, her grip firm, and guided you in the opposite direction, toward the dormitories. a thrill shot through you. you glanced at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“the infirmary is that way.” you murmured, a hesitant question hovering in your tone.

“we’re not going to the stupid infirmary right now. of course, we’ll get there, don’t worry.” karina replied, her hand now resting on your lower back, guiding you forward. “but first things first.” she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “my room is closer. we can… recharge there."

“but what about class?” you asked, trying not to let your voice betray your excitement.

karina winked. “after the fun, we'll go to the infirmary, get a note. problem solved. you’re still 'sick', after all.” she said, emphasizing the last word with a mischievous lift of her brow. “we’ll get a medical certificate, and we can give it to your professor.”

“he’ll probably notice that there’s a big time difference between when we left the classroom and when we went to the infirmary. and he’ll wonder why it took us so long to get to the infirmary after we left class.” you pointed out, trying to sound like you were trying to be responsible, even though your heart was already racing at the prospect of what was about to happen.

“we’ll say that we were in the bathroom because you were nauseous or you went to wet your face and cool off. or maybe even that you felt dizzy and almost fainted? i don’t know, but we’ll figure something out.” she says, her grin growing at the look of disbelief on your face. karina bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. “too extreme, isn’t it? well… how about we just say we went out onto the terrace or something because you needed some fresh air? maybe we can even blame it on the awful school lunch, if he still asks.” she added, her voice laced with amusement. “he never pays attention anyway.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, any lingering doubts swiftly melting away under her infectious energy. as you approached her dorm door, you noticed a name tag next to it. “wait, what about your roommate?” you asked, remembering the other girl whose name you vaguely recalled being “giselle”.

karina chuckled, pushing the door open and waves a dismissive hand. “don’t worry about her. she hasn't been in the dorm since the party last weekend. she always crashes at someone’s place after parties… she’s probably sleeping off a hangover at her boyfriend’s place. i haven’t seen her around since then, at least.” you had to admit, you had expected her to be there. you found yourself thanking her party habits internally. “don’t worry about her. let’s just focus on what matters, okay?”

she pulled you into the room, the door clicking shut behind you, and suddenly, you were alone. the room was neat, a stark contrast to the controlled chaos of karina’s personality. it smelled faintly of vanilla and something uniquely hers, a scent that made your senses swim. 

but the air in the small space crackled with a palpable tension. karina turned, her eyes locking with yours, and all the words, the worries, the questions, evaporated.

she reached for you, her hands cupping your face, her thumbs tracing the line of your jaw, and you were lost. her lips met yours, a soft, gentle pressure that quickly deepened into a hungry kiss. you tasted her, the sweet tang of her lip gloss, the warmth of her mouth, and you melted into the sensation.

your hands moved, finding their way to her shoulders, pulling her closer, desperate for any skin-to-skin contact. her fingers tangled in your hair, gently tugging as she deepened the kiss, and you moaned into her mouth, the sound raw and unfiltered.

the world narrowed to the feel of her lips on yours, the soft gasp of her breath mingling with your own. you could feel her body pressed against yours, the soft curves of her hips and the firm press of her chest, sending shivers of desire through you. you could practically feel her grin against your lips, as if she was just as giddy as you were.

but of course, you two couldn’t stay as two lovey—dovey people for long. 

now the kiss was hot, demanding, a release of all the pent—up tension that had been simmering between you since earlier in class. her hands, now free from the confines of your skirt, tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss. you leaned into her, your body pressing against hers, the soft texture of her shirt against your skin igniting a fire within you.

karina broke the kiss, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. she was a sight to behold, dark eyes shining, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and red: an absolute goddess. “wow.” she whispered, her voice husky. “that’s... more than i was expecting.”

you, a little flustered still, managed a breathy laugh. “better than boring classes, right?”

she grinned, a flash of white teeth against her flushed face. “absolutely. come here.” she murmured.

she grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you towards her bed, her nails digging into your skin. as soon as you two reached it, she pushed you down onto the mattress, crawling over you with a predatory grace.

she straddled your hips, her knees on either side of your thighs as she loomed over you. her hands gripped the hem of your shirt and in one swift motion, she yanked it up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. she took a moment to admire your bared skin, her eyes roaming over your curves hungrily.

leaning down, she pressed her lips to your collarbone, her tongue tracing the delicate bone before she nipped at your skin. her teeth grazed your neck, leaving a trail of red marks in her wake as she made her way up to your jawline.

she captured your bottom lip between her teeth, tugging on it gently before soothing the sting with her tongue. she kissed you deeply, passionately, pouring all her lust and desire into the kiss. her hands slid down your sides, her fingers splaying across your ribcage.

karina’s hands slid further down, her fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt. with a wicked grin, she tugged them down your legs, taking your panties with them. she tossed the pleated fabric and lace aside, leaving you bare and exposed beneath her.

she took a moment to admire your naked form, her eyes darkening with unbridled lust. she licked her lips, her gaze lingering on the juncture between your thighs. slowly, teasingly, she ran a finger along your slit, feeling the slick heat gathering there.

“fuck, baby, you’re so wet already.” she purred, her voice low and dripping with desire. “i’ve barely touched you and you're already dripping for me. such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

she circled your clit with the pad of her thumb, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. her other hand slid up your stomach to your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly. she pinched your nipple between her fingers, rolling the hardened nub between them.

karina leaned down, her hot breath ghosting over your aching core. she inhaled deeply, the scent of your arousal filling her nostrils. a low, approving moan rumbled in her throat before she dragged her tongue along your slit, tasting your essence.

”mmmh, you taste even better than i imagined.” she murmured, her voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. she circled your clit with the tip of her tongue before suckling on the hardened bud, sending jolts of electricity through your body.

she dipped a finger into your entrance, pumping it in and out of your tight channel. she curled it upwards, stroking that special spot inside you that made your toes curl. her thumb continued its relentless assault on your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles around it.

karina could feel your walls fluttering around her finger, your body tensing as she brought you closer to the edge. she added a second finger, stretching you further, filling you completely. she pumped them in and out of you, her palm slapping against your clit with each thrust.

karina could feel your body trembling beneath her touch, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. she knew you were close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. she doubled her efforts, her fingers pumping into you harder, faster, determined to push you over the edge.

“that’s it, baby, come for me.” she growled, her voice rough with lust. “i want to feel you come undone on my fingers, i want to taste your pleasure on my tongue.”

she sealed her mouth over your clit, sucking hard as she thrust a third finger deep inside you. she curled them, stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, pushing you ruthlessly towards your peak.

your back arched off the bed, your hands fisting in the sheets as the coil of tension in your belly snapped. you cried out, your voice echoing off the walls of your dorm room as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.

karina didn’t let up, continuing to work you through your climax with her fingers and tongue. she drank down your release, moaning in satisfaction as your essence flooded her mouth. finally, as the aftershocks began to subside, she slowed her movements, gentling her touch.

she crawled up your body, her fingers trailing over your sweat—slicked skin. she captured your lips in a searing kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on her tongue. she smiled against your mouth, a wicked, triumphant smile.

“not bad for a warm-up, gorgeous.” she purred, nipping at your bottom lip. “but we’re far from done.”

her fingers find the waistband of her jeans, unbuttoning the button and lowering the zipper, pulling down her pants along with underwear from her long legs in the blink of an eye. a wicked grin spread across her face as she rolled onto her back, pulling you on top of her. she gripped your hips, her fingers digging into your soft flesh as she guided you to straddle her waist.

“c’mon baby.” she purred, her voice low and dripping with lust. “let’s see how well you handle being on top. impress me.”

she reached up to cup your breasts, kneading the supple mounds in her hands. she rolled your nipples between her fingers, pinching and tugging on the hardened peaks until you gasped.

karina’s other hand slid down your back, her nails raking over your skin until she reached your ass. she gripped your cheeks, squeezing the firm globes in her hands before pulling you forward, grinding your slick heat against her own.

karina’s eyes darkened with lust as she felt your wetness coating her skin, your arousal evident in the slick slide of your folds against her own. she rocked her hips up against yours, the hard ridge of her clit rubbing against your sensitive nub in a delicious friction.

“fuck… you’re so fucking wet.” she groaned, her voice strained with desire. “i can feel how much you want this, how much you need to fuck me.”

she guided your hips in a slow, sensual grind against hers, the movement allowing you both to feel the heat and pressure building between your thighs. her hands slid up your sides to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh roughly as she watched your face intently.

karina could see the pleasure playing out across your features, the way your lips parted in soft gasps and moans as you moved against her. she leaned up to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, her tongue delving deep to dance with yours.

she nipped at your bottom lip before trailing her mouth down to your neck, her teeth grazing the delicate skin. she sucked hard, intent on marking you as hers, on leaving her claim for all to see.

“ride me, baby.” she commanded, her voice low and rough with lust. “take what you need, what you want. ise me for your pleasure.”

karina’s hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding you as you began to move. you rolled your hips in a slow, sensual grind against hers, your slick folds sliding against hers. the sensation of your wetness mingling with hers was intoxicating, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core.

as you found a rhythm, you started to bounce on her lap, your breasts jiggling with each downward motion. karina’s eyes were glued to your chest, watching the mesmerizing dance of your curves. she leaned up to catch a nipple in her mouth, suckling hard as her hand kneaded your other breast roughly.

her hips jerked up to meet yours, the head of her clit catching on your own with each thrust. the pressure built inside both of you, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your bellies. you could feel karina’s muscles tensing beneath you, her body drawing closer to the edge.

karina’s fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks wide as she pulled you down harder, urging you to give her more. she could feel your walls fluttering around her, your body tightening like a coiled spring.

“that’s it, baby, fuck me just like that.” she panted, her voice ragged with desire. “i’m so fucking close. come with me, come on my pussy. i want to feel you fucking soak me.”

karina could feel your movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. your hips were moving frantically, grinding and rolling against hers in a wild dance. the obscene sound of your wetness filled the room, the slick slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls.

she could feel her own release building, the tension in her core winding tighter and tighter. she was so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy. she needed you to come with her, needed to feel your pleasure as you rode her hard and fast.

“fuck, don’t stop.” she growled, her voice strained and rough. “i’m gonna come, baby. come with me, fucking soak me with your cum. i want to feel you fucking drench me as i come undone.”

she slammed sharply her hips up against yours, her clit rubbing hard against your own. the sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pure pleasure shooting through your core. your body stiffened, your back arching as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave.

karina let out a guttural moan, her voice echoing off the walls as her own orgasm consumed her. her hips jerked and twitched beneath you, her body shaking with the force of her release. she could feel your walls clenching around her, your essence gushing out to coat her skin.

she gripped your hips hard, holding you in place as she ground against you, riding out the aftershocks of her climax. she panted harshly, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. finally, she collapsed back onto the bed, pulling you down with her.

karina wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as she peppered your face with soft kisses. she smiled up at you, her eyes shining with satisfaction and contentment. “... that was incredible.” she murmured, her voice soft and sated. “we’re definitely doing that again, baby. and again, and again…”

just as she was about to continue, a knock on the front bedroom door brings you two out of the intimate moment you were having. 

“karina? are you in there? it's me, giselle. can you open the door? i lost my keys during the party last friday! actually, i think i lost my entire handbag…”

[shouyuus]

popular host club host!keigo who's constantly the top 1 or 2 in his host club, so he's got a long roster of regulars, but one of them happens to be a good friend of yours who brings you in one day bc you're a bit naive and she thought it was about time you got out there in the world

host!keigo who is no stranger to shy little birdies, but still has a job to do, so he does his usual thing with your friend, asks about her part time job, compliments her new hairstyle, asks if she's gotten that one toner he recommended, before turning to you and offering you a smile and a wink, and is more charmed than a man in his profession should be at the way you turn red and refuse to meet his eyes

host!keigo who keeps it casual, wears relaxed, but chic street-style clothing and keeps his roots bleached well, but almost nothing else, except for the two slits of black he inks into his inner corners; says that they keep his eyes sharp so he can see all his favorite little birds at the club, of course. and suddenly, you can kinda see why your friend likes coming here so much -- the conversation is nice and he's never too pushy, but it's effortless, the way he talks about himself and gets everyone to talk about themselves as well.

host!keigo who's earnest when he asks you about your interest and feels himself smiling when you light up and talk about the things you love -- reading, painting, photography -- your friend cuts in that it's a shame you're too shy to ask him to be a model for one of your projects bc he does photograph really well, to which you blush even harder and keigo wonders briefly if there's something in the air or in the drinks today bc wow is he feeling just a tad lightheaded and from the looks of it so are you.

host!keigo who, when your friends goes to the bathroom, leans across the booth to hand you his card, just a black card with two bright red wings embossed onto the hard cardstock, runs a finger along the line of your cheek, tilts your chin up and says, "if you ever wanna come see me too... i'll make time for you, dove. all you gotta do is ask." but when u tell him, a little too honestly, that you can't afford him, he just looks at you with a little smirk and says "like i said, dove, i'll make time for you." and leaves it at that

host!keigo who texts you good morning and goodnight, who asks you if you've eaten, who, you're pretty sure, on his days off, pings you and asks you what you're doing. so you tell him that you don't have plans and he immediately calls to ask if you want to hang out -- he picks you up at the train station, wearing just a fitted black tee and some loose-fitted jeans, but even then, people are turning around, doing double takes, but he doesn't seem to notice, only grinning and jogging up to meet you, asking if there's anywhere you'd like to go

host!keigo who takes u to the aquarium and then to the park, where you do a few doodles in your notepad. he leans over to watch and even though your first instinct is to hide your work, you let him see it anyway -- something about him makes you want to trust him, and for once, you want to lean into that. he tells you that your art is beautiful, and you ask, before you can stop yourself, if you can draw him, "it'd be my honor, little bird."

host!keigo who makes you laugh by doing the most dramatic poses before leaning up against a tree and closing his eyes and you sketch him out, feeling your heart in your throat, but when you show him, he goes still and quiet, before asking if he can keep it. you nod and hand the sketch over, blushing bc he holds it like it's lost treasure, something he's spent his whole life looking for --

host!keigo who takes you to dollar karaoke, claps and laughs as you try to sing the current idol song, who is, unsurprisingly, fantastic at singing and tells you to pick your favorite song for him to serenade to you, who pays for all the drinks and never asks you to shell out a time; when you try to get the last round, he gently pushes your hand away and says "not today, little bird, i wanna do this so... let me."

host!keigo who, when you ask him if he does this with all his clients, bends down and flicks a bit of hair from your face before his eyes flicker down to your lips, says, "no... only the ones i really, really like."

host!keigo who offers to walk you back to the station but when you get there, he seems hesitant to say something -- when you gently ask about it, he lets out a tiny little laugh, shakes his head and says, "y'know it's weird -- all these years of being a host... i've never felt like this before but... you just -- god, how embarrassing, right? my whole job is to be good at talking to people and here i am, at a loss for words --" he pauses, runs a hand through his hair before turning back towards you with an earnest smile, "guess what im trying to say is... i spend all day tryna make people feel like they're special, like they're the only person in the entire world but... with you... it's the first time someone's made me feel like that and... i kinda wanna be selfish, be greedy and take you somewhere and keep you all to myself but..."

host!keigo who thinks he might be losing his mind when you smile up at him with that brilliant blush of yours and tell him that "if that's what you wanted... i wouldn't mind... if it were you."

[typing-catastrophe]

could you write a stanford pines x reader headcanon where the reader is an artist and always draws him and draws in his journals when he isnt looking? maybe he talks to the reader about the drawings and they get really flustered i dunno!!! <3

oohhh! yeesss, that's a great idea! thank you anon ^^ hope this is okay, enjoy!

1.2k words, no warnings --------------------------------------------------

Your little habit started out even before Stanford came back. Dipper saw you sketching in your notebook from time to time, and asked you to draw something for him in the journal. He handed it to you and pointed next to a text he'd written about some anomaly (maybe a Manotaur or the Pterodactyl). First you were unsure, how would you feel if someone randomly decided to draw in your sketchbook? But it actually seemed really fun, and you didn't want to disappoint Dipper. Also it was in the spirit of research and preserving observations. And honestly, what were the odds the mysterious author would ever show up again?

With that attitude you began, whenever you got the chance to, to doodle yours and the twins encounters with the countless strange phenomena in gravity falls into the journal.

Well, oops? Seemed like the universe decided that not long after you started doing so, it was the right time for the author to come back.

It wasn't a big deal really, Dipper kept the journal for most of the time and Ford told him that he liked the additions he made. You weren't sure if he only meant the notes Dipper added, or if he even knew that someone else drew the newly added creatures.

It didn't take long for you and Ford to get to know each other better and spend more time together. Literally everything about him was just so fascinating. From the way he talked about his dimensional travels, anomaly hunts and research, his interest in a shared hobby of yours (dd&md), to the way he held himself. And, even if you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, his looks.

You couldn't help it, he was captivating. So to no surprise, one day you found yourself sitting on the shack's porch, looking over at Ford standing in the yard, working away at something that was too bulky for the basement. You didn't even realise what you were doing until something startled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at your sketchbook, seeing a familiar figure on the open page.

And then it happened again, in the lab. He was explaining away, deeply invested in whatever topic he was rambling about, not really taking in his surroundings. You had started out just sketching his study, but somehow he turned out to be the main focus of it.

One evening you found yourself in the living room of the shack. Ford was sitting on the floor, which was almost entirely covered in graph paper. You had joined him while he prepared the next campaign session, the tv quietly proving some background noise. While he was franticly scribbling away sheet after sheet, you propped open your notebook and began sketching some of the characters that came to your mind. Ford's, Dipper's and your characters and some npcs you encountered on your travels. But looming over all of them, half hidden behind the dm-screen, the scheming face of the man before you took his shape.

The end of the evening was rather blurry, you remembered falling asleep on the floor and being carried to bed, half asleep in someone's arms.

"hmm thank you", is all you could mumble when you felt the soft pillow under your head.

"No problem, dear", you heard a deep voice chuckle.

-

When you thought about it the next morning, a smile crept unto your face and you kinda wished, you would've been more awake, so you could've enjoyed the moment properly.

The smile was quickly wiped off though, when you realised that you must've left your sketchbook in the living room, given that Ford probably didn't bring it with him last night. You panicked and jumped out of bed, stumbling to the door when your gaze was caught by something. Your sketchbook, laying on your desk. You exhaled, glad it didn't lay around for anyone to see. You took it into your hands and opened it to the last page you were working on. But instead of the drawing from yesterday evening, only the one before that stared back at you. Confused, you turned the pages a few times, examined it, maybe someone ripped it out? No, no remnants of a torn out page....

Then, it dawned on you. You left your notebook in your room yesterday. You didn't plan on staying or even going to the living room. God knows how you ended up there, but it definitely was without your sketchbook. Which could only mean one thing...

In record time you were out the door, down the hall and in the living room. Right in time to take in the scenery of Ford staring down at his campaign notebook, opened to the page of your drawing.

"Ahh!! No no don't look!", you jumped forward and put your hands over the drawing. Ford furrowed his eyebrows, looking quite puzzled.

"This? Oh I already saw it last night after getting you to bed. It is incredible!"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh" was all you could utter.

"It was also you who added the depictions of the twin's adventures, right?"

"Uhmm" You didn't keep your passion for drawing a secret, but you also didn't make a big deal out of it. And honestly, the way Ford was always so indulged in his own mind, you didn't think he was paying much attention to what you were doing. Now you felt a bit stupid for believing he wouldn't connect the - admittedly - obvious dots.

"They really are marvellous. And this?", he gestured to yesterdays page "Truly phenomenal!"

You didn't know what to say. You weren't even sure if you could say anything at all. All you felt was blood rushing to the tips of your ears and a flaming hot sensation in your cheeks.

"I- well uhm, thank you", you managed to stutter "I uh, I actually didn't mean to- uhm, use your campaign book. It was a mistake, I'm sorry."

"You've got to be joking! It's the perfect addition!" Ford exclaimed. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Oh", his enthusiasm caught you off guard. "I-, I guess not. Actually, that would mean a lot to me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Very well then! Thank you, dear." He looked at you with a fond expression.

You were about to retreat back to your room, turning around ready to leave, when Ford spoke up again, the smile apparent in his voice. "I also liked your artistic rendition of the twins adventures. Anything else you want to show me?" You froze.

Your heart started beating ridiculously fast. Did he knew? Did he notice you staring at him while drawing? Your thoughts started racing, but came to a sudden halt when he leaned down. His lips were almost touching your ear when he started to whisper.

"Maybe another time." And with that he walked by you, leaving you to yourself.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: if you want a second part with romance and/or where ford discovers the drawings of him, let me know! Have a nice day/night!

[golden1u5t]

mirrorball | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: fluff

ꨄ summary: spencer notices how you put other people before you all the time so he decides to do something special for just you.

"oh- um- here, elle. you can have it." you lowered the mug from your face, passing it to her with a fake smile on your face. you had fixed the last tea bag in the office's kitchen and just as you brung it to your face elle walked in talking about making her a cup of tea, only to see that there was no more. so, like you always do, you offered your cup to her.

"are you sure?" she looked down at the mug and then back at you, biting down on her lip. you shrugged your shoulders and nodded your head, handing the mug to her. "thank you! i owe you!"

elle turned around and walked out of the room, you watched her leave with a smile on your face until you couldn't see her anymore. you sighed and turned around, thinking about how you told yourself that you would stop putting other people before you. it's so hard though, especially when you can't stand the thought of making someone upset.

spencer walked into the kitchen just a few minutes later, immediately noticing the way your shoulders slumped. he glanced over at you as he reached into the cabinet to grab the coffee so he could fix a fresh pot.

"did you get your cup of tea?" he asked as he poured coffee into the filters, putting it into the coffee maker. once he got the maker started, he turned and faced you completely. you glanced up and put a smile on your face as you shook your head.

"no, elle came in wanting some tea but i had already used the last bag so i gave her mine." you shrugged your shoulders and looked down at your hands, you started to pick at the skin around your nails. "it's no problem really."

spencer looks down at you picking at your nails, he wants to reach down and grab your hands to stop you but he decides against. even though he's liked you ever since you stepped foot in the office, he's too shy to make a move. you spare him one last glance before walking out of the kitchen.

+++

spencer get's to work before you, before anyone really, and usually he takes the time to get a head start on his reports but this time is different.

before he went home the day before he stopped by the store to grab you some of your favorite things. pens and a new notepad so that you can doodle when you're bored, two boxes of your favorite tea so that you don't have to share with everyone else for a while, a bag of lollipops to refill the container you emptied by giving everyone else them, and some other things you've mentioned that you liked.

he had everything set up perfectly for when you finally walked into the office, your morning cup of tea in your hands and a smile on your face(which he knew was fake most of the time).

you noticed the basket on your desk and an expression of confusion spread across your face. you set your cup down and looked through the basket, a real smile shining through when you saw all your favorite things.

"did anyone see who left this?" you looked around but everyone just shrugged their shoulders and went back to whatever they were doing. though, you did notice how quickly spencer turned around and how red his face was, you walked over to his desk. "thank you, spence. i- i wasn't expecting it."

"it's no problem, re-really." he refused to look into your eyes but you could see how he got redder every second you stood there. you bit down on your bottom lip and turned on your heels, only getting halfway to your desk before spencer called your name. "would you want- could we- i would like to take you out... on a date. only if you want, of course."

you turned around, barely processing the words that were coming out of his mouth. you never expected spencer reid would be asking you out, in a room full of people nonetheless.

"i would love to."

[keepingitformyself]

Hello, how are your day going?? could you please write a fluff natasha x reader where r loves to draw and paint and is very good at it? giving some drawings to nat, doodling on her arm when r is bored, drawing/painting nat thinking she isn't noticing (ofc she does baby is a super spy🤏) and having a sketchbook with a looooot of sketches and drawings of nat. R could try to teach nat how to paint while they have those cute dates where they do a painting of eachother yk? also, idk if you'll want to add that but after i finished Arcane, my dream was to draw Vi's back tatto on someones back, so if you want to maybe r could ask to make it on nat

hope you can understand my ideas, english isn't my first language :/

everything is blank until you draw me

A/N: hello! thank you for requesting. hope you enjoy :))

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha first noticed your quirk on the way home from a mission.

it’s hot in cairo around this time of year. humid, sticky weather. everyone was suffering from mild heat exhaustion, suits were unzipped and shallow breaths were heard among the jet cabin.

it was a taxing mission. the team was silent in a quiet mourning.

but you sat in your seat in a far corner, barely showing any sign of the discomfort everyone else was in.

instead you had your face pushed into a leather bound journal in your lap, a pen in hand. the strokes you were making on the paper were far too wide for you to be writing something down.

no, you were drawing. natasha concluded.

no one else seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care enough to point it out.

natasha didn’t really pay any heed to it. she was more concerned with passing around iv packs to the team, making sure they didn’t pass out.

when she got to you, you immediately closed the journal on your lap. her eyebrow rose at your behavior, but she didn’t question it. there was a boundary that you were entitled to, and she wasn’t one to cross any lines unless she needed to.

you looked up at her expectantly, wordlessly she handed you an iv pack, but you shook your head and pushed her hand away.

“i’m okay.” you said. “my body is good at regulating body temperature.”

natasha didn’t say anything, she already knew this, but call it good camaraderie. though, she tried not to notice the way your hand twitched in your lap, the same hand that covered the journal under it.

“save it for someone who needs it.” you added after a few seconds.

she considered you for a few moments. for the most part you seemed fine, aside from the slight twitch in your hand. she figured you just wanted a moment for yourself so she let you be.

natasha gave a curt nod before continuing on.

the quiet hum of the quinjet was the only thing that could be heard as she moved through the space. natasha had stolen a glance more than twice between you and her task at hand.

she wouldn’t pry but her fascination had grown more as she thought about the way your hands wrapped around the worn journal. how your fingers flicked at the edges of the frayed pages.

later that evening, when the team had finally settled back into the compound and were settled in their sleeping quarters, she found you again.

it was very late into the night. nearly nearing two in the morning.

this time you’d found a small nook by the large windows in the common room, you’d looked off into the night horizon, the pen in your hand making rapid strokes across the paper.

natasha didn’t try to hide her curiosity this time.

“drawing again?” she asked, her voice was soft.

you flinched at her voice and natasha noticed the way your hand tightened around the journal. your mouth opened and closed, as to find the words to ask how she’d noticed your recreation of putting pen to paper.

as if reading your mind natasha spoke up,

“i think you forget that i’m a spy and it’s my job to notice these things, Y/N.” she joked, plopping down on a seat near to you.

you glance down at the book in your hands, a sheepish smile graces your lips.

“it helps me…process.”

natasha tilts her head, elbows resting on her knees as she leans closer.

“can i see?”

you hesitate, but gulp down your nerves and slowly turn the journal towards her. the whole page was filled with dark shadows, lines to imitate the image of smoke, jagged lines to form silhouettes of crumbling buildings, faceless people running, catching their final moments of breath, and of them being carried away with help.

it was haunting, terrifying, but deeply fascinating all the same.

“is this from today?” natasha asked, voice careful.

you nodded. “it sounds weird, but…i remember things when i’m drawing them.” you pause, chewing your lip, “and i don’t want to forget them…not fully. so it’s like i take the weight of it and i trap it here, instead of…”

“…instead of carrying it.” natasha finished for you, her green eyes meet yours with a understanding.

you nodded again, looking down.

“it’s good.” she said after a moment. “you’re really good.”

the faintest smile graces your lips,

“i’ve been drawing since i was kid. but it’s kind of different now…it can be something really nice to look but sometimes it just gets really—”

“dark.” natasha finished again.

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. natasha knew exactly what you’d meant.

over the next few weeks, the habit of drawing became something natasha couldn’t ignore.

on long missions, you’d often scribble quietly in a corner. at meeting briefings you’d doodle into the margins of notes. and once, she had sat beside you during a meeting when you’d wordlessly slid your journal towards her.

it was a sketch of her.

she was surprised, there was so much to look at. to unpack. she didn’t know whether to be impressed with how well you drew her or to be impressed with the way you’d captured her.

she didn’t how to place what it was; something vulnerable or strong, or both.

“you drew me.” she said softly.

you shrugged, a soft blush coating your cheeks.

“you’re interesting to draw.”

natasha smirked, she didn’t say anything, but she’d felt a small stir in her chest at your words.

then on you grew more comfortable with your sketches dedicated to your new muse.

it started off small—a simple sketch left on the table one morning before natasha had left for a solo mission. she’d found it tucked under her designated coffee mug. a doodle of a little black widow spider spinning on a web, with cartoonish eyes and a cute little bow on its head.

the detail was impressive, even for a quick piece, and at the bottom you’d written a small note.

thought your namesake could use a makeover. meet widow 2.0: terrifyingly adorable.

come back in one piece.

she smiled at your note, and without a word tucked the small piece of paper into her pocket.

after that, it became sort of a ritual. before a mission, whether it was long or short, you’d leave her something— sometimes a sketch of her infamous batons mid-strike, other times a miniature rendition of the team in cartoonish proportions.

there was one where you’d drawn a mini portrait of natasha smirking, with exaggerated sharp cheekbones and fierce eyes. the caption on it read,

don’t worry, i dialed down the intimidation factor…slightly.

they were ridiculous, but natasha loved it.

one day, natasha approached you in the common area, holding a new doodle you’d slipped into her jacket. it was a small portrait of her, but unlike the others, this one showed her more casual. more real. no weapons, no scowl, just her leaning with her arms crossed, a small smile playing on her lips.

she held it up with a raised brow. “you’ve been busy.”

you glanced up from your journal, a shy grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“you noticed.”

“i always notice,” she replied, and the warmth in her tone made your cheeks flush.

“just thought you could use the reminder,” you said, shrugging. “you’re more than just a fighter, you know.”

natasha stared at the drawing for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression. then she folded it carefully and slid it into the inside of her jacket pocket.

“thank you,” she said simply, but her voice carried the weight of everything she didn’t say.

other times, you’d hand her sketches directly, usually without ceremony. a scrap of paper passed her way while the team prepped gear, a folded corner of your journal you tore out just before a briefing.

they ranged from serious-battle-ready stances and sharp silhouettes to utterly absurd, like the one of natasha holding a massive sandwich, labeled

big hero energy.

and natasha kept every single one.

“you know you don’t have to keep these, right?” you teased her when you caught her slipping another into the pocket of her duffel bag.

“i want to,” she said without hesitation. “they’re like…good luck.”

you didn’t argue with her logic, but a small smile lingered on your lips as you turned back to your journal.

unbeknownst to you natasha had a growing collection of your sketches tucked away in her bedroom. a small metal tin, the kind where you gift holiday cookies in—where they’re carefully preserved.

she’d look at them sometimes. when nights were long or dark and life was too heavy, she’d pull one out and trace the lines with her fingers, remembering the way you handed it to her with that quiet, knowing smile.

eventually though, your art started to spill over the edges of your journal.

it became part of your rhythm together. a constant, quiet act of trust. but there were moments, especially in the middle of long missions, when you didn’t have your journal or anything to draw with.

it started as a joke.

one night during a stakeout, the boredom and restlessness started bubbling out of you, and you found yourself tapping your fingers against natasha’s arm.

she caught your arm mid-tap and raised and eyebrow.

“no journal today?” she asked, smirking.

“nope,” you replied, frowning as you remembered how much in a rush you were that you forgot your journal. you leaned against the wall with a sigh.

“guess you’ll have to entertain me instead.”

“or,” she said, producing a pen from one of her pockets, “you could make yourself useful.” she handed it to you with a playful glint in her eye.

you hesitated for a moment before taking the pen from her hands and uncapping it.

“don’t complain if i mess it up.” you warned, shifting closer.

“just try not to make me look ridiculous.” she said, but the slight curve of her lips said she didn’t really mind it.

after that drawing on natasha became the norm when under a circumstance that denied you paper.

on long flights you’d trace floral vines curling up her forearm, and she’d be asleep as it happened. and during long nights in safe houses you’d sketch constellations of the stars on the back of her hand.

natasha never washed them off until she really had to.

sometimes, you didn’t even ask anymore. you’d just give her a look and she’d extend her arm towards you, wordlessly inviting you to begin.

and as your pen traced her skin she’d sit still, occasionally glancing down to see the progress.

“what’s this one?” she whispered. you’d drawn a small sleeping wolf, curling under a moonlit sky along her bicep.

“strength.” you replied softly.

natasha didn’t say anything, but her eyes softened in a way that made your heart stutter.

your drawings become more than just a way to pass time. they became a language of their own. a way of grounding yourself, of tethering your anxious thoughts to something steady.

and natasha became part of that steadying force.

“do i ever get to draw on you?” she teased once.

“maybe,” you said leaning back to admire your work. “if you’re good.”

she chuckled, shaking her head. a quiet smile tugging at her lips.

it was a silent agreement between the two of you now. you’d find your solace in the lines you traced along her skin and she’d find hers in letting you.

[feltit-wroteit]

Spoiled and Loved

Art Donaldson x Fem!Reader

In every way, you were the person that made the college experience that much better for Art. You, on the other end, were still struggling to find your place at Uni.

Watnings: inscure reader, lost reader, small angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader has rich parents, one s3x joke

There he was. In your usual spot in the cafeteria eating a lunch that his athletic nutritionist must've assigned him to eat. God was your boyfriend beautiful... "Baby?" He called you out of your trance and you smiled at him. "Come?" He motioned for the chair in front of him with his head. You walked toward it and sat down with your lunch that was healthy but certainly not planned. "Hey!" You said. You started eating and asking how his morning practice was and he smiled throught it all. After finishing his lunch and while explaining his morning, he drew mindless doodles on your left hand with a pencil. One was a tennis racket the other a heart and another a paint brush. Once he was done, silence had fallen and Art looked up at you, stopping his drawing. "Y/N?" Art asked while looking for your gaze. "Hmm?" You answered still looking at your left hand. "Look at me." He asked and lifted your head up with the help of his palm on your jaw. You looked at him and smiled. "How was your day so far, baby?" He then asked with certainty. You sighed and went to look down again, only to feel your boyfriend rubbing your jaw and hearing him hum no. When you met his gaze again you felt it.

The need to tell him the truth.

"Art?" He nodded at your interpellation, waiting for you to continue. "I don't think I belong here." You had felt like this for a while, but your boyfriend's joy at being here made that feeling simmer down a little.

That was until yesterday.

"That's Donaldson's girlfriend, right?" A girl said behind you during your history of the arts lecture. You normally tuned these type of conversations out, but today your ears decided that it was a mighty fine time to do as they wanted. "She play any sports?" The girl, Jenny from what you heard her friend call her earlier, proceeded to ask her friend, Luna. "Not that anybody knows of. Not to his level at least." The other girl answered with a certain turn in her voice. It wasn't a nice one at that. ""But she must do something else around campus for her to be with him, right?" Jenny continued her interrogations. "The only place other than her lectures that people see her at are Donaldson's games. She just does those two things that includes school life. People have said and know that she doesn't even have a major yet. She just does classes until she finally finds something that makes her spark. It's pathetic really." Luna said and chuckled with her friend who fired back : "Why would he want to be with her? If I were Art Donaldson-" And you never heard the last of her life hacks, because your ears decided you had been tortured enough as it was. The notes you had started taking were the only ones you took for the rest of the 3 hour lecture. Well, what was one more exam failed?

You would stay in this godforsaken place until you found a stupid major to work in life with.... Why bother studying right now? Your parents paid for your acceptance at Stanford. Your life was as corrupted as that.

"What do you mean Y/n/n?" Art asked with a concerned look and rubbed his tumb over your jaw. "I don't know what I mean by that. But that's also a problem, I never know..." you tried to explain but it was still unclear to him. He only wanted to comfort you and make you feel at ease at all times, but right now he couldn't understand you. That made him mad at himself. "I don't know what I am going to major in, I don't know why I went to college in the first place and I don't know what you find in me. Before you start to argue that point, I have to tell you that I don't doubt your love, I doubt my ability of being loved right now. I am a mess Art... I can't do it anymore! The only thing I do know, is that I'm going to end up like I always feared..." You continued to elaborate on your feelings while he was listening. "Baby... I love you for who you are. I'm sure what you feared for your future isn't even that bad-" you cut him off on that and laughed while letting some tears flow. "Oh yeah, it is. I will end up as every other rich kid who doesn't amount to nothing and will live off my family's money for my whole life." You said and removed his hand from your face. You didn't feel deserving of his touch right now. "Stop." He said sternly. How could he have left this go this far? How couldn't he have seen you were feeling like this? How bad of a boyfriend was he? "Y/n, you are not messed up. You are beautiful and intelligent and you are worth more than your family's wealth. You are important. Not only to me but to a lot of people. Listen, college isn't for everyone, baby. I know it 's easier listening than believing, but please don't pull away from me." He had tears brimming his eyes now.

What did you do to deserve him?

"I love you, Art. I'm sorry for upsetting you..." You explained and held his hand that had been squeezing the edge of the table. "Don't, baby. You do not have to appologize. I should appologize for not seeing how you had been feeling. Please... talk to me about these things. I want to be there for you like you are for me." He took your hand back in his to play with it lightly. "Okay." You said and smiled softly at him. "Okay?" He asked smiling softly too while looking into your eyes. "Yeah. I'll talk to you more about my feelings, baby." You nodded and affirmed.

As you both walked to your last class of the day that you shared, the girls of your history of the arts lecture passed you. They were looking at you and art with sadness. It was then you realized what they had been doing. Only wallowing in their jealousy because:

Art had chose you. Not them.

His heart was set on you and that made them mad. Some part of you felt like you could see them. Maybe you were loved by someone like they wanted to be, but you were also envious of how these girls would be graduating in Teaching in less than two months likw you wanted to be graduating.

Everybody was jealous of somebody in this world.

"Art?" You asked while going closer to his side. "Hmm?" He had answered when wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in even closer. "I think I'm jealous of you." You confirmed while giggling. "Oh yeah? How come, y/n?" He smiled at your randomness. "You have a massive dick. I want that." You said in the most serious tone you could master in that instance. Art burst out laughing and admitted that he was jealous of you too. "How come, Art?" You copied his sentence. "Imagine being as pretty as the one and only Y/n Y/l/n under sun rays. I'll pray for that to happen one day." You looked up into his eyes and stopped walking for a second. You smiled at him and went up to kiss him on his lips. The kiss was slow and full of love, just how you prefered then to be.

"I love you, baby. Even if you are a spoiled little brat sometimes." He said and tried to cover his head before you shoved his head to the side playfully.

[trsrina]

valentine’s day with zerobaseone

gn reader, established relationship, fluff !! mentions of food, not proofread

jiwoong

- even after being in a relationship with jiwoong for some time now, you still kick your feet and get all excited when you receive your yearly valentine’s surprise from him

- sends a box of chocolates and a bouquet of blue roses to your workplace in the middle of the day with a love letter in it (probably some cheesy love poem he racked his brain to come up with and feels very proud of)

- it will probably be something like “roses are red. my face is too. that only happens when i’m around you” written with crayons and decorated with silly childish stickers and doodles ,and you had to resist letting out the loudest laugh ever at that since you were still at work

other members under the cut!

zhanghao

- sorry but YOU have to ask him to be your valentine, not the other way around and you have to do it fast before anyone else (hanbin) snatches him away from you

- no but seriously he would’ve cleared out his entire schedule for that day just to spend it all with you going out just idk eating at some cute but overpriced café (don’t worry, he pays), shopping and just gossiping over some coffee

- ends the day with a night stroll at a park with your hands intertwined and swinging by your sides maybe feed some ducks you saw while chatting the night away and just giggling to each other about something silly. it was simple but meant so much to the both of you

hanbin

- this is so serious for him like no one takes valentine’s day as serious as him so he makes sure to give you princess treatment throughout the whole day

- you wake up to the sound of a grizzling pan and smelling the aroma of the breakfast he’s preparing for you and damn this man CAN cook. serves you a five course meal at 8 am in the morning with like heart-shaped pancakes and eggs like this man is not real (sorry i just love domestic hanbin)

- after breakfast, you two return to bed since you were still feeling sleepy. he cuddles you to sleep, your head buried in his chest and literally clinging onto him, him with his arms tightly wrapped around you in a comforting embrace, gently patting you to sleep as he leaves small pecks all around your face and he probably has even more stuff planned later in the day

matthew

- matthew biggest green flag. spent so long planning the perfect valentine’s date for you and surprised you with a romantic picnic at the beach. he even sets up a table and chairs for the both of you, made sure all the food was perfect

- i can envision him covering your eyes during the walk from the car to the beach then surprising you. pulls out your chair for you and pushes your hair behind your ear and when you ask why he’ll say, “just wanted to take a better look at your pretty face”

- makes you giggles at his jokes the whole time and at last, gives you a final surprise which was an adorable cake with ‘happy valentine’s day’ written on it with icing that he spent the majority of yesterday making for you (u have no idea how many times he had to redo it)

taerae

- he serenades you. that would be the most taerae thing to do like seriously. he would start planning since christmas, writing a whole love song for you, him writing and composing it for you all by himself

- he would be so nervous when the day arrives. he would take you out to a nice restaurant, surprising you with flowers and all, then when the both of you return home, he sits you down on the couch and takes out his guitar

- starts strumming and you’re like, “i don’t recognise this song?” and realises that he wrote it and it took everything in you to not start crying on the spot. serenades you with his honey-like sweet voice while looking into your eyes like a lovesick man, literally making heart eyes at you and smiling like an idiot

ricky

- sends you a text in the morning which reads, “morning, baby. happy valentine’s day. i reserved a table at xxx restaurant for us at 6 pm. i’ll pick you up at 5:30 pm. i love you.”

- the moment you receive that text you start giggling and kicking your feet while burying your face into your pillow, only ricky can make you feel this way.

- you dress up for him and the moment you see him, he’s leaning against his car in a button up with the first few buttons unbuttoned and a huge bouquet of flowers. holds your hand the whole time, during the ride and dinner, listens intently to all of your rambling during the whole of dinner and also pays !!! (bc he’s young and rich)

gyuvin

- rings your doorbell enthusiastically with flowers and gifts dressed in his best attire, fixing his hair every few seconds to make sure he looks perfect for you. shyly hands you the bouquet he arranged himself when you open the door

- he would drag you to a dog café for your date and he’s most likely even more excited about this than you, just looking at the bright grin on his face and the giggles he lets out while he plays with the puppies makes a smile appear on your face too

- would probably point at every dog and says it looks like you because it’s cute just like you. no but imagine you guys sharing a pasta together and accidentally recreating the lady and the tramp scene omg

gunwook

- bowling date with gunwook omg okay his jaw will literally drop the moment he sees you arrive all dressed up like he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous and won’t stop giggling and blushing every time he glances at you

- pays for everything and takes the chance to show off his skills in bowling. coolest guy ever just the way he confidently strikes the bowling pins with the bowling ball but gets so shy and blush when you cheer for him and compliment him

- and when you’re getting food together at a restaurant, he would not stop staring at you. his head propped up on his hand as he stares at you hopelessly, utterly lost in your eyes and down bad. he’s the type to wipe your mouth for you when you have something on the corner of your lips.

yujin

- your first valentine’s day together so he would be so anxious about it and shy. he would make sure everything goes smoothly and plans it all out like buying tickets to that movie you said you wanted to watch in advance and making reservations for a restaurant you mentioned you wanted to visit before (most likely the first time he ever made a reservation by himself in his lifetime)

- takes you to the movies and insists on paying for your popcorn and drinks. probably watching some cheesy romcom together and since it’s valentine’s day, you’re surrounded with couples which just makes him even shyer

- holds your hand and whispers silly comments about the movie in your ear throughout the movie. he couldn’t focus at all because you were right beside him

short little valentine’s headcanons that i rushed to make it on time 😓

[riaki]

an excuse to touch | suguru geto x reader

pt.2 of christmas event! cw: reader is kinda drunk, u and him have a bunkbed but he always sleeps w u on the lower bunk :3

not proofread

"su— guru!"

he knows that pitchy voice; a lilt to it that tells him you've been drinking. a slur that links your breathy words together like the taut strings of a spider's web that's so imperceptible that it would've been impossible to pick up, unless you were him. because suguru knows you better than anyone else.

you say his name weird, which means you've indulged on the bottle of liquor your next-door neighbor brought you that morning, wrapped in a pretty festive ribbon with a snowman drawn into the cork. "my son drew it," your neighbor had explained, and suguru wonders how good of a parent he is, to be letting his 6 year-old doodle on a bottle of wine.

he doesn't have time to concern himself with other people's lives, however. he has his hands full making sure you don't topple into the christmas tree you'd both worked your asses off to decorate last weekend when you stumble into the living room like you're walking on two left feet, threatening to trip over the cord connecting the soft yellow lights to the outlet in the wall. he distinctly remembers the argument you had last night— you thought rainbow lights would look nicer on the tree, but he liked just yellow. in the end, he'd gotten what he wanted— but there wasn't much to gain when you had stolen his sweater and refused to give it back as a vengeance. and now, he couldn't find it.

"right here," he calls, looking up at you from where he's seated on the couch in your living room. the little tv screen plastered to the wall has a fake fire playing over the screen; he knows you love the immersion, even if your apartment complex doesn't have a fireplace or a chimney.

you make your way over to his chair and promptly fall into his already-waiting arms. he pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting you snuggle up to him in his lap. his callused hand immediately snakes up your back to slip beneath your shirt, massaging your back. his embrace is warm; soft. and he smells good, like pine needles and something gently sweet, a little smoky.

soon, your hands find his hair, winding a trail up his neck to thread into the dark strands and pull out the tie. before you can move any further, though, a hand darts out to catch your wrist, and the other moves to tilt your chin up and force you to meet his stern gaze, warm like amber resin on the tree bark.

"[name], where's my sweater?" he asks, raising an accusatory eyebrow. just like that, you shrink away, and he smothers the snicker of amusement that threatens to spill out like hot cocoa with a hand over his lips.

you blink, and he watches your eyelashes flutter. they catch the fake firelight, glowing like billowing reeds under a bright sun in lakewater that reflects the summer sky. "i dunno." a blatant lie; obviously, you do know, because a bit of the red string has tangled in your hair. it was crocheted for him by a friend; you'd think a doctor would have good needle skills, but operating on a patient might be easier than operating on a DIY crocheting kit and a bundle of old string. nevertheless, he took the ugly christmas sweater and cherished it; the scent of cigarette smoke and faintly sterile tiles that clung to it.

but suguru was pretty sure that would soon be replaced by the scent of you, if you kept it much longer. not that he minded, of course.

"i, uh. dropped it. in the fire." you said bluntly, stubbornly weaving your hands into his hair and pulling out his hair tie insistently. a few strands caught; even as drunk as you were, you still took the time to smooth out the tangles so you didn't accidentally rip out a patch of his hair. crude as it was, suguru appreciates little things about you like that. not the fire part, though.

"you dropped it in the fire." he echoes, raising an eyebrow. it feels condescending in a very suguru (read: affectionate) way, so you look away, lower lip sticking out. he thinks that just makes you cuter, though; you look like something straight out of his dreams. he can barely bring himself to be irritated.

"um, yeah."

"so.. it burned up?"

"yes."

"you don't have it anymore."

"no, i don't."

"the fire isn't real," he reminds you quietly; softly if you strain your ears.

"but it's so warm over here. and nice, and cozy. what else could it be?" you protested, flailing your arms as if hitting him would force him to reconcile with your beliefs. suguru just opts to lean away from you, an amused and easy smile on his lips. like he's looking at you in adoration; like you're still the one who was molded from clay to fit in his arms even though you supposedly 'burned' his sweater up.

"not sure," he hums, watching as you stand up on two shaky legs like a newborn doe away from its mother's side; the soft glow from the light of the christmas tree gently illuminating your frame. he wishes he could tug you back by the wrist and kiss you breathless, run his hands over you ever lovingly. "you're just like my personal little space heater." he chuckles, soft smooth and melodic, and it snaps you from your tipsiness as you glance back over at him. “fools me into thinking the fire’s real.”

his hair is loose, tumbling over his shoulders and framing his face like a renaissance prince under the soft light; the brown of his eye shines a gentle caramel, soft and smooth as butter and syrup. there’s an easy smile that curves his lips up; he looks unfairly handsome. he thinks he can catch sight of his reflection in the void of your pupil; it looks like there's a birdnest on his head. he frowns, reaching a hand up to muss the tangled black strands. the windows in the living room are vignetted by a frosted glass, a cold world of white waiting outside. it's almost enough to make him shiver, but here, in the warmth of your presence, the snow melts away with the sunshine of your smile.

his fingers catch in his hair and he lets out a pained grunt. he's straightening his bangs when he looks up from his comfy seat on the couch; you're across the room, sitting on the soft wool carpet. there's a stain on the bundles of fluff, constantly hanging over the both of your heads to remind you of how you'd been enjoying a shared cup of hot cocoa with candy cane chunks when your nasty feline sauntered over and promptly jumped into your lap yet again, knocking over the mug and pouring its terribly sweet and sticky contents onto the wool. it had haunted suguru's domestic household nightmares for days after. your evil cat is curled up in your lap, fluffy mitten paws tucked beneath its head as it naps, and suguru doesn't like the flare of jealousy that springs up in his gut.

you catch the look of disdain on his face and shoot him a lazy smile, tilting your head. it's an invitation if he's ever seen one-- deserved, he thinks to himself. that should be him with his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, smoothing out each individual knot, gently massaging his scalp in the way you knew he loved.

...

he shakes his head and stands, brushing the lint (and cat fur�� always a pest) off his sweats and saunters over to you; there's that familiar gait in his step from always walking hunched over during his earlier years of youth. sometimes, you'll build a little pillow fort on your bunk bed and settle in his arms between his legs and listen to him tell you stories from a time that seems so long ago but so fresh like new mint leaves in his memory. he'll play with your clothes, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of home and something like apples and cinnamon in your shampoo. those fun little story nights are always enjoyable, only because he has the best audience.

he squats down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he peers down at you. your cat in your lap lifts its head, looking like the very dictionary definition of judgmental as it squints at suguru. you just laugh, like silver bells clear in a snowstorm, parting the howling wind as if it's the red sea. paving a path straight through the center of his heart like some cursed cupid's arrow.

he doesn’t mind, though, when you scoot your cat off your lap and open your arms wordlessly. he scoots a little closer before settling into you, back flush against his chest as your arms lock around his waist. you rest your chin on his shoulder and he can’t help the rush of butterflies in his stomach; suguru’s never been the type for this sort of girlish, giddy love. but you always bring new things to the table, don’t you? he loves that about you.

suguru settles into your arms, tilting his head to intercept the kiss he knows you’re about to plant to his cheek to instead meet your lips with his, and he swallows and relishes the little surprised gasp that leaves you when he does. a moment later, he hears a pretty little giddy laugh, and he can’t fight the smile that spreads over his lips.

"you're so soft," he whispers, and it's much more exhausted than he thinks it has any right to be, on such a comforting night like this when your laugh smells of sweet liquor wrapped in chocolate and you serve as good of a sweater as any clearance sale item could.

and soon enough, your fingers slide into his hair, separating soft dark strands like you're organizing a collection of seashells. it takes him a while to notice, but he soon realizes you're braiding his hair. the wind howls outside and the fake fire doesn't provide any heat, but your gentle touch and warmth feel like a cozy throw blanket hanging around his shoulders. and he feels okay now; with the way you run your fingers through his hair, delicately gathering the strands from his hair and running a thumb down the length to smooth the knots, weaving them together like a natural crown of holly flowers.

you brush a stray strand from the nape of his neck, and he shivers when your fingertips brush against the tip of his ear. he can't help but smile when you notice the goosebumps on his bare arms and free one hand to reach for his, tangling your fingers together while you untangle the mats in his hair. it's far too cold for him to be wearing that simple, worn white cotton shirt, but he doesn't mind if you'll be the one to keep him warm through this cold season.

it's all fine and dandy until he speaks up again, when you're nearly falling asleep over his head and your arms drape over his chest, toying with the sapphire necklace around his neck. your little cute breaths tickle the top of his head; you've finished the braid. it's a little messy and stray hairs stick out here and there— but at least you didn't settle for pigtails.

when he speaks, it's not directed towards you, though— he's speaking to your cat, with a stern tone you only recognize as the one he uses with you whenever your clothes end up on his side of the drawer or when his jewelry (or hairties) go missing.

and when you open your eyes groggily after suguru shifts to sit up, feeling the dreary loom of a mini hangover after you fall asleep in his arms tonight— you're blessed with the sight of your beloved house pet— a shredded chunk of tacky fabric from suguru's sweater in its mouth, and the death glare that you can only imagine contorting your handsome boyfriend's face.

needless to say, your cat will be nowhere around the two of you when you decide to share a therapeutic cup of hot cocoa again this time.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[izudeeilo]

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You can study me

Sero hanta smau

volley-ball player sero x art student fem!reader, no quirks au, college au.

a/n it's been a while since I've written something like this...I'm nervous

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Senior year is finally here! You thought that this time, the teachers would be more lenient with you and your classmates, but not at all. In fact, they even got stricter... They assigned you a half year-long work, which would be worth 30% of your final grade. What does the work consist of, you ask? Making a complete study of the life of a student you need to pick and paint it.

But... you can't pick a friend.

Profiles • Part .2

Part 1

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You sat outside, pen in one hand, the other on your lap. Scribbling on the piece of paper quick doodles of a random animal. A rooster...a chicken…why was this one that popped in your mind, you don’t know.

A sight escapes your mouth as you look up at the sky. “This is going to be a nightmare” you mutter.

You would’ve been more ok with all of this if you could’ve chosen someone close to you instead. So much easier, simpler. But in the art course? nothing was easy.

You sometimes thought of quitting, completely. But the love you had for art kept you here and perhaps your supportive friends too. Seriously they meant everything to you, they’ve been here through thick and thin. They could be…themselves but you’d do anything for them, the other way around as well.

Taking your phone from your pocket, you check the time — 12:40 pm. “I should already be on my way to the cafeteria.” You get up slowly, grab your bag from the ground and shove the paper and pen inside.

As you enter the building, you greet with a wave of your hand some classmates you had met in your morning class. When you enter the cafeteria, you grab the tray from the pile and pick up a sandwich, a fruit salad and you pay for a soda can at the vending machine.

You weren’t particularly hungry today.

Scanning the room you make eye contact with your friends a bit further away. You march over to them and install yourself next to Himiko, Izuku in front.

”I’ve missed you guys so bad.” you say hugging Himiko’s arm. She hugs you back with a big smile. “Us as well!” she chuckles. “It’s only the first day of the week and I’m already tired.” adds Izuku with a slight smile before taking a bite from his sandwich.

You begin eating as well. “Can you guys believe it's the last year we’ll be together..” you say to them. “Oh don’t start already or I’m going to cry.” says Himiko, turning her head.

“ I know we’ll definitely be busy after but ain’t no way we’re getting separated, you better believe me, you ain’t getting rid of us” she taps her finger on your cheek in a teasing way.

”Oh that I already know” you chuckle.

Izuku suddenly perks up and says “By the way y/n I talked to some of my classmates and I’m sorry most of them don’t feel comfortable with that…” “Oh right mine as well…they say they don't want to meet new people or whatever” himiko adds.

”Oh well I did expect that honestly” you cross your arms and straighten yourself. “Guess the whole art course is going to struggle with finding someone” you sigh and begin to wonder how else are you going to find a student willing to participate in that. Ochaco may try with her classmates but you already have an idea of how it’s going to end.

You’d like someone with personality as well and there’s plenty of people like that here but—

You were cut off by a cheerful voice.

”Izuku you’re here!” A girl with pretty pink hair stopped in front of the table with her tray in hand. You all turned your head at her.

”Oh I didn’t know you were with friends my bad you guys!” she smiles.

”No it’s alright, you wanted something?” he responds.

”The boys are over there and I wanted to know if you wanted to come sit with us! Your friends can come as well if they’d like” She smiles at the both of us.

“Yeah for sure! Does it bother you guys?” He says looking at us.

”Not at all” Himiko and you respond at the same time. You look at each other before chuckling slightly.

”Perfect, follow me!” the girl begins walking ahead. “The name’s Mina by the way!”

”I’m y/n!” you respond back.

”And I’m Himiko”

You all reach a long table with four people already sitting and talking.

Four boys to be exact, one had blond hair and was just staring at the other three with a raised eyebrow, another had red hair and was laughing at something another blond said next to him and the last one with longer black hair was holding his sandwich with a smirk on his face.

”I am here and brought companyyy” Mina chants at the boys.

They perk up at the sound of her voice and all turn their heads towards us. You and Himiko smile not knowing what to do next.

”Hey, these are my friends, Himiko Toga and Y/n L/n !” Izuku introduces us.

He turns to us and points at the boys one by one.

”This is Kacchan- I mean Katsuki Bakugo. You already know him.” he laughs pointing at the blond with red eyes.

Bakugo nods his head with an almost visible smile.

”This is Denki Kaminari” The other blond points finger guns at us.

”This is Eijiro Kirishima” the red haired boy waves at us with a smile.

“And last but not least Sero Hanta” the black haired boy throws a peace sign at us and winks.

They all greet us happily and urge us to sit with them. You began talking for what seemed like hours, they told you they were part of the school volleyball team.

”Oh that’s so cool, how long have y'all been playing for?” you ask.

”We pretty much have been since we were kids. We practically all met through that.” Kirishima responds cheerfully. “Yeah we’re all like a biggg family” Kaminari leans on his shoulder.

Bakugo turns his head at us before speaking “So y/n, art huh? How is it being an artist?”

I laugh “I’m not an artist, artist yet but—“ you were cut off by Izuku.

”Oh stop that you draw, you paint even if it's not professionally yet you’re still an artist.”

”Yeah, it doesn’t matter even if it was just a hobby, you still are an artist.” Sero joins him before continuing. “And how is it going so far?”

”To be honest? Right now, horrible.” you chuckle.

They all seem taken back as their eyes slightly widen.

“It’s mostly because of an assignment our teacher already gave us.”

”Oh that's rough— On the first day?” Kirishima says.

”Yeah, I have like half of the school year to complete it? And it's worth 30% of my final grade too.” You lean your head on your hand. “I need to pick a student I don't know, to study their life? Like get to know them so I can make a painting of it—“

”You can study me?” Sero suddenly says, catching you off guard. “We just met so that’ll be perfect and I get to spend time with a cute girl like you so it’s a win-win situation.” He smiles and leans back on his chair.

You stare at him. That’s...a good idea actually you think to yourself and it’s not a total stranger if it’s one of Izuku’s friends…right?

”Well Sero you’ve got yourself a deal” I smile back at him.

”Call me Hanta.”

a/n i hope you guys like this aaah i'm so nervous and excited to post this...🤧 see u guys in the next part! 💋

[breezeoow]

Seventeen as an act of love-

(VOCAL UNIT)

Jeonghan as leaving sweet notes

jeonghan is a honeyed dulcet man fully charged with sweet, random, motherly comforts in his total self. showing love and giving comfort to someone through small and precious and meaningful words is such a regular thing for him to do. you just woke up in the morning? you'll find small notes stuck on your phone, your bathroom mirror, your fridge, and beside your breakfast that he made or ordered for you before leaving. you're gonna have an in important presentation today and so nervous about that? he'll leave beautiful words for you inside your notes and purse. it's a special day today? the whole house will be filled with love words and appreciations doodled by him only for you. you guys went somewhere together? he'll always leave something written there that represents his for you. writing notes for you is his favourite things to do cause he can feel the light you get from them.

Joshua as writing love letters

jisoo, the guy filled with all the gentleness of the world can radiate warmth through his words so effortlessly. writing love letters is one of a medium of it for him. you're just passing a random lazy day? suddenly you'll receive a handwritten letter with flowers and his own made jewelleries for you. it's your birthday? you always wait for his letters and he never disappoints. you're going for an important trip somewhere? virtual letters are ready for you everyday and you'll find there physical versions after coming back. you guys are in a long distance relationship? he'll have a monthly love letter streak by giving a sweet little title to it. it doesn't matter how often you're getting his letters, it just always feels so new. everything he writes never fails to leave you overwhelmed with joy and love and tender feelings. and all he wants is to make you feel he is always by your side through those letters.

Woozi as going for walks

jihoon being a stay at home person never stopped him from thinking of going for a walk with his loved ones. going for a walk with words of soft universe and curing galaxy is what he thinks for you the most. you're exhausted today? he'll take to a midnight drive to take a walk somewhere near beach and sit there. you can't stop crying and don't want to let him see? he'll understand somehow and take you to a park for a walk, holding hands, singing songs for you, so you can calm down and hide in him instead of hiding from him. it was such a busy yet joyful day? he'll take you to rooftop to have a small walk and needed refreshments talks. because he knows even a great day can be heavy sometimes. it never matters if he is busy at home or studio or somewhere else, he knows a walk with you will always heal even in the crucial times. and that's what he wants to do; heal you, staying by side of you, give you assurance in calmness that love is near, you're near love.

DK as capturing random photos

seokmin is sweetest memory keeper boy who exists here. capturing every tiny things and going through them afterwards, makes him want to do a lot more. you're doing your work at home? he's capturing those moments of yours so carefully. you're cooking his favourite dish? every step of it will have their own click. you guys went for a walk together? the camera roll is filled with every tiny movements of yours that you never noticed. you're eyes, your checks, your hands, your hairstyles and every other things will be saved to him. he just loves loves loves doing this knowing you don't mind at all. and also he loves to gift them to you in a bunch together occasionally showering with love words.

Seungkwan as peppy surprises

seungkwan is a personified surprise himself. he never fails to show his warmth through his considerations. it's weekend today? he'll show up with so much dishes from your favourite restaurant to eat together. you're working late today? all the house chores will be done by him including his own cooked meals for you. you guys are going on a vacation somewhere? each day will be filled with tiny tiny surprises that he picked for you without letting you know. it's a special day for you? boom! a song will get released which just talks about you. he never tries too hard to show or admits these activities as surprises, but you know how much he loves to do this small to bigger gestures just to see that lightened smile of yours.

[witchygirlgray333]

Some journal prompts I like (writing and creative) :

I’m going to do a separate list for some chronic illness journal ideas bc I’ve found it’s so helpful!

Write out the lyrics to your favourite song and/or do a drawing / painting / collage of your interpretation of the song

Books you want to read

Films you want to watch

Diary entry about your day

Bujo style - plan out your week or month

Pressed flowers

Scripting (manifestation)

Vision board (manifestation)

Notes on a topic you’re learning about (for example I like to watch lots of nature or history documentaries and sometimes I make notes on them in my journal or if it’s witchy stuff I write it in my grimoire)

Letter to past you / future you / someone in your life (remember they don’t have to read it, this has helped me so much in certain situations so I can get out whatever I want to say without upsetting people) / someone you love who has passed on / the god or deity you worship if you worship one / to your future children / future partner

Wishlist

Ideas for things (like stories you want to write, photo shoots, fashion, films, art etc)

Poetry (either that you’ve written or that someone else has written that you like)

Get to know me page so if you want to look back on your journal in the future you can see what you were like then

Films you’ve watched / books you’ve read / favourite songs from the past month

Positive affirmations

Shadow work

Sticker / photo dump

Recipes

Go sit in nature and draw or write about what you see or feel when you’re there

Draw out your alter ego

Stick in scraps from throughout your day (such as receipts, labels from things, stickers, pictures etc)

Book reviews

To do lists

Design your dream room

Your childhood (draw or write about childhood memories, hobbies, things you used to collect, stick in childhood photos, the toys you used to play with etc)

Travel bucket list

Life bucket list

Family tree

Write a list of things that make you happy

Stream of consciousness

Write about your dreams and what you think they might mean

Brain dump (I sometimes do this before I go to sleep if somethings going on)

Doodle page

Stick in notes your loved ones have written to you

List of favourite quotes

Self care ideas

List of songs / playlist

Goals in life / 5 year plan

Plan a day out or a holiday

Plan content you want to make for social media

Tattoos you want to get

Things that make you happy

Outfit ideas

Hobbies you currently have

Hobbies you want to try

List of things you collect

Yoga / exercise routine

Seasonal bucket lists

Things you want to learn or research

Mood tracker

Stick in any colouring pages you’ve done

Daily skincare routine

List of Studio Ghibli films and tick off the ones you’ve watched

List of your favourite things

List of things to do when you’re bored

If you normally write about your day, draw pictures of all the things you did instead of writing (a bit like in a comic book)

Advice people have given you that has been really helpful

Ideal morning / night routine

Notes from therapy / hospital appointments

Page of all your cinema tickets

List of people that inspire you

Angel numbers

Crystals and their meanings

Your favourite artists

Worry tree

Favourite memories

Write your dream wardrobe

Reasons to stay alive

Stick in photos and write a bit about them

Names you like

Favourite words

Write about an event (a description of what happened, how it left you feeling, who was there and what they said and did, what you wish had happened instead, the reasons why you find it hard to let go, steps you could take to start to move on)

Notes on a language you’re learning

Collage about a film you’ve recently watched

Glow up check list

Write about a tarot reading you did

What does heaven and hell mean to you

Flip through a magazine and do a collage of pictures from it

[forthelostones]

𝚙𝚝.𝚝𝚠𝚘 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby (eventually), mini slowburn, suggestive language, jealousy, nora & mel & ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parental death, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: hi everyone, waaaa thanks for all the follows! i appreciate you all sooo soo much. this is something i just thought of idk, maybe a series who knows! i am thinking abt putting this on ao3 too!

(no y/n)

wc: 4.3k

pt one.

Alarm. Dress. Meet Abby. Go. Today was a lecture day and although long, at least you got to sleep in a little this morning. The only thing is Abby is always locked in and there’s no way to get her out of that headspace. She doesn’t take unnecessary breaks or doodles, she is virtually a perfect student. But you sit beside her scrolling through your notes, unamused. 

Abby’s head is downwards, with her braid falling over her shoulder, focused on the presentation. Her hand moves quickly as she writes all the details down, while you type mindlessly. You notice how her bulging veins dress her hand peak-a-booing out of her cardigan. The way she gripped her pen enhanced the greenish threads under her skin as she drew diagrams and large title cards. Why was everything about her attractive, you thought. Mel was sitting next to you with her laptop open, scrolling on Pinterest, mumbling. Her clique of girls speak in what they think is a hushed whisper, but it's just a poor attempt. You feel your lips forming to sh them. 

“Hey.” Abby snaps, holding direct eye contact with Mel. 

Mel looks over her screen with disgust, like she just wished death upon her. But that lasts only a minute before they start up again and Abby sighs, slamming her pen on the desk which causes your professor to turn and look in your direction. 

“Ladies, let’s focus.” She said. 

At the 30-minute break, Abby stormed out of the lecture hall and you followed behind like a lost puppy. She stood in the hallway with her hands above her head, inhaling and exhaling with her eyes closed, counting silently. She rolled her shoulders back and finally looked to find your eyes. Which calmed her for a moment — seeing you there.  

“Y’know what pisses me off about that Mel?” 

She said her name like a swear word.

You were taken aback at the anger bubbling inside of her. Her calm demeanor was all you knew, she avoided conflict, never raised her voice but seeing her like this pang in your heart unlike anything else. 

“She only acts like that because she doesn’t have the mental capacity to comprehend what’s going on. Not everyone can just throw their life away, some of us actually have to work for what we want.”

Her eyes were wide, her fists curled, and her lips tight. You walk over to her and just wrap your arms around her. She was reluctant to reciprocate but eventually did — give into you, and fell into your arms. Her hands linger on your lower back, tugging you.

“They don't understand.” Her voice cracked. 

You knew what this was about, it was about her dad. You saw how reluctant she was to go into detail about him last night. She just changed the subject. You didn’t know what illness he passed away from, if any, she wouldn’t go that far. 

“Abby, I know. They don’t.” You reply pulling away sooner than you both would like. 

She composed herself and peered at your welcoming eyes and she suddenly forgot where she stood. In the middle of a high-traffic hallway, filled with the rustling of scrubs. Her hands came up onto your shoulders and she nodded her head. “You’re right and I can’t fault them for that, can I?” 

The rest of class was incredibly quiet. 

As you both stood at the entryway of your apartments you felt like you wanted to spend more time with her. Just because. You slid your key into the lock and swatted the thoughts away. “Dummy?” She asked.

“There’s a party today, uh, some sorority thing. I don’t really know anyone else going—“

“Yes, yea absolutely.”  

You smiled at her and then closed your door with excitement, maybe too much? 

Abby wasn’t sure what came over her, after overhearing the other nursing students she thought it would be nice to go out, since it had been three years. That text from Nora was burning her phone, flames encased it so brightly that she didn’t go on her phone all day.

After pouring a glass of wine and stripping to get in the shower she stood in the mirror examining her body. Checking her back out, quads, and glutes… she didn’t know why but looking at herself was so invigorating. She pulled her phone out and snapped a photo, forearm covering her chest, gently flexing. Her eyes brightly admired her frame and debated sending it to Nora. She had never taken a nude photo before let alone sent it to someone. She shook her head reaching into the shower, turning the knob, and throwing that thought aside. 

When she was showering all she could think about was your embrace earlier. It was unusual for her to be held — well have human contact at all. She wasn’t one for physical touch, but in that moment she yearned for more. She wet her hair and paused, rekindling the memory in her mind, how you smelled, your warmth, and how she felt — safe. 

She didn’t want to admit it to you this morning but she stayed up last night after you left. She replayed the quick events as she rinsed her hair, visualizing sections of your face behind her eyelids. 

As she was on her last full body rinse, there you stood on the other side of her apartment door knocking, slightly startling her. 

“Wait!” She hollered from the bathroom. 

Quickly wrapping herself in her white towel, wet feet trailing to the front door, she peeped out the hole to see you nervously awaiting her arrival. “Hi, oh shit. You were showering, right. Sorry. I just, I should’ve texted you, but if you wanted to get ready at mine you can.” You said casually. 

Abby felt your eyes flick toward her collarbones, making her pull the towel taut. 

“Yea perfect, leave the door open for me ‘kay?” 

After closing the door Abby became self-conscious instantly. Her sopping hair clinging to her wet face made her feel strange, especially with your lingering eyes. Abby wasn’t the type to rush but she wanted to be closer to you as quickly as she could. She blew her hair dry, finished her wine, and got dressed in twenty minutes, already walking through your front door. 

She had never actually ever seen your apartment in its full glory. It was cluttered by her standards, decorated by yours. “Hey Dummy, it’s me.” 

You peered your head out of your bedroom and welcomed her to help you pick an outfit. You sighed at Abby fully dressed, all ready to go, and completely misunderstanding the concept of getting ready together. 

“So, I was thinking of this combo.” You say, breaking her wandering eyes from your unpolished bedroom. 

Abby looked at your dress, long sleeve, black number, comfortable and easy. She imagined you in it and it made her tense as her mind began to wonder. 

“That’s pretty.” She replied eagerly. 

You were in your silk robe that wasn’t very well at hiding what was underneath, she became flush and attempted to focus on the stitching on the dress or something. But when you bent over to reach for the next item you laid out on your bed she fought herself to look away. Your skin was freshly moisturized and the scent filled her nose so instinctively making her nostrils twitch with pleasure.

“I think so too, but I also have this. I used to wear this a lot, I don’t know. Should I try them on for you?”

You showed her a dark brown number with a swoop back, flowing out at the knee in a wing-like manner. She thought about how high up the hem of the bottom was and blinked her eyes vigorously, unsure if this was a dream or not. She said no words but just nodded her head. 

“Okay, let me change, there’s tequila on top of the fridge.” 

Abby pulled her hands into her carpenter-style jacket and retrieved the liquor. She took the bottle, no glasses, and waited for you at your dining table. Her forehead was misty with beads of sweat looking for an escape, she felt sheepish at how turned on she got from looking at your body. What the fuck is wrong with me, she thought. 

You walk out in the black dress and look at her eyelids lifting at the fabric hugging your body. She brings her hand to her chin as you do a spin for her and then pose. Abby watches you walk towards her in what she swears is slow motion, and straightens her back as her eyes drift up and down your body. She looked completely hypnotized by you. You reach for the bottle, removing the cap in a swift motion and then bringing it to your lips. Abby latched onto each of your movements. In her comatose state, she made it a mission to let it be known at that moment that she was yours. Her thick eyelashes hung heavy as she watched you move your hand to her chin, lifting it and pouring a shot directly into her throat. As her lips came to a close you swiped her chin. 

“I like this dress a lot.” She said, now having an excuse to peer down at your body. 

“Me too,” you smiled. “Let me show you the brown one.” 

She couldn’t refuse the pleasure of watching your ass switch as you went to change. She took another pour into her mouth and shook off the heat coming from her core and throat. You threw your arms up and spun again. 

“I like both but the black one, it’s— it’s really pretty.” 

“So, I’ll wear that one then.”

Abby felt a light bubble form in her stomach from your willingness to listen to her and do as you’re told. She watched your hips sway into your bedroom, just moments after she realized her jaw was set like a rock, wide open, admiring your ass. 

Abby held all the doors open for you as you exited the apartment building, which rendered small thank you’s from under your breath. The sound of your boots clattering against the pavement filled both, you and Abby’s ears, prying at the silence in the air. She looked exceptionally clean tonight, most days you don’t see her outside of her uniform but today, you were really mesmerized by her. You questioned if it was the drinks you consumed or just her sweet scent enticing you. 

Her black boxy tee was blanketed in a woody sage perfume, just nipping above the hem of her dark-washed denim that was slouching below her hips, exposing the skin around her navel.

“I haven’t been to a party in a while,” she sighed. 

You smiled at hearing her voice within the stillness. 

“Me too, I’m glad you invited me.” You reply. She peers over to you with a bewitching smirk that makes your cheeks hot. 

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have wanted to go with anyone else.” She says matter-of-factly, not knowing how sweet her words sound. You think of a reply, but nothing seems good enough at the moment.

You both slip side glances at each other as the moon shimmered on your skin. You kept tucking your hands in your hair and adjusting accordingly. In this moment, you became conscious of how close you two were huddled together. Occasionally her knuckles would tickle yours and she’d hum a sorry, but you couldn’t help to indulge in the brief moments of her touch. 

The house party was secluded, the bass of the shitty music vibrating the outside of the porch that was sprinkled with stoners and nicotine rats. Abby grabs your wrist to guide you up the steps sees your dress ride up your bottom and gently tugs it down, following behind you. Your mind buzzed with the image of her hand drifting further. 

You pull open the jagged screen door and inhale the miles of smoke trailing outside. You look over your shoulder to see Abby retreat into her turtle shell and instantly become turned off. You reach for her hand and clasp it, to which she refuses and intertwines them, tying her clammy hand into yours. Your palm pushes wet bodies to find a corner worth standing in. The house was crumbling under the music and clabbering feet. 

Abby saw you were struggling to plow your way through the crowd so she took the lead. Her eyes were like darts, locking in on the target. She used her elbow as a driving force, the pull of her weight had you tripping over your feet. You ended up at steps going towards the basement, florescent with colored lights. The vibe was mellow and not as many people were here. After hitting the last step, you feel the release of compression from Abby’s hand, and you casually cross your arms. 

“You good?” She asks, hand softly grazing your hip as she leans in. 

All you can muster is a nod. 

The room was surprisingly cold, the old basement that had been decorated in FSL graffiti and memorabilia. In the corner was Mel and her friends from class who instantly spotted you and Abby like a sore thumb. Sitting on the couch were two women, legs laid on top of each other, sharing a dab pen. The brooding brunette peered over at you and you swore you could hear her voice by the look coming from her eyes. Abby taps your shoulder and gestures to all your classmates who are now loudly offering drink service. Mel lifts a bottle of flavorless vodka to Abby’s lips, pouring it into her mouth, while nursing her open jaw. 

“Good job, Anderson.” She practically moans. You’re unsure if she’s being condescending or flirtatious, either way, you become uncomfortable.

Mel was in a mini skirt and a tube top, both white and pristine. Her hair was pinned back and tied in a low bun, embellished with a pink silk bow. Her makeup was simple but flagrant, enhancing her features so beautifully and highlighting her predator eyes on Abby. 

Suddenly, after handing you both a shot, Mel’s perfectly polished fingernails were gripping Abby’s strong shoulder. Massaging it and laughing as if she hasn’t been an asshole to her for almost four years. Obliviously, Abby just continued to collect shots from Mel, being drawn into every string pouring out of her mouth. You follow shortly behind but are left out of the conversation, standing behind Abby, watching like the Secret Service. Mel’s hand slowly creeps down towards Abby’s back, under her jacket, and now making some joke about our professor, throwing her head back and forth, then setting it on her shoulder, rubbing her. 

You glance over to the couch to see the cat-like woman sizing you up. She waves her pen in front of her face like a dangling carrot. You strut towards her and she pats the couch and you swear you see dust fly into the air. She brings the pen up to her lips and lets the smoke brush her bottom lip. Her hand comes to rest on your thigh and then blinks narrowly at you. 

“Why haven’t I seen you before.” You whisper in her ear. 

She waits to pull away, allowing the pattering of your breath to trill against her skin. 

“Don’t know,” her hand slides upwards. “What’s your major?” 

“Nursing.” 

Her arm was colored with an interesting tattoo that you find yourself tracing. Her hand came up to the curve of your ass. “Smart girl, so if I get an injury say… here,” She brings her mouth to graze your neck, then places a soft kiss. “Then you’d help me out?” 

Her lips flick against your ear lobe which makes you shift under yourself. 

“I certainly can.” 

In the midst of the ever-present tension, Abby walks over with her pinky wrapped around Mel’s, a smile, unapologetically flashing gums and teeth. “Coming to dance with us?” She asks. 

“Yea we can come.” Your new companion replies. 

Abby smiles stiffly at her, then dashes her eyes back at you, saying your name, and then lets go of her connection to Mel. 

“Sure, be up in a minute. Get us some beers?” You smirked. 

Even under the lights, you can see how flush Abby became. Mel dragged her off, their hands back in love. You look back at your partner, cup her chin, and follow shortly behind. 

Abby stood in the corner with Mel waving her hips against the beats of the song. She held three bottles of beer by the neck in her large hands. You two caught each other’s eyes and for a moment you could see her grin. Once you join them in their designated area, your date retrieves the bottles from Abby and sips behind you, wrapping her hand on your waist. 

“I love this dress?” Her voice vibrating against your damp skin. 

Her hand kept running over the smoothest parts of your body, gripping, pinching, — drinking you in. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Ellie.” 

Abby came over to you and asked if were you okay to which you replied with a nod. Ellie was pushing her pelvis against your ass, gyrating desperately. Her hands became sticky with desire, practically bending you over, forcing you to arch your back. 

Mel pulled Abby into her sphere and tacked her arms around her neck, tossing her head wildly, and making Abby slide her free hand on her lower back. Mel’s eyes were glossy with a feminine ache, the same one you had. You stood confused watching it all play out and Abby went along with her. Something boiled inside you, lust or jealousy, you didn’t know. It distracted you so much you didn’t realize Ellie’s lips pressed on your nape. 

You turn to her and she latched her lips onto your neck, tattooed hand cupping your ass, dipping you back as she fused with you. It felt so good to be wanted like this, you felt your eyelids flutter and you could've sworn you smelt Abby’s shampoo. You could feel Ellie’s hands widen, and you could see the shimmering blonde locks under the flashing lights, and the formation of Abby’s name on your bitten lips.

“What?” Ellie pulled away in a half-hearted laugh. 

“Hm? Did I say something?” You yelled. 

Ellie couldn’t stop peering at your mouth, then glancing upwards, then down again. As she closed her eyes and moved inward, a shove from behind you interrupted your connection. Ellie yells at them but all you see is Abby locking lips with Mel, her hands full of her ass and Mel’s knees buckling. You see how Abby casually slides her tongue inside her mouth, and Mel accepts it like it’s hers. 

Ellie bucks up to the guy who pushes you. His beer split on his shirt, hair soaked in sweat, mouth sloppy, and hollering slurs at her. Abby looks over at the situation and notices you in the midst of it all and pulls you away. 

Her lips were bright and wet as she looped her arm into yours and put you behind her. You bring your hands up to her shoulders and tug at her when you see Mel searching for Abby in the crowd. Abby’s steps stuttered as you led her out of the house. It was like being released from a chokehold as the fresh wind smacked your face. You guide her down the steps and she smiles, teeth on display and eyes wedged into her cheeks. 

“Abs?” 

“Hmm… fuck me. I’m drunk.” 

Her voice was resonant, sexy. 

She stumbles over to you and dangles her wrists off your waist, face-to-face. Although drunk, she had no issue flashing you a playful gaze. You analyze her soft face and stare at the tip of her nose, then her lips, and back to her eyes. You break out of your tipsy and notice how fidgety her hands are, causing your panties to dampen.  

“You think you can handle me?” 

“Wha— what do you mean?” You choke. 

She reaches into her coat pocket and dangles her keys, which you take for safekeeping. Thoughtlessly, her hands return and cascade towards your ass, fingers brushing your dress fabric. You stay like this for a moment, relishing her touch. 

“Let me get you home Anderson.” 

She tried her best and pick her feet up off the ground and not wash her shoes against the concrete. You held her by her waist, looping through her outer arm, hoisting her up, which wasn’t an easy feat. The puffs of her breath filled the air in front of you and you couldn’t believe you were carrying her home. 

You walk her through her apartment and lay her out on her bed, turning on her lights. She groans loudly, pressing her palm against her temples, “No, turn it off. Open the blinds.” 

She sounded so sweet, totally different from her persona at the house party. So you comply, the moon was full in the sky, cascading over the room like the sun, illuminating her face. Abby sat up lazily and attempted to remove her shoe, but all she could do was giggle at her failure. You sat the the edge of the bed and unlaced them, placing them across the room. She manages to remove her jacket alone, but you insist on tucking your fingertips under her shirt and pulling it upwards. The static made her fly-aways stand up, which you naturally brushed downwards. She observed you as you then moved to unbutton her pants. The beats in your chest were obnoxious in your ears — you were sure Abby could hear it too. The only noise in the room was the huffing of her breathing, which was two touches away from becoming moans. Abby sat before you, legs spread, dangling off the edge in her nude bra and matching lace panties. Her dainty underwear in contrast to her toned body filled that cave in your belly. She brushed her hands through her hair, rolled her neck, and fell back on the bed. 

You ran in the kitchen and filled a glass with water, leaving it at her bedside. She was now under her sheets, admiring you. 

“I’ll come check on you in the morning.” 

A heavy pause floated above your heads. 

“Wanna just… s—?” / “I’m gonna go.” 

You both speak simultaneously, you freeze, curious if you let her repeat herself, but you don’t. 

“Okay.” She smiled weakly. 

“If you need me just knock. ‘Night Abby.” 

You peeled your dress off and tossed your shoes and underwear on your living room floor. Your naked body glistened with goosebumps, making your nipples harden. They became so sensitive, begging for touch, and suddenly you wished you didn’t leave Abby alone. You fall into your bed that was plush with warmth, ruffling the sheets under you. Your mind painted images of Abby’s hands slipping under your dress, pushing aside your panties, and sticking her fingers in your slick that she was responsible for. 

Your hands trailed to your aching core, surprising you with how wet you stayed all night. You roll your arousal-covered clit languidly, imaging Abby. The picture of her partially nude body flashed clearly, making you sweat. Once you build up the courage to slip your fingers in you groan her name. Abby. Letting her name levitate in the air as the sloshing noise between your legs increases. 

The Saturday sun broke through the curtains of your bedroom, revealing the state you left yourself in, nakedly aroused. A soft pattering was rhythmic at the door, which spooked you. Your back is now erect, and you don’t care to remember how or why you were this nude in bed, you just reach for the nearest t-shirt and cover your top half as you open the door. Abby was grinning, a smile as bright as the sun, holding two coffee mugs. She had ditched her matching attire for red and black plaid pajama pants, with an old college top that was worn from time. You undo the chain lock and let her in, kicking aside your dirtied clothes. 

Even hungover, she still looked beautiful. 

“Good morning.” 

You were slightly upset that Abby woke you up this early on a weekend, especially looking this good. You run to the bathroom and see the caked makeup on your face and wash it fresh. You lead her to your room where you ruffled through your dresser for a clean pair of underwear. Abby shot her eyes to the ground as you lifted your shirt to slip them on. You accepted the coffee from her hands and sat on your bed, curdled in the corner. 

“Thanks.” You squint. 

“I woke up feeling like shit.” 

“You had a night.” 

Just for a moment you had forgotten the Mel fiasco, but quickly remembered. 

“I did?” 

“You and Mel…” You allude. 

Her face falls into her palm, “Oh no,” 

You force a giggle but you hated seeing it. 

“Full tongue.” 

“Fuck. I really — I don't really know why or how that happened.” 

“She got you drunk, kept feeding you drinks… hands all over you.” 

“But it’s Mel! It’s Mel, she hates me.” 

“Hmmm.” 

She stares. 

“There you go with that again.”

“What?” 

“The hmmm stuff.” 

“You’re just hard to understand sometimes Abby.” 

“Maybe I’m not meant to be understood.” She smirked, watching your face contort with agitation. 

She leans against your headboard and just stares at you. 

“Did I do anything else?” Her voice suddenly capricious. 

You shook your head in reply as you sipped. 

“I just didn’t know she liked girls.” 

“Abby, she doesn’t.” 

She pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“Glad nothing further happened. Right?” 

“Nope. I mean unless something happened just as I put you to bed.” Her eyes lit up at this news, something ignited in her, mostly gratified. You drink more and feel your body tensing up under her lens. 

“Put me to bed?” Her fingers find her ridges in your sheets, the same way they did to your dress, and smooth them out. You shudder remembering her drunken touch. Her eyes glaze over with a sharp look, almost as if she remembered too.

[concretejunglefm]

What do we think the guys would be like if they had a secret crush on you? Like if you were working on tour somewhere with them.

Personally I think Folio would be the most obvious one. 😂

Folio would be the most obvious but that's because he's just generally excited to be around you and you start to easily pick that up, especially when you're aware he likes to hang out with the crew when everything is being set up. Normally it's him and his drum tech hanging out, but suddenly he's starting to spend a little extra time with you, maybe inviting you over. Despite this there is a little awkward shyness to him, especially in the beginning. Once he loosens up it's easier, but his crush on you makes him a little shy at times, mainly when you're alone because with other people around he can bounce of their energy, but solo he finds himself a little more a loss for words.

Matt would not be obvious at all, perhaps the closest he could ever come to even allowing himself a slight acknowledgement of the fact is when he isn't as tough on you about your job. Firstly he really rides you hard on it, mainly because you're young and not as experienced, he wants to give the benefit of the doubt but you also know what you came into so he shouldn't have to. It'll be subtler things with him, such as picking you up lunch when you forget yours because you selflessly are putting everyone else and everything else ahead of yourself, as well as simply bringing you a coffee in the mornings when you wake up early, because you want to get a jump start on the day. The walls come down a little, but when he feels like there's a little too much comfort there he's quick to pull them back up and give you a hard time to remind you about doing your job correctly. Little does he know you kind of like that he gets so bossy.

Jolly is a subtle man who is merely observant. Usually he keeps to himself, perhaps engaging with you a little, even if he does have a crush, but the most of it comes from you both sharing a love of books. You're the talkative one between you, firstly when you spot him reading a book you've read, which prompts him to begin a conversation with you. It's brief, but it leaves his chest feeling a little warm and there's a bounce in his step, one which is noticeable to the other guys. Eventually his subtly extends to an occasional touch here and there, grazing hand along your back, brushing your arm, even offering you his hand as you climb down off the bus. The biggest tell, not to you but the other guys, is when he gifts you a book you mentioned wanting to read. Each stop he'll peruse the smaller bookstores where he can and when he finds one he mentally wrote down you mentioning, he picks it up and gives it you. "I haven't read this one." You'll tell him, while he offers a smile and soft "I know." Before walking off with all of the guys sharing a knowing look.

Noah is alot more shy and awkward than his stage persona would have you believe, yeah he has an ego and knows that he's hot, but that doesn't mean he assumes you fancy him, just because he happens to have a crush on you. You bond over your similar interests after he discovers you're not only an AOT fan, but a death note fan, it quickly moves from anime to music and he finds his crush becoming something gnawing at him the nights you both spend sat up talking over all of these shared interests. If you're not talking about them, you're texting and even sending memes. Sometimes he'll even invite you into his bunk to watch an episode or two before he finds you falling asleep, head against his shoulder.

When it comes to Nicholas he shares the same sentiment as Jolly in regards to giving you gifts as a sign of his crush, but unlike the Swede, they're usually hand made and smaller when on the road. Most consist of little drawings and doodles, he can't count the amount of times he'd actually attempted to do a self portrait of you, some more serious and artistic than others. Calling you his muse would be a cliche, but he can't say that you don't inspire him to draw sometimes, especially on the days off when you go on your little adventures, sometimes he'll even go as far as doodling a little flip book of those for you during his spare time.