#sigh. yeah it's getting its own tag there's something wrong with me

[hesgomorrah]

something so special about watching old tv shows do shit that would be called queerbait if they came out today but they predate queerbaiting as a phenomenon so you know it's genuine home-grown all-natural free-range homoeroticism

[underdark-dreams]

This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog. 

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least. 

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest. 

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery. 

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.” 

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship. 

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find. 

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short. 

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes. 

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster. 

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand. 

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking. 

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. 

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures. 

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression. 

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable. 

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years. 

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav 

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page. 

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss. 

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

[ivestas]

a good shot

Summary: König had a staring problem, so you confront him about it. 

Tags: sniper!fem!reader x konig, platonic!141 x reader, barely edited, awkward, unintentional confession(?)

Word count: 1.1k

Note: my mw2 obsession is real. been trying to deny it but its all that occupies my brain.... send some reqs?? i have such a bad habit of saying that then not following thru but i promise i will LMFAOOO (nah but fr tho im working on ur guys’ requests, just veryyyy slowly since, again, mw2 brainrot) also sorry if this seems rushed, i just wanted to get this idea out of my head hehe

König had a staring problem. 

You really didn’t know why, but whenever he was near, you could practically feel his gaze burn a hole through your skin. 

You weren’t one to care for stares—you were used to it, especially in your early years as a merc. Most would just be curious why a woman was wearing a bullet vest, especially civilians. 

But... König’s eyes were intense. Nothing like the curious—or even hateful—looks you were used to. 

You were sure you hadn’t done anything wrong; you barely spoke, never really caring too. You kept to yourself. You didn’t particularly stand out next to your flamboyant peers. 

So... why? 

You’d first asked Soap about it: he was a people person, always seemed to know someone’s intentions in an instant. 

However, he was confused. “He stares at you?” 

"You hadn’t noticed?” 

“No? I barely see the lad in general, always skulkin’ in some shadow.” 

“Seriously?” You frowned. “Then you think you’d know why?”

“Hmmm... here, maybe if I get my crystal ball and ponder for a bit I can find out!” 

"Shove the ball up your ass instead.” You snorted. Soap laughed, probably at his own joke than yours. 

Getting up, you headed to your next target: Ghost. 

You found him in the mess hall, taking apart his rifle on one of the cafeteria tables by himself. Without a second thought, you slid beside him. He didn’t acknowledge you.

Propping your head up with a hand, you look at him. Despite it being night, he’s still wearing his balaclava and shades. You decided it’s best not to make a comment about it since you’re trying to pry answers regarding the Austrian Colossus. 

“You’ve noticed König staring at me, right?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Do you think you’d know why? I’m sure I hadn’t done anything to piss him off, but he’s always just... you know...” you widen your eyes, leaning in. “Doing this. I don’t know whether to be unsettled or flattered.” 

Ghost carefully puts two pieces of his rifle together, a satisfying click resonating in the air. “Maybe he’s surprised why the 141 got a clown for a sniper.” He intoned. 

“Says the guy wearing a skeleton balaclava and tinted shades—scared the enemies are gonna find out you’re actually just a loser with nothing to his name?” You said the words too quickly, and when Ghost looked at you, he probably knew the thought was bubbling in your head. 

"...” 

“...” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that crawled out your throat, and you noticed that the corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkled. 

“...So you don’t know?” 

He snorted. “I’m no psychic.” 

Sighing, you rose from your seat, leaving Ghost once more in his own bubble. 

You really didn’t want to, but you realized you were gonna have to ask from the source itself—König.  

Now, you didn’t consider yourself a shy or anxious person, but there was something so imposing about König; maybe it was the fact he literally towers over you like some Goliath, or maybe it’s the fact he only speaks in raspy monosyllables, or, maybe, it was the fact that he just always stares at you, but you couldn’t deny the nervousness that writhed in the pit of your stomach. 

But curiosity shined over it, because just why would he just stare? 

So, you decided to head to the shooting field: it was an open secret that König often lurked there at night, shooting away at the targets from the day. No one really complained since he’d replace the targets with new ones at the end of every session.

The walk was short; just a quick turn through some halls and out through a door and you’re in the range. 

König was some meters away, hunched over a stack of crates and a sniper under his arm. His back was to you. 

You stepped on a stray stick just beside your foot. His head shot up. 

He turned around in an instant, sniper tight in his hand. 

They were right. He’s antsy. 

“Hey, König.” 

“...” 

You slowly approached as though he were a frightful deer... but perhaps a cautious bear would be a more accurate descriptor. He could kill you in seconds. 

Like anyone can. It doesn’t scare you. 

Admittedly, it’s a little exciting.

“Can I talk to you about something?” 

“...yes.” 

 “Your eyes—uh, you stare. A lot.” 

His gaze flickered away. 

“Just wondering why you just... stare. I’m pretty sure we’ve never spoken, either—”

“We’ve spoken,” he cut in. Rough and light, as usual. “Mostly on missions though.” 

“Oh... well, I’m just wondering if I pissed you off, somehow? Earned your ire? I’m dumb, I forget and I can be socially unaware—”

“No, no, no!” His eyes rounded, the sniper loosened in his hands. “No, you didn’t! I just, well...”

“...well?” You echoed, prompting him to continue. 

He did. 

“You’re nice to look at.”

Your brain froze. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“I’m sorry, is that weird?—it is, isn’t it? I apologize, I—”

“No, wait, I’m really flattered, I just—” you laugh breathlessly. In disbelief. “That’s just really fucking flattering.” You can feel your face light up with heat, and all the neat composure you’ve built wash away completely. 

Now, you’re reduced to a blushing schoolgirl at a complete loss for words. 

What were you supposed to say? What does that even mean? Is that an admission of some crush, or were you just eye candy to him?—and did you like that, like his attention or are you just that deprived of contact? 

You force your eyes to his, and you realize he’s hunched over, rubbing at the metal butt of his sniper with a thumb, eyes everywhere except on yours. 

"So...” you rubbed your wrist. “What now?”

He finally looked at you. “Huh?”

You were this far already, you weren’t gonna back down yet. Even if your heart was slamming against your chest. “You just called me pretty? And I have a feeling you’re easy on the eyes too—maybe this is too quick—but wanna hang out then? Like, talk and stuff... because... I’m pretty?”

König stared for a moment before breaking into a laugh. “It would be an honor.” 

“Then let’s hang out right now! Stay here, I’m gonna grab my sniper and we’re gonna shoot shit till bullets’re covering the ground!!” 

König extended his sniper. “Use mine. I want to see how you shoot.” His eyes fluttered, gaze awkwardly averting yet again. You were beginning to find it endearing. “You’re a good shot. And I’d like to get better.” 

“And watching me will help you?”

“Yes,” he said the word with earnest, eyes bright. 

A crooked smile pulled at your lips. Fuck, you weren’t used to this. 

But you liked it. You liked it a lot. You just hoped you could eventually make him feel the same. 

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[dancingtotuyo]

13. with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: you adjust to life with a newborn. Joel finally gets to tell you something

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed. Spoilerish for TLOU 2

Chapter Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, smidges of angst

Notes: And thus we enter the third and final part of this beloved story. This chapter starts to play with some of the canon of TLOU II as will the rest of Part III

As always, a huge shout out to@janaispunk for beta reading.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3642

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Three Years Later

Willa sits at the kitchen table, chin resting in her palms as she stares out the window. It’s cracked open, allowing the chilly fall breeze in as it plays with the dark curls on her head. She’s been there since breakfast, kicking her legs in thoughtful silence with a stack of untouched art supplies at her side. 

You’ve never seen her so still or quiet, keeping an eye on her as you bustle around the house, cleaning and preparing for Joel’s birthday dinner. This is the first year he’s really allowed you to celebrate it. You’ve done small things in the past. A cake after dinner. A small wrapped gift. It’s a hard day for everyone. It’s the day that life as everyone knew it ended, but you have reason to celebrate. He’s growing older, an accomplishment in its own right, the gray in his hair beginning to take over the brown. You like it. It means he’s still here. 

Willa is still kicking her feet at the table when your stomach growls. The clock on the wall reads just after twelve. Carter is at school. Joel has assignments until dinner time. You fix two sandwiches and slice some veggies. You set a plate in front of Willa and then slide into the chair across from her. 

She lets out a deep sigh that seems too big for her small frame to hold. A smile edges at your lips. “What’s wrong, Sweetpea?”

“I don’t know what to make daddy.”

“For his birthday?”

She nods. 

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about all day?” 

“Yeah.”

You smile assuringly at her. “You should eat. It always helps me when I can’t think.”

She lets out another sigh, but picks up the jelly sandwich you made her. Her lips smack as the jelly oozes out of the sides, sticking to her fingers and leaving pink smudges along her cheeks. Willa appears unbothered by it, head nodding back and forth as she eats. 

You manage through most of the meal without intervening until she goes to push back her hair with a jelly soaked hand. “Whoah Whoah Whoah!” You’re out of your seat, grabbing her wrist in the nick of time. She looks almost startled. “Your hand is covered in jelly. I don’t want it to get into your hair.” 

“Oops,” she smiles. “Sorry, Mommy.”

“It’s okay,” You sigh, reaching for the dish cloth in the kitchen sink. The last thing you need to do is work jelly out of a three year old’s hair. “What kind of cake should I bake for Daddy’s birthday?” 

“Chocolate,” Willa grins as you wipe down her hands and mouth.

“That’s your favorite,” you chuckle. 

“Daddy likes it too.”

“Chocolate it is then.” You kiss her cheek. 

She beams up at you and then a light bulb goes off in her eyes and she quickly digs into the meager art supplies you’ve collected over the last several years. You watch her for a few short moments as she bustles forth with clear determination. Then, you bake a birthday cake. 

Midway through, you exit to the living room, only to set the needle on the record player. When you return, Willa’s head bounces back and forth in time as she hums the words she’s already memorized. 

As she finishes her project, Willa jumps down, scurrying out of the room in a flash. You smile to yourself. 

Carter bustles in, throwing his backpack onto the floor with a thud. “Are you denting the walls again?”

His face appears around the corner with a lopsided grin you’d seen on Gabe a thousand times. The ache is dull in comparison to the joy it brings you. “That only happened once.”

You wink at him, tossing him an apple. He catches it with ease, the product of countless hours he and Joel spent outside with a baseball and tattered gloves. 

“How was school?” You smile. 

“Good.” He bites into the apple with a satisfying crunch, before standing on his tiptoes to kiss your cheek. You lean over to close the gap, but it’s admittedly not as large of a gap as it used to be. He’s growing faster than you like.

“Just good?”

He nods, mouth full of apple, but chooses to speak anyway. “I saw Ellie. I invited her tonight.”

You keep your face neutral, far experienced now in keeping the war between Ellie and Joel from your younger children. “What did she say?”

“Maybe.” 

Your eyebrow raises. You can’t keep the hints of surprise from your face, but you’re saved from having to make a response. 

“Carter!” Willa rushes in, out of breath and in a flutter like the world might stop at any second. She pushes her hair out of her face. You really wish she’d keep the hair ties in, but she says it pulls her head. Your daughter meets her brother’s eyes with a serious weight in her eyes. “I need your help.”

“With what?”

She glances at you, like she's not sure you can keep the secret swirling in her little mind. “Daddy’s birthday present.”

“Okay,” Carter shrugs. Willa rushes out in the same flurry with Carter following. 

“Don’t leave the apple core in your sister’s room!” You call after them with only the slam of Willa’s door in response. 

As far as baking cakes, well, it wasn’t your strong suit before the world ended, but you manage. You’ve never received a complaint from the kids, but you know they prefer Maria’s cake to yours. You should have asked her. You slide the iced cake into the fridge just as Joel arrives home. 

“There’s the birthday boy.”

There’s a deep chuckle in response. “The house is suspiciously quiet.”

“Your children are up to no good. I’m sure.”

“My children, you say?” His sturdy arms wrap around your middle and you lean back. “What they do?” His lips play behind your ear. 

“Not sure. They’ve been shut up in Willa’s room for over an hour.”

Joel chuckles. “Perhaps they’re forming a mutiny.”

“I hope not. We’re getting too old for that.” 

“Might just let them take over. Then we could live out our days in peace. Prop our feet up while they get to work.”

You hum softly. “Doesn’t sound half bad.”

“That’s what happens when you get old,” he kisses your cheek. 

“Are you calling me old, Joel Miller?”

“You’re almost 50, Sweetheart. You’re about to join the ranks. I’m just preparing you.”

“I’ve already got the achy back and creaking knees.”

Joel chuckles. “Guess I got to throw you a birthday party too.”

“I think we can just skip that.”

Joel clicks his tongue. “No, we’re gonna celebrate. We’re gonna start doing alot more celebratin.”

“We haven’t even had your birthday party and you want more?” you can’t contain the laughter rising in your chest. 

There’s a deep sense of rightness in this moment. The fears you harbored for so long, melting away with each year that is passed. It’s not completely gone by any means, but it doesn’t keep you from living anymore, embracing what you have. 

He nuzzles into your neck, his scruff scratching softly against your skin. You’ve both aged these past couple of years, be it biology or the two young kids you’re raising, but you see it in yourself now too when you look in the mirror, the way the wrinkles cut deeper into your forehead and around your eyes. And maybe, you’d had a harder time accepting the gray hairs that seemed to multiply each day than you wanted to admit, but you embrace it now. You embrace all signs of aging. Aging is a good thing. 

“I think we should start celebrating everything.”

“Are you having a midlife crisis?”

“Think it’s a little late for midlife… What’s after that?”

You shift a bit in his arms, trying not to dwell on the first thought that that pops into your mind. “I think midlife works.” 

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Joel grins. “It’s not a midlife crisis.”

You hum, a look on your face that says, yeah, sure, okay. 

He laughs in response. “I’m gonna go shower. Doesn’t sound like the kids will let me in to say hi.”

“The door is probably barricaded.”

“Shower it is,” Joel smiles, giving you one last kiss before the stairs creak with his weight. 

Dinner is all but ready, and the kids are still locked in Willa’s room when Joel comes down the stairs. His hair hangs in damp ringlets, longer than he’s let it get before. You have to admit that you’re liking the extra length. 

“Can you go tell the kids they need to come set the table?”

“Time to bring down the barricades, got it.” Joel winks at you. 

You can hear the commotion down the hall, Willa yelling that Joel is not to come in. The back and forth of getting the kids to agree on coming out. Joel’s grunt as Willa inevitably jumps into his arms with zero warning. It’s all familiar and warming. It fills your home with love. 

The kids scurry out. Joel aids Willa in fishing out the silverware while Carter grabs out the plates. Another well rehearsed dance. A slice of normalcy Joel never imagined he’d get again in this lifetime. 

He’s pulling glasses out of the cabinet Carter can’t reach yet when there’s a knock on the door. Joel looks at you questioningly. Tommy and Maria never knock. You shrug. 

Ellie’s nervous face and Dina’s smile greet him when he opens the first door. Joel’s heart leaps in his chest as his jaw drops slightly. “Ellie… hi.”

“Hi.”

“Happy Birthday, Joel,” Dina smiles. 

“Thanks, Dina.” Joel nods but quickly returns his eyes to Ellie. “Thanks for coming.”

She forces her lips into a tight line. “Carter invited me.”

“Still glad you came.” Joel still seems a little bit stunned. “Why don’t the two of you come on in?” He steps aside. Ellie refuses to meet his eyes. Dina pulls her inside. 

He stays by the door, overhearing the surprise in your voice when you spot Ellie. Carter and Willa’s joy at having her here. His heart aches. It always does when he thinks about the distance between them, but she came. That has to be a good sign. 

“I see we got the welcoming committee tonight,” Tommy says as he walks into view, hand in hand with Maria. Elias darts forward, narrowly brushing past Joel. 

“Happy birthday, Uncle Joel!” He says without stopping, more focused on finding his cousins than bothering with his uncle. 

Joel chuckles, accepting Tommy’s hug as he approaches. “I see where I fall on his list of priorities.”

“You’d think he didn’t just see Carter at school.” Maria laughs, offering her own greeting to Joel. 

“Thank you for coming.”

“When do we not show up?” Tommy grins as the three of them make their way inside.

Carter and Willa have already added the extra place settings for Ellie and Dina. Carter slides right next to Ellie, making conversation about the moon and constellations. Joel slides into his chair at the end of the table. You catch the way he looks at Ellie. The way she expertly avoids him. You’re not sure how she does it, seemingly present but expertly able to avoid any and all conversation with Joel. Tommy and Maria’s presence seems to make it easier.

You knew what he did hurt, you just never expected the two of them to go this long in limbo, orbiting each other round in round, never coming to a resolution. As much as Joel looks like someone totaled his pickup and shot his dog when he glances her way, he still manages to enjoy the night. Ellie being here, whether she talks to him or not, is the greatest gift he could have asked for.  

You take his hand, squeezing it gently. He presses it to his lips, winking at you playfully. The balancing act can be tiring, but he’s simply happy tonight. 

You’re not offended when the cake on the plate of the adults remains mostly uneaten. The cake is dense and dried out. The kids don’t seem to mind.

“Can we do presents now?” Willa asks, frosting sticking to her face in multiple places. You can only imagine how sticky her fingers are. 

“Wash your hands first,” you say.

Willa nods, sliding out of her seat and rushing out of the room. 

“Can I get anyone anything to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Coffee?” Joel grins. You have been able to rangle up beans each year for his birthday, except for this year. 

You shake your head. “Unfortunately, not this year.”

“No coffee? That’s it, party’s over folks.” He playfully hits the table with his palms, winking at you. 

He receives a smack to the back of the head, and a deep chuckle greets your ears. You smile, setting the kettle on the stove. He’s happy and relaxed, bubbling over with a calm joy, pure and untarnished. You like this side of him. It’s like a piece of the first version of Joel you knew. The same laughter and smile Sarah pulled from him long before the world dug its ugly claws into either of you. It’s only become more common in your home over the years. 

Maria joins you as you start to wash up a few dishes while you wait for the kettle to boil. Both of you watch the table with keen eyes as your family sits around it, complete for once. Joel and Tommy chat about their patrols. There’s been an uptick in infected. They’re worried about a colony coming in. Dina and Ellie engage with the boys at the other end of the table, some debate about what happened at kickball last week. 

“You better not be washing dishes, Sweetheart. That’s my job,” Joel says. 

“It’s your birthday.” 

Joel raises an eyebrow at you. “You cooked, and baked a cake.”

“More like attempted,” Tommy teases. You stick your tongue out at him like the mature 49 year old woman you are. 

Once the team is ready, you set a mug in front of Joel. He thanks you before his brow furrows. “That’s not my mug.”

You know he’s talking about the owl mug, the one you push to the back of the cabinet because you think it looks at you funny. “No, it’s your new mug,” You smile. “Happy birthday.”

Joel picks it up, inspecting it closer. It’s slightly faded but otherwise in pristine condition. Two fawns frolic against the picturesque forest that’s delicately painted along the outside. His eyes narrow slightly at you, a playful volley of looks and unspoken words passing between you. 

Joel chuckles, stealing a chaste kiss from your lips. “Thank you.”

“You can use the owl one when I’m not around.”

“So never then?” 

“I mean, ideally, yes.” 

“As sweet as this is,” Tommy says, interrupting the two of you. “I’m afraid we came empty handed.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t expect anything less. Besides, I’ve got everything I need right here.” He looks around the table that includes everyone in the world he loves, aside from Willa who is still busy cleaning herself up. 

“You’re going soft in your old age,” Tommy smacks his brother on the back. 

Joel shrugs. “Happens to the best of us I guess.”

“Daddy! I’m ready!” Willa calls, bursting into the room, small package clutched in her hands as she rushes to his side.

Joel picks her up with a slight groan, setting her on his lap. “I’m ready, Wildflower.”

She laughs, handing him the box as she pushes her curls from her face. “Carter helped too.”

“I’m excited to see what it is,” Joel smiles, attention solely split between his children as he carefully opens the box. 

He’s confused at first, pulling the delicate construction from its box, some combination of paper and old cardboard carefully put together. It takes a second, but then he registers the small arrows fastened into a minute and hour hand against the background. Carter’s oversized numbers unevenly circled around in one to twelve. 

“It’s a new watch,” Willa grins brightly. “Cause yours is broken.” She lifts his wrist as if to show him the broken watch for the first time. 

You catch the shine in Joel’s eyes and the bobble of his throat. “Thank you. It’s a very nice watch.”

“It latches too,” Carter chimes. “So you can actually wear it.”

Joel inspects it further, seeing where the kids had carefully cut holes in the band and managed to create a fasten. 

“Mommy can help you,” Willa says. 

You smile, leaning forward to fasten it to Joel’s wrist, right above his first watch, the one Sarah fixed for him. You’re careful not to break it. It’s not the most secure thing in the world, but Joel beams with pride as he shows it to Tommy and Maria. 

“Do you like it?” Willa asks. 

“I love it.” Joel smiles, squeezing his daughter tight. 

Joel falls beside you on the couch with a content sigh, letting his head fall back and his arm across your shoulders as he does. You smile, leaning into him. “You enjoy your birthday?”

“I’m getting too old. Reading that book about put me to sleep.” 

You laugh, pulling a blanket around your shoulders to stave off the cool air that drifts in through the cracked window behind you. “It’s a good thing I like you old.”

Joel hums, kissing your forehead softly. “Thank you for doing so much today.”

“It’s not like I don’t cook dinner most nights.”

“You baked a cake.”

You snort. “Attempted to make a cake.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first birthday where you messed up the cake.”

You groan, images of the cake you and Sarah attempted to bake for Joel’s 30th birthday flashing in your memory. It had looked nice enough, but tasted like baking soda. Joel chuckles. 

“Well,” You let out a soft sigh, holding back the smile that bites at your lips. “Guess it’s a good thing I have a back up plan.”

Joel’s brow creases. “Back up plan?”

“You are getting old,” you tease, your own mouth watering at the subtle cinnamon tinged air. “I thought you would have smelled it by now.”

Joel stops a second, paying extra attention to his senses. His lips tip up almost immediately as he clocks it. “Is that…”

“My mom’s peach pie.” You grin. Her peach pie filling had been legendary on the block and she’d passed along the recipe early on in your life. You made it each year as the peaches ripened, but you had taken care to freeze extra filling for Joel’s birthday this year. “You really expect me to bake a cake without a back up plan?”

Joel laughs again. “I love you.”

“Only for the peach pie.”

“Well duh.” He pulls you closer, leaving a sweet kiss on your lips. 

You laugh, returning the kiss. “It’ll be ready in about 20 minutes.”

“Perfect… enough time for me to give you something.” Joel reaches down, grabbing a flat package, wrapping in a cloth from under the couch.

“But it’s your birthday.”

“And I like seeing you happy.”

You roll your eyes as he places the thin, square gift in your hands. Your brow knits together as you pull the wrap from it. White corners catch your eye and with two men standing in a doorway. Fleetwood Mac reads centered above them.  A small gasp leaves your mouth. You haven’t heard this album in years. Your grandma’s copy had been badly scratched and warped before the outbreak and no one in Jackson seemed to own a copy. 

“Finally found that the other day. I haven’t played it yet, so I’m not sure about the condition- but it looked like it hadn’t warped too badly.”

“Turn it on.” You grin brightly, eagerly putting it back into Joel’s hands. Your body thrums with excitement. The songs you haven't heard in so long play in the back of your mind as Joel pulls the vinyl record from the sleeve and places it on the old record player in the corner of your living room. 

Static fills the speakers at the needle drops. You both wait with baited breath for the music to start. Monday Morning plays starts without warning, causing you to both jump slightly. A laugh tumbles from your mouth, eyes sparkling with joy as they meet Joel’s. He’s got a similiar joyful expression. 

“It’s much more lively than your version,” you say. You haven’t heard the recorded version in over two decades though Joel’s rendition is still a constant in your home. Willa calls it her song. 

Joel laughs, walking back over to you. “I doubt Willa will even recognize it.” He holds out his hand. “Come on.”

Your brow knits together as you take his hand. He tugs you to your feet. You secure the blanket around your shoulders as Joel leads you toward the front door and onto the porch. The cool September air greets you. The music filters through the open windows as the opening track fades into the smooth opening of Warm Ways.

“What are you doing?”

”Dancin.” He grins wrapping his arms around you as he begins to sway. 

You lean into his embrace, warm between the blanket on your shoulders and his torso against yours, head resting on his shoulder. You sway to the music, eyes closed. Joel’s head rests against yours, his chest rumbles gently as he hums along to the melody, lulling you as close to bliss as you think you’ve ever been. 

You nuzzle further into his neck. “I love you, Joel.”

He smiles, kissing your cheek. Both your eyes stay shut, relishing in the touch of the other. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that, Sweetheart.”

“Good.”

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa @tobethlehem

[strrykais]

you were quite frustrated that donghyuck didn't give you -at least- a 2 hour notice on him bailing. you couldn't fault him though, school has been busy and your friends have less and less time to hang out with you. you asked hyungseo to watch with you but he threw out another excuse of working. you sigh walking out the main apartment building making the walk to the observatory.

the yard on the lower part of the observatory was filled with people. either waiting to get inside for the large telescope or they had their own with a picnic blanket laid out. you start walking towards the line hoping maybe they will let people in. after a while you heard your name being called. looking around you don't see anybody calling, as you turn back you hear it again only this time louder. turning you see jisung running towards you. his face full of worry. you realize that he isnt stopping, you brace yourself for when his hard body slams right into you. his quick breath hitting the top of your hair he hugs you. when it feels like forever he pushes you an arms width away, inspecting your body. you continue to stare at him as his hands wander over your arms till they reach up and cup your face.

with both his cold hands on your cheeks, they start to turn pink. before you can ask what's wrong he beats you to it.

"are you okay?" he stares into your eyes. you couldn't help but look at the shine in them. its like he held the brightest star in his eyes. almost as if the stars reflect off his eyes. clearing your throat, you shake off his hands, face still burning.

"i'm okay? are you?" you ask with a little laugh.

"yeah. haechan and renjun said you were in trouble, i came running from my studio when they said you needed help." words coming out fast, as he tries to catch his breath.

"jisung your studio is like across the campus, you ran all the way here?" you say stunned, you were touched, you wanted to cry. you knew jisung meant a lot to you but this was starting to get scary. you give him a smile.

"im fine ji, i think they may of been playing a prank on you." you watch as he lets out a breath of relief letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. you freeze, you didn't know what to do. so you continue to stare ahead of you.

you hear him mumble something, not quite catching it, you hum.

"im sorry yn. i shouldn't have gotten mad at you like that. and i should've apologized the moment i knew i upset you. i missed you. i missed chatting with you about classes or playing stupid little games on the phone with you. i just miss you." his head still laid on your shoulder. you shift and look down at him as he turns his head a little to glance at you.

"i missed you too jisung."

jisung exhales and fully wraps his arms around you face buried in your neck. his slow breathes hitting your neck as you reach out to wrap your arms around him. engulfing yourself into his warm smell. you knew this hug was going on for too long, but you allowed jisung to continue until he wanted to let go. finally after a while he gently lets go of you taking a few steps back.

reaching into your coat pocket you pull out the two tickets you had, "care to join me to watch a star explode?" you wag the tickets out in front of you both.

jisung nods "let's go see the stars."

lie with you - so let's go see the stars

word count : 626

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a/n : i dont really have anything to say but its weird not talking in here. :/ anyways i hope you enjoy!

tags : @onlyhyunjin @nctjunie

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 23

You're just so frustrating.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, fluff

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Callob with @euphoricfilter !

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Fuck this.

Jungkook refuses to believe that that was how he proposed to you- he won’t aknowledge it, eating his breakfast cereal with a pout on his face.

„Jungkook, come on.“ You laugh, sitting across from him. „I told you it was perfect-„ you say, though he shakes his head, beginning to talk before he can properly swallow- which makes him choke, and you laugh as he coughs up the stray bits of food that entered the wrong tube.

„I don’t care, it sucked.“ He denies, tears on the edges of his eyes as he drinks some water.

„I mean I did suck you-„ you start, causing him to send a glare your way, but you just sigh. „Jungkook come on. It doesn’t matter to me how you asked me- the fact that you did makes me happy already!“ you tell him, before you tap his bowl. „Now eat your cereal or it’ll get soggy.“

He does- but that still doesn’t lift his mood at all.

He doesn’t really have time to figure out another masterplan like last time, since he’ll have to get back to work soon to not make anybody mad enough to slap some god awful project onto his table to be done before the new year- but maybe he can still come up with something memorable. There’s still some money in the bank, and he’s soon to get his december bonus for the holidays, so maybe a fancy date? Now that he thinks about it, you never went to one together. He doesn’t even really own a suit.

He should get one. And you a pretty dress. But not one that’s too expensive, because he’ll surely break it later back home.

Searching online for a fitting suit and dress for you both during his break, he doesn’t even notice you entering the room- quietly, thinking he might still be working, to put a plate of warm food down for his late lunch, and only now does he notice he’s been working for hours on end again without a proper break. And before he can even thank you properly, you’ve exited his office room again, door clicking into the hinge, as he looks on his plate.

Dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets, and ketchup squirted down in the shape of a heart.

That's it. That's the last straw.

He exits his office with his plate in hand, setting it down on the coffee table next to yours as you were just about to turn on the TV, looking at him all surprised. “Everything ok-“

“You’re doing it again!” He complains, standing there like some upset Sims character, pouting and brows all frowned.

“I’m.. what?” You ask, confused. “..but you love dinosaurs when you’re upset-“

“I do!” He whines out, and you’re halfway expecting him to stomp his leg like a rabbit any second now, as he stands there with his hands clenched to fists. “I really do, and I also love it when you put my ketchup in a little heart there.” He says.

“…okay?” You chuckle, unsure. What’s he getting at?

He sits down next to you, and begins to eat, quietly. You’re not sure what’s wrong with him, but he’s sometimes like this, sometimes he doesn’t make a lot of sense. Or maybe he does, and he just can’t properly explain it well.

“You do-“ he starts, taking a sip of some water to wash down his food, as he shakes his head at his plate. “-You always do so many things for me.” He rants, almost angrily. “like now. You always know how to pick me up when I’m down, or you just-“ he picks one of the dinosaurs up to dip its tail into the ketchup, “-or you just do stuff like this randomly, and it’s the sweetest shit ever!” He exclaims, glaring at his food. “ridiculous.!” He shakes his head again, biting the tail off.

“Yeah cause, I love you?” You giggle, not quite sure what he’s getting at, still.

“Bu’ I ‘ove u ‘oo!” He responds agitated with a whine, before he almost chokes on his unswallowed bite, making you push the glass of water closer that he eagerly takes to help push down his food so he can talk properly. “I love you too, but you’re so good at it, it’s unfair!” He complains, making you laugh.

“How can someone be good at loving someone else?” You snort, pushing his shoulder when he looks at you with his brows wiggling suggestively.

“No but, in all honesty.” He says, sighing as he stares at the last dinosaur waiting to be eaten. “You’re so good at like.. Doing stuff for me. Everything you do is always so special.” He mumbles.

“...so you feel bad now because your proposal wasn’t special enough?” You wonder, and he shrugs, defeated, and nods. “Jungkook, you do know that the way you proposed is literally.. The most uniquely Jungkook-thing you could’ve done? Everyone goes on fancy vacations to propose!” You tell him, and he only hesitantly moves his face to look at you, back arched as he sits with no tension in his body. “Jungkookie, baby, it really doesn’t matter to me.” You press, hand on his thigh-

And it’s then that he notices, and jumps up to run into the bedroom, roaming in one of the drawers for something. “What is it now?” You laugh, as he stubbornly tugs at your hand before he stops.

“Wait which hand goes the ring on again?” He wonders to himself. “And which finger..?” He says, making you giggle, before you tell him where it goes. And the moment it’s on, he stares at it for a good while, just.. Letting it happen.

He’s really doing this. He’s going to marry you.

“We’re gonna have to kind of.. Talk about how we wanna marry.” You say, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Can’t we marry here at home? With bowser?” He wonders, and you laugh at him, pulling him closer to hold his cheeks as you kiss him.

“Like I said.” You giggle, lovestruck. “It really doesn’t matter to me, as long as I’m marrying you.”

[cosmal]

TULIPS — send me an character i write for + a scenario or prompt and i’ll write you a blurb! fluff smut or angst!

friends to lovers, being reader’s first kiss + steve harrington

𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 — 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary — you think there's something wrong with you because no one will kiss you. steve fixes that.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, she/her pronouns, upset!reader, first kiss

wc — 1.3k

“If I knew he was so annoying, I wouldn’t have let you go out with him!!” Steve laughs, mouth full of popcorn. Not that he wanted you to go out with anyone in the first place but you don’t need to know that. 

You laugh even harder, hanging upside down on his sofa. You feel dizzy but you don’t move to sit up. “It was horrendous! He kept talking with food in his mouth.” 

You try to ignore the fact that Steve is doing the exact same thing right now. You don’t think it was the bad table manners that made you hate your date. It was probably because it was with the wrong person. 

“I can imagine. Braces and all.” Steve snorts. He throws a piece of popcorn in the air to catch it in his mouth. He misses by a mile and it lands on your stomach. You eat it yourself. 

“He was eating pesto as well.” You grimace at the memory of the green ring he had around his mouth. 

Steve’s laughter is horribly contagious. He’s laughing at your horrendous date, but still, your own cheeks ache. 

“I can imagine the kiss.” He shudders dramatically and the pieces of popcorn on his shirt roll off and down between the couch cushions.

“We didn’t kiss.” Your voice lilts through a small sigh and your head is really starting to spin. You’d expect to move any moment, whether it's because the spots in your vision start to get boring to look at or Steve pulls you up himself. 

“You didn’t kiss?” 

You shake your head and regret it. 

Like you’d expected, Steve does pull you up. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders until you’re upright. You fall into his side with your knees pressed into the back of the couch. 

“You didn’t kiss?” he repeats. 

You blink back the spots and laugh weakly, “No, Steve.” 

Steve isn’t sure if he’s stupidly happy that you hadn’t kissed, or if he’s incensed because not kissing someone like you has to be a crime against humanity or some shit. 

“Oh.” 

You move around so you can rest your head in his lap, stretching your legs out until they dangle over the arm. Your socked feet kick against its side with a thump. 

Steve watches where you wrinkle your face. He’s not sure if you're thinking really hard or if you’re trying to hold back an upset. He reaches a hand out and brushes away the hair that’s fallen into your eyes. 

“Steve?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet and muffled by the hand you have pressed to your mouth. 

He traces a line over your eyebrow before he replies, “Yeah?” 

You swallow hard and shift in your spot. You can’t make your eyes meet his so you decide to close them. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” 

Steve would chuckle if he thought you weren’t being serious. Maybe a stupid joke. If your eyes were open he’d think you were kidding around. But you genuinely look upset and Steve feels almost worse. He hates seeing you like this. 

“Like what?” His hand stops its movements and he settles it in your hair. 

You turn your head until it presses into his side to shield your face. You feel a little too bare and almost regret laying in his lap. If you’d stayed sitting up you could’ve folded in on yourself. 

“No one ever wants to kiss me,” you sigh. 

If only you knew.

Steve thinks you can be really stupid sometimes. In a really loving and best friend kind of way. 

Steve doesn’t want to diminish any thoughts you have about this, still, he says, “That’s not true.” Because it isn't.

You open your eyes and raise your eyebrows, “Steve,” you frown. He thinks he can see the beginnings of tears in the corners of your eyes where your eyelashes kiss. 

“Hey, c’mon.” Steve does his best to encourage you to sit up. Tucking an arm around your back and under your arms to pull you over his lap. 

His hands find their way to your sides where yours fiddle in your lap. Your fingers bunch through the bottom of his shirt and pick at a loose thread. He really wants to ask you to look at him. You really want him to stop staring at you like that.

“It’s not true,” he repeats, squeezing at your hips to affirm his words. “Really.” 

You chance a look up at him and find exactly what you didn’t want to. His soft face and even softer eyes. A goddamn abyss of amber that you wouldn’t mind drowning in right about now. The way he looks at you sometimes has you unravelling

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to cry,” you laugh weakly, palming at your face a little too roughly. 

“Of course, I don’t want you to cry,” he smiles, taking your hands from your face and holding them in his own, “You’re too pretty to be crying and you shouldn’t be doing it over some slimy boy.” 

“Slimy boy?” you sniffle.

“Yeah.” 

You shake your head, “It’s not just about him. I want…” you pause, take a deep, shaky breath, and deflate, “I want to know what it’s like to be kissed.”

Steve doesn’t miss a beat. He really should’ve but he has a big mouth sometimes. “I’ll kiss you.” 

“What?”

Your heart beats faster than you think is healthy. If you had any self-control in you, you’d have said no straight away. Kissing Steve seems like a line, if crossed, would be a terrible, if not self-destructing one to come back from. 

You think maybe Steve would only want to kiss you out of pity. Sitting in his lap, pathetically telling him you’d never been kissed, seems like you’re basically begging him to. 

You have been for years, he just doesn’t know it. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a really long time,” he chuckles. “Fucking years.” 

Fuck sakes. 

“Really?” Your voice is high and almost unrecognisable. Almost hopeful. 

His eyes glint, “Yeah.” 

You go silent for only a small moment, barely a beat, but it’s enough to have Steve backtracking. Stammering, he says, “But, if you don’t want me to, I won’t. We don’t- Look, we can pretend I never asked.” 

“Kiss me, Steve.” You lean forward until your hands press into his chest, “Seriously,” 

He leans forward too, almost unthinkingly like there’s some sort of tether between you. “You sure?” 

You smile, “Positive.” 

Steve doesn’t need anything more, that stupid smile is telling enough. He leans forward, breaks the barely-there gap between you two, and presses his lips to yours. 

His hands waste no time in pulling you closer if it’s really possible. Steve tries to be as gentle as he can, despite wanting to kiss you stupid for a really long time, he kisses you knowing it’s your first. He'd be damned if he ruins it for you. 

He holds the small of your back, hands tangling through the soft cotton of your shirt. His lips prod gently against yours, delicate and soft and you start off unsure. Whether to move to the left or right, open or close your mouth. He leads and angles your chin higher and your noses bump. Your bottom lip drags against his and you huff a whiny breath into his mouth. 

Embarrassed, you pull away with wet lips, bright eyes and warm cheeks. You lean up to kiss his swelling cupid’s bow one more time with a giddy hum. 

Steve can feel your excitement zapping between your lips. 

“How was that?” he smiles, lips shining. 

You faux frown, “Hmm, I don’t know. I feel like I could improve.” 

“Lucky I’m an amazing teacher,” Steve’s smug smile is blinding and you can’t help the tiny gasp you let out when he kisses you again. 

You pull away but keep your lips hot and close to his, “I’m so,” kiss, “so lucky.”

[raina-at]

Intuition

The journey through my AUs continues, today it's my kind of Unilock boys from Guess Who's Coming for Christmas Dinner, but this stands very well on its own as well.

----

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I can’t help it. I look ridiculous.”

“You do not,” Sherlock says, indignant, reaching over to adjust John’s tie. “The suit is perfect. Now stop fidgeting and keep your eyes open. One of these people is a cat burglar and a jewel thief.”

“Yeah, and the rest are bankers and brokers,” John mutters, adjusting his cufflinks. “Find the thief in a roomful of thieves. Like looking for a needle in a pile of needles.”

“Careful, your class prejudices are showing. Now look around and try to look like you regularly spend a thousand pounds on a bottle of wine.”

John snorts and takes two flutes of champagne from a tray, handing one to Sherlock. He takes a sip and hums appreciatively. “At least the booze is good.”

They make their rounds, chatting with several people, and for the first time, John is glad for the hours and hours he spent trying to make nice with Sherlock’s posh family, because he now knows how to use summer as a verb, and he’s learned to pronounce chalet correctly. 

“What about this chap?” John points at an elegant older man across the room. “He gives me the creeps.”

“What are you basing this deduction on?” Sherlock asks, taking an unobtrusive look at the man John pointed out.

“Dunno. Something about him. Intuition.”

Sherlock huffs an exasperated sigh. “John, there is no such thing as intuition.”

“‘Course there is.”

“No. What you call intuition is your brain making deductions and drawing inferences from a hundred subconscious clues and disseminating the data to you as uneasiness, because you haven’t trained your brain to observe consciously. You need to learn how to separate the context clues and observe them, systematically and consciously.” Sherlock gestures at the man John indicated. “Look at your fellow here. His shoes are bespoke Italian loafers, incredibly expensive, this make and model are only made in Florence, which just happens to be the site of one of our thefts. His watch is British Army issue, meaning he has military training, further fitting our profile. He’s wearing glasses he clearly doesn’t usually wear, given there are no imprints on his nose, and he recently dyed his hair. He fidgets with his tie like you, meaning he’s unused to wearing one, and what banker isn’t used to wearing a tie?”

“So, what you’re saying,” John says, with an amused smile, “is that I’m right?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Yes, John, you are right. But for the wrong reasons.”

“You’re so lucky I love you, you incurable smartarse,” John mutters, depositing his empty champagne glass on a nearby tray.

“If I’m not entirely mistaken,” Sherlock murmurs as he leans closer to speak in John’s ear, “you especially love my smart arse.”

John grins. “Not entirely accurate. I love your smart brain, and I love your spectacular arse.” John leans closer and kisses Sherlock once on the lips, then murmurs, “How about we get out thief and go home, and then I can show you just how much I love your smart arse?”

“You’re right, you know,” Sherlock says, drawing back a little to give John an affectionate smile. “I am lucky.”

John pecks him on the cheek, smiling softly. “So am I. Now let’s get our jewel thief, and go home.” He makes a gesture for Sherlock to precede him and then follows, making no secret out of his appreciation for Sherlock’s truly fine arse.

Lucky indeed, he thinks, as they walk once more into battle.

-----

I think I'm done with my AU journey, I think I hit them all at least once. I'll double-check, and if you can think of one I haven't done, please drop me a line, but I think I've done them all.

Um.... Bingo?

Tags under the cut as usual, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. Also, periodic reminder that I'm posting these on AO3 here.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[siampie]

Get Off the Highway || Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 2.7 k 

Warnings/tags: Enemies to lovers trope, angst, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome

A/N: Alright, I hope this chapter makes sense to people. It does to me but I somehow feel as though it is convoluted. And maybe it is but I hope you love it anyway. And hopefully, it’s still believable in the Supernatural universe.

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Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @lyarr24, @deans-baby-momma, @just-cuz22, @c1eepypas1a,

@kr804573, @zepskies, @impalari, @urinternetmom, @sushiumex

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Dude, what the hell was that?” Sam glared at his brother.

“The truth.” Dean shrugged. Sam just gave a deadpanned look. “Come on, Sammy. Do you seriously believe that the kid is cut out for hunting?”

“She did save your life before in that vampire nest. So, I’d say yes, she is.” Sam started after his brother. “Seriously, what’s your problem with her?”

“My problem is she doesn’t look like a hunter, Sam.” Dean fished his keys out of his pockets. “And she sure as hell doesn’t act like one.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “And who the hell doesn’t drink on a weekday? After a hunt?”

“Seriously, Dean?”

“What? That’s how most hunters celebrate after a hunt.” Dean reminded him. “What does she think? That she’s above us?”

“She never said that.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t need to.” He climbed in the driver’s seat. Sam pushed out a sigh before getting in the car.

You slammed the door to your motel room behind you. Your throat was clogged up, tears rushed out of your eyes. You dropped on your bed and stopped the first onslaught of sobs by pressing your hands against your mouth. Your body racked with sobs, but you remained quiet. Not wanting anyone to hear. For which you berated yourself for, no one could hear you anyway because you were alone.

They weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of frustration and anger. You did not know how else to let out those emotions. You didn’t cry out of anger all the time. But it did happen at times. Most of the time, those tears were out of frustration. Frustration at how you had failed tonight. Frustration at how you let your fears overcome you. Frustration at how mad he sounded when he yelled at you.  

You hated yelling.

“Stop being so overdramatic.” You wiped at your eyes furiously. “There is no reason for you to cry about this. Why are you like this?” You took in a shaky breath. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” Your hand rubbed at your chest, over your heart. As though, you were soothing the ache. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

After a few minutes of repeating those words to yourself as a chant, your tears had died down. You washed your face and you did the only thing you could do. You took your focused back on the hunt. Dean Winchester was wrong. You knew what you were doing. And yes, you may have messed up but you were going to fix it. Like you always did.

The monster that attacked you was not a werewolf. Neither was it a skinwalker. It was something completely different, something you had never faced before. You opened your laptop and worked the case back from square one.

You took in consideration that the victims had all been attacked and bound before they died. Which you still didn’t understand why because that creature didn’t seem as though it needed its victim to be neutralized. It was quite powerful on its own. So, why restrained its victims?

While researching, you chased away any thoughts you may have about the Winchesters. Especially Dean. You didn’t understand why he disliked you so much. You had not done anything to him. You had remained polite and cordial when you first met. Nothing had happened that you could remember, that may have soured his opinion of you. To the point where instead of comforting you after you almost died, he snapped at you. Acting like an asshole.

“Leave this to us before you get yourself killed.” You grumbled under your breath. “Like you know better than I do. I saved your life and now, you’re talking to me like I’m a kid. What a gaping asshole!” You let out a frustrated sigh, tears pressing against your eyes. “It’s okay. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re going to prove him wrong. Make him eat his words.”

And eat his word, he would.

You stayed up all night to research for a monster that would feed on hearts, that wouldn’t be a werewolf or a skinwalker. And the only thing you came across that could fit the bill, was from Egyptian mythology. A creature that was called Ammit, the Devourer of the Dead. It fit the bill but you still had your doubts. You did not get a good look at it and it was dark out. You weren’t sure that the creature resembled the drawings that portrayed Ammit. However, it could explain why the victims needed to be restrained for Ammit to feed on them.

Ammit, also known as the Devourer of the Dead, was believed to be a demon rather than a deity. During the Judgment of Dead, the heart of the deceased was weighed against the feather of Ma’at, the goddess of truth. If the heart was weighted less than the feather, they were ruled to be pure and allowed to enter paradise. If their heart was weighted more than the feather, they were ruled to be impure and their heart would be devoured by Ammit. Leaving them without a soul and to wander in Limbo. Stuck between the world of the living and the dead. Restless in eternity.

You knew the victims were still alive when their hearts had been ripped from their chests. You just didn’t know why or who would do this? And that was what you needed to find out. So, on no sleep and a pounding headache, you knocked on the door of the first victim’s house. You wanted to know more about the victims, know more about their last days, their habits. Knowing more about them would give you more insight as to why they were killed.

The victims were around the same age and being in the same small town, that could only mean they had grown up together. It seemed that other the years they had grown apart. So, nothing was linking them to one another before their deaths. One of the victim’s friend had even mention a falling out. But did not mention anything more than that. Nevertheless, you had found a pamphlet for an exhibit at the local museum. An ancient Egyptian exhibition. Which only reinforced your belief that Ammit was the monster that killed those people.

You made a quick stop to the local café; your sleepless night was catching up to you. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and your yawning to a minimum. You needed some help to keep your eyes open for the rest of the day. Especially since you were planning to go at the ancient Egyptian exhibit.

With your much needed coffee in hand, sunglasses back on your face, you walked out of the local café. You had barely made it out when your elbow was roughly grabbed by none other than Dean Winchester. The rage you had felt towards him had dwindled through the day but seeing him now, your frustration and anger flared back up.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You ripped your elbow from his grasp and glared at him, from behind your dark tinted glasses. “Enjoying my coffee. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You’re still working the case.” He retorted, jaw clenched and glaring at you.

You took a sip from your cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She doesn’t—” Dean let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, Princess, we are working the case and you talking to the vics’ families ain’t making things easy for us.”  

You gave it a beat, playing with the lid of your cup. “I fail to see how this is my problem, Bucko. I mean how could I do such a thing? Clearly, you and your brother are professionals. Me talking to them shouldn’t get in the way, now, should it?” You took a step back away from them, “After all, you said it yourself, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You turned away from them and walked up to your car.

“It would be easier if we were working the case together, you know.” Sam suggested, following you. “Instead of getting in each other’s way.”

You fished out your keys. “Your brother wouldn’t agree to this.” You looked over at Dean, he was glaring at you still. “And frankly, I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than work with him. Best of luck to both of you.”

The exhibit was mostly about funerary rituals. Coincidentally, the first kill happened a few days after the exhibit had started. Meaning that the creature had come with the exhibit. Thanks to the guide, you learned that this was the first time the exhibit was put together by a young professor; Amanda Carlisle. She had gone out of town to college a few years back and made it big. She’d come back to make her hometown the first to see the exhibit she put together. Her parents were proud, and so was the whole town.  

Unfortunately, as you moved to speak to the professor in question, two giants that stood out like sore thumbs in the middle of this exhibit, were already speaking with her. You glared at Dean as he sent a smug smile your way. Clearly, he was happy that he was one step ahead of you this time. You puffed out a frustrated sigh, you would not turn this into a competition with the Winchesters. Not if you could help it. You had much more important things to do.  

Professor Carlisle was welcomed upon her return. A small-town girl that went to a prestigious college and came back successful. Plus, she was letting her home town benefit from that success of hers. Sharing the glory, so to speak. The victims were around her age too. Some may have been older of a few years but they were all around the same age. The victims and the professor had gone to school together. They might even have been friends. Except, they weren’t.

The best thing about small town was that everyone knew one another, and words got around fast. And it wouldn’t be too hard to get information from some the people, especially those who couldn’t wait to gossip. And boy, did they have a lot to tell you.

Amanda Carlisle was always a straight A student; it was no surprise for anyone that she would go far in life. But Amanda was never the popular kid. If her parents, her teachers and the rest of the town were proud of her, the other kids in her school did not exactly love her. You never quite understood the concept of bullying or why it happened. Was it jealousy or insecurity? Was it just because they didn’t like who she was or how she presented? No one really knew. However, it was clear for many people and known by the general public, they made her life a living hell.

And this was her revenge.

The shrill sound of your ringtone brutally pulled you out of your sleep. You blindly reached out for your phone on your bedside table.

“Yeah?” You answered groggily without checking the caller ID first. Your name was said on the other side of the line. “Sam? What’s going on?” You sat up, rubbing your eyes.

“I need your help.”

“And I don’t know what I’m doing.” You hissed at Sam as both of you walked to the back door of the museum.

“Seriously?” Sam turned to you.

“What? I’m allowed.” You talked back. “He gave me crap for being attacked. And now, he’s the one who got abducted. Don’t you think it’s a little ironic?”

Sam sighed. “It might be but—he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

You rounded on him, glaring. “Good luck on finding your brother—alone.”

“Okay, okay—” He stopped you from walking away. “He was wrong for yelling at you but I mean, you gotta admit that was pretty reckless on your part.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well, not everyone has the luxury to have a hunting partner like you and your brother do.”

The growls of the creature reached your ears as you got closer to the office. The rattling of chains and muffled voices could be heard through the door that had been left ajar. Sam and you glanced at each other, grabbing your guns. Sam reached for the Ram’s horn in his bag, securing it. He had told you they already faced an Egyptian deity in the past, and the Ram’s horn had incapacitated the deity. With no real lore on how to stop Ammit, you went with his suggestion.

Dean was bound to a large table in the middle of the room. Ammit was held in a cage while Amanda looked at her lovingly.

“Let’s step away from the demon.” You aimed your gun at the professor. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

Amanda turned to you slowly, wearing a smirk on her face. “I got him exactly where I want him.” She said as her eyes moved away from you over to Dean. “I know what he did to you.” Her eyes moved back to you. “He humiliated you, yelled at you. He deserves what’s coming to him.”

“Like they all did, right?” You countered.

“The poor girl tried to survive the aftermath of her humiliation but she couldn’t.” You frowned at her words. “She was too weak. She needed me. And so do you.”

With a flick of her hand, she opened the cage and unleashed Ammit. The demon pounced on you, tackling you to the ground. You fired your gun as you fell backwards. The wind got knocked out of your lungs. Ammit’s breath hit your face as you tried to push her away. Your gun had been knocked out of your hands.

“SAM,” You called, your voice strained. Ammit reared back as Sam stabbed it in the back. The demon writhed in pain, falling to the ground. Dean had been freed, was now fighting off Amanda. She shoved Dean away, his back hit one of the walls. Sam aimed his gun at her, without even lifting a finger, the gun flew out of Sam’s hands. She marched onto him, furious. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and lifted him off of the ground. You turned to the creature on the ground, she was still writhing in pain. You moved to take out the Ram’s horn from her back.

“This is all your fault.” Amanda grabbed your shoulders as you turned to face her. She was furious, enraged. “I was trying to help you.”

“Yeah, I didn’t ask for it.” And you stabbed her in the neck with the Ram’s horn. Her eyes shone with purple lights, her body suddenly and quickly decaying, turning into a mummy, before she fell to the ground. And the demon vanished into thin air.

You threw your bag in the passenger seat, Sam and Dean were standing behind you. Sam cleared his throat before he nudged his brother.

“Look—”

“Don’t bother.” You shoved your hands in your pockets. “It’s already forgiven.”

“What?” Dean scrunched up his eyebrows.

“You were going to apologize, right?”

“Apologize for what?” Dean asked back.

“Oh, I don’t know, Bucko.” You shook your head. “Maybe for yelling at me in the woods. How about that?”

“So what? You can’t handle a little yelling?”

“I can handle yelling. Doesn’t mean I have to. Especially, after I almost got killed.” You glared at him.

“Well, someone has to tell you when you’re screwing up.” Dean stepped closer to you. “And you screwed up that night.”

“For the love of Aphrodite, you think you know better than me, don’t you?”

“Oh, Princess, I know better than you.” Dean continued. “And let me tell you, you’re not—”

“Alright, enough,” Sam placed himself between you and his brother. “Seriously—” Sam put a hand on your shoulder. “Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled at the youngest Winchester. “At least, one of you is appreciative.” You turned to Dean with a smirk. “Can’t say the same for everyone.” Dean rolled his eyes, letting out a groan. “Anyway, I gotta fly. And words of advice, you should do the same.”

Sam pulled you in a quick hug, catching you by surprise. “Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah, will do.” You smiled at him as he pulled away. You sent a nod Dean’s way. “Bucko.”

“Princess.” He answered in kind.

You climbed in your truck and drove off.

“You know I gotta give it to her.” Dean started as he and his brother walked to the Impala.

“What?”

“She ain't that bad."

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[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

Felix has never been one to complain when something is wrong. But sometimes, he needs a gentle little reminder from someone he loves that he's perfect in every conceivable way that matters. And for all the other times, talking anime and school girl skirts with the baby and his favorite noona is just what the doctor ordered.

A/N: For that one nonnie who wanted more JeongLix fluff. I hope this fulfills all your wildest dreams. 💗

(Also, it's canon that if you say Minho's name three times in the mirror, he appears and roasts the shit out of you.)

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, Skz!pack, Poly!skz, Skz!abo, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, skz x you, skz x reader, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, skz fluff, fluff, Bang Chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n

Genre: Fluff

Title: Zero Complaints

“Do you think Yuki honestly didn’t know Kaname was her brother that whole ass time?” 

You glance up from where you’re hanging your head over the bed, popping the sucker out from between your lips as you meet Jeongin’s furrowed gaze. 

“Yes.” 

Jeongin heaves a sigh and tosses aside the finished copy of the manga he was reading, annoyance written all over his pretty features, making you want to laugh. 

He’s really going through it. 

“But-” Felix points out from where he’s lounging beside you, leaning over to snatch your sucker, as you shoot him a halfhearted glare, even as he smiles innocently at you and sticks the candy between his own teeth. He points to the youngest omega. “-she knew at the end.” 

Jeongin scoffs, wiggling out from under the weight of your combined legs, huffing as he goes. “Yeah, but then she still chose him over Zero! And we all know, that man was fucking hot, not to mention a trained killer.” 

You laugh, dropping your head back over the edge of the bed as he gets up, watching him upside down as he returns the manga to its proper place amongst the extensive collection on Seungmin’s shelf. 

“You say that like it’s another reason she should have picked him.” 

“It is!” Jeongin protests heatedly. “Guys with a little bit of psychotic energy and the means to kill you are always the better love interest choice, everyone knows that!” 

Felix grins around the stick of your sucker at the clearly irritated baby omega. “You’ve been spending too much time with Hyunjin.” 

Jeongin sticks his tongue out at the other omega. “You can’t say shit, hyung, you’re like the fluffiest, softest, most harmless guy I know.” 

Felix shrugs and takes a long lick of the sucker. “Guilty.” 

“You know who could kill you though-” You reply thoughtfully, sitting up as Jeongin throws himself back on the spacious bed by your feet, looking clearly bummed out by the conversation. 

Without a thought, both omegas reply back in sync, “-Minho-hyung.” 

“What about me?” Minho stops in the open doorway, a basket of laundry propped on his hip, his dark eyes scanning your trio with something akin to dangerous suspicion, expression unreadable. 

Jeongin snickers beneath his breath, flicking his eyes first to you and then to Felix, who is trying to bite back a grin and remain nonchalant as he takes another slurp of the lollipop innocently.

“Nothing, hyung.”

Minho narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t enter the room, taking another step in the direction he was going as he says warningly, “That’s what I thought.” 

When he disappears from sight, you all let out a collective sigh of relief and Jeongin instantly falls back on the pillows in a fit of wild, chaotic laughter. 

“Fuck, that was close.”  

“How does he always just appear when you’re talking about him?” Felix gasps out around his own laughter, sucker held between tiny fingers, as he waves it toward the now empty doorway. “It’s like he has a sixth sense or something.” 

“He can smell bullshit a mile away.” You agree with a nod and an amused grin in the omegas direction. “Fucking scary, that one.” 

Something thoughtful comes across Jeongin’s face. “Do you think if I asked hyung nicely, he’d dress up as Zero with me for Halloween?” 

Felix instantly shakes his head, and you choke out a cynical laugh. 

“Not a chance.” 

“Nope.” 

“Who would you be if hyung was Zero?” Felix asks curiously, eyes sparkling with delighted amusement as he eyes the youngest. 

Jeongin crosses his arms over his chest with a huff. “Yuki, obviously. But I’d make the right choice.” 

“I’d like to see you in a school girl uniform.” You muse thoughtfully, something wicked flashing across your gaze, as Jeongin snaps his eyes to your own. You arch a brow at his look of shock. “What? I bet you’d be adorable.” 

“Adorably sexy.” Felix adds, pointing the almost finished sucker at Jeongin to prove his point. 

Jeongin snatches the candy from the older boy’s fingers and pops what’s left of it into his cheek with a glare in your direction. 

“I changed my mind.” 

“Ah, Innie, don’t be like that.” You coo, biting back a smile as you flop down on the bed so your head is in his lap, pinning him beneath your weight and forcing him to look at you as you reach up to pinch the full skin of his cheeks. 

He tries to push you away, but not with enough strength to actually do anything. 

You smirk up at him, playing with the stick stuck between his full lips. 

“C’mon, I bet we could convince Sungie and Bin to do it with you.” 

There is intrigue in his eyes now. 

“Fuck.” Felix says in almost a groan beneath his breath, stretching out beside the two of you, open hunger on his pretty features as he stares up at the ceiling, eyes far away. “Can you imagine hyung’s thighs in something like that?” 

You watch the bob of Jeongin’s throat as he audibly swallows. 

You don’t blame him. Saliva is pooling beneath your own tongue at just the thought. 

“Maybe we can convince the whole pack to do a group costume. School girl outfits for everyone.” You say somewhat hopefully, because now that it’s been spoken into existence, you absolutely need to see it come to fruition. 

“Fuck.” Felix repeats again, sighing hard, as he reaches up to throw an arm over his face, the skin of his throat flushing pink. “Minho-hyung’s thighs too-” 

“You know, if you’re all so desperate to see me, you could just ask.” 

“Fuck.” It’s your turn to swear sharply, jerking upright in surprise at the unexpected voice from across the room. 

Minho is leaning in the doorway, arms over his chest, a smirk on his lips, eyebrow arched at the three of you. 

Felix puts a hand over his heart, and you’re sure it’s pounding matches yours. 

“How do you do that, hyung?” 

Minho cocks his head, eyes going predatory, and you hear Jeongin swallow again. 

“Consider it a gift. Or a threat. Your choice.” 

You all stare at him as he backs from the doorway, teeth flashing in a dangerous grin as he disappears from sight once more, words echoing over his shoulder as you hear his feet on the stairs. 

“Come find me when you’re ready to pitch your ideas.” 

Jeongin lets out the breath he’s been holding. 

“Fuck, he’s scary.” 

Felix nods in agreement, but you don’t miss the hot flush creeping across his throat in reaction to Minho’s dangerous teasing. 

“Yeah, but-” He looks thoughtful. “-’psychotic, kill you energy,’ am I right?” 

Jeongin blows out a harsh breath and grumbles somewhat begrudgingly, “Yeah, yeah. It’s fucking hot or whatever.” 

You grin and settle your head back into the youngest’s lap once more. 

“Now, more importantly, let’s go back to school girl skirts.” 

*******

“I’m just saying-think about it! Do ghosts have teeth?”

Beside you, Seungmin lets out a long, irritated sigh, and levels a glare across the table at Jeongin that could scorch earth.

“Shut the fuck up, Innie. This is the last time I ever let you join our study group.” 

“No, no, he’s got a point.” Yeosang chimes in, tapping his pencil thoughtfully on his chin, the open book in front of him long forgotten. 

You shoot him an openly exasperated look of desperation. “Oh my god, Kang, don’t encourage him!” 

Jongho blows a harsh breath out through his teeth where he sits on Yeosang’s opposite side, and shoots both you and Seungmin a dead sort of helpless look.

“You’ve lost him. You’re not gonna get him back at this point.” 

“Oh my god.” Seungmin groans, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his temples violently, as if to stall the incoming headache. “We��re all going to fail this exam.” 

“Speak for yourself.” Jisung scoffs from the beta’s opposite side, snapping his book closed with an air of finality and a smug grin. “I’m gonna ace it.” 

“You’re not even in the class.” Seungmin deadpans, and Jisung shrugs, nonplussed. 

“Yeah, but if I were, I’d smoke you all.” 

“Absolutely no fucking way would that happen.” 

“Okay, beta boy, keep telling yourself that.” 

“God, I’m going to throttle you.” 

“Oh, hell yeah, I’m into that.” 

You glance across the table, away from the betas’ bickering, to where Yeosang and Jeongin are now deep into a debate over the logistics of ghostly dental procedures, and let out a long, resigned sigh. 

Fuck, Seungmin’s right. You’re screwed. 

“Hey.” 

You glance over your shoulder at the deep, accented greeting, and see Felix and Minho approaching your table, duffle bags slung over their shoulders, still wearing their work out gear, damp hair tousled with quickly drying sweat. 

Their dance seminar must have just ended. 

“Hi.” You respond, giving them a little wave of your fingers, as Felix leans over you, his chin on your shoulder, and his gaze sweeps over what you’re currently studying. 

You feel rather than see him pull a face. 

“That looks hard.” 

“It is.” You reply dejectedly, leaning back into his embrace, as his fingers find the knots in your shoulders and begin to massage gently. You groan and sink further into your chair, rolling your neck as Felix’s small, warm fingers work over your tense muscles. 

There’s a headache starting to pound behind your eyes. 

You glance to where Minho is breaking up the still arguing betas, across the table to Jeongin and Yeosang, and then complain quietly, tiredly to Felix, “Unfortunately, even after hours of studying, I don’t think I’ve retained anything.” 

Felix hums in sympathy beneath his breath, and continues to massage your shoulders, the sweet scent of oranges beginning to curl around you the longer he stands behind you. 

It’s nice, it helps the headache that’s threatening, and you feel yourself relaxing the more he continues, like a human stress relief lotion.

Omegas will do that to you.

You tilt your head back and close your eyes, before you ask him, “How was the seminar?” 

You hear him sigh and crack open an eye to see his lips pull down into a slight frown. 

You sit up straighter, suddenly on high alert. 

“Felix?” 

He shakes it off and shrugs, giving you a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as his fingers resume their motions down the center of your spine. 

“It was fine. Really. I’m just tired.” 

Before you can question him more, San and Wooyoung appear, slapping the omega standing behind you on the back in greeting, their own bags still slung over their shoulders, and Felix plasters on a bright smile for the pair. 

“Our pretty pixie boy stole the show like always.” San remarks, as if he can sense what you were just talking about, a grin curving his lips upward as he regards Felix with something akin to pride. “Sure you don’t wanna switch out of kinesiology for dance, Lixie? It’s not too late, you know.” 

Felix chuckles, and your wolf relaxes slightly at the familiar sound. 

“I’m sure. That was exhausting.” 

Wooyoung grins sharply in response. “Good choice. Minho-hyung might kill you if you threatened his throne.” 

Felix laughs again, holding up his hands to the pair of friends. “I want no part of the ice kingdom, thank you.” 

Minho glares at the four of you over Seungmin’s head, that uncanny ability of his surfacing again, and you offer him a sweetly innocent smile before turning back to the conversation at hand. 

“Speaking of- '' You lower your voice and glance between Wooyoung and San, their faces etching into curiosity at your sudden change of tone. You grin mischievously and arch a brow at them. “-how much convincing do you think it would take to get Seonghwa in a school girl uniform, complete with skirt?” 

Felix grins, and it's the first time since he arrived that you’ve seen the expression reach his eyes. You make a mental note to check in with him later. 

San looks intrigued. “Probably not much honestly.” 

Wooyoung looks downright devious. “Why?” 

You lean back in your chair. “Oh, just ruminating on ideas for interpack Halloween costumes, that’s all.” 

Wooyoung shrugs, unbothered. “I mean, he’s worn something like that for Hongjoong-hyung before, so it probably wouldn’t be much of a stretch to convince him to dig it out of the old closet and wear it again.” 

You fake gag. “Ew. Gross.” 

San grins, all sharp teeth and bright eyes. “You asked.” 

“Yeah, but there’s such a thing as too much information, mate.” Felix says with light amusement, clapping the beta on the back warmly. 

San shrugs one shoulder. “All’s fair in love and war.” His expression grows wicked. “And interpack relations.” 

Something like shock ripples across Wooyoung’s face, as if he’s had a sudden revelation. His mouth forms a little ‘o.’

“Wait.” His jaw drops and his expression shifts covertly to Minho, who is currently annoying Seungmin by messing up his carefully color coded notes. His voice lowers to a whisper. “Do you think when Seonghwa-hyung and Minho-hyung were dating-?” 

He leaves the question open ended, hanging in the air between all of you, like a bomb about to go off that none of you know how to defuse. 

“No.” Felix says in slight disbelief, shaking his head, even as Minho suddenly freezes, narrowing his eyes on the four of you from down the table. 

“Uh oh.” You mutter beneath your breath, reaching for your textbook and shoving it into your waiting backpack. “Time to go.” 

“We should ask him and find out.” Wooyoung is saying, and San is immediately shaking his head, dragging the omega away from the encroaching alpha with a hand slapped over his mouth. 

“Absolutely the fuck we should not.” You’re just standing up from the table, reaching for Felix’s hand, when Minho catches the strap of your backpack, yanking you back into him, glaring down at you as his hand migrates to curl around your forearm, fingers digging into your skin and making you wince. 

“Oh, hey, Min.” You say, somewhat breathlessly, trying to go for innocence. 

You’re not sure it’s working, judging by the look on his face. 

His gaze shifts from you to Felix, and then he reaches out and snags the omega, pulling him toward the two of you even as Felix lets out a surprised little squeak. 

You’re sandwiched between the two of them now, and the spice of Minho’s amber in your nose makes you want to sneeze. 

“Felix.” Minho says in a low tone, staring right at the omega, and you see him fidget beneath his gaze, and you reach conspicuously beneath the edge of his coat to pinch him, warning him silently not to tell him anything. 

Felix winces, as Minho reaches out to snake a hand beneath his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. 

He knows he can break him. Felix isn’t known for his lies and deception, and for good reason. 

“Felix.” Minho repeats, his voice firmer this time, and his fingers dig slightly into the divots beneath your mate’s jaw, making Felix shiver, but clearly not in a bad way. 

His scent of oranges spikes in the space between you, making your mouth water. 

“What were you talking about?” 

Felix flicks his gaze down to you, desperation clear in the dark recesses of his eyes, and then he swallows. 

“Nothing, hyung.” 

Minho sighs, and without warning, tugs Felix forward roughly, nearly sending him toppling into the two of you. His fingers slide down the omega’s throat, and his expression is thoughtful, as Felix once again shudders beneath his hold. 

“Ah.” Minho tsks, letting his gaze sweep over the omega, before he drops it to you, held immobile between their bodies, a smirk curving the corners of his lips. “I’m disappointed, sweetheart. I’d have thought you’d have taught him how to lie better than that.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but Minho snakes a leg between your thighs, and all you can manage is a soft gasp at the sudden pressure. 

Behind you, you feel Felix freeze. 

Minho leans into your space, eyes holding your own, and moves, his thigh creating delicious friction between your own, and you jolt forward, your fingers grasping his shoulders and digging into him as you drop your head, trying to catch your suddenly lost breath. 

You manage a glare in his direction, even though your brain is screaming at you for being stupid and stopping this, because you need more. 

“Minho, we’re in the library.” You hiss out between your teeth, voice strained, and in response, he rubs you again, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the strangled groan from leaving your lips. 

“Oh, I’m aware.” He tilts his head, dark eyes flashing. “But public punishment is just so much more fun, is it not, sweetheart?” 

You glare at him, holding his gaze in a silent stare down, and he smirks, before finally dropping your eyes and flicking his attention to the omega standing silently behind you. 

“Now. Let’s try this again.” He murmurs, and it takes everything in you to hold still and not use the thigh at your disposal to apply pressure where you need it most. 

You won’t give him the satisfaction. 

He tilts his head and stares at Felix, a predator appearing in his dark eyes. 

“Are you tired, Felix?” 

You feel Felix swallow, and then, “Yes.” 

Minho smirks. “Very good. Good boy.” 

You don’t miss the way Felix shivers at the alpha’s praise, and you clench your hands into fists at your side, trying desperately to ignore Minho’s thigh still pressed against your increasingly wet heat. 

“Do you want to go home?” 

“Yes.” 

Minho hums in approval in the back of his throat, eyes glinting dangerously. “What were you talking about?” 

“Seonghwa-hyung in a mini skirt.” 

Jeongin appears then, resting his chin easily on Felix’s shoulder, answering Minho’s question without a care in the world, as if he’s completely oblivious to the battle of wills currently happening between the three of you. 

Both you and Felix groan simultaneously. 

“Innie.”

Jeongin looks suitably baffled, eyes going wide. 

“What’d I do?” 

Minho arches a brow, looking slightly interested, slightly amused, but there’s not enough in his expression to go off of to give you an answer one way or the other. 

He pulls his thigh from between your own and you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

He lets his fingers fall from Felix’s chin, but his sharp gaze remains on the omega as he asks, softer this time, “Do you want to tell (Y/N) what happened at the seminar?” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Felix swallow, and then he lifts his chin. 

“No.” 

Minho stares at him for a moment longer, and then nods in response, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. 

“Okay.” 

He glances between the two of you as he pulls up the brightly lit screen. “Call the rest of the pack. We’re going to that stupid little rundown bar the two of you are so misguidedly fond of. It’s been awhile since we all blew off some steam together.” 

Your eyes light up, and you smell Felix’s sudden excitement in the way his scent sharpens. 

“Seriously?” 

Behind you, Jeongin does an excited little jig. 

Minho rolls his eyes, nodding as he holds the phone up to his ear. 

“Yes. But hurry up before I change my mind.” 

******

“It was a joke, baby. I swear.” Jisung tosses his hands so wide that he nearly knocks over a couple of drinks, Hyunjin still glaring narrowly at him like he’s not entirely convinced he believes the floundering beta. 

“You gave my number to Choi Yeonjun freshman year as a joke?” 

“I mean, yeah?” Jisung looks around the table as if for support, but you all give him the same blank look, knowing better than to get involved in their little fights.“Why else would I do it?”

Changbin arches a brow between the two as he takes a sip of his beer. “I wasn’t aware you guys knew each other freshman year.” 

 “Oh, we didn’t.” Jisung waves a hand in dismissal, reaching for his own glass of alcohol. “But Minho-hyung knew Seonghwa-hyung, and I asked him who the biggest prick he currently knew was and he gave me Hyunjin’s name.” 

Across the table, Chan chokes on his drink and Jeongin cackles loudly with unbridled amusement from beside you. 

“Fuck you.” Hyunjin bites out, tossing back the rest of his own drink as he pushes back his chair to head to the bar for another. 

“I’d let you.” Jisung wiggles his eyebrows at him suggestively as he stands, narrowly avoiding being hit upside the head as the disgruntled omega passes behind his chair. 

Beside you, Felix lets his head drop onto your shoulder with a heavy thunk and a contented sigh, and you glance over to him, noting the cute red splotches on his cheeks and nose from the sake he’s currently drinking. 

Felix is normally touchy on any given day, but buzzed Felix is even more affectionate. 

It’s always been on the list of endearing things you love about him. 

The conversation between your mates has drifted onto other things around you, and you use the opportunity to press a kiss against Felix’s warm forehead, brushing his hair out of the way as you ask in a low, soft voice, only heard between the two of you, “What happened today, Lix?” 

He sighs, and you think he’s going to clam up again, but instead, he burrows closer to you and rubs his nose along the fabric covering your shoulder before he says quietly, “It really wasn’t that big of a deal.” 

You angle your body to face him, lifting his chin until he reluctantly meets your gaze. 

God, he’s pretty. 

“Baby.” You murmur gently, letting your fingers trail the line of his jaw, down the column of his throat, across his scent gland. You don’t miss the way he visibly relaxes at the targeted touch. “If it’s bothering you, then it’s a big deal.” 

He drops your gaze, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, his brow furrowing. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the expression over. 

He doesn’t need you to fix anything right now, he needs you to be patient and wait. 

It’s not something your alpha has ever been very good at. 

Felix sighs and flicks his gaze briefly across the table to Minho, who is currently listening to something Chan is telling him with a fond, amused look on his face. 

“It’s stupid.” He protests halfheartedly once more, but you don’t say anything in response, waiting for him to continue. 

Finally, he glances down at his fingers clenched in his lap, and says quietly beneath his breath, “The instructor called me up. As an example. Said I was doing everything perfectly.” 

You let out the breath you’ve been holding, and give him a gentle smile, but he still doesn’t meet your eyes. 

“That’s good, right?” 

“Yeah, but.” Felix blows out a harsh breath between his lips, gripping the fabric of his sweats between his fingers. He shakes his head slightly, and the scent of oranges bitters, putting you on edge. “He called me ‘the perfect omega.’ Kept going on and on about how I have the ‘ideal build’ and the ‘right body for the job’ and ‘my expression was soft and open and exactly how it needed to be for something like this.’” 

Ah. There it is. 

Very few people outside of the pack know how much comments like that bother Felix. He’s always been regarded by others as ‘the perfect omega’-gentle and empathetic and lithe and soft spoken, swathed in pastels-but like Hyunjin, he’s never just wanted to be seen as a pretty face, a by-product of his subgender. 

Of course Minho would’ve instantly picked up on how uncomfortable your shared mate was as soon as the instructor started talking about that shit. 

You reach out and slowly, gently unclench his fingers, one by one. 

“Baby.” You murmur, and when he doesn’t look at you, you slide a finger beneath his chin and repeat yourself. “Lixie. Look at me.” 

He does so, albeit reluctantly, and you tilt your head, studying him, your eyes holding his own. 

You see him relax slightly as you begin to radiate calming pheromones. 

“None of that is untrue.” You start, and he sucks his bottom lip back between his teeth, even as you reach out and swipe your thumb over the plush skin to free it once more. “But you also absolutely know that none of that defines you either. None of that is even remotely important in making you you.” 

The corner of his lip curves up into the start of a small, unconvinced smile. 

You clench his fingers tighter between your own, sweeping your gaze slowly across his face. 

“Lee Felix is not just ‘the perfect omega.’ In fact, when I think of you, that’s not even a blip on the radar. But do you want to know what is?” 

Felix hesitates, and then he nods, and you let out the breath you’ve been holding, squeezing his hands between your own. 

“The Lee Felix I know is the only person who can make Minho laugh on a bad day. He’s the only one who knows exactly when Seungmin is too much in his head for his own good and can pull him back out again. The only person I’ve ever seen able to convince Changbin to skip leg day and stay home for snuggles and a movie instead.” 

Felix cracks a smile at that, and you feel yourself start to warm with relief from the inside out.

You chuckle, releasing one of his hands to sweep some hair back off his forehead, lingering when you feel how soft the strands are beneath your fingers. 

“He’s the single most important person in Hyunjin’s life, the only one besides his moonmate who truly knows what it’s like to only be seen for your pretty face or your label society has given you. He’s also the only person-and I know this for a fact-that Jisung has ever shared his childhood blanket with. Willingly at least.” 

Felix laughs, and his eyes shimmer a little, as you stroke a finger down the high arch of his cheekbone, marveling at how smooth his skin is beneath your touch. You trace a line across the constellation of freckles that spatter his nose. 

“He’s the only one Jeongin ever lets see him cry, the only person who can pinpoint exactly when Chan is having a bad night for sleep and sneaks into his bed so he’s not alone, and the only person on the whole goddamn planet that MeiMei loves more than me.” 

Felix sniffs and wipes a hand across his nose, and you reach up and brush a tear from his lash line before it can completely fall. 

“The Lee Felix we all know, and love, is all that and so much more, subgender be damned. And I need you to remember that for me, baby. Always. Promise me.” 

Felix nods, sniffing once more, and swipes at his eyes before he downs the rest of the sake in his glass. 

His scent is clear now-sweet and crisp and untinged. 

Across the table, Minho quickly glances in your direction from where he’s still in conversation with Chan, as if he can sense the shift in Felix’s demeanor for the better, and he arches a knowing brow, a sudden slight lift to his lip that silently praises ‘good girl’ which is clearly meant for you.

Your alpha stops clawing at the pit of your stomach. 

Behind you, Jeongin leans into your space, resting the sharp jut of his chin on your shoulder. You can feel the concern for his hyung radiating off of him in waves, the spice of cinnamon filling your nose. 

“You okay, Felix-hyung?”

Felix nods again, and lets out a little watery laugh, fixing the youngest with a gentle, affectionate look. 

“Yeah. I am now.” 

You grin and drain your own glass before glancing at the two omegas you’re currently sandwiched between. 

“You guys wanna get out of here?” 

Felix nods. “Yes please.” 

Jeongin grins deviously, sharp teeth on display. 

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” 

*****

“You’re literally so pretty, hyung.” Jeongin comments wistfully to Felix, where he’s currently braiding the older omega’s long hair, still wet from the bath they had just left a few moments before. 

You enter the room, pulling down your sleeves and drying your hands after draining the water for them, and arch a brow as you watch the two of them fondly. 

Jeongin glances up at you with large, dark eyes. “Right, noona?” 

Maybe it’s the lingering warming effect of the alcohol from earlier, or maybe it’s the effect the combined cocktail of their scents has on your body and mind, but whatever the reason, you agree truthfully, fervently, without a second thought.

 “So fucking pretty.” 

Felix blushes, his tan skin going rosy beneath his freckles, and looks away from your heated gaze, his throat bobbing in a silent swallow. 

You settle onto the bed beside them, watching, enraptured, as Jeongin’s long, lithe fingers easily work a perfect french braid into Felix’s blonde hair. 

Your gaze drifts to the youngest omega’s side profile, sharp and fox like, and you admit, again without thinking, into the silence between the three of you, “You’re also really fucking pretty, baby boy.” 

Jeongin’s fingers falter, and he shoots you a surprised, wide eyed look, as if he’s caught off guard by your honest sentiment. 

“Right, Felix?” You echo the youngest’s query from earlier, glancing to the omega currently sprawled between the other’s legs. 

Felix nods instantly, tilting his head back to study Jeongin’s slowly reddening face with an almost reverent expression. 

“Yeah.” 

Jeongin flushes all the way to the roots of his hair, and muttering something that sounds pretty close to ‘shut up’ under his breath, he goes back to playing with Felix’s hair, doggedly avoiding both of your eyes now. 

Silence stretches, Felix humming a soft little tune to himself under his breath, and you find yourself watching them again, lost in the way Jeongin’s fingers deftly weave Felix’s hair into intricate patterns, the way that Felix’s shirt-one you vaguely recognize as Minho’s-slouches off his shoulder, revealing the shiny pink skin of his mating mark. 

The sight sends a shiver of delight down your spine, your wolf instantly triumphant. 

Mine. 

“Fuck, I love you.” You say out loud without really meaning to, caught up in the moment, your heart all sorts of stuttered in your chest, your entire body warm. 

Jeongin scoffs. “I mean, I would hope so, noona.” 

“No, but like-” You fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to make them both understand. 

Everything inside of you is currently humming with the rightness of this situation. 

“It’s the kind of cheesy, sickening love that makes people do stupid things. The sort of love that you hear about in fairy tales, where the prince gives up everything for the princess, or the whole world is righted just by two people finding each other. It’s that feeling you get when your stomach leaps before the edge of a rollercoaster, or the way you feel eating your favorite childhood food that your mom made special only for you. That’s the kind of love I’m talking about.” 

You take in a breath, pondering in the lingering silence for just a moment, and when you look at Jeongin, his nose is scrunched in open disgust, his lips pulled into a dramatic grimace. 

“God, noona, who knew you got so sappy when you drink?” 

“She’s always sappy, even when she hasn’t been drinking.” 

Minho appears then, dropping a blanket onto the bed on top of all of you, and there is immediate panic in Jeongin’s eyes as he scrambles to sit up straighter and blurts out, “We weren’t talking about you!” 

Minho tilts his head with a predatory look, watching the youngest sweat for a moment, before he replies easily, “Oh, I know.” He motions to the blanket he’s just delivered. “Hyunjin said you were having a sleepover, so I thought I’d bring back the blanket I washed earlier. It’s Lixie’s favorite.” He gives the omega a knowing wink. 

You bite back a smile as you watch Jeongin relax just a little. 

“Thanks, hyung.” Felix gives the older man a grateful smile and grabs the blanket, raising it to his nose to inhale the scent of laundry detergent. 

Minho nods and leaves for the door without another word, pausing in the frame for a moment to say, “Oh, I have seen it by the way.” 

The confusion must be apparent on your faces, because his lips curve into the hint of a smirk as he leaves the room as quickly as he came, but not before tossing out casually over his shoulder, “The school girl outfit.” 

He disappears, like he hasn’t just dropped a bomb, and Felix shoots you a disbelieving look, eyes wide. 

“Fucking-” 

“-hell.” You finish for him, nodding slightly, jaw slack. 

Jeongin looks lost, glancing between the two of you. 

“What? What was Minho-hyung-?”

You move at the same time Felix does, pouncing on the youngest omega as you slap your hands over his mouth, pinning him down and tickling him into submission beneath the two of you. 

“Don’t. say. his. name.” 

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

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[vodika-vibes]

What I Wish I Knew

Summary: When Master Yoda makes it a requirement for all Jedi Knights to take a Padawan, it means a lot of very young children end up on the front lines of a war. Plo Koon ends up with an eleven year old padawan, and he turns to Commander Wolffe to explain the realities of their situation to her.

Characters: Commander Wolffe, Plo Koon, Young F!Padawan Reader (all platonic)

Word Count: 761

Warnings: Wolffe has a heavy conversation with the reader

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Is a lot of what Wolffe says pulled directly from this song, yes. Yes it is. But it works.

“Commander,” General Koon walks over to him, a pensive look on his face, “I’m glad to see you. I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“My advice, General?” Wolffe is, understandably, confused at the very idea, “I’m happy to help, of course. But I’m not sure what kind of advice I can give you that you don’t already know.”

“It’s always important to get multiple opinions.” General Koon says lightly, “And this is a matter that you might be better equipped at dealing with than myself.”

“Alright,” Wolffe replies slowly, “Go ahead.”

“You might have noticed,” General Koon starts slowly, thoughtfully, “That my Padawan is very…young.”

That might very well be the understatement of the century. She’s hardly the youngest of the new Jedi Commanders, that particular honor lies at Cody’s feet, who has an 8 year old Jedi Commander and it bothers him a lot.

“She’s not terribly young, sir.” Wolffe says awkwardly.

General Koon chuckles, “True. She’s at least old enough to be a Padawan on her own merits, but she is still very young, Commander. Too young for War. Too young to understand the realities, I think.”

“General, what are you asking me to do?”

“Talk to her. Help her understand.”

“Shouldn’t that be your job?” Wolffe asks.

“I think the lesson will stick better coming from you.” General Koon replies quietly, “Can you do this?”

Wolffe sighs and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah. Yeah, alright. Just…send her to my office when she finishes with her lessons for the day.”

“Of course…and, Commander, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Wolffe remains standing there as General Koon walks away, and then he sighs.

Great. How do you explain war to a Cadet who actually has to take part in it? His training did not cover this.

With that thought in mind, he turns on his heels and heads towards his quarters. Hopefully the short walk will make the words magically appear. He’s not hopeful, though. Odds are he’s going to be winging it.

Half an hour later, there’s a knock on his door, and then it slides open, and a small face peeks in.

She’s…young.

So young.

Too young.

Her hair is tied in twin tails. Twin tails that she needs help putting up still. And her face is still rounded with baby fat.

Wolffe knows, logically, that she’s inching towards puberty. He knows human biology after all, but he can’t help but look at her and see a cadet rather than a jedi.

“Master said that you wanted to see me, Wol-...um, Commander.” She asks as she steps into the room and shuts the door behind her, “Did I do something wrong?”

Wolffe opens his mouth, and the words start coming, “I was younger than you are now, when I was given my first command.” He says, and she turns wide, baffled eyes towards his face, “I led my men into a massacre, I witnessed their deaths first hand.”

Her hands curl around her robes…robes that are too big for her.

“I made every mistake.” Wolffe continues as he stares at her, “And even now, to this day, I lie awake knowing that history has its eyes on me.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly, her eyes even wider.

Good. She understands.

Wolffe circles his desk and kneels in front of her, “Let me tell you what I wish I knew, what I wish someone had told me.” He sets his hands on her shoulders. She’s so small, too small. “You have no control over who lives, who dies, or who tells your story at the end.”

She sniffles and her wide eyes fill with tears. 

Wolffe smiles, and tugs her into a light hug, “I know that we can win.” He says quietly, “I know that greatness lies in you. But you have to remember, from here on out, that history has its eyes on you.”

She hastily wipes her eyes, and she blinks up at him with eyes that are a little more haunted than they were moments earlier. A little less innocent. “...Yes Commander, I think I understand.”

“Good girl.”

She offers him a quick bow, and then she scurries out of the room, and Wolffe leans against his desk. Only time will tell how this chat went, but, hopefully, he got through to her.

Hopefully she’ll understand what he meant.

Hopefully General Koon won’t be too mad about what he just taught her.

His head tilts back, history has its eyes on you indeed.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hades x AFAB!Reader || Drabble

HELLL YES I'M USING THIS GIF.

Plot: So apparently your hot new God lover is not comfortable with the idea of using his cock on you (Apparently his cum is similar to something called... 🔥hot glue??🔥 Which does NOT sound good for your insides- ), so he improvises.

Warnings: Smut!! And, I hate this word but its the word, so- Dildo use. *sigh* 🤦‍♀️ (This word for me is what moist is for Lily Aldrin in HIMYM) Also monsterfucker themes, small gagging mention, Hades drawing out your orgasm for his own sake. Starts out gentle, gets rough.

Tagging: @disney-android-foundation , @marinerainbow , and @ryantryan6969 . I forgot to tag again! I'm so sorry! But here we go, half an hour later XD I hope you're in a Hades mood!

"Yeah," Hades' smirk is scary, sexy and sharp, looking at the... thing, he's created. "that should do it."

Your eyes are wide, and your cheeks and neck and chest are aflame from the kisses and being propped on the table with your legs parted, feet set on either arm of Hades' throne. Right where he wants you to be, caging him in. "That-... I, uh... Hades... that should do it, for- for... what?"

Its an odd thing, for sure, in his hand. Its cylindrical, thick and long with a soft, rounded tip that's slightly puffier than the rest of it. And at the other end of it theirs a wider, flatter part; A base. And the thick cylinder part is slightly... curved, too. You're not quite sure what you're looking at, though theirs definitely a thought nagging in your minds-eye, so you're just sitting there hot, breathless, exposed and baffled until Hades' takes notice.

When Hades notices your confused eyes, still clouded with the lust he built you up to already but also just... confused, his smirk becomes more devious. No longer can you see his teeth, just lips spread long, high cheekbones, narrowed eyes- and a glint.

"Oh trust me you're gonna love this handy little thing when we're done tonight- I might even let ya keep it, if I'm feeling charitable. A gift; from me to you, babe. Compliments of the house~"

"Its... well- it looks weird."

"This, doll, is an exact replica- of that thing I toldya we're not uh... using, today."

Immediately your face gets hotter, like its caught on fire. THATS what was nagging at you!! That- This thing- its a- its his-

You just called a God's manhood weird-looking. Oh n- Suddenly Hades changes his grip on it, holding the base and moving- disappearing from the throne before your eyes and reappearing again, standing tall before your far littler, mortal form. When the thing kisses your bare and already soaked hole, all thoughts vacate your mind and your hands fly to his toga; gripping the fabric in your fists.

"Trust me, eh? You're gonna love it when I'm done. Would I steer you wrong, babe?"

Dragging your eyes from the thing, up to Hades' eyes, eyes you already feel like you're falling in love with despite the short time you've been spending time together, you give it a think. Would he?

Or- more importantly, do you care? Right now you're absolutely dripping, curling your toes in anticipation of the thing stretching you out (feeling needy just at the feel of it ghosting against your slick skin), clenching Hades' toga in your fists like it'll lesson your achiness at all, and you feel so high on lust you'd do just about anything to be filled. His kisses were like a terrible drug, his tongue hot, thick and skilled teasing yours for what felt like forever, torturing you forever, until he finally attempted to reach his hand up your thigh. You're practically shaking with want. You've never felt it this bad, before. No one's ever turned you into this much an oversensitive mess before just with kissing.

To be fair though you've never been with a God, before.

After a moment you give a nod, desperate to have something fill you- rub against your clit- drag you to the edge by force. Fuck you.

"That's my favourite new plaything~ Okay, now listen,.. " You watch Hades lean down closer to you with glazed-over eyes, until he passes your lips by and you let out a sigh and drop your forehead on his shoulder, as he instead whispers hotly in your ear; "Here's the deal. You come, when I say so. I don't wanna hear any 'Hades I couldn't help it', cuz see I'm not gettin' anything outta this, am I babe?- what am I getting outta this? Nada. We're not even using my actual equipment, here. For your safety. Yah... So you're gonna have to put on a show for me, yeah? So c'mon, gimmie somethin to look back on. Be my personal pornstar."

You're already slipping away into foggy-brain mode, ready to disappear into the feeling of getting fucked, losing yourself in his voice. "Mhmm, o-kay." The smell of smoke is starting to overwhelm you, too, taking over your senses. It fills up your nose when you're this close to him, it warms your body, it leaves a barbecue-like taste on your tongue.

"Gonna haveta hear ya say it, babe. Remind me what's our deal?" The fake-cock presses against your folds, almost-almost breaching the entrance and stretching you and you give a hopeless whine.

"I'll... mm... you're missing out, so- so I'll... "

"Hmmmmm?" Hades decides to be an ass and strokes the thing up an down your folds, making it even harder for you to think. He also presses a simmering kiss to the top of your head to hide his chuckles, the bastard.

"... I'll be a p- pornstar for you... "

"That's right." Theirs a soft kind of pride in his voice that makes yours your insides squeeze, just as he slips the objects head into your pussy; beginning to massage it at a gradual pace in and out, going in deeper and deeper until the whole thing disappears in and out of your little, drippy, stretched entrance. You're gritting your teeth and pressing your forehead hard into his shoulder before you know it, feeling the throws of hot, throbbing pleasure building in you already.

While you're moaning and taking the fake cock in, the curve stretching you open and grinding perfectly against your sensitive clit (just enough to feel good but not enough to help you over the edge), Hades glides the long sharp fingers on his free hand along your thigh down to your knee- then pushes it back gently so your legs are open wider. It somehow maximises the feeling in you and you cant help the way your walls twitch around the thick, slimy instrument. How your hips roll towards it. "Hades! Hades hades hades- please please- "

"Good work, doll!, keep begging and you might just get watcha want outta me~ Maybe." His pumps get ever-so-slightly faster, filling you up more insistently, causing the sloppy suctioning sound of your tight wet cunt to get embarrassingly loud in the big empty room- making him smirk. "Sweetheart trust me you look good there... gonna be hard to talk shop here later on, if ya catch my drift. Eh?~ "

The thought of Hades communing with other gods, or the fates, or just Pain and Panic with his hand under the table pumping his leaky throbbing cock because of you flickers through your brain and makes you squeeze the toy inside you. "Hades! Hades! I- I c- I need- Please please, right there right there! I need y- ahhh," You want to reach down and touch yourself desperately, help yourself selfishly to an explosive climax around this perfect hard toy, but you behave yourself. You bite your lip and fight the urge, wanting to please him. "Faster please!! F- Faster, harder, in m- Ahh!"

Letting out a frustrated, orgasm-mad whine as the toy just continues to drive continuously into you at a moderate pace, only stimulating you enough to make you crazy with want, you decide to play with him some. Stretching slowly, you lean up to graze your lips against the heated skin of his neck. Then your tongue (The tip, then the full flatness, and then you give gentle suck~ Reminding him what you could be doing to him down there. Torturing him as bad as he's tortured you), and as your hands glide down his warm clothed chest, Hades grunts; frustrated himself as your mischievous fingers near his actual cock. "Babe, you know you're playing with fire he- "

Even through his toga, you can feel his length burning up and painfully hard. Gently stroking it, your relax down from his neck as you just weakly take the pounding in your core; delicately playing with his cock meanwhile. Sliding your hand up and down the hidden body part, which may be even thicker then the toy actually, making him twitch.

You almost lose yourself in this, the slow, torturous pleasure and the feeling of Hades' cock under your fingers. After a few moments of this, you notice the fake one shoving into you rougher, making the pressure inside you start to build up slowly so you look up at him; Eyes widening at the look on his face immediately.

With a pent-up frustrated frown at you, Hades starts to ram the damn thing into your hot, puffy walls; ripping you apart and abusing your little clit without a seconds notice. The fire on top of his head flashes orange and you know you did it. "Fine Y/N- you wanna act like a whore, okay. Trust me, I can treat you like a bitch if you want to be."

Your orgasm builds faster then before, the thick curved thing pounding into your pussy again and again at a filthy inhuman speed, fucking you hard and so rough your mouth hangs open obscenely as you press your forehead once again into Hades shoulder- hard. The heel of his hand brushes your skin every time he thrusts the toy inside your meaty walls and its a little detail that reminds you its him. Its not a soulless fucking machine. Its him. You stretch your thighs open wider to increase the feeling, unable to do much other then that but take the fucking- its just how you wanted, its better, its yanking your climax out of you desperately and selfishly.

When you're so so close, Hades makes you stretch your head backwards on your neck and kisses you again; making you gag on his long inhuman tongue for working him up like you did. You let out a strangled moan, shocked that it feels good having your ability to breath stolen from you in such a vulgar way, and stretch upwards towards him, trailing your tongue languidly against his in responce.

When he finally forces an orgasm out of you you're left twitching and shaking against Hades' chest.

"Thereee you go, that was my personal pornstar. Could use some work learning not to ever, mess with me- but for a first go I think that was pretty great. Full marks." Hades chuckles, nudging your chin upwards again - gentle this time, - to look at him. Theirs that devious smirk and those mischievous yellow eyes, looking at you like you're a tasty treat. "Now how about a smile? Maybe a 'thanks. lord of the dead, I feel fucking amazing'?"

With a tired sigh and a spent grin that turns slightly cheeky, you nod okay. "Thank you, oh lord. You did pretty good, too."

Hades' face looks thoroughly unamused at your smartass responce but in the moment with your pussy still throbbing you think its the cutest expression, ever. Then he releases your face and shrugs, an indifferent look on his face now. "Eh, well, I guess you don't want the bath I was gonna draw for ya-- fit for a god, with uh, you know, ambrosia, and stuff. Oh well, see ya next time toots- "

Oh that sounds good, damn. You look after him with sad wide eyes and frown, softly. "... a bath?" Your sweet, tired, fucked-out voice draws him right back in and his voice is gentle on his next words.

"Its in progress, sweetheart."

With that and a happy hum from you, Hades seals his lips to yours for another long, languid kiss while the bath is drawn for you.

[danikamariewrites]

Cassian x adhd!reader

A/n: I wanted to see where my thoughts on Cass with this concept would take me plus I realized I haven’t written anything for him yet oops. I also kinda got carried away with this one. Should I finish the trio and do one for Rhys (and possibly one for Eris👀)? My requests are still open!

Warnings: some angst and mentions of mental health struggles

Cassian is really good at reading people and telling when there’s something wrong (like in ACOMAF when he was first training Feyre he just let her punch it out and she finally talked)

You would mask it for the first few months of your relationship but he picked up on your ADHD when you first met

He knew you would come to him when you were ready to talk about it

And when you did talk to him about your ADHD he was so understanding. Cass wants to learn everything about you, including how your brain works

If he had questions you couldn’t answer he’d do his own research in the library or ask Madja a million questions about how to help you

Cassian could always tell when you zoned out or when you were in your own little world. When trying to get your attention he was always gentle about it

Whenever you were sitting still for too long doing work and needed a break he will always stop what he’s doing to be with you, if you want him to be. He would go on walks with you, let you pace around and talk at him, mini dance parties, or even take you to spar for a bit.

There were times when you thought your ADHD had its perks because sweet, wholesome moments just between you and Cassian would come from it

For example after he was coming home from Windhaven you guys were going to go away for the weekend to the cabin in the mountains and you had to find your duffel bag

You swore it was in the walk-in closet you and Cass shared so you started digging through the piles and shelves looking for the bag

But of course you get sidetracked, you found Cassians favorite hoodie that had been missing (it wasn’t actually missing you wore it while he was gone once and then hid it you just forgot where it was)

You put the hoodie on and then other piles of forgotten stuff grabs your attention and you start digging through everything in the closet making a mess

There’s a skirt Feyre gave you with the tag still on that you put on over your leggings, you put things in piles, and then you found a box of jewelry Cassian never wears. One thing in it is a bracelet with a broken clasp so you sit down on the floor between the piles of stuff and attempt to fix it

You didn’t hear the front door open or Cassian calling your name. When you finally noticed him he was standing in the doorway laughing, “Hey baby, find your bag?” Your cheeks got hot as he made his way into the closet sitting with you

“Find anything interesting?” “Yeah a few things. That pile over there is pretty cool.” He finds your collection of headbands and puts one on

After an hour you fixed the clasp and your both wearing random shit you found. You look at each other and laugh at how ridiculous you look. Sighing your shoulders slump, “I still need to find my bag and pack. Sorry Cass I dragged you into my crazy distraction.” Cassian looks at you with a questioning smile, “you don’t need to be sorry baby. Plus I found your bag,” he pulls the duffel from behind him, “like 20 minutes after I got here. I just thought we were having fun.”

You jump into his lap wrapping your arms around his neck tightly “I love you Cass.” He kisses your forehead and then all the way down to your nose, “I love you too baby.” Then plants a kiss on your mouth

But there are also the bad/frustrating moments

One time you were cleaning up around the house and misplaced an important document Cassian needed to give to Rhys but you couldn’t remember where it was or if you put in his office

You were trying to retrace your steps and could tell Cassian was getting frustrated. You were apologizing profusely, you didn’t realize the document was part of the stuff you were organizing

He snaps at you. You knew in the back of your mind he was mad about the paper and not at you. But you had a hard time separating that especially when regulating your emotions at the same time

Your eyes started to water and your bottom lip trembled. As soon as he saw your face and the tears fall he instantly regretted yelling.

He rushed over to you, pulling you into a tight hug and cradling your head to his chest swaying you back and forth slowly. “I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to snap, I’m not mad at you I swear.” You stand like that for a few moments, “I know Cass I just feel like it’s my fault and I can never remember things I’m sorry.”

Cassian pulls back to look at you, “you have nothing to be sorry for. It happens sometimes, we all misplace things. It’ll be fine I promise.”

When you’re fidgeting or having a hard time sitting still he’d hold your hand. Sometimes you would just hold his hand or squeeze and you’d be fine, the weight of his large hand comforting you

Other times you would play with his fingers or trace shapes on his palm. Sometimes you’d even tap at the bright red siphon on the back of his hand, you’d stare at it getting lost in its glow and how beautiful it is

When you get over stimulated at home he takes away whatever is bothering you and rubs up and down your arms, “you ok baby? What can I do to help?” You just lean your forehead against his chest and stay silent, trying to breathe in and out

Once your better you cuddle up to Cassian in bed

If you guys are out with the IC he would take you outside for fresh air and wrap a wing around you to show that you’re safe

If you seem like you’re going to have an anxiety attack he lets you squeeze his hands and he talks you through it, “it’s going to be ok, just take deep breaths baby, in and out.” He breathes with you

When you are ok enough he takes you in his arms to fly you home. He does a lap over the city first so you can enjoy the view and get lost in its beauty

tags: @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 8

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,794

Hiccup learns. Or, well, he tries. And then he doesn’t.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, the earth is round, the earth is flat, quiet moments pt 2, Changewings

<Previous - Next>

“Chores?”

“Yeah, you know, fetch water, deliver parts and do laundry. Clean carts, a bit of herding on the side, I wash down dragons sometimes for a few extra coins. Plus doing all of my stuff,” You picked at the sleeves of your tunic then decided better of it.

“Your stuff.” Hiccup stated.

“Laundry, clean out the hay in the barn, cook, repair the shed, which is really nasty by the way, I hate it, something’s always wrong. Like that.”

“That’s… A lot. And you’re not getting paid? For all of it?”

“Yeah. I am, I mean. I get food and board. Coin, I only get that sometimes. The stables get kind of chilly in the winter, otherwise it’s alright.”

Hiccup looked at you oddly, “No, no, it really is not. You live… in the stables.”

Most Vikings even across clans would take the time to hunker down together during the winter, especially during the devastating season even if they hadn’t yet gotten to the point where everyone had to be ushered into the Great Hall together. You knew at least that much, which was maybe why it came across as odd to Hiccup.

“I mean, yeah? I don't see you getting paid for working in the forge.” You shrugged.

“I guess, well, point, but also I get to build what I want with whatever I want. Which can get kind of… expensive.” You nodded. That made sense enough.

“Well, I guess it is what it is. I can’t really be picky, you know.”

You were both sitting on the hill in front of his house. He’d caught you in between jobs somehow. You always seemed to be busy.

There were a few Vikings below putting effort into rebuilding 

“This is really comfy,” You sighed. While making a delivery for the Chief, Hiccup had come by and the two of you had stumbled into each other, getting whatever he had in his arms spilled all over onto your shirt and sizzled a bit.

It probably had something to do with the cleanup going on. You were just glad you cleaned up fast enough to avoid getting burned.

“It’s my favorite,” He said.

“Really?” You sat with your knees up to your nose, arms wrapped around your trousers, which were salvageable, though your skirt was not. Your arms were donned in red fabric of a familiar shade, which was extremely comfortable despite its scratchy exterior.

“You gave it to me, so…” Hiccup shrugged his shoulders oddly. He avoided looking in your eyes as he spoke.

“That’s awfully flattering.” You said kindly. You could tell why it was. Or maybe you were just extra thankful to be in something dry. Whatever Hiccup had been carrying was very sticky and hard to scrub off, which you had a ball doing, hidden away behind a curtain in their home with a small wash bin and rag. 

You spent the whole time in a rush hoping that Stoick wouldn’t come back early and catch you in the nude, or something, despite the irrationality of it. That would be incredibly embarrassing.

“I’m sure,” Hiccup nodded his assent fiddly, before he gestured with his hands, laughing awkwardly, then staring down at his own knees, “But, you know. So, what brings you up here?” 

You yawned, resting your hand over your mouth, “Well… Package for the Chief, mostly. Also, I wanted to say thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“For helping me out, earlier. I would have died, you know.”

There was some drama earlier, a Dragon attack that had something to do with lucky stones, which you didn’t have a lot of time for. 

You paused running, probably not a very smart move, as you spotted a small group on the other side of the clearing standing far enough apart for you to watch and ogle as someone who you thought was Tuffnut pet the base of a fire tower.

“Oh, well,” Hiccup said, scratching his neck, “It was nothing.”

Hiccup was the one who got you out of the way in time. To not die. You owed him another favor, you guessed. You sighed.

In the time it took for either of you to come up with something new to say, Toothless came and lumbered in from the back. You’d seen him wander off there earlier. He probably spent a lot of time out when he wasn’t stuck like glue to Hiccup’s side. Berk was going through a very rare and treasured heat spell, which the dragons were very much taking advantage of.

“What do you think about?” Hiccup asked, leaning backwards.

You blinked at him, and at the set of bandages peeking out from under his green tunic.

“Not much. What I’m going to do later, what’s for dinner. I think about home sometimes. And… The world is round,” It was a bit random. Admittedly, You usually avoided talking about future your-world things, but you had gotten into a tizzy over a few things earlier with one of the Vikings by the fields. Maybe you were feeling a little peckish about it still.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“But…”Hiccup raised his eyebrow, squinting quizzically, “The world isn’t round.”

This world, apparently, did not operate on cartoon physics. It would have been a really cruel joke on you if it had, you thought, You double checked. It was just the people. So there was no reason as to why they shouldn’t be able to get it.

“You’re kidding, right? Come on, Toothless.” 

Toothless deadpanned at him, turning around to walk away, his tail ending up smacking Hiccup in the head and arms as he made an effort to protect his face.

“Oh, wow, great, thanks, Bud.”

Hiccup squinted, and waved his arms at his dragon, mock brushing him away.

“See? He agrees.” You grinned.

Hiccup turned to look at you, “That’s my best friend, if you would believe it.”

“Are you sure about that?” You sniped, “Because I’m not so sure about that.”

“I can tell.” He deadpanned, shrugging playfully.

You shook your head. There were more important things to be talking about. Like…

“I don’t understand how you guys fly around all the time and you still don’t know the earth is round,” You snickered.

“It’s not,” He insisted, “Flying wouldn’t change that.”

“It would!” You insisted, “It’s all about perspective.”

You shook your head as one of a pair of vikings down below dropped a large log from his shoulder, causing it to roll off and back towards the other houses.

“You’re up in the air, or somewhere up high, really, and you see that the horizon line is round.” You’d been up to Gothi's enough to be sure, “It’s like when you look really close at a ball or something. And the ball is spinning a lot. It’s physics. Science.”

“What kind of science? The Thorston kind? I find it hard to believe, if that’s the case.”

At some point, you realized that, despite it all, he didn’t actually know a lot about you. Where you came from, what your family was like, if you had one. What you liked to do. You really did have to explain.

You wrinkled your nose at his sarcasm, ignoring it as you decided to go on, “The world is really heavy. Like I said, it also spins. Like when you sit on something soft and it sinks. It works like that for both the top and bottom. It’s Gravity.” You used the English word for it.

There was a thump on the roof above you as a flock of Terrors landed by your feet. Probably one from the group. They tended to spin out of control often, especially if it was breezy out.

“It’s common knowledge where I come from,” You said, 

“Is it?” Hiccup squinted, as if he was seeing you in a whole new light. A whole new, mental light, “Well, I don’t know about the whole round thing, but- What next, are you going to tell me that the sun revolves around Midgard?”

“Also yes,” You interjected, with a vendetta, gesturing with both hands, “Why do you guys always lead with that? Is it really that crazy of an idea? Seriously.”

You glowered at him, “I think you all are busted in the head. Or the lightning scrambled your brain, or something, because I have no idea how you’re seeing this.” 

“What? No,” Hiccup said, “No, I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Yeah,” You snorted, “You guys lack what I would call common sense.”

There was a loud rumbling from back inside the Haddock House. It was definitely Toothless. At least someone had your back. It probably didn’t help that the only ones who agreed with you were the twins.

Hiccup turned back to shoot a nasty look at Toothless, probably forgetting about his bandages. And the burnt skin under.

“I probably owe you another favor, don’t I?” You winced as he jerked back around, cursing. It was kind of silly, and kind of nerve-wracking watching his scrawny shoulders curl in over his stomach. 

“Nah,” Hiccup looked up from his knees and feet, resting on the steps to his home, to you, and then back, trying to hide his wheezing, “This one’s… on the house.”

Your hands hovered over his bak unsurely, worried if you tried to help you might agitate his burns more. You would probably take a trip up to Gothi later and ask if she had anything more to use to help.

“And, well, We’re Vikings.” Hiccup grimaced, “And, hey, I have some common sense, too.”

You stayed silent, giving Hiccup a moment as he gathered himself. You hoped he hadn’t any acid left in his skin. You felt awful about it.

Hiccup sat up steadily, and you made sure to scoot back and give him space as he did. He kept an unhandy smile on his face, the corner of his mouth twitching, eyebrows pushing up as you attempted to make sure he was alright.

Your face fell, molding into something more confused, as he mouth a question under his breath.

“Why did you leave?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I’ve just… Been wondering. What brought you to Berk?” Hiccup brought a shaky hand back up to his neck.

You felt your eyes unfocus a bit.

You guessed it was probably the natural progression of things. You wondered whether you were supposed to come up with something, or just not. You decided on something more square in the middle.

“I don’t know,” You huffed, a little lost, “One day I just started walking and ended up here.”

Hiccup looked at you skeptically, though not without sympathy. You were on an island surrounded by all water, but still. You stood up straight, puffing out your chest.

“Take it metaphorically, if you don’t believe me.”

[pynkgothicka]

Ｗｉｔｈｏｕｔ Ｙｏｕ ＫＳＪ

Synopsis - When you try to break things off with Jin, your life seemingly gets worse almost immediately.

Pairing - Dark! Kim Seokjin x Fem! Reader

Featuring - Nia Long, Park Jimin

Tags and Warnings - Very manipulative Jin and suggestive content

Authors Note - I LUV JIN!! Next fics will be requests!!

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! The BTS members aren't like this at all, this is a work of dark fiction. Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“Kiss me.”

Eyes trained on your lover, you ground yourself further into his lap, connecting your lips at his command.

Kim Seokjins lips tasted like cherries, and his tongue pried his way into your mouth.

The relationship started when Jin saw you struggling to bring your newly rented college text books up to your dorm. He had sweet talked his way into your heart.

He then gave you his phone number, after a while of talking asked you if you wanted to be with him officially. And with the promise of money, enticed you as a broke college student. It didn't matter to you but god did it make things better

Plus it was merely a plus he was attractive and actually a good “boyfriend.” His black hair framed his almost perfectly structured face. He'd always spoil you too, always bringing you candy when meeting up and getting you the most luxurious of dresses.

However things weren't always peachy, at least from your perspective. Something that put you off almost immediately after finding out was the fact that Jin was still married to his wife. And it seemingly made you the “other woman.”

You were aware of her, but you didn't think she was aware of you. And that just felt wrong for you to do. That woman doesn't deserve that treatment, and you had to be the one to bring up.

“Jin baby, can we talk?” You mumbled against his lips. Jin pulled away, you still straddling his leg. His thumb rubbed small circles into your right thigh.

“Of course, what's wrong?”

“Jin, I don't think I can keep doing this.” You said letting out a sigh. Jins harsh brows furrowed in, his face contorting into one of almost anger. “I… I don't like what we're doing to your wife. Its just wrong to me.”

“No, baby it's not wrong… I'm going to divorce her soon. You know I only love you.” Jin almost immediately said. You could feel yourself becoming lost in his eyes and sweet words again.

“Jin I don't want to do that to her! Plus it just makes me the other woman too you. I don't want that for myself. I don't want that for us.” You could feel yourself tear up at the confrontation. You didn't want to break up with him, he's one of the best things you'd ever experienced as you left home.

“Fine. Go.” Jin said with a sense of finality. He let you off his lap as he turned away to be left alone on the bed. You got up and grabbed your purse, leaving his house. You looked back one last time to see him looking out the window, he then closed the curtains as soon as his eyes connected to your own.

It felt strange leaving without him as he usually brought you back to your dorm.

You begrudgingly picked up your phone dialing your roommate to come pick you up, as you made your way to a nearby gas station.

“Hi, Nia? Yeah are you at the dorm right now?”

“Yeah I was about to go out, why?”

“I need a ride…”

“What happened to yours? Didn't you get picked up by your mysterious boyfriend??”

“Listen I just need a ride. I don't want to talk about it.”

“Fine. I'll come get you. Where are you?”

🔏

It'd been a few weeks since you ended things with Jin.

You didn't see, nor hear from him at all.

That what hurt the most.

It wasn't the fact that you were now back to eating tv dinners every other night. Or maybe the fact that you'd lost a reliable ride in a city majorly unknown to you.

It was the fact that you seemed that disposable.

And with that you began to cry again, putting your head into your pillow. You'd been crying for days at this point, missing one of the few men who treated you right.

Then Nia poked her head in your room, then seething through her teeth. “Listen girl, I’m going out. You need anything?” You shook your head, wiping away your tears in order to look directly at her. “Alright just call if you need something! And I'll send a pizza to the apartment soon.” And with that Nia left.

Finally you began to think, your mind running at a thousand miles a hour. You knew you needed to begin some self improvement.

Maybe you should go out?

No that gives you a chance to see Jin. And you really don't want to encounter him when you look so disheveled.

Maybe you could get back into online dating?

Yeah. That should work out good. Maybe all you needed to do was swipe left and right endlessly.

All you needed to do was get lost in your screen. It was a short escape, but a needed one.

🔏

Everything was finally going somewhat right.

Online you meet a college student by the name of Park Jimin. He was a dance major, and has been looking forward to meeting someone new. And after spending a week of talking every night on the phone, Jimin asked you out to a bar. He said it looked shady from the outside but he'd be willing to walk you inside.

Making sure you were all made up, you dug in your closet for a nice dress. Sadly a good chunk of your dresses was from Jin. Your eyes landed on a nice red party dress your ex-lover gave you. Looking in the mirror you smiled before leaving the apartment.

Me: I'm going out!

Nia🦋: finally!!!!!! ok stay safe! im hanging out with a friend for the nite 💋

You smiled at your phone, knowing atleast Nia was a decent dorm mate.

🔏

When you finally arrived at the bus stop Jimin wanted to meet you at, it was dark and empty. Only a single light stood across the way.

But you wanted to see Jimin in the real world. It was like a test, just to see if you were truly over Jin.

So you sat down and waited.

And waited…

And waited…

And waited.

And not a single soul dared to show up. You sent a bunch of messages asking about Jimins whereabouts. But you didn't get a response.

Now you were breaking down, loud sobs echoing in the desolate spot.

“Baby?”

You looked up in the direction of the voice seeing no one other than Kim Seokjin. And you couldn't be more relieved. Maybe you failed your test in just that moment.

Jin pulled up parking his luxury car on the curb. He got out and made his way to you. His hair looked as gorgeous as ever, his lips curling into a genuine smile.

He kneeled down and placed a hand under your chin. He moved your face to look up at his. Your makeup was ruined, red matching your dress. “Jin, I'm sorry… I… I need you. I need you so bad. I don't know what I'd do without you.” Your arms wrapped around his neck.

Jin placed a hesitant hand on the back of your head, letting you cry into his neck. “It's okay. I'm going to take you back to my house alright. Don't worry okay, your going to be just fine.”

He stood up and held your hand, pulling you up. You leaned into his shirt, his fruity, earthy scent taking you over once again. A scent you missed desperately.

🔏

Jin had thought of it all.

His hand played with your hair as he watched you sleep peacefully in his bed. You looked so comfortable, so at peace.

He slowly drained all your funds from your bank account, leaving you to be in perfect position to need his money.

He hacked your phone, realizing you were going to meet a new guy, and paid him off to send you up. This made you realize just how dependent on his love.

Jin just couldn't think of existing in a world without you.

[alienaiver]

Catch and release

Komori Motoya x Chronic Pain/Disabled GN!reader but reader is described wearing skirts

content: It's Komori's birthday and you wanted to dress up nicely for the dinner party. Just your luck that your planned outfit and your disability decides to have a playfight. It's a good thing you have your high school sweetheart to cheer you up when navigating the new world of dynamic disability.

tags: fluff, sfw, birthday fic, post-timeskip, disabled!reader, body positive and poc friendly reader, canon compliant, no use of y/n, sweetie + my love + baby as petnames, sappy and supportive boyfriend, childhood friends to lovers, established relationship, childish/cheeky komori, chronic pain/disability condition is not mentioned/left vague on purpose but reader does need a cane (type of cane not described either), genderneutral reader, unbeta'd but proofwritten twice, sakusa's there too but only to suffer the humor of literal kids

wordcount: 1.1k

notes: guess who learned something new today about cane usage and long skirts! 🙋🏼‍♂️ its a journey! luckily i have some soft, comforting boys to maladaptive daydream about taking care of me 🥰 i hope you enjoy this little work of mine! either as a disabled person or as an abled interested in learning something new!!!! im smooching u all, have a lovely evening! i also know im a ✨ little ✨ early about komori's birthday but who doesnt think about him 24/7?

also happy disability pride month ✨

"you ready?" Komori calls from the entrance, where his keys are circling his finger, making a jingle sound. It's his birthday, and you're going to a restaurant with his parents for dinner. Sakusa's even agreed to stop by.

He hears you hum from the bedroom before your steps sound through the living room, a little uneven but with your usual speed. He whistles when he sees you, but his eyebrows still raise at your choice of clothes.

"You changed." he states blankly, unsure what else to say. The outfit was important to you today, and you took great care in planning it last night, which is the reason he sends such an apparent statement your way.

You avoid his gaze as your lips draw a thin line, "yeah, don't worry about it," you say hastily, clearly eager to end the subject as you pick up your shoes from the rack. "Don't get me wrong sweetie, you look amazing. But I thought you wanted us to color match today?"

From the bench where you're tying your sneakers you glimpse at him for a split second, but it's long enough that Komori notices the disappointment you're trying to hide from him. He sighs and bends down in front of you, "what happened, my love?" his thumb grazes your cheek before it drags a sliver of hair behind your ear. From this angle he sees your small pout more clearly. He puts down his keys to let his other hand hold your head as well.

You sigh and lean forward. He meets you halfway and revels in the contact of your foreheads touching. He's always loved being close to you.

"I need the cane today."

Ah.

You recently learned bitterly that long or airy maxi skirts and canes don't match up. It's not like they tangle extremely and directly cause you to fall, but it changes the pressure in which you need to pull and move your cane for your next step if it's windy, which can cause mishaps. You haven't fallen because of it yet, but you've decided you don't want to risk it.

And then you need your cane on his birthday, where you'd planned such a skirt. He winces and you sigh. There's a distance of walking from the train station to the restaurant, so he can't offer much of a different solution than your own.

Then he kisses your nose, "I'm sorry, baby. Is there anything you need?"

You close your eyes and try to relax in his closeness. His left hand has traveled down to rub your arm, and you don't have the heart to tell him that his touch aches today. Not on his birthday.

"No, it's... It is what it is, right?" you ask and he nods hastily, "I know it might not help on the disappointment, but I still think you look absolutely amazing. And I'm glad you're listening to your needs and doing what you have to, even if it sucks major ass."

You snort and shake your head at him. He prides himself in the smile he won from your lips before he claims them with his own, sighing at the contact. He's needy today you notice, before you kiss him back with the same energy, trying to push away the negative thoughts clouding your mind. Today is about him.

When he pulls back he looks so lovestruck that you can't believe that you're high school sweethearts. Who gets this winded from a simple kiss from someone they've been with for over 10 years? Slowly and little by little, warmth and light fills you up again. He comes back for a quick peck before he gets back up and smiles down at you, flustered.

"Which cane would you like today? Personally I think the blue one with flowers would match your blouse perfectly!"

He turns his back to you as he opens the entryway closet, and you hum behind him thoughtfully, "maybe the grey one will garner less attention. I still feel awkward being both dressed up and so visibly disabled."

You're still getting used to using canes publicly, embarrassed and afraid someone will see you as a fraud if you're able to walk a few steps without it or if they suddenly deem that you're using it wrong. You know it's irrational, but it's taken you great courage to accept the dynamic part of your dynamic disability.

Komori's been supportive and understanding in every possible way, never batting an eye at any need you're voicing. He only complains when you hold back needs or lie about how you're feeling when you're out doing something together. You'd be, too, if the roles were reversed so you're glad he always lets you know while you learn to navigate being a burden - and being okay with burdening the people you love.

You admire his back. Broad, reliable and secure and always ready to support you. You still can't believe that you've been so lucky with him, grateful that your distasteful joke about his eyebrows he overheard in your second year somehow made him interested in you. You still cringe when you think back on it but he tells the story with a joyful and prideful expression every time.

He turns around with the grey, foldable cane and starts unfolding it for you, doing a little shimmy of a dance for you while doing it. You throw your head back and laugh, "so the birthday boy's the one giving a show this year?" you joke and he smiles cheekily at you, the expression making you flustered. Maybe you're just as bad as him, with the lovesickness. Sakusa will roll his eyes today, surely.

"Well... My favorite entertainer is indisposed, so if my lying hips can delight and beguile my audience, I'm happy to shake things up a bit."

He leans down with the cane, offering it as a sword to a knight. You snort and receive it just as gracefully, before he reaches a hand out to help you up, "I'll order your favorite from the menu and give you half of it if you kiss both my cheeks and my forehead in front of Omi."

You're busy laughing at his childish antics getting up, so you miscalculate your balance and fall into his arms. He catches you easily, like he always has and always will. You bite your lip, "then I'll order your favorite dessert if you do the same to me."

His antics may be childish, but they definitely match yours.

"Happy birthday, Motoya. Thank you for always catching me and helping me release the tension." you say and kiss him, hoping your emotions reach him. The smile he can't hold back against your lips tells you he might've gotten the memo.