#one of my annoying yet endearing fixations.

[themslash]

wait. it's called halo bc there's a halo for real?

[rnnsdrms]

f1 drivers and popular romance tropes: charles leclerc !!

DEAREST READER. hello there! while waiting for the two-week break to end, i needed a little f1 headcanon/scenario to heal me from the famine. anyway, here’s for the leclerc fans out there! it’s funny that i’m posting his first when i actually finished oscar’s first 😂 i hope you’ll enjoy~ for more drivers, you can see my masterlist at the end of the post !

CONTENT WARNINGS. no warnings. just a heads-up that i am an 18+ blog and i prefer only adults visit my profile page. if you’re a minor, you can still read this work since it’s sfw. so, i hope everyone out there is being honest with themselves. oh, probably my fucked up english grammar because why do i care it’s pure vibes !

WORD COUNT. 998 words (ugh, so close to 1k) !

I debated with this idea, but after some time, I decided that mutual pining suits Charles Leclerc better. There is so much potential for slow-burn and comedy. It’s the kind of story where there’s already an established sense of familiarity between you and Charles, one that has existed for as long as either of you can remember. But it has never crossed into anything as intimate as being ‘lovers’. Sure, both your groups of friends always comment about how the two of you argue like a married couple and suggest you should just make it official already, but you and Charles dodge these accusations as swiftly as an F1 driver dodging a collision course.

While you and Charles may eye-roll or stick your tongue out at the sight of each other, both of you secretly wish for something more. Yet, neither dares to make a move, fearing the loss of the bond binding you and him. The platonic relationship between you and him feels comfortable, and disrupting that would seem like the foolish move of the century. So, to preserve it, you’re quick to ignore your feelings, and he does the same. As a result, pent-up, endearing emotions often spill out in the form of silly banter and subtle jealousy. The sneaky glances across the room and the lame lies told when either of you got caught staring seem endless. This routine is no different to playing a song on repeat: it’s the only thing that you’re both fixated on, apparently. At this point, provoking each other just to see what kind of reaction the other can elicit can be considered a love language. You think he’s just being annoying as usual, while he thinks you’re unbearably nosy–and it doesn’t help that he has heard of the ‘you want to kiss me so bad’ meme and he has used it against you every single time you are about to start an argument with him.

Charles Leclerc, despite being a multiple Grand Prix winner and has earned himself many titles–The Prince of Ferrari, The King of Monza, The Sun of Maranello, The Predestined–he still can’t officially call himself ‘your boyfriend’. It’s pathetic and it pisses him off. Currently one of the best drivers on the F1 grid, he has placed himself among legendary rivals, and yet, he can’t seem to place himself on the same bed as yours. Although his fame attracts the attention of high-profile celebrities and influencers, Charles has his thoughts and eyes only on you, even when he is currently surrounded by them. You, on the other hand, love to torture yourself by watching him sitting and talking with glamorous models–or just pretty women in general. He says it’s an occupational hazard, but the way you see it–or rather, feel it–it is more of an emotional hazard to you. But you’re not just going to sit around and drink your sorrows away. No. You’re going to greet and chat with his driver friends … but him.

His eyes narrow dangerously whenever he sees you hanging out with another man, even with his fellow F1 driver friends. But he starts losing his cool when he sees one of them initiate physical contact with you. While you’re giving them your best smile and laughter, Charles is already plotting how to commit a massacre on the next circuit. When you notice that he’s beginning to space out, you decide to approach him, incoming snide remarks already up your sleeve to torment Ferrari’s golden boy.

‘So,’ you start, taking the long-awaited empty seat beside him, ‘is she going to be your next in-chi-dent? Or just another pit stop?’

‘What? I’m the most charming guy in the room. I can’t help if all the ladies want a piece of me.’

‘Oh, please.’ You roll your eyes, ‘you’re about as charming as a stalled-out engine on a race day.’ You add, taking a sip of your drink.

A grin spreads across Charles’ thin lips as he leans closer to you–his chin barely above your shoulder. ‘Is that so? Funny, because I thought I’m just like Ferrari–impossible to resist.’

You try to repress the blush that is beginning to creep up your cheeks by staring at him dead in the eyes. ‘Well, since you are a Ferrari, then I guess I’m the safety car. Always having to slow you down when you get too full of yourself.’

The slight shock on Charles’ face gives you immense satisfaction, and you don’t try to hide it. But he is also quick to gain composure.

‘Or maybe, you’re just the chequered flag I’ve been racing toward all along ...’ He said, but his words seem to trail off in the wind.

It catches you off guard, and you stare at him with a questioning look, only to see Charles’ green eyes gazing at you tenderly. Oh, you hate it so much when he looks at you like that.

‘Nice try.’ You quickly cover your raging emotions with a smirk. ‘But you’re still stuck in the pits.’

• ───────────────────────────•

[ SONGS FOR THIS TROPE: Taylor Swift – Dress ✦ Sabrina Carpenter – Nonsense ✦ Arctic Monkeys – I Wanna Be Yours ✦ Gracie Abrams – Feels Like ✦ Lana Del Rey – Say Yes To Heaven ✦ Ariana Grande — goodnight n go ]

• ───────────────────────────•

˗ˏˋ MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ KO-FI ˎˊ˗

RNNSDRMS™. SUPPORT WRITERS BY REBLOGGING THEIR WORK. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR POST MY WORKS ON ANY SITE. I WILL POST MY POSTS ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA SITES MYSELF AND THAT’S ALL YOU GET.

[mazeinthemiroh]

hi lovey can i request a reader starts freaking out about ateez members new hair color/ hair cut and how they’d react to it!!! ( can u also use blueberry joong, halazia silver hwa, pink mingi BECAUSE IT WAS SUCH A DRASTIC CHANGE, and oreo sannie (his best hair and yes i’m manifesting it comes back for the new cb hehe)

i also never asked this before BUT WHO IS UR ATEEZ BIAS I WANNA SPAM U W VIDEOS AND OR PICS OF THEM LLS AND TY

ateez when their s/o reacts to their new hair colour

genre: fluff and crack tbh :33

word count: 0.8k

warnings: none

a/n: MY ATEEZ BIAS IS HONGJOONG EEEEEEE AND MY SECOND BIAS IS WOOYOUNGIE <3333 THANKS FOR ASKING. also, just for the record, yes blue hongjoong has taking over my life and yes i cried when i found out he dyed his hair blue again like what was that, i was such an emotional wreck and for what. anyways ENJOY

hongjoong

"KIM HONGJOONG"

hongjoong thrashed his head around when he heard your loud voice, a grin now plastered on his face.

he laughed before you almost full-on tackled him to the ground due to the force of your hug.

"you didn't tell me you were gonna dye your hair!!"

all hongjoong felt he could do was chuckle, finding your reaction adorable.

"do you like it?" he asked in a shy voice, but the grin on his face showed he already knew the answer.

"you're so sexy i can't believe i'm dating you" you gawked at his electric blue hair and ran your fingers through it as he laughed at your comment.

seonghwa

seonghwa couldn't help but blush, growing a little shy at your overwhelming amount of compliments.

"this might be my favourite hair colour yet!" you said, eyes fixated on the top of his head.

"you said that about the last one," seonghwa replied with a deep chuckle, finding it endearing about how excited you got with his new looks.

"i know but still," you said, sifting your hands through his silver hair in admiration.

"well you better get used to it because in a few months, it'll be gone," seonghwa teased, knowing this would annoy you.

you pouted with wide eyes. "hey don't tease me like that!"

yunho

'i promise you will like it :D'

that was the text yunho had sent to you regarding his new hair colour. of course, he didn't tell you what colour it would be because he's a huge tease and wants to see your first reaction for himself.

so, when you were waiting at home for him to return, you heard the front door open and close.

"y/n?" he called to you as you sprung to your feet, intrigued by what he came home with. and you weren't disappointed!

you let out a squeal as your eyes landed on the mint green hair on your boyfriend's head. he grinned shyly, "it's for our new summer concept."

"i love it!"

yeosang

yeosang couldn't help but feel your intense gaze on him as you stared for what felt like 5 minutes.

"y/n, you're staring," he said without looking up from his book.

"no i'm not."

"yes, you are."

"well can you blame me?" you said defensively.

his recent, freshly dyed hair was all you could think about recently. blond. and it was certainly his colour. you couldn't help but gawk at it.

yeosang looked up before looking back down, smiling shyly after his own gaze met yours. he never realised how much you would like his new hair colour until now.

san

"you look so tasty"

san gave you a side eye and a smirk at your comment. chin in your hands, you sat and admired your boyfriend's new hair colour. it was your favourite one yet, if that was even possible.

"you're crazy, you know that?" he chuckled, placing a hand on your leg before focusing his attention back on his phone.

"ow!" he exclaimed when he felt you bite him on the shoulder. "what was that for?"

"don't blame me, it's your oreo hair." you teased and shrugged, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

"i can't believe you," san shook his head, but he can't help but smile at the attention you gave him. he couldn't help it.

mingi

"so when you said pink, what shade did you mean"

"huh?"

"you said the next time i dye my hair, i should dye it pink."

you were currently on your way to meet your boyfriend, staying on the phone with him so you could find each other in a busy area of town.

"any shade of pink you want, i guess" you giggled at the randomness of his question.

"will this shade do?"

in the distance, your boyfriend stood out like a pink flower against the greyness of the world. he had a beaming grin on his face and he watched you gasp and run towards him.

"it's perfect!" you say, jumping into his arms.

wooyoung

wooyoung would giggle uncontrollably as you continued to watch his halazia fancam.

"i mean it's just so red" you kept saying out loud, eyes focused on the screen before you.

"you know you don't have to keep watching that when you have me right here," he whined as he nudged you, starting to want more of your attention.

when you didn't acknowledge him, he snatched the device from your hands and turn it off.

"see, you have me now, in real life, with my new hair" he beamed and you rolled your eyes at his childishness.

"you better dance for me then, tomato boy" you teased, snorting as you watched his jaw drop.

"the audacity!"

jongho

your dramatic reaction to jongho's new hair colour was not shocking.

considering he only ever had black or different variations of brown hair, no one could blame you for completely freaking out when he rocked up with RED.

red. hair. who would've thought?

"did you change your lockscreen to me?" jongho asked as he chuckled, looking at your phone.

"and my homescreen. and i have a photocard too," you proudly showed off the photocard of your boyfriend with red hair.

"such a dork" he rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but be flattered by your support.

[samson-the-whale]

So ... I made a self insert fore WIR ....ya

:]

Name: Scrapper/scrap

Gender: male (this mf bisexual)

Age: in his game like 20s to 30s if we go with his game age like 30s or 40s 

Game: Scrapper's scrape up

(its like punch out game mechanics game play wies)

Character interactions:

 Hc he gets pumped up easily and likes to push people in the shoulder lightly but really fast when he needs to let out that excitement (t can be like a charging up a special move in his game) and might accidentally leave a bruise 

When he does it to Ralph it tickles 

When he punches Felix he says ow but then hammers his arm and it heals

When he did it to Calhoun for the first time she hit him across the room because she thought he was picking fights and fucking K.Od him with that bitch slap

Then was kind of apologetic after Felix explained and yelled "oh shoot sorry" then Scrap still laying in the floor gives a thumbs up and a strained "I'm ok...it's ok"

 Also if he did the punching thing with Vanelopie she would just pixilate a bit and his punches would almost go through her shoulder kinda I think much like Ralph it would also just tickle 

Ralph:

Before the whole plot of the movie I like to think Ralph liked him but was kind of bitter "he has huge fists and smashes stuff why am "I" the villain?" XD

Ok ok 

So he and Ralph actually get along surprisingly well for you know one being the main character of his game and supposed "heroes" of the game  and the other is well the bad guy. They both like punching stuff and hav a give each other a high five or fist bump while walking by each other so like buddys

Felix:

Him and Felix are more like 

Felix: look at this cool thin-

Scrap: HOLLY CARP CHECK THAT OUT

Like literally one of the doodle sketches was Scrapper leapfrogging over felix to look at a new plugged in game 

So he kinda is an annoying brat towards felix but always makes it in good fun like he's messing around with him with never an intent to hurt his feelings (even when he goes too far and accidentally does)

Vanelopie:

So now we got Vanelopie

There's actually this running joke sorta where scrapper really likes bright colors becus how I imagine his game has a very limited color palette except him for aesthetically pleasing reasons

So he'd actually stay away from brightly colored areas out of comfort before becoming more enthralled in other colors hens his fixation with casualty visiting sugar rush when he's bored 

You may think oh then he must have met Vanellope while visiting 

Well actually no he bye dumb luck he never met her until after the events of the first movie 

So there knowing each other isn't really that strong yet 

But because of him and ralph eventually becoming friends he grew a liking to the spunky little girl calling her shortstack all the time (despite him being a similar height) and or squirt

In response Vanellope calls him oled man

Calhoun:

 Calhoun thinks he's like 12

He is not he's like 30-40 Like lectures him on his fighting form Thinks he's like inexperienced Finds him endearing if a little overbearing Finds his high energy useful in certain situations but exhausting at other times Is unsure...which fighting game he originates from Then bonding through duty or honor or avenging a loved one.

Sour bill (because I want more interactions and im hiperfixsaiting):

Scraper:Yoooooo a fellow rubber ball

Sour bill:what?

 Ima say this shit now they would drink tea together because yes Scrapper doesn't like coffee he drinks tea

Sonic (because I can):

Mf cameos in scrappers game in later levels for no reason just because funny

It's like the meme

Scrapper: sonic? What are you doing here?

Sonic in scrapper's game: waiting for them to play Gangdemstyle 

Ok so I forgot to put this in I was ryly hoped to post this but thanks to my friend @im-not-important fore spell correcting and helping come up with ideas(also did some of the Blu doodles in the Wight board drawings)

[chaoshoranghae]

attractive things that dreamies do that makes me love them

not this being 1.2k words

Mark,

Being giggly

his word usage

like him saying dude to fans or like

his jokes???

I laughed at the five guys joke

his quotes????

one of them was literally my senior quote

his reactions also

the undercut

his raps

bf coded

copying fans

yk on the fan calls and stuff, please

his bubbles

his spider verse msg pleaseeee

I really like his nose haha

his relationship with the dreamies???

the dance he does in the dingo video I love it

he's caked up of course

just realized I don't pay attention to his physical features???

Renjun,

his hair

I absolutely love when he had the Oreo hair I think it looks so good on him

and personally I had that same exact hair style during covid because of narcissa malfoy, I just love that hair

the opposite of that hair too I love it

how soft spoken he can be

when he gets mad or annoyed

his voice

his eye brows???? I strangely like them

his pictures????

totally would draw you all day and then give it to you

the little artist in him

he's funny tooo

his dynamic with all of his members and how it varies

he gets excited and it's so

or when he's over it with the dreamies haha

like when spoilers come up

him hating mtbis

when he wears his hats backward like during the dance practices

okay, I saw the video where he took those bad pictures of Jaemin

but hear me out

I feel like he would totally take the perfect candids of you yk

like have jaemin teach him so he can just be ur little own photographer = love language???

his insta posts??? please I love them

Jeno,

how reserved he is compared to dreamies???

how different he is when it's one on one

him with jaemin

the weird noises he makes

his back???

his eye smile <3

and his smile <3

that is literally what my mom called him the first couple of months

his oral fixation????

the funny faces he makes ????

he's really funny

how loud he can be?????

him holding grudges?????

me too king me too

being so calm yet chaotic

the care he has for his members

him counting down and then scaring us????

the episode of 7illin' in the dream where he's in the dog house entertaining himself with the light

when he also response to jaemins doggie call

him with dogs in general

him jumping on the bed with chenle and laying completely on top of him

he's so playful

Haechan,

The way he dances

his mood maker energy

Witty

quick thinking

lowkey his style???? I'm not a big fan of tight pants but

his airport style???? I love it

bro got the dogs out but it's so comf

His hair when he's all natural

it looks so fluffy

when he's barefaced and cooking and he has his hands on his hips

I always tell my mom he looks like a middle age mom but I find ur endearing

the way he's bratty???

and cuddly

his weird thumb?? was it?

that he broke and it's different

the way he tells stories, please

his better than gold performance dude please

his fluffy hair with the slight waves

him wearing sunglasses

he's so smart ?????

the way he watches himself as he dances, dude the intense stare oh my god

he is so on point with memorization???

he has such a distinctive voice?? i love it

the way he doesn't let anyone else dip??? but only him???

Jaemin,

He was my first and only bias in dream for a long time so he holds a special place

Nana vs na jaemin

the way he bounces on the beds yk

like how annoying he is in a good way????

Always telling fans to eat

his now cat pictures

How caring he can be

the video where he went cycling with jeno yk that entire video just makes me love him

his obsession with twerking????

i love his part in candy

my mom and I specifically love his part in boom and all the iconic one-liners, when we got to hear it in concert-

his hair!!!! i love it

the blonde? the pink?? i actually liked the blonde with the blue in the middle haha

oh he is also bf coded? but in a different way from mark

bro.... his lats???

his arms????

his shoulders

bro bias wrecked me so hard at the concert

the video of jaemin and jeno cooking.... just jaemin completely in that

he's so funny and weird in a good way

the video where he gave us jaemins foot cam

the way... the way where he sees his fan cams and locks eyes with them and stares at them continuously through the performance ...ugh

his hobbies????

the photography????

him grilling for all of the dreamies first and then eating

Chenle,

how different he is with other members, like the way he treats mark vs jisung

the way he responds to marriage proposals 😭 the are so funny

how he is with daegal

his thing with basketball???

How he points during his notes??? I never noticed it until a fan pointed out how haechan, renjun and chenle all do their notes and he kinda just points??? like I love that

how excited he was to prank jisung with mark, and then was deciding between pranking mark or jisung the way he was so happy

I also like his nose!!!

his face when he's judging

his side eyes

his grammar??? like how strict he is with it

ik for a fact bro would be correcting me all day long but

when he talks, like bro won't stop

like yes please keep talking I will listen

unbothered king

his laugh please

when he was on the fan call where she had a sign that said if you know me to blow a kiss and she showed him the video and he was laughing so hard

kinda want him to teach me chinese

his laugh

his own type of comedy

how honest he is

the way he uses jaemin as a pillow

Jisung,

how he's a little confused with the world

him talking to trees

is that just him talking to himself but he just stands in front of trees???

him saying ubb

the fact that he's only older then me by a little bit is crazy

the way he is about dancing

specifically popping

his dance breaks

how he had a bunch of ramen in his closet but still asked jaemin for a baguette

his clumsiness

jisung with the dominos

his reactions

i loved his ridin' hair

being awkward????? just like me fr

the way he gets so embarrassed

especially from his members

him being fascinated with the world

him showing us how to take off a ring and then struggling

his little gestures

everyone being whipped

this was hard fo renjun for me

I just love him

like I don't have a lot of reasons why

I just love him

I tried to do equal amounts for everyone i have yet to convert to jenoism but writing all these things for him and trying to find a picture makes me want to convert

[bitbybitwrites]

3 for firstprince!

3. 'Tell me anything. Everything.'

Again, apologies for the lateness, @tinyarmedtrex! But here ya go!

(Thanks again to @tailsbeth-writes for the prompts!)

You can also read this on A03 here.

******

blythe spirit

“No.”

“Henrryyyyyyy.”

“I said, no.”

“Please?  Pretty please?"  Alex pouted and fluttered his eyes in an attempt to look as wistful and yet as truly pathetic as he could.

"Fucking eyelashes," Alex swore he heard Henry mutter under his breath. 

Henry turned his back and focused on emptying his backpack onto his desk. Maybe if he appeared busy, Alex would let the topic go.

"You know, if you don't tell me, I'll just go ahead and text Pez or Bea."

Henry internally sighed.  No such luck. 

Who was he kidding?  Alexander Claremont-Diaz was like a hungry dog going after the last scrap of meat at the butcher's when he got fixated on something.  Determined, laser-focused, and stubborn as anything.  It would really make him an exceptional lawyer one day.

Henry spun around and glowered at his roommate.  “You wouldn’t dare.”

Alex smirked as he flopped down on Henry’s bed and kicked off his sneakers.  “Ha.  Just try me, sweetheart.”

The reddish blush that broke out over Henry’s cheeks was worth that term of endearment alone.  Alex smirked.  He knew just what buttons he could push to get Henry to cave.

“I . . . I don't know why you're even interested."

“Baby, I love you.  I'm interested in everything about you." Alex gave Henry a very pointed and heated look that definitely hit the mark.

The flush on Henry’s face now deepened.  He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a few moments as he considered his options: Tell Alex what he wanted to know or not, and run the risk of being annoyed to death about it until he spilled the information anyway.

“Come on,” Alex softly cajoled.  “You can’t just say things like: ‘I played Elvira in a school production of Blythe Spirit’ and not expect me to ask about it.”  Alex pouted again to prove his point.  “I’m a weak man, H.  These are the types of things I need to know more about.”

Another bat of those damn eyelashes and . . god help him . . a slight whimper from Alex, and Henry's resolve crumbled entirely. 

Grabbing his phone, Henry climbed onto the bed, motioning for Alex to move over.  The apparent glee—the twinkle in Alex's eyes when he realized he was getting his way—had Henry shaking his head.

He really was in trouble with this man.

"You know you are an absolute menace," Henry said, attempting to be stern but failing miserably.

“But that’s why you love me, “ Alex singsonged back, grinning wildly.

“So I’ve been told.”

Alex chuckled as he snuggled up to Henry, leaning over to place a soft kiss on his temple.  “Stop stalling, sweetheart.  Give me the deets.  Tell me anything.  Everything."

Henry took a deep breath.  "Well, you know Pez and I both attended Eton before my family had to move here.  Pez, as you've already learned, came here later to go to Parsons."

“Yesssss . . . of that I am well aware.  You two were way too adorable in your morning coats and all.  Pez showed me those pictures."

Henry rolled his eyes as he continued.  “Well, the Master in charge of dramatics was a stuffy old fellow," he confided to Alex.  "But he had been with the school for centuries, it seemed, so he was more inclined to have the boys play all the roles.  If you wanted my opinion, I think he just wasn't comfortable with young girls or knew how to deal with anyone of the female persuasion.  So even though there were neighboring girls' schools that could provide young actresses, he didn't want to bother with them for the productions he decided to direct."

“And when you got cast . . oh please-oh-please-oh-please tell me your grandmother had a fit," Alex begged.  He was not a fan of Mary Montchristen and wished painful, horrible things to happen to her often after he heard of her constant homophobic tirades that Henry had to sit through at family gatherings.

“Oh, she did," Henry sighed.  "She wouldn't stop making a fuss about it every time my name came up in conversation.  Who knows how long it would have gone on if my father hadn't quietly reminded her that men playing female roles in the theatre was a longstanding tradition from Shakespeare’s time and beyond.”

”Ahh . . whip out the history . . . and ole Mary couldn’t argue against Shakespeare,” Alex cackled in delight.

Henry grinned broadly.  "No, she couldn't.  She didn't come to see any of the performances, which was perfectly fine with me."

“Love it.”

Henry paused, unsure of how much more information Alex wanted.  "There are . . ." he sighed.  "Pictures if you want to see."

Alex’s face brightened considerably.  “Yesssss . . . yes . . .yes . . . I want to see."

As Henry carefully scrolled through his phone for the damning evidence, Alex kept trying to crane his neck to look over, giggling in anticipation.   Henry, in turn, leaned further away, trying to hide his phone screen from his boyfriend's prying eyes.  Placing a hand on Alex's face, Henry then gave him a soft shove, shaking his head as Alex cackled and fell off to one side of the bed.

"It can't be that bad, Hen . . ." Alex said.  "I mean, it wasn't horrible when you were doing the show, right?"

“It was .  .  . tolerable, I guess?" Henry admitted, clutching his phone to his chest after he located what he had searched for.  "Now, mind you," he said as he batted Alex's outstretched hand away.  "This wasn't an attempt to be over the top or anything, like a modern drag performance or even a panto dame.  So I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

Alex reached out, opening and closing both hands over and over with a smile.  “I am expecting you to hand that phone over, baby.  I promise I won’t laugh.”

"I know you won't," Henry said, smiling.  He knew in his heart that Alex was nothing but supportive of him.  "But I want you to understand that Pez somehow sweet-talked his way into being in charge of the costumes for the production.”

“Oooooooh," Alex’s eyes grew as large as saucers.  “Now I really want to see.”

Henry sighed at his impatience.  "What I'm trying to say, love, is that Pez wanted to be as accurate as he possibly could.  Blythe Spirit was written in the early 1940s, but he felt it best that we set the play in the 1930s so . . . "

“So I get vintage Henry?” Alex asked, his curiosity piqued even more.

Henry screwed his eyes shut tightly as he passed over the phone, unsure if he wanted to see Alex's first reaction to him in a 1930s evening gown.  "Now, do be kind, darling; please understand I was younger and awkward, and mind you, this was way before I became a wet bob, so I'm a bit scrawny and all, and I was . . ."

“Absolutely fucking beautiful . . .”

Henry's eyes snapped open quickly as he watched Alex.  His jaw dropped, his eyes wide, and he was practically drooling over picture after picture, his fingers swiping through them all, enlarging them, getting to the end, and then quickly scrolling back to see them all over again.

“Love?”

Alex was at a loss for words.  He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to see when Henry handed over the pictures.   He may have had a few preconceived expectations, most of which revolved around the assumption that Henry would just look like his sister Bea, minus the long hair, but certainly not this.

Yes, it was obviously Henry. . . a younger Henry, without the broad shoulders and chest he had achieved from rowing all the years he spent at Eton. Henry's shoulder-to-waist ratio was still to die for back then, but in the pictures he looked like he had an hourglass figure.  The sleeveless blue silk gown Henry wore skimmed his hips, just so, falling in smooth shimmering fabric to his ankles.  The back of the gown was daringly low, and Alex had to admit to himself that his fingers itched to lightly stroke the exposed skin there, trailing from neck to the lower dip in Henry's back.  A brunette wig of soft Marcel waves brushed against that defined jawline, softening it gently.  Henry's eyes were outlined in kohl, while a soft blush powered those prominent cheekbones.  His lips were still plush and looked so very kissable, but then they were painted as a full red pout in the photos, and the mole above his lip was defined even darker so it could be seen from the stage.

In many of the shots, Henry peered at the camera from over his shoulder, capturing the viewer with a coy and flirtatious gaze.  Some, his eyes were lowered just enough that he looked at the camera through his eyelashes, a naughty smile playing at the corners of those pouty lips.

Henry was stunning as the man sitting next to him, but Alex had to admit, he was also ridiculously breathtaking as a woman in these photos.

“I am so fucking bisexual,“ Alex said, staring at the pictures in his hand and then back up to his boyfriend sitting next to him.

The comment made Henry blush even more.

Alex tossed the phone aside and straddled Henry.  "Like so very, very, very bisexual," Alex repeated as he captured Henry's face in his hands and kissed him soundly.

“Are you sure it isn’t just because it’s me in the pictures?" Henry laughed out loud, teasing Alex once he was allowed to come up for air.

“Ok, then I’m bisexual and Henry-sexual . . to-may-to, to-mah-to . .  .however you want to spin it . . .but baby, you were HOT." Alex said, panting slightly against Henry's lips.  "Do you think Pez still has that outfit stored somewhere?  Can we borrow it?  Fuck, baby . . .would you wear it again . . .for me?"

“Seriously?”

Alex looked Henry straight in the eyes as he ground his hips down into Henry's lap.  Both men moaned as they could feel each other growing hard.  "Yes, seriously," Alex said as he continued.

"Christ," Henry gasped, grasping Alex by the hips to still him for a moment.  "I don't know if it will even fit me anymore, darling.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Alex whined against Henry’s lips.  “Something close to it then.”

Henry smirked.  "I suppose you'd want the corselet, stockings, and heels I all wore under that, too?  Or do we ask Pez for a garter belt instead?"

Alex was sure his brain blue-screened then and there for a brief moment.  Once he came to, he only had one thing to say:

“Jesus tits . . you’re going to kill me, Fox.”

[spot-splatter-splash]

Okay okay hm, any thoughts on Jewel and Storm E. relationship(or one/the other), I want to know what other people think about them

Cause, I to, have thoughts about them

I just think their neat and fruity

Jewel and Storm E.'s dynamic is one of my favorites!

They are polar opposites on the surface. Designed to clash with their aesthetics and their interests. Jewel likes being the center of attention and pink frilly hyper femineity. She's organized and likes to feel in control. Storm E. is rather reserved letting others take the spotlight and while not rejecting femineity doesn't participate in it to the extreme Jewel does. She likes a little chaos and watching it play out.

Yet both girls are rather similar under the surface. Both have a tendency to fixate on themselves. Sometimes at the expensive of others. Neither one do it out of malice but it is a byproduct. Both are heavily opinionated and don't often hesitate to voice it. And its those similarities that cause them to clash the most.

I love Storm E. and Jewel's relationship.

Storm E. enjoys annoying Jewel. She likes getting a reaction from her. Jewel is easy to tease and fluster so its fun to her. And it's clear that Storm E. knows her well enough to know what makes her tick but also what she enjoys.

Jewel likes receiving the attention. Storm E. may annoy her but she also makes things interesting in a way the other girls don't. Her and Storm E. are capable of getting along. In L.A.L.A Prep specifically she states that she enjoys the playful rivalry and finds it equally fun. In We're Lalaloopsy its more competitive but even then she still wants Storm E. to like her.

Coming at this from a fandom/shipping perspective they're dynamic is equally fun. A mundane princess and a reserved musician? Sign me up. Jewel and Storm E. developing feelings for one another would be such a hot mess. Storm E. would assumes she's sick before she'd recognize it as being a crush. And Jewel would deny deny deny for as long as she possibly could.

In the L.A.L.A. Prep canon the idea of a Jewel catching feelings first amuses me. Storm E. is her self established rival. They're polar opposites! Storm E. is not a suitable suitor for a Princess such as herself. Surely it's just a fluke. But Storm E. challenges her in a way that's engaging and has an energy she's never seen before. She's mysterious and reserved. Tall, dark, and foreboding in an alluring way. And then when Storm E. smiles it sticks with her. It was weird at first but she cant stop thinking about it. It drives her nuts because how is she, student body president, suppose to go about handling a crush on her rival without kneecapping her social status.

In the We're Lalaloopsy canon it being Storm E. who falls first and falls hard is so humorous to me. She's just like her Cat now. What happened to not getting attached! And of all the people in the town WHY JEWEL. Begrudgingly she has to admit to herself that she finds Jewel pretty and kind of funny. That she likes getting a rise out of her because she finds Jewels mannerisms endearing. That she is 'unfortunately' enamored by her pompous neighbor. That she finds her cute.

[maggicktouched]

“Too bad, Beck. You’re stuck with me” // draco

"Oh please tell me you aren't mad enough to think I was flirting with that man." She teased quietly, taking a sip from the champagne in her glass. Alcohol had never really agreed with her much, and she wasn't fond of the taste even when the quality was so fine, but people gave her odd looks when she turned down drinks at parties. The last thing she needed was an article in a tabloid speculating whether or not she was pregnant.

Jealousy and possessiveness were just similar enough to insecurity that they seemed like feelings that would be beneath Draco Malfoy. They also weren't the sort of feelings that she---someone so fixated on her own freedom---should find alluring in anyone. And yet here they both were.

"We were just talking, my love." Beck said tiredly. She sat her empty glass on a tray as it lazily floated by and took a fresh one from another that followed after it. Drunk was a bit too dramatic for how she felt at the moment, but she was getting a bit glassy-eyed and tired. She would have been content to sit quietly at a table by herself and watch the rest of the evening as the party dwindled down and came to its inevitable end. There was a melancholic beauty to watching these sort of things die; following the lazy downward spiral of every balloon, listening to the distant clicking of heels in the entryway, smelling the crisp, citrusy mop water and polish as the lights went low.

She wouldn't be so lucky. People rarely left her alone. At first she thought they hoped to endear themselves to her in order to get to Draco, but time had shown her that wasn't true. These people had known Draco his whole life, they knew his favor could not be so easily won. No. They sought her out for the novelty of her. Here she was a lion dressed in silks and fine jewels, tamed and declawed to the delight of the crowd. They did not so much as like her as they liked to witness the spectacle of her here, a place where she so clearly did not belong. A wild thing held without ropes or cages, close enough to touch, demure enough to needle without fear of claws. No matter how gentle she spoke or how sweetly she smiled, they could see the truth of her in her eyes, and they courted with the danger of it only because they were so certain of Draco's control over her.

She hated them for it.

But she didn't hate Draco.

... What had they been talking about?

She intertwined their arms, walking along side him. She couldn't deny that she loved way the whole world sparkled. The shimmering twinkle of the chandelier bounced off the crystal glasses and bubbling champagne, contrasting with the humble glow of candles spreading their gentle light across the painstakingly polished floor below. And everything from floor to ceiling glittered silver and gold and smelled of expensive perfumes. The people danced in velvet robes, swaying like a tide. Their laughter was so muted it could barely be heard above the music, the low muttering of their voices hypnotic and calm. The sight itself was just as intoxicating as the booze.

"It's late." She sighed, slowly drumming her fingers on his coat where her hand rested. "Perhaps you wouldn't need to worry so much about who I'm talking to if you were the only one left to entertain me."

Make them go home. She wanted to beg. Make them leave us be. Let me bask in the afterglow and take in the grandeur of the ballroom when it is empty. But she couldn't say that. It would annoy him.

She raised the glass to her lips and took another sip, resigning herself to her fate for the evening. The taste was starting to grow on her.

[rozcdust]

Waste it on me

Pairing: Takeomi Akashi x f!reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word count: 1.2k and pictures

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, age gap (both are consenting adults), suggestive

pt. 1 | previous | pt. 7 | next |playlist

“Takeomi? I need you for a second.” Mikey’s empty eyes passed over you briefly, as if you weren’t there, fixating on Takeomi, “Your pet can wait by the door.”

Your smile widened.

Was it your degradation kink or the fact you enjoyed men underestimating you? Who knows, but you liked the concept of being Takeomi’s bitch.

Takeomi nudged you gently, pointing to a man leaning against the wall of the lavish banquet room, a glass in his hands and a frown on his face.

“Go to him sweetheart, he’ll watch you until I get back.”

“But Omi~, I’ll miss you.” You pouted, your innocent, wide eyes getting a bit watery, but internally, you were grinning at his annoyed, glaring face.

He didn’t find your bimbo act amusing one bit, but it’s not like he had a choice.

“Here are my cigarettes, I know the kind you smoke and it’s embarrassing. Now go.”

“Mean!”

With a small frown, you let go of him, gracefully walking to the guy whose eyes were trained on you like a hawk as he took a sip of his drink.

You recognised him as one of Takeomi’s colleagues, but not one you have spoken to, so you had little reason to be mean to him.

Yet.

“Hi!” You smiled, leaning right next to him, “Omi told me to wait with you!”

The man nodded, extending his hand out to you, “Kakucho.”

You shook it, keeping your touch soft and loose.

“Aren’t you cold?” You tilted your head, concern in your tone, “It’s like Sahara out here!”

He stopped mid-sip of his drink, giving you a confused look.

“Sahara?”

“You know, the desert? It’s cold there!”

He chuckled, ruffling your hair.

“Honey, Sahara is hot. You’re thinking of Antarctica.”

“Ohhhhhh,” You frowned, fixing your hair with a pout, “I always get those two confused.”

“That’s okay.” He smiled, finding your frustrated face endearing, “And no, I’m not cold.”

“It’s really cute you and those purple guys have the same tattoo! It’s nice to have such good friends.” You beamed at him, gently tapping the tattoo he had on his peck.

“The purple guys?”

“Oh, you know, they have it on their throat! Forgot their names though.”

“Rindou and Ran?”

“Yes!”

Kakucho honestly didn’t know if he found the fact you didn’t know who they were and what they do cute or concerning, but he didn’t feel like explaining it to you, afraid it may be a bit too much for your small brain, or make you cry.

And he really didn’t want to deal with Takeomi’s rage if you decided to bail on him.

And really, he understood Takeomi. You were a pretty thing, and just oh so cute with your confused, pouting faces and genuinely innocent tone.

No wonder Takeomi worried you may be eaten alive here.

“So, what do you do? Are you a university student?”

“Yep! Fashion design.” You smiled, like a liar, “It’s hard, but I like it.”

You’re too far on your dumb bitch act to backpedal now, and revealing you study law would make it suspicious.

Kakucho nodded.

“And what about you?” Curiously, you looked him in the eye, holding your hands behind your back to play with the box of cigs, “You look really smart! Do you study like, engineering? Or math? Oh! You look like a physics guy!”

Kakucho was surprised for a second, scratching his neck nervously.

No one has called him smart since he was a kid, before the car accident, he was always the brawn, not the brains, and your genuinely kind tone made something inside him feel guilty.

“I don’t go to school anymore, actually.”

“Seriously? You don’t look much older than me!” You smiled, slightly bouncing on your heels, and he has to be impressed for a second because how the fuck did you manage to do that in stilettos?

“I’m 26.”

“So, a year older than me! Did you graduate then? No way a smart guy like you isn’t doing something important! Could you teach me math? I still struggle with addition.” You pouted, innocently tapping your fingers against the wall.

“I didn’t even finish high school.” He said, sounding somewhat defeated, “I’m not that smart. But I can teach you addition.”

Your eyes widened.

“Don’t put yourself down, Kaku-kun! You are a very smart and capable man, I’m sure, you seem well accomplished, high school is for losers anyways! Being self-conscious is only for ugly people! And you’re such a pretty man! Be proud of yourself, I’m proud of you!”

Kakucho really wasn’t used to that much niceness, especially from a random, pretty bimbo he met 8 minutes ago, and with so much sincerity, and he felt something in him break.

“Oh my god, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry! You’re crying!” Your voice was panicked, and you started gently rubbing his shoulder, pulling him from the wall, “Let’s go outside! Some air may help you!”

He rubbed his eyes, embarrassed about the tears welling up inside them, but followed you outside, internally happy about the fact no one was there to see his mental breakdown.

He calmed down quickly, taking deep breaths as he lit up your cigarette.

“Pretty girls don’t light up their own cigarettes.” You smiled, and he nodded along, pocketing the lighter.

“How’d you end up with Takeomi?” He quirked an eyebrow, leaned on the wall next to you, crouching down, “Not to seem rude, but he’s way older than you.”

“You know, he’s just so nice! He spoils me, and doesn’t mind my personality! He’s a gentleman.” You sighed a content, happy smile as you exhaled the cigarette, a ring of your lipstick left on the filter, “And it’s hard to find that nowadays, you know? Most guys only wanna fuck!”

“Isn’t he your sugar daddy?”

“Oh, he is, but he’s so nice to me!”

Kakucho nodded, understanding.

“Do you have a special someone, Kaku-kun?” You teasingly smiled, looking down at him as your perfectly manicured fingernails tapped away the ash of your cigarette.

“No.” He lit up one for himself, a headache already creeping on him at the thought of the person he was interested in.

“But you like someone, I can tell.” Your voice was sing-songy as your curious eyes bore into Kakucho.

“I do.”

“Ohhhh, tell me! Please, Kaku-kun, I won’t tell anyone else! Pinky promise?” You extended your pinky towards him, looking at him expectantly, and he sighed, linking his with yours.

“It’s Ran.”

“Oh, the one with the tattoo?”

“The one with short hair, yes.”

“Ohhhhhhhhh! You should tell ‘im!”

Kakucho’s face flushed at the thought as he shook his head.

“I don’t think so, he sees me as a kid.”

“Oh! That is fair, he looks 40!”

Kakucho threw you a look.

“Sweetheart, he’s 30.”

“Oh!” You facepalmed, shaking your head, “God, I’m really stupid.”

Kakucho chuckled, patting your shin in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“It’s okay.”

“You should fuck his brother! Make him jelly, you know?”

Kakucho choked on his smoke, looking up at you, horrified.

“I wouldn’t touch Rindou with a six-foot pole.”

“Ah, that is fair, he looks like a macaroni and cheese kinda guy.”

Kakucho raised an eyebrow, looking up from his spot on the floor at you, but didn’t ask you what you meant by that.

You looked way too innocent standing there, smoking a cigarette with wide eyes and amazement on their face, and he decided at that moment you’re precious and must be forever protected.

He patiently started explaining to you why 29 plus 18 is 47.

Taglist (open):

@1818cigarettes @babu-haitani @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @lagrimasdeglitter @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @emilywaters @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookydraken @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @kennyb0y @chaoticyuna @haitanihime@adeptiixiao @denkis-slut @wakasagurl @mitsurisupremacy @yukimaniac @marrymemanjiro @bajitorasprincess @somniari-94 @haikyuu-simps-assemble @gulfkfl @the-invincible-mikey @lumi-does-stuff @hana-patata @snowyseungs @sanzuswh0re @itsyournumber1whore @lem0nsquizy (second taglist in the comments! please let me know if i forgot to tag you 💕)

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [One of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James 'Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him. But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

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Nothing felt real until you saw him again.

It was as if ever since 2015, you’d been living your life in some kind of limbo, nothing mattered, the same old routine day in and day out. The world seems to move in slow motion around you, everything slightly lagging behind.

Like you can only see in black and white.

Like you were numb.

And then all of a sudden, in one brilliant flash of light everything speeds up, colour blinds you and the numbness disappears, replaced instead by pure, unadulterated fear.

He walks slowly down the hallway of doors, his eyes locked on yours like he knew you’d be here, knew exactly when to catch you. That in itself sets off a million other fears in your brain, and no matter how many times you’d gone through this scenario in your head, how many times you’d stayed up formulating a plan for escape, you can’t seem to move. Your body is frozen in place, the only movement available to you is the shake in your hands as he gets closer and closer.

You can’t even seem to cry.

He stops several feet away, looking for all the world like he wanted to be anywhere but here, but he squares his shoulders anyway and takes a deep breath.

“Hi.” He greets grimly, voice more nervous than you’d imagined, though deep and distinctly tainted by a Brooklyn accent you might’ve found endearing if not for everything else.

You realise suddenly that you’ve never heard him speak before.

You only stare, unblinking. He takes another deep breath and continues.

“My name is James Bucky Barnes. I am no longer the Winter Soldier–”

The mention of him, the name itself, makes you drop the thick set of keys and the small stack of letters you hold, sending them clattering to the floor. He stops speaking and blinks down at them, then back at you, before he crouches down to collect them.

“… And I’m here to make amends.” He stands slowly and holds out your keys and letters, lips pursed tightly as he waits for you to say something, or react at all. But you’re still staring at him, still unable to tear your eyes away until he waves the items, making your keys jingle a bit, and you snap out of it.

“I’m sorry.” He says, seemingly sincerely, but your voice is gone, and you can only nod as you carefully, hesitantly, take your things back from him, thankful when he steps back again. He stares at you with a sad frown, and you want so desperately to open your mouth and to say something, anything, but you just can’t.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes another step back.

“I’m… I’m going to go home now.” He tells you pointedly, and you can only nod once more. He turns his back and begins to walk.

You take that moment to shakily shove your key into the lock, quickly heaping yourself inside and slamming closed the door.

Making sure you lock your door once again, you can’t stop the sobs that wrack your body, sliding down the heavy wood and curling yourself into a ball.

You don’t hear him stop at the end of the hallway, you don’t hear the way he curses under his breath.

-

You laugh wildly and wave off your friends, shaking your head as you enter your apartment building. Even as the doors shut you can still hear them talking and laughing loudly as they return to their own buildings, but let the first peaceful sounds of quiet hit you as you jab the button for the elevator and make your way up to your place.

The alcohol buzzing through your veins amplifies reality and you ponder what an odd sensation it is to be so cognisant of yourself when you’re finally alone after a night of being surrounded by others. You lean heavily against the elevator wall and pull your graduation cap from your head when you realise you’re still wearing it.

It wasn’t the first time you’d graduated, but it was the last.

Excitement bubbles in you once again as you exit the lift onto your floor, all the possibilities and futures that lay before you making you feel unstoppable. You were going to be big, the things you were going to do were going to be big and now that you were fully and properly accredited, you couldn’t wait to prove to the world what you could do.

You unlock your apartment door on the third try, and stumble as you throw your cap and purse on the counter. Tomorrow you would call back Stark Industries and formally accept their offer, but for now, you needed water, a shower and bed. In that order.

You don’t bother turning on the lights in your apartment as you stumble through it, moving for your bathroom, however, when you reach the main hallways that lead to your bedroom, you pause and frown, switching the light next to you on as you stare down the passage.

You could have sworn you’d shut your bedroom door… In fact, you’d made a point of it before you’d left that morning… but here it was, wide open, and even swinging slightly like it were caught in a breeze.

In your drunken haze, you only frown deeper and move further down the hall, tiptoeing as quietly as you could, as if you were going to catch a ghost or an intruder off guard, but when you reach the doorway and switch the light on, you’re greeted by nothing.

A breath of anxiety leaves your lungs. It had been a busy morning, you could have easily forgotten that you’d gone back in after you’d shut it.

You relax, and kick it open further, shuffling forward before closing it behind you, but it stalls, refusing to click into place. A little frustrated now, you push on it harder, looking down at your floor to make sure there was nothing stopping it from shutting, but everything was clear. With an annoyed growl, you tear the door open again, intending to inspect the door frame itself, but you’re stunned frozen.

A man stands before you, completed shadowed in black, all but his eyes covered. You don’t even have time to react, you open your mouth to scream, but his hand shoots out, grabbing your jaw, the noise dying out before you can even make it.

Your body trembles, tries to back away, tries to run but he already has you, a grip stronger than what seemed real pulling you by where he holds you.

“Pack only essentials.” His voice is monotone and dark, and from his free hand, he throws a black duffle bag at your feet between you. His words left no room for argument, no terms for negotiation and yet your inebriated mind throws this out the window. You manage to latch onto the nearest item, a small lamp on the cupboard next to you, and with strength you didn’t know you had, you smash the thing into the side of the man’s head.

He releases you, hissing, and you run, somehow past him, your sloppy, drunken movements tamed somewhat by the adrenaline coursing through you.

You make it to your kitchen, to your purse and your phone, but then he’s there, hand grabbing yours and squeezing so hard your phone breaks under his grip. Intense and unrivalled pain lances through your fingers and palm, joined by a strange burning sensation. You become acutely aware of the snapping sound of bones until he lets go.

“Do not run.” He warns, though it sounds more like a threat, and with his body now bearing down over yours, and the pain in your hand, you lash out with your other, trying to push him away, maybe injure his eyes. Your fingers catch on something hard though, and you only manage to dislodge his mask, revealing his full face to you.

You don’t know or recognise him, and there was something so cold and unfeeling about his expression despite the situation you were in that makes your skin crawl. It was like the lights were on but nobody was home, like his brain was completely disconnected from his body and actions, right up until his eyes narrow, and he lifts a fist.

You can’t help but glance at the appendage before it crashes into your face, something catching your eye about it as the moonlight pouring in from your living room window hits it, and you realise, it was silver.

The last thing you remember before he knocks you out is the strange, but all-too-familiar whirring of a mechanical arm.

You wake up with a start, air trying to claw its way out of your lungs desperately. Your wide eyes search the room, and momentarily you see nothing but four grey walls, slowly closing in on you, before your senses begin to return, and your familiar bedroom fades through the nightmarish vision.

Sounds of the city waking up outside serve to ground you, and you slump back against your pillows for a few seconds, allowing your breathing and heart rate to calm down before you peel yourself out of bed slowly, cringing at the way your hair sticks to your clammy, sweaty skin.

The cold Brooklyn morning is comforting to you, and although you’d usually sleep longer than this on a work night, you know you won’t be going back to bed any time soon. You make your way to your small, cramped bathroom and switch the lights on, quickly discarding your clothes.

When you reach for the tap, you pause, eyes fixated on your hand, the one you hand remember clear as day being all but crushed in his grip. It had healed, but the broken bones weren’t the worst of it.

They’d taken your soulmark.

You don’t know why they did, you guess it had something to do with making sure there were no loose ends as far as your abduction went. They’d cut the mark from your hand, burned the wound, until it healed into just a lump of scarred, white skin.

Out of all the things they’d taken from you, it was this that hurt the most. They’d taken everything and left you with nothing, not even that which you were fated for. Knowing that somewhere out there, your soulmate would be waiting, wondering where you were, but you’d never be able to find them, never be able to know for sure if they were the one...

The first blasts of cold water shock the thoughts from your mind, and you immerse yourself, basking in the feeling against your hot skin, before the water finally begins heating, fogging up the room.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the white tile.

“They’re gone. You’re free, and they’re gone…” You begin repeating softly, the familiar mantra only just audible over the running water.

You hadn’t had a nightmare in months, not one so vivid anyway, not one that made sense, that was more a memory playing itself back than a dream. You didn’t sleep well as a rule, but normally your bad dreams consisted of other things.

You know it’s not a coincidence, not when he’d shown up at your door a week ago.

You knew he was innocent. You knew that. He’d been brainwashed and tortured and he was innocent… But that didn’t make everything you’d experienced less real. Coming to terms with the fact he wasn’t some monster was hard when all you wanted was someone to hate.

You suppose you just never thought you’d ever see him again in the flesh.

It was easier to fear the memory of something, but when it showed up at your door, apologising and wishing to make amends…

Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop thinking about him. What had he meant about making amends? Why had he sought you out after so long? What did he want?

Maybe that’s why when he shows up at your door again, you aren’t so terrified.

He definitely gives you a fright, but no more than anyone would seeing as you’d opened your front door just as he’d raised a fist to knock on it. A momentary flash of fear makes your eyes widen, but you’re rather surprised when it seems to pass over you, settling down into something more like unease.

For his part, Barnes looks a little bewildered, like he’d been caught out, and you wonder briefly, with no small amount of discomfort, how long he’d been standing there.

You both stare at each other, until he finally forces open his mouth and speaks.

“I can go, if you want,” He blurts, eyes darting over your features quickly, but always returning to your eyes.

“But I just came to ask if there’s anything I can do for you?” He nods slightly after speaking, as if he’d been practising the words and had delivered them just as intended.

You blink at him, completely taken aback, but somehow managing to find your voice this time. Is this what he’d meant by ‘making amends’?.

“I… I don’t know…?” You shuffle from one foot to the other.

“My… My friend told me that I should seek out people I hurt… to be ‘of service’.” He tells you quickly, as if he suddenly felt the need to explain himself. Honestly, it’s helpful, helping you put together more pieces of whatever the hell this puzzle was.

“You didn’t hurt me.” You say carefully, trying not to sound like you’d been practicing. You see his brow furrow, and his lips pull into a thin line.

“HYD– They were the ones who did it…” You take a deep breath, adjusting your hold on your reusable shopping bags. His eyes flicker to them briefly, but are back on your face in a blink.

“I read about you… after, I mean… I know you weren’t…” You lift a hand and tap your temple, though immediately cringe.

Barnes lips quirk, but any semblance of a smile disappears soon after, his eyes turning strangely soulful. With his haircut and altogether more well-kept look, it was hard to see why you’d been so scared of him the other day… he didn’t even look like the same person anymore.

“Sure. But I still did those things… I still owe you.”

You stare at each other again for a long while, almost like you were both just reacquainting yourselves with what you looked like. You weren’t exactly put-together yourself right now, but you can’t imagine you look any worse than when you were a literally prisoner of HYDRA.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asks again a moment later, and you suddenly remember that you were standing in your doorway, disrupted in your task.

“I– I don’t know, I’m sorry, I have to go,” You shake your head, and attempt to dismiss him for now. The store was only open for another hour before your shift started.

“I need to get my groceries before the shop closes.”

Barnes steps back, gives you plenty of room as you pull your door shut behind you, locking it securely. But when you turn back to him, his face seems to have perked up. It’s odd to see on him, honestly.

“I can carry them for you.”

You stare at one another again, and you find for some reason you can’t say no.

Perhaps you just wanted to see the former Winter Soldier carry your groceries.

The thought almost makes you laugh.

Not as much as seeing him trail behind you in the aisles does. You wonder if your sudden ease at his presence is similar to the ease you have when there’s a spider in your bathroom… You don’t want it around exactly, but if you’ve got your eyes on it, at least you know where it is.

You keep to your short list of needs, mostly trying to ignore the fact that this was very, very strange all things considered, and when you’ve finished and gone through the checkout, he grabs all six of your bags and waits for you to lead the way.

“Do you… do you live in the city?” You can’t help but ask him on the walk back. He looks at you, almost surprised, but nods, and averts his gaze again.

“In Bed-Stuy.”

It’s your turn to be surprised.

“That’s only a couple of blocks. I’ve never seen you around before.” You marvel. He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained to the pavement.

“I know.”

Silence falls between you again, and prevails until you reach your building.

“Thanks. This has been… weird.” You tell him truthfully, watching how his lips quirk in that almost-smile again. He hands you your bags of groceries and then looks about.

“You do this every Thursday?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“No, I just forgot all week, and I really needed milk.”

He hums under his breath, frowning slightly again as he digs into his pocket and pulls out a small notepad. You watch him scribble something on a page, before he rips it out and holds it out to you.

“That’s my number… if you ever need anything, call me. I’ll come.” Barnes says seriously. Nodding, you reach out to gingerly pluck the paper from his fingers, but he keeps a hold of it for a moment longer, locking eyes with you.

“Anything.” He reiterates. Swallowing, you nod again, and he releases the page.

“Thanks, uh–”

“–Bucky… Please just call me Bucky.”

You watch him with a strange feeling filling your chest as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets and steps away from you. It takes you a few seconds to build up the courage to actually say his name.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

---

Bucky waits until you’ve disappeared inside your apartment building before he quickly pulls his hands from his pockets, hissing in discomfort as he finally attends to the searing, itching burn that had suddenly begun attacking his soulmark.

A few good scratches does the trick, but it leaves him with an entirely different sensation.

Bucky stares up at your apartment building, despair and dread settling deep in his belly. Realisation spurns on a hundred memories, a hundred memories now with a new context, a worse context, and Bucky feels completely nauseous.

You were his soulmate.

And HYDRA had made you afraid of him.

If you enjoyed, a comment or reblog would be greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading!

[plan-d-to-i]

Listen, I actually like Jin Ling. He's a character who can be seen to be "growing up" Throughout mdzs, from reckless arrogant rich boi to slightly more endearing teenager. He knows his faults, he learns, accepts critics, and fix himself. I appreciate him. I like Jin Ling as a character, and I like his friendship with Shizui, Jingyi, and Zhizeng.

But the thing is, how the fans paired him up with Sizhui or/and others, it makes their friendship fell flats. I understand that some, if not most, people likes to make CPs and create a BL kingdom where everyone are Gay. But really, the way fans tainting the beautiful friendship filled with important phase of developments of the characters, to see their well-written relationship in canon be wrecked and simplified as another "romantic love" To satiate the BL thirst of the readers, it really makes everything feel cheaps, in my opinion.

I really don't have anything against CP making in the fandom, it's up to others, and CP making is just something for entertainment, I know and I did the same to other characters from other Literatures, for amusement.

If the CP is just for fun, I really understand it. But you see, a lot of people started to take and treat Zhuiling as if they're so Canon, just like how they treated Xicheng as if they're Canon. And it just makes me so annoyed because it really ruin the beauty of the TRUE Canon of those juniors...

Speaking of Jin Ling, I will never understand why people fixate on jc to the extent that they do just to essentially fanon him into a subpar verison of Jin Ling when JIN LING IS RIGHT THERE. ଲ(ⓛ ω ⓛ)ଲ

Jin Ling is a teenager who fears his uncle enough to run away and hide w Jin Guangyao after he defies him, but he still doesn't feel comfortable letting jiang cheng disappear MXY like he's done w others.

"“It’s not like this is the first time my uncle’s done something like this. He always prefers the prospect of catching the wrong person to the prospect of letting anyone go"

....

Once he was done, Jin Ling turned around and began walking off. After a few steps, he looked backward and said, “Why are you just standing there? Are you just going to wait for my uncle to come and get you? Let me tell you, don’t think that just because you rescued me, I’ll have some kind of deep gratitude toward you. Especially don’t hang your hopes on me telling you some mushy nonsense.”

Except he did just make jc into clown sending him on a wild goose chase after Wen Ning and tricking all the other YunmengJiang lackeys so could save WWX. And he's coming off a literal lifetime of jc's influence. Not to mention how quickly he starts to change with only a few corrections from WWX. JC grew up with WWX (and JFM) and nothing stuck to him!!! This is why saying Yu Ziyuan is completely responsible for the way jc turns out, doesn't check out...

Anyway back to the topic at hand, obviously none of the junior ships are canon, but people trying to turn what they like into canon instead of just happily shipping/ vibing with their headcanons is definitely a fandom wide problem 🥲. Personally, I'm just not very good at shipping 😅. I can't even imagine any of the juniors in relationships yet, so I like their friendship. I think I get what MXTX meant when she said she wanted to focus on one major ship in her works. So much detail, and care went into WangXian canonically- it's hard to pay attention to anything else.

[fangirl--writes]

A Dance. Jeremiah Valeska x Reader

 AN: Hello!  Long Time no see huh? I have started writing again and what better way to start than with the softest boi! 

Link to the song the Reader plays: https://youtu.be/pIgZ7gMze7A

Let me know what you think and if there should be a part two?? 

I was aiming this is right before and during S04/E17 

*****************************************************************

It was still.

Soundless suave from the occasional tick of the old hands of the grandfather clock placed elegantly in the corner of the spacious room.  Dust was gathering on the table tops; you had been ignoring it for about a week or so.

Sometimes it gets to him-

Sometimes.

Your significant other, Xander Wilde.

Lately he’d been holing himself in his office, or on a conference call with his associates.

The stoic, ginger haired man was busy, you understood this.

Owning your own company was a lot.

Your leg began to bounce softly off the edge of your cushioned chair, tapping against the plush fabric to a rhythm familiar as you turned the next page in your book.

He was busy sure- but he made time for you.

Dinners, take out naturally delivered by his proxy.  Movie nights, occasionally spent curled up on the couch that now sat neglected on the other side of the room.

Your favorite however; was the times he’d flip on the record player; the corner of his lip would twinge in the faintest of grins. His knowing grin as you called it, he’d usually flash one as he selected the music for your dance.

Xander’s ocean eyes would drift over to you, peeking from over the top of his glasses as the record would start sending you into a near giggle fit every time.

He’d reach out, sweep you off your feet and gently glide around the room in an endless nonsensical pattern. His hand was on your waist as he led you in an imaginary waltz, pulling you ever so close your noses nearly touched.

He was different then, his face would drop into his rare soft grin and his eyes, you would dare say light up watching you. Your hands crawling up his shoulder and gliding down to hold his to hold him closer.

You’d lay your head on his chest and let the world, the worries, the work go.

It was nothing when you carelessly stepped across the carpeted living room, twirling about without a care in the world.  

You took a breath marking the page in your book.  You’d reached out to his proxy, and requested a new record, something with a little more…kick.

Well, new was perhaps not the right term but kick, definitely yes.

You rose from your plush chair, stretching your back as you set the book down. Your eyes laid on the solid wooden door that separated you from your beloved.

If layers of dust and neglected dishes piled in the sink wouldn’t make him see you, perhaps this would.

With a careful hand you spun the vinyl. The cover was worn and slightly tattered from use, you inspected it momentarily before pulling out the record. Gently you laid it on the turntable, setting into place before slinking over to the door.

You sucked in a breath as you paused hesitant at the door.

“Xander?” his name tumbled from your mouth as you rasped against the heavy wood.

No response.

Perhaps he didn’t hear you.

Again, you knocked calling his name louder.

Silence met your reserve as you let out a small huff, impatient.

The wheels turned in your head as you stared into empty space. A soft smile twitched on the corner of your lips.

Working is one thing, but ignoring you is another.

With narrowed eyes you strode back to the turntable, with a flick of your wrist you switched it on eyes darting back to the door again, just in case.

Gently you pushed the dial for the volume, going about as high as it could before setting the needle down to put your plan in motion.

The smooth instrumentals sent your body swaying as the music blared through the den.

You shifted the weight in your heels as you twisted about keeping a watchful eye on the door.

The music swept through the room, sending you into a state as your mind focused on the beat.  

You put the boom-boom into my heart

You send my soul sky-high

When your lovin' starts

You swept around the furniture spinning and twirling around aimlessly, singing as loudly as you could manage. No longer was the warm reserved space a living room, melting away in your mind’s eye to stage, open and wide just for you. The soft lamp lighting transformed to bright spot lights that strobed the walls.

Jitterbug into my brain

Goes a bang-bang-bang

‘Til my feet do the same

The words fell from your mouth as if on cue, your chest heaving as you shouted out into the invisible crowd.

You didn’t notice as the door to Xander’s study cracked open, his face twisted into a disgruntled sneer as he looked out into the living room, annoyed his work flow was interrupted.  The walls were shaking. His concentration broken as the acescent rumbling pounded through the door.  His chest tightened as he prepared to scold you for being so loud.

His brows rose into a curious arch as he caught sight of your form twirling about. Your nose wrinkled as your face contorted fixated on the words as you sang blissfully unaware of his presence.

For a split second he contemplated turning the music down, alerting you to his presence and going back to his work, those thoughts were quickly discarded as he found himself rooted in place eyes glued to you.

He leaned against the wooden frame, mouth still agape as his eyes followed your enraptured movements, you were so enthralling, the way your hips swayed and your body danced about, wrapped in your own little world.

You take the grey skies outta’ my waay

You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day

You turned a bright spark into a flame

My beats per minute never been the same

You were singing… about him.

Xander felt his body tense, his dark brows furrowed in thought. Recently, he’d been neglecting you for his most recent project. He’d skipped dinners taking them in his office, or not eating at all, working so late into the night that he’d come out and find you curled up on the couch, the book you were reading hanging loosely in your hand or fallen forgotten on the floor.  

Each time his heart panged with regret, yet, he still overlooked you…

After all this time, you still cared about him. He noticed when you set out meals for him lovingly wrapped up with a hand written note or brewed coffee before you fell asleep. His eyes fell to the table and the dust that was layered on its surface… usually the two of you would clean together. An activity that calmed you both, a menial task. But one that was fun when he was with you, the way you’d turn dusting or dishes into a game or just a time to reflect and enjoy.

He admired you, finding your sense of wonder and forever finding joy in something so small endearing.

As if on their own, he felt his body throw its self forward his feet following suit. He reached for your hand; his face flushed as he took hold of your wrist, your eyes opening in realization.

“X..Xander…” his name was soft on your lips as you peered up at him.

Your eyes sending him into a flustered frenzy he moved to spin you, trying to match the rhythm as he tottered with the music.

This wasn’t the type he was used to; the soft melodies of classical were typical in your shared home, gentle waltzing that was slow and simple.

You giggled as he clumsily danced with you, his fingers laced with yours as he awkwardly watched his feet as not to step on you. Your fingertips softly lifted his chin to meet your bright gaze, wordlessly you beckoned him to follow you.  He sucked down a needed breath copying your motions, quickly coming in to his own as he spun you in his arms.

His blush faded as he moved with you, eyes settling on your face. He felt his cheeks crack as a faint line of a smile graced his lips. Xander cherished these moments with you, savored them, however; he couldn’t force back the slivers of voices whispering in his ears.

Fraud

If only she knew the real you…

She wouldn’t be dancing cheek to cheek with a monster...

 Your head tipped as your lover stared ahead aimlessly his blue eyes faded behind his glasses. His chest steadily falling in shallow breathes as his grip loosened on your hands.

You been through so many of these with him, they’d become more frequent in recent months and you couldn’t figure out why.

Gently you pushed yourself against his chest as you caressed his cheek with the pad of your thumb, gingerly reaching to press your forehead against his.

He shifted under your hand, sweeping his arm to your waist to pull you closer as his eyes closed as he basked in your touch.

“Darling…”

His voice was barely a whisper as he pressed into your hand.

“I… need to

 “Sir-

The urgent voice of his proxy pulled his head away from yours. Your eyes flickered to her rigid form in the door way to the labyrinth.

Immediately Xander straightened himself. Your hand falling to the way side as you took a step back.

He took a in cool breath, collecting his thoughts as he adjusted his suit jacket. His calculated eyes turned to you again; a look of faint concern etched on his face.

Xander’s tone shifted.

“Ecco take Y/N to our room.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion, rather a command.

His hands reached to squeeze yours in some attempt to soothe you as he stepped closer. 

The woman in the door way quickly made a move towards you.

“What’s going on?” Your voice hitched in your throat as you spoke, gaze bouncing confused between the two figures.

“Xander, Please-

You spoke again, voice cracked with worry as Ecco touched your arm nodding to her boss.

His eyes were downcast, his gaze going past you to the floor as his head shook softly. He pulled away swiftly moving past you before you could latch on to him.

“Ecco will keep you safe.”

The young blonde pursed her lips as her grip tightened, her voice was hard as she pulled you from your spot on the floor.

“Come with me miss.”

“Xander Wilde-

Your feet were firm as you rooted yourself down; your voice was harsh as you called after him again.

You will tell me what is going on!”

He paused just before he slipped away from view, your tone causing him to freeze; hesitating only for a mere moment before continuing on his way his eyes front.

You felt weak as he vanished down the slinking hallways of the maze.

 Ecco tugged at your arm, now half dragging you along as she led you away from the den. Your eyes glued to the spot where he stopped, hoping he’d come back for you.

The record was forgotten now, music long over. The needle scratching endlessly in the silence of your screams, a faint memory of what was only an hour ago. You were blissfully unaware then, completely and utterly clueless to how your life would burn in the turmoil of what was coming.

tag list: @valeskaduh @seldomabsent @violentvaleska @fuwa-fuwa-yandere

If anyone else would like to be on the list just drop a comment down below!

[mooniefics]

— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her  torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.

[tickly-trashcan]

Bored {Shin Soukoku}

A/N: oughhh i feel like i haven’t written sskk in foreverrr i’m so glad i get to write for them again! I had a bit of trouble coming up with an idea for this one, but I think i managed okay! I hope you enjoy~

Summary: It’s Atsushi’s day off from work, and he wants to spend it with Akutagawa. When Akutagawa isn’t paying attention to Atsushi, however, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

Word Count: 1.1k (under the cut)

Atsushi was bored. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, he had the day off from work and was spending it with his partner, Akutagawa. And while he did enjoy his company, it was rather boring when all Akutagawa was doing was reading a book.

Atsushi wanted attention from Akutagawa, they could be spending quality time together right now! Atsushi was off for the day and all Akutagawa wanted to do was read when they could be going for a walk or even visiting the bay.

Atsushi sighed to try and get Akutagawa’s attention, but he stayed fixated on his book. Atsushi sighed again, louder this time and Akutagawa turned to face him, pokerfaced. 

“Do you need something?”

Atsushi pouted, mad that Akutagawa didn’t realize how he was feeling. Atsushi was stubborn and Akutagawa was dense. Atsushi’s stubbornness would keep him from admitting to Akutagawa why he was bored, and Akutagawa was too dense to pick up on what Atsushi was trying to hint at. They were like oil and water, and yet they still remained in a pretty healthy relationship.

“No…” Atsushi said, crossing his arms as he slunk into the couch. Akutagawa shrugged, going back to his book, much to Atsushi’s dismay. He was probably going to need to get his attention by other means.

“I’m gonna get a snack, do you want anything?” Atsushi asked, standing up from the couch. Akutagawa didn’t respond, and Atsushi immediately welled up with frustration. He puffed his chest and walked directly in front of Akutagawa, pouting.

“Would you put that book down?!”

Akutagawa looked up, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. He set the book down and folded his hands in his lap, leaning forward.

“Are snacks so important you must disturb my reading?”

Atsushi furrowed his brows, his face going slightly red as he realized he had made a rather big fuss over what seemed like nothing now. He stood his ground though, putting his hands on his hips and glaring down at Akutagawa as he spoke.

“It’s not the snacks, it’s you! It’s my day off from work and all you want to do is read! Can’t we do something fun?”

Akutagawa stared at Atsushi, raising his thin eyebrows in mild surprise. He finally set the book down and folded his arms across his chest, staring at Atsushi.

“Are you really that desperate for attention?” He said, a mild grin of amusement popping up on his face. Atsushi fumed, he couldn’t take Akutagawa’s attitude anymore. An idea popped into his head and he smiled deviously, quickly tucking a stray hair behind Akutagawa’s ear as he looked up at Atsushi.

“Maybe I am, and maybe you can make me less so,” Atsushi said, leaning close to Akutagawa’s face.

He closed his eyes and slowly went in for a soft kiss, settling himself down on Akutagawa’s lap as he kissed Atsushi back, placing his hands on the small of Atsushi’s back. Atsushi cupped Akutagawa’s cheeks, smiling as he watched Akutagawa practically melt in his arms.

He slid his hands down to Akutagawa’s hips, holding them as Akutagawa opened his eyes out of curiosity. He pulled away from Atsushi for a moment, looking at him questioningly.

“What are you doing?”

“This,” Atsushi said quickly, squeezing Akutagawa’s hips.

Akutagawa immediately toppled forward, pressing his head against Atsushi’s chest as giggles poured from his lips, grabbing onto Atsushi’s wrists to try and pull them off of him. Atsushi laughed as Akutagawa struggled weakly against him.

He knew that Akutagawa didn’t really like being tickled, but he also knew that he would put up with it if it was Atsushi tickling him, which he found rather endearing.

Atsushi laughed along with Akutagawa, his laugh was rather contagious. “Your laugh is so cute!”

“I-It is nohohohot! Nooo! Wahait, not thehehere!”

Atsushi scribbled his fingers over Akutagawa’s tummy, making him shriek and shake his now pink face around as a wide, uncharacteristic grin showed on his face. Atsushi melted whenever he saw it, same with whenever he heard his sweet laugh. It was different from his own, slightly hoarse and quieter, but he adored it nonetheless.

Akutagawa threw his head around as Atsushi continued to explore his partners sensitive torso, climbing up to his ribs and rubbing his knuckles against them as Akutagawa arched his back, shrieking.

“St-Stahahap! Dahahamn it, stohohop!” He half-yelled, and Atsushi only hummed as he now danced his fingers along Akutagawa’s ribs, driving him up the wall with ticklish sensations. Akutagawa threw his head back as laughter poured from his lips like honey, cackling loudly as Atsushi’s hands continued to explore upwards, Akutagawa quickly clamping his arms down and shaking his head.

“Dohohohon’t you daha - dare!” Akutagawa yelled, and Atsushi smirked.

“Or what? You’ll keep laughing? I’m sooo scared,” He teased, wiggling his fingers along Akutagawa’s upper ribs, dangerously close to Akutagawa’s weak point as he arched his back, his laughter escalating in both pitch and volume.

Atsushi teased him a little bit more, bringing his hands down before shooting them back up again, just shy of Akutagawa’s underarms. He squeaked in fear every time Atsushi did this, and the suspense was driving him mad. 

“Just - Just do it alreheheheady!” Akutagawa whined as Atsushi faked him out once more. Atsushi smiled as he finally dug his hands under Akutagawa’s arms, making him shriek.

“As you wish,” He teased, playfully sticking out his tongue as he wriggled his fingers under Akutagawa’s arms, his arms currently tightly clamped to his sides which made it very difficult to properly tickle Akutagawa.

“GAHahahaha! W-Wahahahait, I didn’t mehehean it!”

He kept up his torture and managed to squeeze out every ounce of bubbly laughter from his partner before his laugh eventually went silent. He wheezed as he continued to shake with laughter, Atsushi finally deciding that Akutagawa had had enough.

He stopped his fingers and pulled them out of Akutagawa’s tightly clamped arms, leaving his partner a wheezing, slightly giggly, red mess as Atsushi chuckled awkwardly.

Akutagawa glared at Atsushi, though the small, goofy grin that rested on his face from the tickling made his glare way less threatening. Atsushi stifled a chuckle at Akutagawa’s face, and Akutagawa quickly huffed.

“Was that enough attention for you?” He said, reaching back for his book. Atsushi quickly tickled under Akutagawa’s arm again as he shrieked, Atsushi tutting Akutagawa.

“If anything that was me paying attention to you. You get to pay attention to me now,” Atsushi said with a huff, smirking triumphantly as Akutagawa smiled back at him.

“Oh? I’ll give you some attention then.”

Atsushi didn���t like the tone of Akutagawa’s voice, and instantly turned to face him, about to say something before laughter came spilling from his lips as Akutagawa kneaded Atsushi’s ribs.

“R-Ryuunohohohsuke! W-Wait! Thihihis isn’t what I meheheant!”

[sugasimply]

𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝙴𝚙.𝟷 | 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✦ Mafia!AU

✦ OT8 x Reader

✦ 21+ Series

✦ Warnings: Smut, name calling, cursing, creampie, slight mentions of blood, biting, hair pulling, mentions of guns, rough smut, overstimulation, implied humiliation kink

✦ Word Count: 4k

filter by @/tracy edits____________________________________________

The doors of the dimly lit bed slam open, sending a jolt throughout the whole mansion. A slam of equal strength sent the door closing, almost splintering the mahogany wood in half.

Your back was turned from the door, but you felt it; an aura had filled the room. An aura you knew all too well.

Hongjoong had entered. And he was angry. Actually, scratch that, he was manically raged.

Though frankly, you almost paid no mind to him. This type of occurrence wasn’t anything new. Hongjoong has a temper and being the leader of a gang definitely didn’t help that. There where always things going down and always something that would set hongjoong off.

Tonight was almost no exception. Hongjoong was sure pissed, absolutely livid, but the type of anger coming off of him was anger you’ve never felt from him before. It was like you could feel the flames of his rage on your back.

“Joong, what’s wrong?” you ask as you turn to him, a clear sound of concern in your voice.

Hongjoong made no motion or sound. He said absolutely nothing. Which, is inherently 1000% worse than him saying anything. There where only harsh puffs of air coming from him. No answer, just puff...puff....burst!

Hongjoong started throwing and destroying everything in his sight. The nightstands, the lamps, the pillows on the bed- hell even the flowers he gave you for your birthday weren’t spared. He was deadset on destroying everything he could, especially you.

With a stern and steady voice, hongjoong spoke out his first words of the night, “get on your fucking knees. 

Oh fuck. You were fucked.

Despite your concern for him, you knew you had to follow each and every order he gives you. Disobeying would only make him more furious, and a furious hongjoong was a hongjoong, not even the devil himself could match

Getting up from the bed, you stood right in front of him. Keeping your gaze on him, you kneel down and get into the position he wanted-- folding your legs neatly under you and bounding your arms behind your back.

Although you understood in times like this you were not to speak unless spoken to, you needed to let hongjoong know that whatever pursued next, you were okay with it. “I know you’re angry right now joong and probably can’t even think through the anger, but I can take it. I can take your anger.”

Hongjoong peered down at you with an indescribable look, still not saying a word. He stood in the same place for a minute before preceding to saunter around you. He walked around you the same way a teacher thinking of a punishment to give to a bad student would. 

Your heart begins to slam against your chest as he continues to walk around you without a word; your breathing coming out ragged even though he has yet to do anything.

After what seemed like forever, hongjoongs shoes click together as he comes to a complete stop behind you. You couldn’t sense a sound besides your own beating heart. The room is in complete utter silence. No words spoken, only heavy breathing.

Your heart rate skyrockets when you catch the sound of the fabric of hongjoongs black suit rustling. Two cold fingers find their way to the side of your nape, causing you to flinch from the unexpected touch. Hongjoong gives three light taps, signaling to you he understood your previous statement. 

“Y/n,” hongjoong calls out, hints of rage still lingering in his tone.

“Yes sir,” you reply without hesitation.

Hongjoong reaches out and grabs the top of your head, his fingers card through and intertwine with the strands of your hair. 

His grip turned from light and gentle to rough within a second, causing your back to arch from the pull he gives, “I’m going to let go and when I do, you’re going to undress and spread yourself out on the bed for me like a desperate slut, got it?“

You nod your head yes with difficulty, which only earns you a sharp pull to your hair. “I want verbal answers only darling,” hongjoong grits out, his voice less than endearing.

With a clenched jaw, you begrudgingly with, “I’m sorry sir. I understand the instructions I was given, sir.”

Hongjoong reluctantly loosens his grip a little, “my little whore knows well. Now do as you were told, or else.”

You really didn’t wanna know what would happen when you earn an “or else” from a mafia leader, so the second hongjoongs fingers unwind and retract from your hair, you’re up from the ground faster than a speeding bullet.

To your luck, hongjoong had burst into the room right after you had gotten out of the shower, so the only clothing you where wearing was a robe and undergarments. 

The robe came off quick and easy, along with the bra and panties. Hongjoongs eyes stayed on you the whole time you undressed, watching every little movement you made.

Swiftly, you plop down on the bed. The silk sheets kissing your skin as you lay flat on the bed, bending your knees, and spreading open your legs out as far as you could. Everything out in the open just for him.

Hongjoongs stare was now more prominent to the point he could burn holes through you and the mattress. You were spread out and open like a full platter ready for him to feast on. 

Deciding would no longer slate his thirst and anger, hongjoong charges towards your still body, eyes crazed with delirium. For a split second, you wanted to back away, but you knew it’d do you no good or make a difference. Tonight you’d have to submit to him fully.

A strangled groan leaves your lips as hongjoong crashes on top of you, his slightly calloused hands, far from gently, rub up and down your naked body, making their way to any place they could.

As for hongjoong himself, his mouth settled above your collarbone; hot and ragged breaths being the only sound coming from him. And like a rabid animal, he delves into your collarbone, sucking on it as roughly as he could.

He wanted you bruised with marks that would last more than weeks. He was the only one that could mark you, and damn sure he was going to uphold to that. A sharp cry ripples through your throat. Hongjoong moved on from rough sucking to full-on biting.

The bites weren’t enough to break the skin, but his sharp canines didn’t make the bites any less painful. Hongjoong continued to bite at your collarbone and neck as his hands finally find perch between your thighs.

He gives a few rough squeezes to the inner sides before burying his hand in the true prize. His fingers slowly lave at the bundle of nerves, moving up and down your lower lips. To his pleasure, his fingers are coated with your wetness.

Unbeknownst to you, hongjoongs outburst had you gushing with arousal. The fire in his eyes and his dominant voice sent waves of excitement all the way down to your awaiting heat. Hongjoong was never fully rough with you, so this change in demeanor was enticing.

Hongjoong reluctantly unlatches from your neck, “you’re fucking kidding. Are you that much of a little whore? Getting wet from barely anything?” he says astonished with a hint of amusement.

As humiliating as it was, he was right. Barely anything has happened and you’re already putty in his hands. And you’d never admit it, but this hongjoong, this raging and controlling hongjoong was such a turn on.

Hongjoong continued to work his fingers. Massaging your lips, then pushing just the tips of his fingers in, putting most of his fixation on your sensitive clit. His thumb rubs at your clit in tight circular motions, his pace unrelenting, making you cry out like a bitch in heat. 

Wetness soon started to pool out between your legs, coating hongjoongs fingers generously. Embarrassingly, the feeling of an orgasm was approaching faster and faster. The tightness in your lower abdomen growing heavier.

Hongjoong catches wind of how close you are to ecstasy, and abruptly his touch stops. Leaving you bewildered and slightly annoyed, hongjoong lifts off you. He leaves your side to stand in front of you, wiping his fingers on his suit pants with a stoic face.

‘Sir-” you call out when trying to sit up, but are quickly cut off.

“I’m disappointed darling. Do you know why?” You tremble as he turns to you. His demeanor is quite calm, yet his eyes tell another story. “N-no sir, I-I don’t know why.”

Hongjoong scoffs, shaking his head, “really?” he inquires.

“Yes sir. I don’t know why,” you answer without a stutter. 

He lets out a dry chuckle before abruptly cutting himself off, “I’m disappointed by your pathetic attempt at an orgasm. Almost cumming just from a few flicks of the wrist. What a shameful whore you’d be,” his tone coldly antagonizing.

You’re taken aback. Not by hongjoongs words, but by the amount of wetness that gushed out of you due to his words. For a few seconds, you sit still on the bed, face like a fish out of water, and cheeks flushed cherry red. 

“You like it don’t you? Getting called a whore and slut huh?” hongjoong accuses, a cruel amusement curving onto his features, “then you should beg.”

Confusion slaps you in the face. You don’t have a clue as to what you should be asking, or rather be begging for. In turn, this causes hongjoongs non-existent patience to run dry at your unresponsive self. 

Hongjoong lets out a low growl and roughly grabs your forearms, yanking up from the bed. “Kneel,” he lets go of you, hands settling on your shoulders then bluntly pushes you down on your knees.

Despite the ache spreading in your knees from the rough meeting with the floor, you still get into the proper position for the 2nd time that night; with your head bowed in shame, you await hongjoongs next commands.

Hongjoong takes a step around and grabs a handful of your hair, “every good whore knows when someone says beg, you get on your fucking knees and say please sir.” He gives a hard tug to your hair, “now beg like a whore if you want me to fuck you,” he demands.

“P-please s-sir,” you beg, struggling with the tight grip he has

“God your even pathetic with your begging,” he tugs your hair back till you could look up at him, -the pain to your scalp borderline intolerable- “beg for it.” 

“Please sir, I want you t-to...fuck m-me,” you beg once again, hoping it was enough for him.

It wasn’t.

Slap. Hongjoongs unoccupied hand comes down on your right cheek. The slap wasn’t hard, but it was sure hard enough to leave a red mark and provoke a disgruntled moan out of you.

“This is your last chance slut. Fucking beg or I’ll leave you with nothing,” hongjoong demands once more, his gaze turning ice cold and filling with impatience.

Arousal and desperation overfill you. You needed the stimulation; the type of stimulation only he could give you. And you wanted to prove to him you could do better. That you could be the good dirty little whore he wanted right now.

“Please fuck me, sir. I need you to fuck me senseless till the only thing that comes out of my whore mouth is your name, please,” you beg, your mouth watering just at the thought of hongjoong fucking into you.

You let out a moan of pain as he yanks you up by the hair. “Pathetic, but good enough,” hongjoong says half-heartedly, dragging you by the hair to settle you on top of the bed, and places you on all fours. His grip still very present on your hair.

With his unoccupied hand, hongjoong places his hand on the back of your neck and presses your face down into the mattress, leaving yourself exposed to him once again.

From this position, you see anything behind you, but you sure as hell could feel everything. You could feel hongjoongs bulge pressing into your ass; the thick material of his pants not hiding the fact that he was harder than a rock.

You hear something clatter behind you, and with a fast fluid motion, hongjoong has his belt off and unzips his pants down enough to free his aching cock.

“Feel what you’ve have done to me pathetic whore,” you feel hard taps of his cock against your ass cheek. “God I’m going to fucking break you, my little slut,” he growls.

Without wasting time, hongjoong plunges into you as deep as he possibly could go; your walls hugging tightly around him. Your pressed face covering the scream you let out as he entered you without warning.

That one scream turns into a cluster of rough moans as hongjoong sets a brutal pace in thrusts. His thrusts are sharp and precise. He knows your body better than you, making finding your g-spot easy. Like he had directions to it mapped out.

One of his hands comes down to grip your hip, the worry of bruising from how tight he’s holding it not even crossing your mind- that is singly focused on his pulsing cock hitting that one spot each thrust without a fail or a falter.

Its complete bliss how his cock fits in you like a puzzle piece. The veins of his cock rubbing against the side of your walls in the most heavenly way. Countless moans spill out of you every thrust he gives.

“Fuck you have such a tight pussy my little slut,” hongjoong moans loudly, his grip digging painfully in your hip as his thrusts become harder. 

Soon after his words, the room fills only with the sounds of skin slapping, your broken moans, and hongjoongs breathy groans. His hand snakes away from your hip and moves all the way down to your lower half.

You couldn’t register where his hand was heading,- seeing as your mind was complete jello right now- but the second his fingers graze your oversensitive clit, you’re sent into a full-blown frenzy. 

You scream out in pleasure, any words you were going to say turning into incoherent ramblings as his fingers rubbing your clit keep the sem rhythm with his thrusts.

The combination of hongjoongs thrusts and fingers circling your clit sends you spiraling closer and closer to an orgasm, and hongjoong definitely knows how close you are. 

With his hand gripped in your hair, hongjoong pulls you up, arching you forcefully- the pain only bringing you on the brink of letting the tight band forming in your abdoment snap. His teeth graze the bites he gave you previously, licking and nibbling at them.

“I know you’re close darling; I can feel you clenching so tightly around my cock. You want to cum so badly don’t you?” Hongjoong chuckles airily, his voice rough.

“Please, sir! Please let me cum! Fill my insides with your cum like the fucking dirty whore I am!” Your words come out slurred and broken, tears starting to stream down your face as every feeling becomes more intense.

Hongjoong lets out a loud grunt. The sight of your completely fucked out face bringing him closer to the edge as well, but he couldn’t let you cum without one last thing.

“Say my name whore,” he demands, his hips snapping into you with each syllable of his sentence.

“Kim hongjoong, kim hongjoong, kim hon-!” you cry out, the tightening band that had formed in your abdoment snapping, and the full force of your orgasm hits you. Your mind goes blank, and your body feels drugged up on euphoria.

Hongjoong relents his ministrations on your clit as you come down from your high, but he is far from done. Giving you no time to calm down, hongjoongs free hand wraps around your stomach and pulls you up so you where flush against his back; he continues to snap his hip full force into you.

You cry out silently. Every feeling was heightened to an overwhelming point of oversensitivity. Your whole body had turned to jello, so the only thing you had the strength to do was clench around. Hongjoong moans out at the tight hold you have around his cock, his head falling forward into your neck.

Unexpectedly, hongjoongs sharp canines dig into your neck, piercing your skin fully. The pain sends you into your second orgasm, and hongjoong into his. He pulls you closer, spilling every drop of his warm cum into you. 

You both stay in that position for a couple of minutes with hongjoongs mouth still latched onto your now slowly bleeding neck. You’ve never felt such fulfillment from being stuffed to the brink with hongjoongs cum.

As the euphoric high comes down for you two, the pain in your neck starts to register. And it hurts like hell.

“Joong, I know you may still be on rampage mode and apparently have a vampire fantasy, but could you please unlatch from my neck? It hurts really badly,” you plead, exhausted and in pain.

Hongjoong, seemingly back to normal, also realizes was he did, and carefully unlatches his teeth from your neck. ”Shit sorry about that,” he apologizes, wiping the blood that ran down his chin with his sleeve.

The bite looked nasty, but it wasn’t actually too deep or go into any major artery, it was just deep enough to break the skin and cause some blood, also a lot of uncomfortable pain.

“I’m so sorry about that, I’ll go get the first aid kit,” hongjoong apologizes again and pulls his softening cock out of you. He wraps his arms around your waist, and as gently as he could without moving your neck lays you down properly on the bed- maneuvering you so the bite on your neck was opposite of the pillow.

Tiredness has your eyes fluttering close. You feel hongjoongs weight leave the bed, then you hear clattering from the bathroom. Back in no time, you feel hongjoong dip back on the bed.

You struggle to open your heavy eyes, but when you do, hongjoong has the first aid in his left hand and the cursed rubbing alcohol in the right. You let out a soft whine at the sight of the rubbing alcohol which causes a heartwarming from hongjoong to sound around the room.

The chuckle sets you back a little, seeing as that is the happiest thing that’s come from him this whole night. Nonetheless, you give him a gentle smile back.

“I don’t blame you for hating the rubbing alcohol, but I need to disinfect your neck or it’ll get much worse,” hongjoong lectures while pulling out bandages and cloths from the first aid kit.

Uncapping the rubbing alcohol, hongjoong dumps a decent amount of the liquid on one of the cloths and shuffles closer to you so he could reach the wound. He tries to dab the wet cloth on the wound, but you pull away from him.

Hongjoongs calm face flushes with confusion, “Y/n? I have to cle-”

“Why where you mad?”

Finally! The million-dollar question of the night was asked. You thought that if you were going to go through the sting of rubbing alcohol because of hongjoong, then you sure were going to get something out of it.

Hongjoong ignores your question and tries once again to disinfect your wound; you pull away once more.

“Don’t ignore me joong, why?”

Sighing deeply, hongjoong bows his head for a split second before lifting back up to meet your eyes, “if I tell you, will you stop pulling away and let me disinfect your wound?”

You give a construed nod yes and await his answer, as well as the cursed sting of the rubbing alcohol.

They both come at the same time, so you don’t acknowledge the sting. Rather you acknowledge hongjoongs answer.

“Tonight before I came into the room, a shipment of guns were stolen from us as we were having a meeting. The stolen guns weren’t that big of a problem, but who stole them was. Pandora's Box, a new uprising gang had stolen them.”

“They where fucking rookies, yet they seized a well-guarded shipment of our guns,” hongjoongs anger wanted to get a hold of him again, but he held himself back before continuing, “some of my men called me incompetent.”

“They questioned whether if I could properly run things when someone as little as Pandora's Box could get a hold of our guns. And i...I questioned myself as well. Maybe I’m not a competent leader.”

“Joong you know you’re the most competent leader there is in this world. These men wouldn’t entrust you with their lives if they didn’t think that as well,” you assure him with only the truth.

Hongjoong truly was the most competent leader. Having only started in the mafia world two years ago, The Pirate King mafia has risen through the ranks to #1 quicker than any mafia ever. Even someone as timid as you trust him with your life.

“But what if-” you grab his that was just finishing up bandaging your neck in a tight hold, “no what-ifs joong. Nobody can lead these boys but you and don’t ever question that or yourself.”

Another deep sigh leaves hongjoong. He gives you an endearing look and brings his other hand up to lovingly pat your head.

“You’re the only one that knows how to calm my thoughts y’know?” he gives you that classic hongjoong smile and wink-referring to the previous sins that happened not to long ago- which prompts you to roll your eyes and let go of his hand.

“You really know how to kill an endearing moment joong,” you say pursing your lips.

Giving a light laugh, hongjoong puts everything back into the first aid box and sets it on the ground, since well, he threw the nightstands. Also on the ground was a washcloth and bowl of water you didn’t notice he had grabbed.

Hongjoong takes a few moments to diligently cleaning you up and covering your naked body with warm blankets. His actions made a light blush spread throughout your cheeks. Hongjoong always made sure you got proper aftercare, but something about this time was different. It was gentler and more personal.

That night replayed in your head like a movie reel. Is this what he felt? you ask yourself. You were a stranger, yet he put his trust into you; he let you see the vulnerable side he held. The world he lives in is one that allows people in so easy, but he made an exception for you.

The love you shared with him, with the others, was one in a billion. It was dangerous and unrelenting, and you wouldn’t change that fateful meeting for anything. You had lovers, protectors, fighters- you had a family.

The washcloth and bowl get placed back in their place on the ground and hongjoong gets beside you in the bed, pulling you flush against his chest. His fingertips lightly trace the features of your face before they make their way down to your bandaged wound.

You aren’t that bothered by it, but hongjoong certainly was, “I’m so sorry for this. I don’t know what got into me. The rage came rushing and...and…,” he trailed off, face contorting with shame.

“Joong its okay, seriously. I told you I could handle it. Yeah maybe a warning would’ve been cool, but what’s done is done, and you’d never hurt me intentionally or without my consent,” you assure sternly, exhaustion catching up with you suddenly.

Satisfied with your conclusion, hongjoong softly presses a kiss on the bandaged bite, “I love you Y/n.”

“I love you too my vampire mafia leader,” you joke, letting your restless eyes flutter shut and sleep wash over you.

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Agh I don’t know how this was. I’m really rusty on smut, so hopefully it wasn't to cringe or rushed. Please let me know your honest thoughts on this and what would make it better. I’ll do a prologue on the readers story on how she fully got to be with the boys when the rest of the members are done since this story is more smut based rather then story based. Also props to anyone who can figure out which group is Pandora's Box.

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Taglist: @mirror-juliet​ @ambersaesthetics​ @multidreams-and-desires​ @etherealskzs​ @sonnensplitter​  (Sorry if I missed anyone!)

[sunsetcurve]

t... tiara thief + “have you been waiting up this whole time?”

fandom: knight squad relationships: arc/ciara, pre-relationship word count: 1,482 a/n: okay, first of all, i want to thank you for this prompt because it single-handedly pulled me out of the writer’s block i’ve been suffering for months. i haven’t completed something in a hot minute, so despite the fact that i wrote this all in one go while i was supposed to be studying for my calc test tomorrow and reading it over once was the extent of my editing so it’s probably Not Very Good, writing it made me incredibly happy. it’s so fluffy and i love writing their dynamic and just,, it’s such a great prompt for them and i hope you guys like it! dedications: tagging my dearest fellow tiara thief stans:  @ciara-knightly@perhapspearl @mistyskiesrambles @willexs @taylorswiftrulestheworld @onplanetmars @neshatriumphs @zackmartin @knghtsquad @soni-dragon @hopefulbeautifulfool @cactus-con @waterisntreal @bitchmilsky summary: In the morning, she’ll chalk it up to the fact that she’s not thinking straight. She’s too tired to think about the implications of it, too out of it to actually use her better judgement. And too lonely. She’s been Princess Angelica for days—she wants to be Ciara for a night. She misses Arc, misses having his steady presence by her side, familiar and constant and unconditional. She just wants him to stay.

It’s late by the time Ciara makes it back. The castle is still and dark and dead-quiet as she approaches her bedroom, heels dangling from one hand and the skirts of her dress pulled up in the other, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. 

It’s not the muscle-aching, satisfying sort of tired that always comes after a long day of training or a successful mission, though—it’s the kind of weariness that’s accompanied by flashes of irritation and leaves her feeling more than a little drained. Not for the first time, the itch of resentment towards her Princess duties crawls under her skin. She should’ve spent the last few days on a daring quest with her squad, not faking smiles through ball after ball. But it’s the height of trade season; they have appearances to keep and responsibilities to fulfill. There’s a whole mess of politics involved that she’s slowly familiarizing herself with, getting comfortable with her position. And yet she misses the tension of her bow, the adrenaline rush of a fight, the thrill of a good adventure—and she misses her team.

They should be back by now. She was supposed to meet them in the training yard tonight, but the party ran long and she couldn’t pull herself away, so she’d had to cancel at the last minute. They’re meeting at the Tasty Trunk first thing in the morning to catch up over breakfast, but still, she’s half-tempted to take her passageway into the squad room and see them right now. 

But it’s late, and they’ve just gotten back—they’ll all be asleep. 

Ciara huffs a minute sigh and pushes open her door. She should get some rest, anyway, so she’ll be ready for training in the morning with a slew of excuses about her miraculous recovery from an illness that didn’t really exist. When she sees her bed, another wave of tiredness hits her full-force; she’s almost ready to throw herself under the covers without even changing out of her gown.

Except she can’t. Because there’s a figure slumped in the armchair by the balcony.

Her hand goes instinctively to her side, before realizing that she’s not in her gear and therefore doesn’t have a weapon. Mind whirring, she weighs the risk of transforming in front of this person—but after a moment, she realizes that they haven’t moved. She shuffles her feet to get a better angle, and moonlight spills over a head of blonde hair, rumpled clothes, and a dark green shoulder pad.

“Arc?” Ciara hisses.

“Wh��” He jerks awake, falling right out of the chair. His sword is still sheathed, but it hits the floor with a clang, and the sound rings through the room and makes her wince. His head jolts around before his wide eyes land on her. “Ciara! Hey, hi! Fancy seeing you h—here,” he finishes around a yawn, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“You’re in my room,” she says pointedly. There’s a part of her that thinks she should be annoyed, that she’s tired, and he scared her, and the noise probably woke half the castle, but in truth she’s just happy that he’s here. She would never say it out loud, but seeing him makes something in her chest swell.

“Hmmf...touche.” He smacks his lips, clearly still half-asleep even after being startled, and Ciara registers that he’s streaked with dirt and dressed in his gear.

“When did you get back?” she asks as he pulls himself into a sitting position and redoes the top few buttons of his shirt.

“A few hours ago.”

“Have you been waiting up this whole time?”

Arc rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, and the gesture is so painfully endearing that Ciara feels herself melt a little, a rush of fondness surging through her. “We were s’pposed to meet up in the training yard,” he says, and yawns again. 

“I sent you a mirror message that I couldn’t make it.”

“Well, yeah, but I had to come chew you out in person for bailing on us.” He pouts, nothing serious behind his words, and Ciara finds herself lifting a hand to hide her giggle.

“Oh, yeah? Chew away.”

He fixates her with his drowsy eyes and says, with the utmost sincerity, “You suck. And—and I hope you find dragon dung in your pillow.”

She laughs openly now, the happiness and easy comfort of seeing him pushing away every negative emotion from the night. “Just say you missed me,” she grins teasingly.

“I did not.”

“Mhm.”

“I hope—I hope Sage covers you in unicorn poop again. I hope someone steals all of your tiaras, even the sparkliest one. I hope your snack catapult breaks.”

She gasps. “Take that back!”

“No. You deserve it.” He gives a little self-satisfied smirk, his eyes fluttering shut. It’s obvious that he’s just about ready to pass out again, and as Ciara tries and fails to stifle a yawn she remembers that she’s not that far off either. She moves to nudge him with her foot.

“C’mon, get up.” 

He groans and swats blindly at her. “I can’t. I’ve lost that ability. Also, my back hurts. Your chair is not as comfortable as it looks—false advertising.”

“I didn’t ask you to sleep there,” she snorts, kicking him again. 

Arc blinks his eyes open at last and lifts a hand into the air, looking up at her expectantly. She rolls her eyes and takes it, hauling him off the floor. “Idiot,” she grumbles, though she can’t keep the affection out of it. 

“Your idiot,” he responds without missing a beat. Distantly, she thinks that she’s going to wonder over that line again and again when she’s not so sleep-deprived. In the moment, though, it just feels right.

“M’kay, I am going to bed,” Arc announces blearily, and starts making his way to her passageway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You don’t have to go,” she says, and then bites her lip. Maybe if she had an ounce of impulse control left over, she would’ve stopped herself, but she doesn’t. 

He stops in his tracks and turns to her. “No offense, but I think the beds in the squad room are more comfortable than your floor, if only by a little—”

In the morning, she’ll chalk it up to the fact that she’s not thinking straight. She’s too tired to think about the implications of it, too out of it to actually use her better judgement. And too lonely. She’s been Princess Angelica for days—she wants to be Ciara for a night. She misses Arc, misses having his steady presence by her side, familiar and constant and unconditional. She just wants him to stay. The words stumble out: “My bed’s big enough for both of us.”

He blinks at her. Tilts his head, like he’s trying to tell if she’s serious or not. He opens his mouth and then closes it, rubs at the inside of his eye with his fist, and then says finally, “Are you sure?”

She shrugs. “As long as you’re out by morning, or my dad will flay you alive.”

“I’m not afraid of your dad.”

“He’ll call my sister.”

He winces. “Okay, her, I’m scared of.”

Ciara laughs a little and holds her hand out to him, palm-up, and he slips his fingers between hers and lets her tug him towards her bed. He strips off his vest and his shoulder pad and sheath, and she takes the tiara off her head and lets her hair loose from its updo. She doesn’t have the energy to change out of her dress right now, just aches for the warmth of her covers and the softness of her pillow.

When she turns back around, Arc is staring at her. There’s exhaustion still worked into the corners of his face, but there’s something else, too—a sort of softness behind his eyes, a little burst of affection.

She smiles to herself and crawls into bed, burrowing into the sheets. “C’mon,” she tells him quietly, patting the empty space beside her, and he hesitates for a moment before nestling into place.

His whole body goes limp almost instantly. “I’m going back to my thieving ways for one last heist,” he mumbles, muffled by her pillow. “I’m stealing your bed.”

“Not allowed.” He’s warm and soft beside her. She presses close to his shoulder, her eyes slipping closed. “You smell like sewage,” she hums.

“Fought a troll.”

“Did you win?”

“Duh.” His breathing slows, and she matches its pace without thinking about it. She feels light and safe and floating, and she’s barely half-awake when his quiet voice breaks through her haze again. “Ciara?”

“Hm?”

“I did miss you.”

She nuzzles into his chest, warmth flooding through her at the knowledge that she’ll wake up next to him. Even as she’s drifting out of consciousness, she feels herself smile. “I know.”