#so when he rolled truth for like the fourth time in a row he was like oh shame no dare.. again 😈

[acebytaemin]

the face he makes when he says ‘aw what a shame’ that’s it hit post

[invisible-storyteller]

Everybody wants some (Stiles)

(Also on AO3.)

"Dare," Erica grinned after a moment of suspense.

Lydia rolled her eyes, having anticipated Erica's answer ever since the beta had presented her suggestion of a "fun" game to a very tipsy, and very bored group of college students. It had been the fourth pack night in a row after everyone had finally arrived for their summer break and there were only so many movies they could watch, plus it was still better than Scott's suggestion of spin the bottle. 

Speak of the devil.

"Everyone has chosen dare so far," Scott noted with the faintest pout on his lips, clearly disapproving of the humiliating tasks distributed so far.

Erica smacked her lips, giving Scott a taunting smile. "Fine. I changed my mind. Truth."

"Can she do that?" Isaac questioned but Scott only shrugged, not caring about the rules as long as no one else was forced to drink spoiled milk from a bowl like a puppy again.

"Okay, so..." Allison leaned forward, a foreboding shadow casting over her face that Erica met head-on, "If you weren't with Boyd, who would you fuck out of everyone in this room?"

Erica raised a single eyebrow, visibly unimpressed. "Stiles, duh."

It was almost superhuman how quickly Stiles straightened up in an instant, his mind having wandered off to fantasies of a certain socially inept alpha who had excused himself from his own living room as soon as the pack had settled down to play, and now getting jolted back into reality.

"That's boring. Everyone knows you had a crush on Stiles." Malia piped up from where she rested her head in Kira's lap, the kitsune's fingers carding through the locks of her hair absent-mindedly. 

"You say that like you wouldn't fuck him if you had the chance."

"Of course, I would," Malia shrugged like it was no big deal.

Stiles, on the other hand, nearly choked on his tongue.

"That's not a surprise, either, you actually dated him." Lydia pointed out, and Stiles could only snap his eyes back and forth between the two girls, trying to frantically grasp just when he had lost track of the conversation.

"You don't have to sound so condescending," Stiles mumbled out eventually, his eyes finally pausing on Lydia.

"Oh, honey, you can't be this oblivious."

And Stiles totally wasn't imagining the knowing looks on his packmates' faces. 

"About what?" He asked (damn his curiosity), feeling the usual trepidation that came with the whole 'being in a pack with not-so-mythical creatures' schtick.

Erica only snickered as she cuddled into Boyd's side, mischief dancing behind her thick eyelashes and promising no good. "About how everyone wants to breed you in this pack."

Okay, Stiles definitely choked this time (and Scott may have been a bit too enthusiastic with his back slaps) or maybe he fell asleep and was having the weirdest sexy dream without actual sex happening. Although, Lydia's offended yet conceding glance to the side looked pretty real.

"Wha-at?" Stiles wheezed out very eloquently between two consecutive coughs, and got immediately startled by the fact that Mason was the one to answer.

"Everyone in this pack has been attracted to you at one point," Mason clarified as if it was the most common knowledge in the world. Corey's agreeing nod did not help lift the fog in Stiles's mind at all.

"What."

"Say, Lydia, did you ever think of fucking Stiles?" Erica asked, a sadistic grin spreading wider on her firey red lips.

"Of course," Lydia replied, honest and simple, even flicking her hair for extra effect.

"Since when?" Stiles asked, a little outraged. He had spent many years pining after Lydia, so the fact that she hadn't shared this crucial piece of information with him was a bit of a punch into his teenage self's heart. Oh, and there was that tiny detail that Lydia had a boyfriend.

"Remember when we were hiding in the school from a rogue Peter?"

Stiles nodded, eyes squinting in suspicion as he recalled that dreadful night.

"You remember punching Jackson?"

And just like that, Stiles's jaw hit the ground, funny animation movie sound effects and all that. His chest subconsciously puffed out when he heard Jackson scoff indignantly, and continued to stare at Lydia, feeling like he was seeing her in a completely new light. "Wait, you liked that?! That turned you on?"

"Of course," Lydia parrotted with incongruous disinterest, "Still wouldn't have dated you. But I do enjoy a good display of dominance."

This had to be an alternate universe. Or a hyper-realistic dream, Stiles deduced.

"Okay, that makes... wow, three people who thought about getting all up on this," Stiles said in a daze with a half-aborted gesture to his body. Admittedly, the number was impressive (since he had always assumed it to be zero) but, at the same time, it was far from being the entire pack as Erica and Mason had so confidently claimed.

As if reading his mind, Lydia's sweet voice filled the loft once again. 

"Hey, Ally, didn't you consider dating Stiles at one point?" Lydia addressed the other girl out of nowhere, making Stiles turn towards his long-time friend with a look teetering someplace between pure shock and utter horror.

"Yeah?" Allison's uncertain response launched her into a pensive moment, probably rummaging through her memories before frowning in mild amusement. "That was actually your fault I think."

"Wha-" Stiles opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'what the fuck' but Lydia beat him to it.

"It was before prom," Lydia reminisced with an honest-to-God smile, "You were insufferable and tried to convince me to go with Stiles. I told you that if you think he's such a great catch, maybe you should be the one going with him."

Allison snapped her fingers as if the memory had been at once revealed to her as well. "Oh yeah. I remember thinking that he would be a gentleman in bed."

"Ugh..." Honestly, at this point, Stiles's brain was officially out of order. Dial-up error noise, no signal sign, all that jazz. He seriously didn't think the night could get any more absurd, but then again, this was his life, with the constant motto being 'fuck Stiles's sanity', so what was he expecting, really?

"I would feel so grossed out right now if I didn't have fantasies about Stiles, too," Isaac revealed nonchalantly, and to that, Stiles had to make a face. "What? I just wanted to see if I can shut you up."

"With your mouth," Erica added with a conspiring smirk. Stiles really hated her right now. She was the one responsible for this whole avalanche collapsing onto poor unsuspecting Stiles in the first place. 

"I had the same thought," Boyd added, apparently joining in on the 'let's wreck Stiles's world' plan, "Although I was planning to shut your mouth with something else."

Stiles's mouth decided at that moment that it was just going to assume a permanent open position, gaping like a fish out of water (cause that was exactly how he felt), which didn't help his case, in hindsight.

"Stiles does have an oral fixation," Malia chimed in, everyone else nodding along like that wasn't news at all.

"Seriously, guys? This- okay, Scotty, help me out here," Stiles pleaded, unsure of how to feel about everything that had been spoken so far, but still solid in the faith for his quasi-brother, "You did not have sexual fantasies about me, right? We're best friends. Brothers from another mother."

Stiles really wished Scott wouldn't have pulled the world's most apologetic and guilt-ridden grimace at that.

"Remember when we went to that pool party in eighth grade?"

Stiles didn't like where this was going, but yes, he could sort of remember. That day marked the first time Stiles had drunk alcohol - some cheap booze their classmate's brother had stashed somewhere in his room. It was also the summer Stiles's body had finally gained some definition so he wasn't too shy about forgoing a shirt.

"You asked me to put sunscreen on your back?" Scott continued with hunched shoulders like he could hide from his own words, and Stiles's eyes popped open in realization.

"Dude."

"That's why I had to go to the bathroom," Scott scratched the back of his neck with flaming cheeks, "Twice."

"Twice?" Liam echoed, and Stiles imagined wrapping his hands around that little pup's throat and just squeezing.

"Stiles's swim shorts were very tight when he got out of the pool," Scott answered sheepishly, and much like a volcano, the pack burst into loud cheers. Stiles was seemingly alone in his mortification, mourning the loss of his innocence and feeling oddly betrayed.

"Since we're being honest," Oh God, why was Jackson talking?, "I did have some dreams about Stilinski, and in my defence, I was still in the closet back then and it was a small locker room, okay? I'm not responsible for my thoughts after seeing what he's packing."

"I did think about making out with him when we were on a stakeout," Theo added, a bit too eager to be part of the pack in Stiles's opinion.

This was all too much. Probably a bigger conceptual change than the discovery of the supernatural's existence. Stiles couldn't help it, therefore, in the following silence where everyone awaited his final reaction with baited breaths, he realized there was only one thing left to do: laugh.

"Okay, wow," Stiles breathed out between bouts of laughter, almost doubling over himself as he clutched his sides, "Nice joke, guys. Really. Prank of the year. Picking on the single pringle in the pack. Did you rehearse this?"

There was something unsettling in the look his packmates shared.

Malia looked around then with a neutral expression and exclaimed. Loudly. "Raise your hand if you ever thought about kissing or fucking Stiles."

Everybody's hands, without exception (Stiles checked), shot up high into the air like they were pulled by strings (Mason might have had to nudge Liam in the side but he, too, raised his hand with eyes downcast in shame), and it was the most out-of-left-field reaction at that moment, but Stiles suddenly felt a glimmer of hope that maybe... no. That was and had always been wishful thinking. Even if, apparently, Stiles was the epitome of bonability in his peers' eyes.

Right on cue, a deep rumble came from the bottom of the stairs, startling absolutely no one besides Stiles who was still momentarily lost in adjusting his worldview.

"What is happening?"

It was truly fascinating how reluctant everybody seemed to answer now in the face of that gruff voice. Stiles, for the most part, could only swallow past the sound of his own rabbiting heartbeat.

"Just playing some stupid game," Jackson deflected as his hands, in comical synchrony with all others', dropped to his sides.

"What game?" Derek pried, arms crossing across his chest and making the muscles bulge threateningly, not that Stiles noticed. 

"It's called... 'Who's thought about kissing Stiles'?" Kira replied with a tamer version of the truth, although Stiles had no doubt that Derek had heard the original statement if his 'what brain-dead moron do you take me for' frown was any indication.

Nervous laughter bubbled out of Stiles, and he clapped his hands for lack of a better idea on how to diffuse the situation. The pack was engaging in some creepy version of a stare-down with their alpha, and from Isaac's uncomfortable squirming, it was evident that the others had felt the uncanny chill of Derek's look, too. Even Stiles had the uncomfortable impression of a noose tangling around his neck, awaiting (perhaps) a sentence or an order, and he was eerily reminded of the early days of knowing Derek. Things had been better in recent years so the current tension in the room was all the more puzzling, especially since the pack rarely acted so unassertive around their alpha.

"Well, at least we know one person who hasn't, right?" Stiles joked weakly in the silence, his smile short-lived against the strangely intense leer on Derek's face.

If anything, their alpha's features hardened at the words, his (thankfully still normal) eyes blazing with a heat that Stiles had never seen outside the throes of battle. It was doing some very ill-timed things to Stiles.

Unsurprisingly, Lydia was the first to stand up, the light shake of her head accompanied by a soft "Oh, Stiles" before she made the smart move and left, rousing everyone else into action. Derek kept glaring at the pack until they dribbled out one by one, some sending Stiles encouragement (like Erica with her thumbs up) but ultimately abandoning him in the loft with a displeased alpha to handle. Stiles gaped after his traitorous friends, arms stretched open in disbelief and no clue about anything that had gone down so far. If there was a way to say "???" out loud, Stiles would have done that right then and there.

"Wha- guys?" Stiles asked just as the metal door violently slid shut. It was thunderous in the otherwise empty loft.

He whipped around swiftly and poked his thumb in the direction of the exit because that felt like the next logical thing to do when a murderous-looking werewolf began to move towards him.

"I guess that means pack night's over so I'll just... Umm..."

Stiles could have sworn that he heard a growl before Derek's eyes bled into ominous red, and it was a testament to how fucked up Stiles's self-preservation instincts had become over the years that those weren't the wolfish features that had Stiles's brain melting into syrupy goo. No, that achievement could only be attributed to the sharp fangs poking out from behind Derek's pink lips, and Stiles was like 95% sure that "How would those feel buried in my skin?" was not a normal thought to have in this kind of situation. 

"Has any of them touched you?"

Stiles shook his head - you know, once he had enough blood there to comprehend the question - and his hands came up unwittingly to put some barrier between him and Derek. "Hold on, what? No! It wasn't that kind of game- oh well, some of your pups were certainly touching in ways that I tried really hard to ignore- hey, you should talk to them about that! You know, privacy, I'm sure you heard... about... that..."

Derek's eyebrows gradually sank lower during his rant while Stiles's mouth slightly opened to help regulate his breathing (and why was that so hard all of a sudden?). Something in Derek's look made Stiles itchy to speak, like he had to defend himself for some reason. "It's not like any of them would actually want to fuck me- Hey, what's with the looming, dude?"

Derek's eyes narrowed wordlessly onto Stiles's chest where the human's heart rate spiked from feeling the solid surface of the door hit his back. He hadn't noticed how fast Derek was crowding in on him, and something about that fact made Stiles think of one of those National Geographic documentaries. You know, where the gazelle gets mauled.

"Dude, if you want me to leave, just say so. You don't gotta go all Michael Myers on me-"

"Would you let them?" Derek slurred around his fangs, eyes meandering like he was trying to catalogue all of Stiles's (very straightforward and very communicative) reactions, "Would you let anyone in the pack fuck you?"

Stiles shook his head so fast, he almost felt dizzy afterwards.

Derek's eyes faded back to green then, and he withdrew his body heat that Stiles hadn't even taken note of up until that point. With the proximity confiscated, Stiles felt a tinge of disappointment as well as a buttload (hah) of confusion - the same emotions somehow getting reflected back at him in Derek's eyes before the werewolf sculpted his face into his usual neutral look. 

Stiles had never had a more life-changing lightbulb moment before (previous truth or dare game included), and he felt the urge to facepalm at himself.

"I mean, it depends..." Stiles trailed off, Derek's hostile yet curious eyebrows making a reappearance. "I, um..."

Instead of bothering with words, Stiles licked his bottom lip as a test and delighted when Derek's eyes followed the movement with failing restraint. With a sudden burst of confidence, he pushed away from the door and violated Derek's personal space as much as he could get away with without actual touching. 

"Raise your hand if you have a crush on Derek Hale.

Derek frowned, his eyebrows doing some weird high jumps when Stiles sneaked a hand up into the air and wiggled his fingers for emphasis. This time, when the werewolf's eyes caught his, they were consumed by darkness instead of alpha red but were no less promising. And when Derek grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, literally tripping Stiles into a kiss, that was something Stiles was for once expecting and welcomed with an eager moan. 

As it turned out, nobody wanted Stiles as much as Derek Hale did.

And out of all the reveals that day, that was the only one that truly mattered to Stiles.

[spidernerdsblog]

It's always you

A/N : This lovely concept was @starlight-starks idea ❤️ Hope you guys like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : Peter has skipped your fourth weekly movie night and you aren't very happy about it.

Pairing : tasm! Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : angst, fluff, mutual pining

Your phone pings with a text message, thinking it must be Peter you eagerly reach for it to let out a disappointed sigh when you read the text.

Gwen wants me to help her with the robotics project. Raincheck?

Sure. You type back.

Sorry, I know it was our weekly movie night.

Yeah the fourth movie night in a row to be exact as you look at the large popcorn bowl sitting on the coffee table you had prepared and he chose to ditch you again.

Don’t worry I’ll be fine. Goodluck with the project 👍 you reply.

I’ll make it up to you. I promise :)

You read his text and lock your phone before tossing it to the side on the couch. Grabbing the tv remote you scroll through the wide selection of movies, choosing one in random you press play. You then pick up the popcorn bowl and start munching on them all alone in your apartment. The sound of the movie playing drones in the background as you get lost in your own thoughts.  

You and Peter were slowly growing apart, the niggling worry has been eating you up from the inside lately.  And you knew if you had voiced your worries to Peter he would have clearly dismissed you saying you’re being silly. 

But you needed that reassurance from him even more now because you were aware of the little crush he had on Gwen. You didn’t want to appear as a jealous friend but the more they got closer the more insecure you felt. 

It is childish, you know, to cling to the pact you made when you were in middle school that whatever happens you will make time for each other. And these weekly movie nights were a sacred part of your friendship which you weren’t ready to give up for anyone. Hell you didn’t want to share him with anyone.

You stopped eating surprised at your own thoughts. Where did that come from? You wondered.

****

Saturday night there was a party at the Greek row. One of Harry’s frat brothers was celebrating his birthday so you and Peter were invited as well. After a few rounds of drinking and dancing you were all gathered around the couch playing truth or dare. Harry spins the bottle and it stops at you.

“Y/N it’s your turn. Truth or dare?” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Truth.” You declare.

“Boo boring!”

“I’m too drunk and I don’t trust you so much with your dares Mr. Osborn.” 

“You wound me Y/N.” Harry clutches his chest dramatically, appearing to be in pain. He then thinks for a second and asks. “Ok, the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

“Hmmm well…” You think of an answer before replying. “Don’t worry about me, I'm fine.”

“Don’t we all say that?” Carin agrees sitting beside you.

“You know when we say I’m fine we're denying our true feelings and experiences; we're hoping to convince ourselves and others that everything really is okay.” Brody the tall and muscled quarterback of the football team adds in.

“Oh here we go.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“No, no it’s true we pretend to be fine to avoid conflicts.” Brody goes on. “Sharing our true feelings or opinions might cause someone to get angry with us and that's scary or at least uncomfortable.”

“Y/N this is your fault.” Harry scowls at you.

“What did I do?” You giggle.

“You know Brody turns into a psychology nerd when he is drunk.” 

“Well I think you need it even more given the fact you’re always running away from your problems.” You snicker and Harry gives you the finger.

Amidst all of your banter Peter’s mind was stuck on what you said as he tried to recall the number of times you’ve said those exact words to him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he startled when you snapped your fingers in front of him.

“Yo earth to Peter. You okay?”

“Yea..yeah.” Guilt washed over him anew as he looked at your smiling face. He had let you down but you never once complained or stayed mad at him. He had to make it up to you as soon as possible.

***

Next day after your classes ended for the day you are walking out of the university campus when you hear Peter call out your name.

“Y/N wait!” you turn around to see him running towards you. He stops in front of you panting, handing you a white envelope.

“What is this?” you frown pulling out a paper from inside it. 

VALID FOR ONE

One Full Day of Fun with your BFF.

Redeem by : Anytime   Expires : Never

You looked up at him cluelessly.

“This is a free coupon to a fun day with your best friend,” He explains, pointing a finger at himself.

“What?” You giggle with your brows raised in amusement.

“I know I’ve been a very bad friend lately.” Peter goes serious. “and I want to make it up to you.”

“That isn’t necessary Peter.” Your expression turns soft.

“Ah ah nothing of that. Tomorrow we do whatever you want.” He states.

“Well I’ve been meaning to visit this vintage bookstore I found online. We could go there I suppose.” You shrug.

“Ok done! Gotta go now, Psych class. See you tomorrow.” He drops a kiss on your cheek and runs back to the science building as you stand in your place trying to piece together everything that happened.

****

The doorbell chimes and you rush to open the door excitedly. Peter stands at the threshold with his hands in his pockets. His face lights up as soon as he sees you.

“Hey.” 

“Hi..” You smile.

“You look pretty.” He observes. 

“Thanks.” You blush, tucking your hair behind your ear. You had taken a considerable amount of time to decide what to wear today as if it was a date because honestly it felt like one. Finally you had chosen a pale pink knit sweater, blue jeans and ankle boots.

Together you walk towards the subway station and board a train. There are no empty seats so you stand at an empty corner. And like always Peter stands in front of you like a protective wall caging you with his body from the crowd of passengers. Your bodies pressed together as Peter peers down at you smiling and you smile back feeling a giddiness inside your stomach.

Twenty minutes later you get off the train and begin walking along the sidewalk. The map showed the shop was just around the corner of the street. So it was as you stood in front of a small antique bookstore.

The bell chimes overhead as you push the door open. The scent of old books hits you as your eyes take in the cozy interior of the shop. Tall wooden shelves lined with stacks of books illuminated by the soft glow of the yellow lights overhead and you thought you’ve gone to heaven.

You run your fingers through the spines of the books; some are leatherbound with their beautiful gold detailings still intact.

“OH MY GOD!! Look at this!” You hear Peter squeal excitedly from the other side. “This is the original Lord of the rings book set from the time it was first published and it has the author’s signature too!” 

You laugh seeing Peter’s face light up like a child on a christmas morning.

“This place is so cool!” He announces.

“I know right?” you say smugly.

“You kids find anything you like?” An old man emerges from the back of the shop.

“Yes, how much for this book set?” Peter asks.

“That will be $130.” He answers. Peter’s face falls hearing the price.

“Oh I don’t have that much at the moment.” 

You would have lent him a few bucks if you could but after paying rent and your monthly supplies you were as broke as him.

“It’s ok we can come back for it later.” You rub up and down his arm soothingly.

“I say what boy you give me $20 for now I’ll hold that book for you until you pay the full amount.” he proposes.

“You would do that?” Peter’s expression turns hopeful.

“Yeah why not? You seem to really want that.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Peter says bashfully.

After paying the old man you took a stroll through the central park eating your favorite ice creams before catching a subway back to your home.

As soon as you got into your apartment Peter had quickly changed into his spare clothes he kept at your place due to the amount of time he stays overnight. 

You walk out of your room changing into your comfy pajamas and stop at the doorway to watch Peter in the kitchen heating some popcorn to eat while watching the movie you had chosen.

Peter feels your eyes on you and looks up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, it's just been awhile seeing you in my apartment.” You say plopping down on the couch as you lean forward to grab the remote from the coffee table to switch on the tv.

Peter carries the bowl of popcorn and places it on the table and sits down beside you. “Hey” He reaches to take your hands in his. “I’m sorry for bailing on you all those times. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“It’s ok, Peter.” You lovingly cup the side of his face. “Besides being spiderman you’ve your own life too. I can't monopolize all your time.”

“Don’t you even think of that.” His expression turns serious as he holds your hand a little tighter. “You will always come first to me no matter what.”

“Aww I’m honored Parker.” You joke trying to lighten the mood.

“I mean it Y/N.” He says unamused.

“Ok, ok tiger calm down. You’re important to me too Peter now can we start watching the movie?” He nods and leans back, getting comfortable on the couch as you press play.

The movie starts and you sidle closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder putting a throw blanket around yourselves.

By the time the movie ends you were fast asleep all cuddled up against him. Peter looks down at your face so calm and beautiful. You let out a small sigh and snuggle closer to him. 

Peter smiles and reaches to brush off a strand of your hair falling over your face. On many occasions during a movie night you both have ended up cuddling together but somehow today it feels a lot more intimate. You in his arms feel so right as if you belong to him and he belongs to you.

It feels like home.

He has been keeping a secret from you and that was one of the reasons he bailed out those few nights. He was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. And he was scared that if he were alone with you he would act out on those feelings. And what if you didn’t feel the same for him? 

..................................................................................

[cruel-summerxy]

labyrinth - brad bakshi x reader

summary ➞ ever since brad came out of prison, he has tried to be a better person. when a stranger tests him he decides to be nice and its a good thing he does . word count: 2k words

a/n ➞ I'm back! this is going to be in multiple parts, so yay! I already have the second part started, so I'll probably post it tomorrow! a little gnf cameo in here too. comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

based on ➞ taylor swift's song "labyrinth"

you know how scared I am of elevators, never trust it if it rises fast 

Brad isn’t an easy guy to know. Sometimes he wakes up early and does some quick cardio before going into work– other times the only thing the man does is brush his teeth before catching a bus to work. As of lately, it was the latter. He is in a slump. The man is obviously glad that he is part of Mythic Quest once again, even if it was as the janitor (recently promoted as a fucking assistant), but he sometimes misses the chaos. He misses being in the conference room, he misses screaming at a random person who has no authority and therefore cannot help, he misses scaring the new hires. Brad misses all of this and more, but he is a changed man.

Everyday that he had been in prison he liked to imagine that the company had been in pure chaos without him. Now he has tickets to the front row. David had obviously hired new people and those people have no idea who he is. Although he isn’t proud of it, it brings a smile onto his face when he eavesdrops at their conversations. Hearing that deadlines have to be met, budgets having to be readjusted, and whatnot brings him joy now (it’s truly pathetic).

Even though he had been gone for a while, Brad knows that he still has the ability to manipulate those around him. The browned-eyed man was able to prove himself by getting Rachel to take his old job; he tells himself that he had helped her for his own benefit, but the truth is that the girl is smart and he does want her to succeed. Old Brad would’ve rolled his eyes, but new Brad can only smile at what he has achieved (he smiles alone though, he doesn’t want to give the wrong impression to others). He was able to get the workers their bonuses and maybe it was the Christmas spirit but he had been happy and giddy. His happiness hadn’t been unacknowledged, David and Rachel gave each other a look when they heard Brad sing along everyone else Christmas morning. 

Ever since Christmas morning something felt different. So he decides to wake up early and to take a trip to the coffee shop near his home. Brad grabs his lunch bag (he had decided to cook his own food) and makes his way out the door. Even though he lives on the fourth floor, Brad walks down the stairs. He had skipped his workout and he told himself it was better than taking the elevator. 

He can’t help but to whistle as he makes his way to his favorite coffee shop. His body trembles as the breeze comes to him. Even though it is pretty cold, it is a beautiful day. The sun is out, not helping him warm up but it sure does look nice. As he enters the shop he mentally curses, of course there would be a long line

“It’s okay Brad. You have time,” he assures himself. Old Brad would have rolled his eyes and left the place. He would have proceeded to send someone from the office, but alas he was a new man (he also didn’t have someone that could just drop everything for a stupid coffee).

After what seems like forever Brad was next. 

“What can I get for you?” a middle aged woman asked. He stands there wondering what he should actually get. He often opts for a black coffee, but today he craves something sweet. During his time in prison he would often wish that he was sipping a sweet old caramel frappe, with extra caramel drizzle– of course. 

“Could you be any slower,” someone groans behind him. Now, old Brad would have made some remark, but he decides against it. He decides that today is a good day and that it's simply not worth it. So he turns around and sees that it was a woman in her early-twenties who had spoken earlier.

“What would you recommend?” Brad asks with a small smile on his lips. A blush covered the woman, making Brad laugh. She bites her lip and thinks about it. Brad’s eyes stay on her and he is now crossing his arms, waiting patiently for her to give her input. She studies him for a moment before she answers him.

“An iced caramel macchiato,” the woman croaks out. 

Brad then turns without giving her a second glance and loudly orders two iced caramel macchiatos, “one for the lady behind me.” As soon as he is done ordering he positions himself where the woman would see him. Although he was trying to be better, old habits die hard.

“I’m sorry about that,” the lady whispers, standing in front of him. He looks up, pretending that she had frightened him. Brad cocks his head, taking a good look at her. “It’s just that I’m already late for this meeting and you were taking a while to order.”

“You should’ve woken up earlier,” Brad lectures her. Well, so much for not acting like old Brad; he just couldn’t resist it. The lady nods her head and proceeds to stand next to him. The two of them remain silent, waiting for their drinks. She sniffles next to him and he can tell that she is sick. He notices the pack of tissues that are stuffed in her coat’s pocket and even though she has makeup on, Brad can tell that her nose is red.

“You should’ve said a medicine ball tea,” Brad says as he checks the time on his phone. The baristas are taking their time and he is losing his patience. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he was okay with time. She turns to him and sighs.

“Yeah… well I did order that for myself,” the lady confesses, “I kind of thought you were going to order both of the drinks and then leave me without any.”

He turns to her and lets out a laugh, “that's good. If it had been any other day, I probably would have done that. I’m trying to do better, plus I did take forever to order.” 

Her eyes soften up as she hears him talk. Brad notices this and can tell that she is no longer on edge. He is about to say something when the barista calls out his name and their drinks. Brad stands up, rubbing his hands together, he can taste the caramel on his lips already. He utters a quick thanks and strides back to the woman. Their hands touch for a moment as he hands her the coffee. He knows it’s nothing, but he can’t help but to smile at her. 

The woman breaks the little trance that he was in by coughing and now he’s disgusted. He hasn’t gotten sick in years and there he is, shaking hands with someone who clearly should not be going into work, nor a coffee shop.

“I’m sorry, but I really have to get going. Thank you for the coffee Brad,” the lady speaks softly as her eyes come across his name on the cup. 

“You haven’t gotten your medicine ball,” Brad points out. She shrugs and he steps aside and allows her to pass by. Brad stands inside the busy cafe, watching as the door swings and he is puzzled. He hadn’t gotten her name, but he’s certain of one thing: he has seen her before. 

He could wait for a name and a medicine ball to be called, but Brad decides against it. It’s a bit late and he has a meeting to attend to. 

.. 

Brad sighs as he opens a side door. He has taken the stairs once again and now he is out of breath. He hasn’t taken a sip out of the drink that the lady had recommended yet. He spots Jo and shoots a smile at her. The woman scrunches her face and continues walking to him.

“You’re sweaty Brad,” The blonde woman points out.

“No shit. I just walked up six flights of stairs,” Brad thinks to himself. He reminds himself to play nice and shoots her another smile.

“Are you seriously going to keep acting like that?” The blonde woman groans. She has grown tired of the way that Brad has been acting. Jo used to look up to Brad, they would scheme together and now he smiles at everyone. She sighs sadly at Brad, “what happened to you in prison?”

Brad laughs at her question, “nothing. I had a great time there. I’m just a changed man Jo.”

Jo says nothing and leaves Brad’s side. In a way, Jo is right; Brad has changed drastically within the last year. It was for a good reason though. He had become close to those who had worked around him (even if he didn’t show them) and his brother had come in and almost (using this term very loosely) ruined it. One night when he had been in his prison cell, Brad had come to the realization that he had been miserable and rude to those around him for no reason. So now that he is out, the man smiles at his peers, he sometimes helps others, and he is nice to strangers. Life is too short.

Brad slowly makes his way across the floor and hears the people around him chatter. He sits on a random couch to catch his breath. He decides to finally try his drink and a disappointed sigh comes out of his mouth, the macchiato is no frappe. It was no secret that he had a sweet tooth, maybe he should have told that information to the stranger. 

His thoughts are long forgotten and his eyes grow wide. He stands up and he sets down his disgusting coffee; inside the conference room stands the stranger. Brad quickly scans the room and she is standing next to a tall man. He observes them,  his eyes light up and he remembers who the man is. The guy was some twitch streamer– GeorgeNotFound. 

“What a stupid name,” Brad mutters to himself. He had seen some of his streams before, but he hated his streamer name. He had forgotten that Rachel had wanted to add streamers to the Mythic Quest campaign. That’s why Brad had recognized her! He had been researching George the day before, orders from Rachel, and she had been in some of his posts. His heart then drops as he remembers that he was supposed to be in that meeting. 

They seem to be discussing something and before he can think it through, Brad stands up straight and walks into the conference room. All eyes land on him and David lets out a squeak. “What are you doing here Brad?”

Brad ignores him, “Hello, I just wanted to officially introduce myself; I am Brad Bakshi.” He offers George and the stranger a smile. 

“Hello,” a nervous smile decorates the stranger’s face. She extends her hand, Brad shakes it happily. He can hear her sniffling– the coffee he had bought her probably making her more sick. A red tint covers her neck, letting him know that he has an effect on her. He can’t help but to smirk– he still has it. “I’m Y/N and this is George.”

“Well nice to meet you both,” Brad leans against a chair, “I hope you find Mythic Quest good.” He finds himself fixing his posture and his eyes remain on the stranger– Y/N. The woman opens her mouth, but before she can let out a word David begins speaking.

“Brad, please leave. We are having an important meeting and… your services are not needed.” The white man smiles, telling himself that he did good. Brad is about to argue that Rachel had wanted him to be there but ultimately decides no to. 

“Okie dokie. I’ll see you two around.” 

[wonusite]

kinda crazy with the thought of bartender!minwon,, showing up to their bar with the prettiest little dress and charming the both of them and they're both flirting with you the whole night and they somehow end up with you in your bed at the same time 🫣

WHOEVER PUT THIS IMAGE IN MY HEAD NEEDS TO COME BACK AND IDENTIFY THEMSELVES I’M SO SERIOUS 😫😫😫

anyone who might see you at this bar for the fourth friday in a row might think you have a problem, but the truth is you have two.

mingyu and wonwoo are the hottest bartenders you’ve ever seen. they’re so nice and funny and always give you free drinks even when you insist on paying. for a while, you’ve been caught in this little game of innocent flirting, but your lack of release lately has been pushing you to get more bold. and tonight, you showed up to the bar wearing a new dress, ready to take at least one of them home.

“hey, doll.” wonu greets you immediately, eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. “new dress?”

you smile at him, body heating up from the way he’s blatantly eye fucking you. “i wanted to feel pretty tonight.”

wonu licks his lips, already mixing you a drink that he’s made for you so many times. “you’re always pretty, babe.”

unfortunately, you don’t get to say anything because he’s called to the other end of the bar, but he does leave you with a pretty smirk that makes your cunt throb. suddenly feeling very thirsty, you take the drink in front of you, savoring the sweet taste.

“god, you look amazing.”

you look over to see mingyu walking over with a wide smile. he’s no less subtle than wonu with his eye fucking, but all it does is thrill you.

“do i?” you cock your head coyly, watching as gyu swallows thickly. “enough for someone to take me home?”

his pretty eyes darken as he licks his lips. “of course. every man in here is dying for the chance.”

you have another drink—one made by mingyu this time—and find someone to talk to. it was just a casual conversation meant to pass the time, but you never thought it would end with you, in your bed, with mingyu’s cock in your mouth while wonwoo fucks into you like a starving beast.

“fuck.” wonu groans, loving the sight of your cunt stretching open on his cock. “you don’t know how long i’ve waited to fuck your tight little pussy.”

you moan around mingyu’s cock, gripping the sheets beneath you tighter.

“you really thought we’d let you go home with that boy?” gyu growls, guiding your head to take his cock deeper into your mouth.

your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, feeling like you’ve gone to heaven. it feels like wonwoo’s dick is splitting you open, and the way gyu’s leaking tip is hitting the back of your throat has you spasming and moaning uncontrollably.

“gyu’s a little possessive.” wonu says, smirking when another gush of your arousal coats his length after a particularly sharp thrust. “why don’t you show him that you only want us?”

both men groan when you start moving your hips and mouth wildly like you’re in heat.

[annalulz]

More than Words (to say I Love You)

This is my piece for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers​’ Secret Admirer Event 2023 for @karin848 !

Prompt 1 asked for wholesome fluff/Luka being supportive of Marinette/identity reveal so I did a little bit of everything :3

Read on AO3

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!

💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️

Marinette groaned and dropped her pencil on top of her sketchbook. Luka watched her from her chaise lounge, and with a soft smile, he set his guitar aside and stood up, walking over to where Marinette was sitting by her desk. He grabbed her hands gently before she could pull her hair in frustration.

She looked up at him and her upset expression relaxed at the sight of his patient smile.

“Talk to me, Melody,” he said, bringing her hands down toward her lap. “Let me help you.”

Marinette felt her eyes water as she looked at Luka, her frustration overwhelming her.

"Sorry, Luka, I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, looking away from his earnest, kind face. He shook his head and opened his mouth, most likely to tell her she wasn't disturbing him, but she started speaking again before he could say a word. "It's just… a difficult commission and I'm kind of blocked."

The soft smile on his face didn't falter as he pulled her away from her desk towards the chaise.

"You need a break, Melody, you've been working too hard," Luka said, gently nudging her to sit next to him.

Almost immediately, Marinette cuddled up into his side, laying her head on his shoulder as he hummed the tune of the song he'd been composing this time.

Slowly, she relaxed against him, the vibrations of his humming lulling her into calmness that she hadn't felt in a long while.

As her eyes started to droop, Marinette thought that perhaps one day, not too far in the future, she'd be able to tell Luka the truth about Ladybug.

For the time being, she was content with relaxing against her boyfriend's wonderful embrace.

***

"Achoo."

Marinette giggled as Luka sneezed for the fourth time in a row, and handed him the bowl of chicken soup her mother had helped her prepare for him back at home.

The poor boy wiped his too-red nose with a tissue and groaned.

"Maybe try not to jump into the Seine in the middle of winter next time?" she said, still giggling, while Luka took a few spoonfuls of the delicious broth.

"I didn't jump, 'Nette, Dingo pushed me," he replied, sighing. "This is delicious, by the way."

Marinette blushed slightly at the compliment but still rolled her eyes at his reply.

"At least he's suffering as much as you are," she said, patting his hand.

"As he should," Luka huffed, petulantly, making Marinette giggle yet again.

The cabin got quiet while Luka finished eating, and once he was done, he flopped back down on his bed and groaned.

Marinette got up from his narrow bed, so he'd be more comfortable, took the bowl from him, and with her free hand, she pushed his sweaty bangs away from his forehead.

"Sleep, Rockstar," she said. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Comforted by her words, Luka smiled at her and let sleep overtake him.

It took another two days for Luka to shake off the cold, and once Marinette started sneezing, he was right by her side with a delicious bowl of soup.

***

Studying for exams had always been a stressful time for Marinette, though nowadays that stress had become more bearable with Luka in her life.

His calm, steady presence, coupled with the soft strumming of his guitar was a balm as she paced around her room, notes in hand, muttering to herself as she went over the material again and again.

She couldn't help but smile as he went down the trapdoor and came back a few minutes later, carrying a tray laden with food and declaring it "break time".

They sat together on her chaise, sharing the snacks he had brought up, and chatted about anything and everything that wasn't related to her upcoming exam, and while a part of her kept stressing about it, itching to run back to her notes, she knew deep down that she needed the break.

Leaning over, she placed a light kiss on Luka's cheek and smiled in amusement as his face turned a light pink all the way up to his ears, even after all this time they'd been together.

He was just so cute.

***

Viperion landed on silent feet on a rooftop and fell apart.

He shook from the memories of the battle, of Ladybug getting hit over and over by the Akuma right before he rewound time. And while those timelines would never be thanks to his power, the memories remained in his mind.

Sass had once told him that was the burden the Snake Holders had to bear, and some in the past had gone mad, losing touch with reality, haunted by the echoes of time. It was a heavy burden to bear, and he bore it gladly for Ladybug, though he sometimes wondered if she had made the right choice by giving him this Miraculous.

"Viperion? Is everything okay?" Ladybug asked, landing just as silently as he had, next to him.

He nodded, tersely, crossing his arms tightly over his chest to hide the trembling of his hands.

"How many times?" Ladybug asked, her hand twitching towards him.

"It wasn't that many," he replied in a tight voice. "It was what happened in them… You— the Akuma… and I couldn't stop him, I just—"

Ladybug's face crumbled, her heart breaking at the sight of one of her strongest teammates—the love of her life, though he didn't know it—breaking down under the pressure of his Miraculous.

"I'm so sorry, Vi," Ladybug said, a part of her feeling guilty for having put that burden on him, on Luka.

"Don't apologize, Bug, it wasn't your fault," he told her, resolutely.

"But I—" she started to say, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"I made my choice, Ladybug. I can take this. Just… Can I—"

"Yes?"

"Can I hold you?" he asked.

Ladybug opened her arms in answer, and Viperion couldn't help but sigh in relief as his arms wrapped around her, his body trembling slightly. She rubbed his back gently when he hid his face in her shoulder, whispering comforting words in his ears.

***

"Ladybug?" Luka asked, looking up at her as she landed a few feet away from him on the Liberty's deck. "Is everything okay? Is there an Akuma?"

Ladybug shook her head and sat next to him. Luka set his guitar aside and turned to look at her, a slight frown on his face.

“Are you alone?” Ladybug asked in a soft voice.

“Yeah, Ma went to work and Jules is hanging out with Rose,” he replied. “Are you okay, Ladybug?” he asked when he saw her fidgeting nervously with her hands.

She took a deep breath, looked at him with a determined glint in her eyes, and nodding to herself she whispered the detransformation words. Luka’s eyes flew open in surprise when the magical pink light faded, leaving Marinette sitting where Ladybug had been.

“Melody?” he asked, a little incredulously.

She had always been so strict about keeping her identity a secret, so he couldn’t understand why she would reveal herself now to him.

"Surprise?" Marinette said in a sing-song voice but he could see how tense she was on the line of her shoulders.

"Not really," he blurted out.

“What?” Marinette exclaimed, her worried expression turning slightly panicked.

“It’s not really a surprise for me, Melody,” Luka said, as calmly as possible. “I’ve suspected for a long time, actually. And I’ve known for sure for a while now, too.”

“You—you have? But how? When?”

Panic started to rise in Marinette as she rambled, wondering out loud if she had ever made a mistake, maybe she de-transformed without noticing he was around?

“Marinette! Listen to me!” he exclaimed, holding her by the shoulders, and shaking her slightly. Her panicked eyes settled on him but he could see that she was on the verge of a breakdown. “You never made a mistake! I started suspecting you were Ladybug when you first gave me the Snake Miraculous because, at that moment, her song sounded so much like yours.”

“My song?” Marinette repeated, the shock turning into confusion.

“Yeah.”

“And when did you know for sure?”

Luka took a deep breath and said, “Remember that Akuma a few weeks ago? The one we fought with half of the team?”

“You mean when you—”

“Had a breakdown after watching all of you die several times?” he said wryly. Marinette nodded, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it lightly in support. “You know that, even when I turn back time, and those timelines are erased, I still retain memories of them, right?”

Marinette nodded, a sympathetic look on her face.

“Well, in one of those timelines, as we were fighting the Akuma, you ran out of time and detransformed. I turned back time immediately, but…”

“You’d already seen me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry I never told you but, you always said how important it was to keep your identity secret. I didn’t want to worry you.”

Marinette shook her head, her panic gone and replaced with relief. She gave him a sweet smile and squeezed his hand again.

“I’m glad it was you, Luka,” she told him. “I came today to tell you because you’re the person I trust the most, and I felt you deserved to know. You’ve always been there for me, and… I trust you with my life, Rockstar.”

Luka felt the warmth in his chest grow at her words, so he smiled back at Marinette and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

“I’ll always have your back, Melody,” he told her, kissing her temple. “With or without the mask.”

 FIN

[sailorshadzter]

laying awake at night, wishing your lover was next to you

THANKS ANON.

you sent this quite a while ago and truthfully, id written some of it on my old laptop, which of course crashed and burned. finding the motivation to come back to it took some time, i hope you can forgive me!

send me prompts

She can’t sleep.

How could she, when Jon was not at her side?

In the darkness of her rooms, she rolls onto her other side, cradling her pillow, wishing for some sense of comfort, some ounce of peace. Wishing for him. It’s been three nights since Jon’s return North, bringing with him a beautiful Targaryen queen and her dragons, and yet all three nights she still sleeps alone.

Truth was, she had grown used to his presence in her rooms, his warmth in her bed. The long nights without him while he’d been in Dragonstone had felt like torture, but knowing he slept beneath the same roof once again was like a knife to her chest. To imagine him in another room, in another place, without her… It stung in a way she really just could not put to words. And she’s yet again reminded of the dragon queen’s beauty, of her wide violet eyes and her soft, round features. So unlike her in every single way… Sansa supposes she cannot blame Jon if he’s chosen Daenerys over her. Besides, with her didn’t come the unsettling familial ties that they had. 

And so she rolls back onto her other side, desperate for the solace of sleep.

In his own rooms, Jon cannot sleep.

It did not feel right, sleeping in his bed without her tucked against him. For many weeks they had slept together, she in his rooms, he in hers, it was simply second nature. At first, it had been because of her fears, because of her nightmares, but that had quickly become nothing more than an excuse. A way to explain away the feelings stirring up within them both. Truth was, he had never slept better than he did with her beneath his arm. 

He imagines her then, sleeping soundly, wishing that it was him at her side. During all those weeks he’d been away in Dragonstone, he’d longed for her warmth, longed for her soft touch in the midst of her dreaming… An arm slipping across his chest, her head tucking into the crook of his arm, any touch that would remind him of her presence. Now that he was home, he had hoped he might find himself back in her bed, but things had certainly not turned out that way. Wrangling the dragon queen was certainly a feat he had not anticipated it to be, but he knows he does what he must. He knows this is what he must do to protect the North, to protect Sansa. 

And so, for the fourth night in a row, he rolls onto his side and hopes sleep will claim him.

[katierosefun]

one line any fic! rules: pick ten of your fics, scroll to somewhere midpoint, pick a line chunk and share it, and then tag ten people.

thanks for the tag, @gosiksmallspace! i’m going through my 10 most recently posted fics--

1. know it’s for the better 

Dong Sik smiles, tweaking Joo Won’s ear again. “Because you were jealous,” he says. “It’s cute.” He tilts his head to the side. “And now aren’t you so glad that you’ve caught me?”

Joo Won rolls his eyes, but Dong Sik doesn’t miss the little smile, nor does he miss the twitch of Joo Won’s fingers around his waist again.

“You’re too full of yourself,” Joo Won says.

“That,” Dong Sik says, “is entirely your fault.”

2. at the tip of my tongue

“I told you it was nothing,” Joo Won says.

“I told you not to tell me it was nothing,” Dong Sik replies, staring at the ceiling. He hopes he doesn’t sound so relieved about Joo Won picking up. He hopes he doesn’t sound so relieved about hearing Joo Won’s voice on the other end. “You’re worrying me.”

“It’s not something you should worry about,” Joo Won says. “I told you: you’d laugh.”

“And I told you,” Dong Sik replies. “That I’m the only one who can decide that.”

3. shit my friends say

This is, of course, where Lee Chang Jin stands apart from the likes of Han Ki Hwan: Han Ki Hwan knows his politics and his ambitions, but he’s absolutely useless when it comes to knowing people, especially his son.

Chang Jin barks a laugh to himself as he leaves Han Ki Hwan’s office.

It’ll be amusing to see if that ignorance bites him in the ass later.

4. good things come in threes

“So?” Butcher asks lazily.

“So,” Annie says, “let’s not order Thai three nights in a row.”

“Not up to the Seven’s standards?” Butcher snarks.

“No, just not up to a normal person’s standards,” Annie snaps.

5. pulling at the threads

Butcher turns around, finding Hughie examining his hands. They’re absolutely soaked, and something unpleasant roils through Butcher at the sheer calm in Hughie’s voice. One part of him is spooked to the bone—what the fuck have you done to Hughie Campbell, and yet another selfish part of him is at least glad that Hughie’s at least quiet. It’d been something that’d pissed him off at one point, that nervous, jittery habit Hughie had whenever things went to shit. Butcher could always hear Hughie stumbling over his own words, speaking at three hundred words per second about this isn’t—what do you mean I have to—and no, Butcher, okay? For the last time, this is a terrible idea.

He never thought he’d miss it, and he never thought he’d miss it as badly as he does now.

6. too polite to leave

He finds one eventually, no thanks to Butcher, who just leans against the counter and watches him. It’s not only until Hughie reaches behind him for the whiskey does the older man actually say anything. “You even drink this stuff?”

“Yeah,” Hughie says, although he doesn’t, not really. He’d never been able to warm up to whiskey. He stuck to the beers and the hard ciders, the game stuff that came with so-and-so’s parties back in high school. Vodka and tequila and whatever the hell was in that one punch bowl back when he was seventeen. “I mean, not by choice, but tonight, yeah.”

Butcher makes a small noise that sounds the cross between a “huh” and “hm”, which Hughie decides to interpret as grudging tolerance. He’s a little too aware of Butcher’s mildly judgmental stare as he pours himself a glass.

7. rust between telephones

Butcher picks up on the fourth ring.

“Are you okay?” Hughie asks immediately.

There’s a second of silence on the other end, and then Butcher says, “Is this seriously where taxpayer dollars are going?”

“I—” Hughie stops in his tracks, looking to the Flatiron building. “It sounded like you were in trouble.”

8. for a more convenient truth

And Fauna—well, she’d already seen him at his worst moments. Taking a knife to that guy’s stomach, then getting drunk off his ass immediately after. Throwing up in the toilet, screaming in his sleep. Going red-eyed at the nearest fight, because the thing about the military is that it doesn’t teach people how to come back and it doesn’t teach people how to stop fighting, even when there’s no fight to begin with.

That’s definitely not something that kids should see in their fathers, and the comparison—even the mere entertainment of Jay being some kind of father figure doesn’t sit right with him either.

9. but the dark has no remark

“To borrow one of your terms, Captain…” Spock’s voice drifts for a moment. It goes fuzzy, and when Jim opens his eyes, he’s left in the empty hallway.

“Spock,” Jim says. “Quit fooling.”

“I am not, Captain.”

10. never thought about love when i thought about home

“He’s stopped cooking since med school,” Eloise keeps going. “A real damn shame, if you ask me. But I swear the good genes are still floating in there, so long as you look real hard for ‘em—oh, don’t glare, that’s rude.”

Bones sighs again.

Jim grins, looking over at his friend.

Lenny? He mouths.

Bones glowers.

no pressure tags: @b1uetrees @kckenobi @stolen-pen-name23

[georgiapeach30513]

Rumplestiltskin, Part 4

Summary: Andy invites you to the ball

Pairings: Prince!Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, first time, voyeurism, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Hearing Walter hoof the ground, and blow out an aggravated whinny, you look out your window.  A white horse. ��And that only meant one thing.  Smoothing out your skirt, you try and make yourself look more presentable, before your father storms into the cottage, “He is back.  This needs to stop.”

“He’s just came for you to look over Clementine.”

“She got new shoes last week,” you roll your eyes, going to meet Andy outside, “Keep him away from the well.”

“I can’t help it that he gets thirsty,” you smirk at him, but continue your mission to greet Andy outside.  He wasn’t wearing armor, but he was a decorated man.  Nobility.  More than just the King’s guard.  Walter blows at you, his nose pushing you forward a bit.  “You quit, you silly creature.  I can never tell if you like him or you despise him.  Quit pushing,” stomping your foot you turn to glare at him, but he only neighs in return.

Andy smiles as he jumps off the horse, already taking her to the stables, and you follow, but not too closely behind.  Smiling at how comfortable he was around the barn.  “She looks like she needs some oats.”

“Yeah, she’s a good girl.  I’m afraid that I’m here for some royal news.”

“Why does royal news need to travel so far?”

“It seems…Well, you see,” he looks out at the barn when Walter stands in the doorway glaring at him, “Well, I’ve been keeping something from you.”

“Oh?” You didn’t like the way that sounded.  Didn’t trust where this was going, and you were afraid.  But then his hand brushes against yours.  Holding it tighter, before bringing you closer to him.  “Andy, what’s going on?”

“I’ve not exactly been truthful with who I am.”

“You’re not Andy?”

“No.  No, I’m Andy.  Officially, I’m Prince Andrew Stephen of Palmona, the future King,” you stumble back from him, shaking your head.  “Miss, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you here?”

“To see you.  It’s always to see you.  I’m having to choose a wife,” you scoff at him, and pull his hand off yours.  Your brows furrowed, and his expression never changes.

“You’re wasting my time.”

“No, I’m not.  You’re getting an invite to the ball being thrown in my honor.  A hope of finding a suitable wife,” you weren’t suitable.  You weren’t anybody.  Definitely not someone that a royal would marry, even if they could.  You want to kick yourself for being so foolish.  “I’m delivering the invitation personally.  You’re the only one getting a personal one, the others were sent by courier.”

“So I get a front row seat of you choosing a proper lady to be your wife?  Sounds like a riveting time, Your Highness,” Andy’s nostrils flare with the formal greeting.  “Give your horse some water, and be on your way.”

“No.  You are getting this invitation,” reaching into his side, he pulls out a beautiful golden invite to his ball.  “It’s a masquerade.”

“How rich is that?  Hide your mistress behind a gilded mask.  I won’t be someone’s second option, Your Highness.”

“If you call me that one more time, Miss, I won’t be so kind,” he takes a deep breath, softening his features, and even his voice.  “You have never been my second choice.  You have been my only choice.”

“A fool’s game.  One neither of us will win.”

“Go to the ball.  Let me dance with you in the open.  In front of my parents.  Let’s show them that I only want the one, and that one is you.  My father has power to change this stupid rule, and I can marry you.  And if he won’t, I won’t marry until I am king, and then I will.”

“And should you become king in your old age?  And I can’t give you an heir. Then what?”

“My father is old.  Much older than my mother.  She was his fourth wife.  He’s tired, and doesn’t want the crown past the jeweled ornament that sits on his head.  Should I want you, I will have you,” you flinch away from him, and Andy shakes his head, “That is not what I meant, Miss.  I want you.  And I can sacrifice the time to have you properly.  I can’t give up the throne.  My brother is not fit to be King.  But I can be a wife-less king, until you marry me.”

“But, what will I wear?” You grin at him.  Your cheeks heat up at the thought of you amongst the elite and proper members of society.  Already getting nervous of people around the crowd, and people that would look down on you.

Andy’s face lights up at your question, pulling you into his embrace, he presses his lips gently onto yours, “Andy, I’m serious.”

“I’ll have you a dress made.  Send you everything that you need.  The only thing I need,” he starts, bringing his lips directly over yours.  Making you feel his heated breath, and every word he speaks, you get the soft pillows of his lips pushing against your own, “Is you.  Maybe, we should make a wish into the well, and you will grace me with food, since I have traveled so far.”

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t wish for me to kiss you, okay?  I will do that without a wish.”

“Don’t worry,” his hands skim down your sides, settling much too low on your back for a proper lady, but you did not care, you were no proper lady, “I’ve got some ideas on things to wish for.”

No one told you this mask was going to be so difficult to see through.  Andy forgot to mention that he wanted you to arrive late.  Wanted that grand entrance.  Your gown with layers upon layers of the finest silks, the color of the purest gold, and you looked like royalty.  Even stepping out of the carriage, you could feel their heated gaze.  The whispers of who you were, and where you came from.

Walking into the palace ballroom, you smooth out your dress.  Worrying your lip as you glance around.  There were smiling faces everywhere.  Jovial dancing, an orchestra, and compared to most in the room, your dress stood out, and was much more grand and intricate than anyone there.  Andy had wanted you to stand out.  The other dresses were smaller skirts in pastels, while every inch of you was covered in gold of some sort.  Your dress, shoes, jewelry, even paint on your skin.  Andy had made sure that you were the belle of the ball, and now you couldn’t even find him.

His father sits up straighter as you descend the stairs.  Glancing around the room to find Andy, because it was as if people created a pathway right to his son.  Spreading out as you wandered through the crowd, “Who is she?” His mother asks, catching a glance at her son who pushes through the throng of people.  He had spotted you, but you were still a lamb amongst wolves.

Your chest heaving, and you wonder if this was a mistake, “I have no clue,” his father answers, zeroing in on the small golden tiara on your head, and even a golden pendant laying against your chest.  He watches his son, who disregards every maiden in his path.  “He’s going to her.  He has been spending some time away from the palace.”

Your lips turn up into your sweet smile, when you finally spot him.  Your gait speeding up as you rush towards him.  The second that you reach him, he pulls your hand to get into position for a waltz, “Andy, I don’t belong here.”

“Nonsense,” he purrs, whirling you around the room.  Everyone moves away from the two of you.  Staring as Andy twirls you around, “It’s them who don’t belong here.  You are right where you’re meant to be.  In my arms, and the envy of the entire ball.  You look breathtaking.”

“I think you did well.”

“I didn’t choose this,” you cock up an eyebrow at him, needing to know more, but he’s keeping it a secret for some reason.  “A little birdie told me that he had something for you that was gold, and you should wear gold.”

Reaching to the pendant around your neck, you can’t believe it.  “My father?  He’s but a simple ferrier.”

“He is a ferrier, but I doubt he’s as simple as he plays.  Gold is your color.  When you become queen, I want you to wear gold everyday.  You will be lavished in the color and the metal,” you give him a giggle, not even notice that you had caught everyone’s eyes.  All of them were curious as to who you were, but more importantly where you came from, and how you got here.  Most already deciding that you would be Andy’s future.  “You’re every bit as regal as I am, Miss.  Don’t forget that.”

You stand outside the ballroom, waiting on Andy to return, and needing a breather.  Skin glowing and sticky with sweat; these skirts were not made for such movement.  Dizzy with happiness and the nonstop dancing, not to mention how handsome Andy looked.  Perfectly coiffed and looking every bit like the prince he was.  It was more than the crown that sat atop his head, he was oozing a just and fair leader.  People noticed him.  Praised him, and were excited to see what the future held with Andy at the forefront.

They had noticed you as well, and you gave them comfort, because their future king had found a wife.  Your eyes get heavier.  Your heart and head pounding with the music and the prolonged high of happiness. You wander down the hallway whence Andy had left, wondering where that silly man had gone.

Walking past a door, you gasp when a hand covers your mouth, and pulls you into the room.  “Shh, Miss, I just wanted some privacy.  Waiting a long time for you to follow me,” spinning around the room, you wonder who’s bedroom this could be.  It was beautiful.  Bigger than the entire cottage, “It’s mine.”

“You lead me to your room?”

“I’m the only one with a key,” dropping your hand, he walks over to the door, locking it.  Maybe it was the dancing and spinning.  Maybe it was the champagne.  Possibly how handsome that Andy looked in his suit.  But maybe, just maybe, you were tired of waiting on things to happen.  Waiting on everything to line up to where you could make Andy yours.  

Watching him saunter towards you, his hands slide around your waist, and it’s you that backs up to the bed.  Getting a disapproving growl from Andy, but you don’t listen.  Your knees hit the mattress, and you pull him down with you, “Miss?”

“Will you wait on me?”

“I will?”

“You will make me your wife?” He nods his head, letting his weight start to settle over you, “Then we should do as married people do.  You will be my husband, and you will always be my king.”

Andy removes the mask off your head, letting it fall to the floor, and then starts kissing down your body, stopping at the swell of your tits, and you take a deep breath, “Do you know how to tie up a corset?”

“My queen will not be leaving until tomorrow,” sitting up, you let him pull at your laces, “And my queen will have a different dress by then.  My queen also needs to just breathe.  You’re going to make yourself pass out, and I won’t be making love to your unconscious body.  Just.  Breathe.”

He removes your top, and starts working on your breasts.  Leaving you gasping, and whispering at his name with the way his tongue was moving on you.  He’d deal with the skirts in a moment.  Right now, he was enjoying your unsullied body.  

Little did Andy know, that his mischievous brother did in fact know a way into Andy’s room.  The perfect Andy had gone missing from his own ball, no less.  His lip curls up into a snarl as he watches the great and wonderful Andrew bed a maiden.  He could barely see your face, but he heard your whimpers.  Andy’s hand drifts up your skirts, and you yelp at the feeling, you were as pure as his parents had assumed, but here he was using you.  He knew that Andy wasn’t so perfect.  

Careful not to let his brother notice him, he sneaks out, locking the door again.  Ransom wasn’t sure how he was going to use this information, just that he knew it was going to be of use to him.  

“Andy, just touch me.”

“I am.”

“No,” his head pops up from your many layers with a devilish grin.  “I want to properly feel my king,” you start undoing his buttons, sighing when your hand presses up against his hard chest.  “Andy,” you mewl, “I want to feel you all over me.  Ruin me for anyone else, because I’m only yours.”

An animalistic power overtakes Andy.  Your beautiful self looking vulnerable and meek, needed him to claim you.  He rushes in removing his suit, and helps you out of those ridiculous layers.  The two of you timidly bring yourselves closer, before he crashes his lips into yours, laying you back on the bed.

His legs go in between yours, and he pushes them further apart.  Licking the length of his hand, he buries it in your warmth.  You were soaked.  Pressing two fingers into your cunt, both of you moan.  You were tight.  “Andy,” everything about you was like a drug, and he was addicted.  “Andy!”

“I need to get you ready to take me,” with his cock heavy on your thigh, you were not thinking about his fingers.  You needed him, and he was going to give it to you.

“I don’t care,” you pout at him.

“As you wish, my queen,” pumping his length in his fist a few times, he lines himself up, and you gulp.  Nodding your head as confirmation, and his bulbous tip breeches your entrance.  A blinding sting heats up your pussy, and he tsks at you for forgetting to breathe again, “I will stop,” he playful scolds as he sinks slowly into your body.

“Don’t you dare,” you pant out.  Your hands squeeze at his back, and Andy hisses through his teeth.  Glancing down at where the two of you connect, you felt like he was in your guts, and there was so much length still to go.

“Changing your mind?”

“No!” You yelp, and he quickly pushes another inch.  “Andy!”

“I’m not going to last long with how you say my name.  You feel amazing.  Delicious even,” his eyes watch as he pushes the final two inches in.  Balls deep into your quivering cunt, and he has to center himself.  You were hugging his cock perfectly.  Your walls throbbing over him made it hard to concentrate.  A deep desire just to fuck into you, but knowing it would be a bit more painful to you.

“Andy,” it’s the only thing you can say.  The only thing you can think.  Knees bent, and legs spread wide to accommodate his thick body, and even thicker cock.  “Andy…An…”

“Shh, I’ve got you.  Let me take care of you,” with a nod of your head he pulls out a bit.  Your skin stretching around his cock, has him needing to push back into you quickly.  A sob of his name, has him caressing your glistening skin.

“Fine,” you assure him, and he moves again.  Slowly picking up speed with each thrust into you.  Your body relaxes a bit, and Andy rushes into you.  Doing it again, and when your face lights up with pleasure, he takes that as a sign.  Changing to rut into you.  

You don’t care about the sting.  You had Andy.  Your king.  You revel in how he had a part of you that no one would.  The steady build up over these past few months, and what Andy assumed was courting you, accumulating in this very moment.  He wanted to see you every night in his bed, taking him just like this.  Baring his children, and being the queen that the kingdom deserved.  He would make him a better man and ruler with you by his side.  

“Andy, I love you,” those simple words take his breath away, because you were just too perfect.  It was destined in the stars for the both of you.  He had made enough wishes into that well of a happy and long life with you by his side.  

“And I love you,” his lips crash into yours as he swallows every sweet sound that moves off your lips.  He needed this all the time.  Everyday.  He would make an excuse to bring a different horse a day if he had to.  Commission another cottage in the woods for just you and him, he didn’t care.  All he cared about was you, and you alone.  The life that you were meant to have with him.  You were going to be the perfect, kind, fair, queen.  His parents didn’t realize how you didn’t need to have a title, because you were and would always be his.  His miss.  His queen.  His equal.  His partner.  His.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @whimsyplaty92 @xcaptain-winterx @bambamwolf87 @lavender-annd-lilac @thedarkplume @duuhrayliegh @rebekahdawkins @johndeaconshands @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @feyfantome @athena-penrose @royalwritersoftheuniverses

[jiminrings]

I REQUEST A SOFT BADBOY DRABBLE WITH SHY READER AND HES TEASING HER BUT SOMEONE ELSE JOIMS IN AND THEYRE DOING IT TO BE MEAN BUT HES LIKE STFU BEFORE I PUMCH UR FACE ONLY IM ALLOWED TO BULLY SHY READER GRR 😡😡😡😡 and soft readers like 0.o but *squeals incoherently* 😭😭😭😭

last name, jeon.

drabble week: day two

drabble week masterlist

pairing: badboy!jungkook x shy!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "can't you tell that i really don't want you to be here?"

notes: a tiny change on the plot!! also: frat boy!jimin from day four makes an appearance :D

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“do you wanna form-“

... yes

you DO have an alliance with jungkook

it's a very fair trade honestly

he pretends to be your boyfriend!! there's no specific boundaries to it, but he springs into action as soon as you're put into an inconvenience

in exchange, you whore him out to your friends!!! :D

no but literally that's how he called it

the whole reason this came to be in the first place is because you hATE confrontation with a burning passion

especially when it comes to those "i have a crush on you" moments that people spring on you all of a sudden

you don't like them back!!! that's the truth!!! but the problem is that you aLWAYS feel guilty letting people down

you obviously don't have the obligation to like someone back just because you sit next to them in class :// IT'S JUST IN YOUR NATURE TO FEEL THAT WAY

you wouldn't get into a relationship with said confessor to ease your guilt, clearly

do you plan on denying their advances? yes

but hOW????

you always take the passive-aggressive approach

you get jungkook to carry your bag and hold your hand, walk in front of said person and pretend not to see them, jungkook makes sURE to put some snide eye contact in there aaaaand the whole ordeal is finished :D

you've managed to let someone down slowly without having to speak to them in-person!!!

jungkook comes more handy than that too

you take him when you want to eat out because you're too anxious to eat alone

you take him when you want to go somewhere in which lining up is essential and you're also too anxious to stand by yourself

you take him when you want to go shopping when there's a sale but you're almost always intimidated by the barrage of people and salespeople so he asks and answers the questions for you

jungkook, in hindsight, is the perfect fake boyfriend for you <3

ALSO jungkook wants something from you

"whore me out to the girls from the families your family's friends with, and it's a deal :D"

that alliance and exchange is going pretty well so far

you mAY be on the more-reserved side but that doesn't mean you're self-aware!!!

you know that your parents are loaded and your shy nature could be somehow chalked to that since you didn't really have anyone that wasn't as non-superficial as you'd like, since they were the overprotective helicopter two-rotor seven-blade parents :(((

jungkook, however, is the only constant you have in your formula

you've known him since childhood and have been friends ever since

his mom's your mom's personal assistant, and one day when mrs. jeon couldn't find a babysitter for jungkook, your mom didn't hesitate to let four-year old jungkook come with her to work

jungkook's your fIRST actual friend that hates gold spoons with you because of how tacky they look :-) he's your emotional support person basically

your emotional support person who was sO close to running late from picking you up during his free day >:( you were about to break into a sprint if he arrived a second later, because you managed to spot a jock coming to you from the corner of your eye awhile ago

You Do Not Like Him <3

"and i even changed into a short-sleeved shirt to ward off your suitors. how romantic of me, don't you think?"

now that he mentions it, it's only now when you can drink him in in full-display

... wow

his right arm's the only one with his tattoos while his left's completely blank, but something about the balance just makes you !!!!!!!! even more

his arm's not completely covered but it was coming to be, something about the blank spaces of skin that are yet to be inked being a nice touch

"very romantic, kook."

now tHAT'S the answer he wanted to hear

he forcibly on your helmet for you to showcase, your grunts of annoyance being drowned out by whistling

(he's even looking left and right and making eye contact with anyone who has their eyes landing on you!!!!)

your cheeks smushed is a look he'll never be tired being in awe of, but he'll never tell you that, of course

"do you ever wonder if your parents would kill me if i misplace even a single hair on you?" jungkook thinks out loud and you don't even flinch with how sudden his thoughts could be, sitting on his seat first so it'd already be balanced when you do, "you sure you’re okay riding with me?? on a motorcycle????"

he usually uses yOUR family's vehicles (they let him and insisted he just takes one at this point) but when you called him, he was en route to kim kradle (it's a one-stop vehicle shop apparently) to get new rims for his motorcycle, bUT NOT ANYMORE HE GUESSES????

you come first compared to the booking he's waited on for three weeks

"i have insurance, i think."

no that's the wrong answer

why did you even bother.,,.,

jungkook flicks your nose because your forehead's protected by the helmet, his face contorted in half faux frustration

"you were supposed to be mad at me for asking that — not logical!! don't even joke about that."

"... my life insurance? like, in the instance that i-"

oW THAT HURT

he flicked even harder this time!!!

you roll your eyes at him and it doesn't go unnoticed, a hand outstretching instead of his fingers flexing

“wallet, please.”

????

jungkook's surprised that you even look confused, this time rolling his eyes at you

“you rolled your eyes at me. you need to bribe me so i won’t rat you out.”

right

he has a never-ending knack for the you're rich jokes

you also know that he likes the cold and would turn the fan on even if it's too hot for a blanket, just because he wants to feel cocooned

you also know that he picks from the fourth row of drinks from the front because it's always been a habit

("the germs cling on to the first row!!!")

you also know that maybe, just maybe, you can't stand it tonight when he's putting himself out there instead of being your faux boyfriend

you keep on zoning out and hoseok, perhaps the only tolerable fellow rich kid you can tolerate within your circle, finally connects the dots in his head and snickers

he's been talking about finding the vintage sneakers he's always wanted on depop and how he almost got scammed for like tWENTY minutes already

in reality, all your nods and scowls aren't towards his story

it's to jungkook and... who's that? jihye whose dad is so colossally shitty, that this one rapper wrote a diss song for him? oh yeah, that jihye

"you like him. like actually 'lose your virginity to him' love him."

WHAT???

there's no way

"how did you-"

"you blush like one."

alright that answer was too quick

hoseok should've ATLEAST tried to wait for a few seconds before answering

"a-and the love part?"

"babe, jungkook may not be the richest one here and that should say a lot," you peer up at him nervously and he actually chuckles, peering to everyone at this function, "dude's humble — he could also just be dense to not see you love him."

okay very true

hobi's making a dig rn at how jungkook coinicidentaally happens to be blonde and maybe this is your cue to leave

hobi does not realize that his hair is aLSO dyed blonde while talking shit about jungkook and his hari

okay this is it

once again, you are NOT listening to hoseok and he's figured out what you're doing by now

you're psyching yourself up with a couple of shots and your heels are digging on the carpeted ballroom

MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY TO BE MORE OUTGOING!!

"pretend to wobble. it doesn't help that nothing can sink you."

oh okay makes sense

if you're gonna try and charm jungkook while trying to play it off as just being tipsy playfulness, atleast make it believable

hoseok snickers because this is just A+ content with the things that you choose to do in your way

shy girl with high alcohol tolerance mannn coming of age film writers would LOVE you ://

you're about to cross the distance between you and jungkook, but something knocks you on your shoulder with a gentle force that seemed intentional

is that-

hold on a second

"what a coincidence :O"

jimin?

jimin???

as in, wholesome yet slightly fuckboy-ish frat guy jimin???

he looks dashing and composed, meeting your eyes perfectly and he doesn't let your confusion startle him

"i know that look. what am i doing here?"

he says it eloquently as if he's practiced it

AND HE DID!!!

you must've looked so shocked that you immediately apologized, shaking your head no

"i-i didn’t mean-..."

you're confused, sure, but that doesn't mean you're immediately judging

it's just that you never saw jimin here or any function of the like, but you wouldn't put it past him if he does go to these things!!! he looks like a million dollars anyways

"relax, doll. you’re so far the only other person i know that i've seen in these type of things."

he looks calm and collected, but maybe that's just because he spent the last five minutes waiting for you to stand so he could bump into you

this place is just sO suffocating and a familiar face is gonna be his relief from something so fancy that it became mundane

"have we been in the same event before this?"

"not that i recall, no. i get invited but this is only the first time after awhile that i went."

jimin drinks from his champagne flute, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, "wanna know why i'm here?"

you're curious!!! what can you say!!!!

you never really interacted with jimin at all before this, but a familiar face like his is comforting

because hoseok's already engaged in another conversation and jungkook's,,,, being jungkook and is fawning all over jihye

jimin chuckles at your insistent nodding, leaning closer to whisper to your ear

"my stepdad’s loaded as fuck."

oh so that's why

he tugs you down to sit at the nearest possible empty chairs, all its occupants gone anyways because they're in the dancefloor busting tRULY horrendous moves

maybe it's because jimin feels lonely too like you are, and it's him feeling comfortable because he's pulled you like ten seconds ago and not once asked him anything out of bounds

maybe that's why he fell into conversation with you easily because you're always intently listening

"might love me as a real son too. maybe that’s a bonus? you don’t really expect that shit in the things you see."

this situation is actually pretty cute

you snort because maybe you’re nOT that shy when you drink,, that’s the only thing that changes in you probably

this whole conversation that sprung from boredom was unknowingly the subject of many stares, including jungkook who you were initially supposed to go to

“you’re worthy of love, jimin.”

:O

jimin sPITS his drink because where the fuck did THAT come from???

why did you say that and why does he feel that he needed to hear that

“i-i think — i think you need more,” he raises his own glass to your lips hurriedly, caught in surprise but you still gulp nonetheless

“you’re-“ you keep sputtering as he keeps making you drink, but he rubs circles on your back at the same time and it's when you realize that jimin the frat guy may not be that bad, “what??? don’t think you’re not the only one with daddy issues! shouldn’t we have like, a radar for each other?”

jimin snorts at your counter and his eyes crinkle to the point where he can't see anything, not being able to see how you're still trying to recover with all that fizz down your throat

wow ur really enjoyable to talk to

“you’re insane and i think-“

listen

you're not really big on feeling beyond a sense and all that stuff, but you feel as if the aura around you just got dark all of a sudden

"who are you calling insane?"

jungkook appears at your side in an instant, hands wrapped around your shoulders while you remain seated

you've honestly forgotten that you were supposed to go to jungkook, but you're reminded of that vERY clearly now

"go away, jimin," he mutters through his teeth, looking at him dead in the eye

hold on

wait

THAT'S JIMIN???

okay now he's confused

sometimes jungkook's mouth just moves on its own without loading the thought process

"why are YOU here?"

jimin furrows his brows, shocked that he'd even see jungkook here out of all people

the guy barely even attends classes!!! and that's coming from him!!

"why’s he here?"

he crouches to your ear, eyes still furrowed at the younger guy

"long story."

nO???

jungkook scowls bitterly because jesus fuck

YOU’RE ON WHISPERING TERMS NOW????

he left for one second, and the moment he comes back, that's when this fucking frat guy approaches you?? was he waiting on him to leave??

you and jungkook only act as a couple when the need arises, and even if you don't feel it, hE feels that this is the need!!! this is the need and it is arising!!!

"get back to uh, alpha bravo charlie or something, park. beat it."

why’s he reciting the nato phonetic alphabet???

jungkook sounds half-angry and half-sad at the same time, and you don't know which side should you focus on

“move,” he repeats this time again but more sternly, making jimin much more confused since jungkook's trying to pull him away from his seat

jimin doesn't budge and it makes the frown even more evident in jungkook's face

what is he FEELING

“can’t you tell that i really don’t want you to be here?”

“i’m not here for you, though. i’m here for y/n.”

he answers honestly, shis gut telling him that there's definitely something going on between the two of you

“y/n doesn’t want you here," kook argues back surely, only noticing your bitten lips now that makes him realize that you're not exactly sober; just a happy kind of rush

he sees you raise your hand timidly, an equally cheeky smile on your face that's only directed to jungkook like it's meant for him

"i-i actually don’t mind."

you don't,,,

you don't mind?

HOW'S THAT POSSIBLE

WHAT ARE YOU DOING

why aren't you signaling him to commence the faux boyfriend act!!

"y/n has a boyfriend."

“... i’m not hitting on her.”

alright this is more than the entertainment that jimin wished for lol

“yeah, well she has a boyfriend still so beat it.”

you do??

the last time you checked, jihye's gonna have jungkook as her boyfriend within the night!!

“i don-“

ALRIGHT THEN

jimin decides to indulge jungkook, knocking his knee with yours as he winks slyly, urging you silently to watch on, turning to look at you and ask

“what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

you don't answer.

that gives him all the more reason to do so.

“last name, jeon.”

jungkook looks the most determined you've ever seen him, eyes characteristically angry with his arms across his chest that his suit tightens, “first name, me.”

....

......

the three of you know that’s not the truth

jimin takes it in, sighing when he sense that something else is about to be unfold and he does noT want to be a part of it

not before whispering to your ear again for the last time, of course

“pretty weird name if you ask me,” you laugh automatically, momentarily forgetting that jungkook's standing by you on just your opposite side and could hear you

he leaves and that only leaves you with jungkook, looking up at him as he's too frantic to even sit

“what are you doing?”

“being a social butterfly," you quip just as fast, drinking your water afterwards

jungkook only clenches his jaw by then, being taken-aback when you speak again

“who are you doing?”

://

“i’m busy being mad at- wait a minute, WHO???”

who instead of what??

the short-lived enthusiasm you had with jimin left with him, crashing just as hard when you're reminded of jungkook's presence

“jihye’s a pretty nice girl. you should go home early tonight.”

his brows furrow, trying to get you to look at him but you avoid his gaze insistently, “what? what are you talking about?”

“she’s not my girlfriend though.”

you're not at all satisfied with the answer because it sounds so wrong, knowing that jungkook's a handsome guy and everyone wants to be with him!!!

and he probably wants to be with everyone else besides you.

“then who-...”

“don’t know yourself anymore? jimin must’ve really swept you off your feet, huh?”

jungkook huffs as he qualifies for a rebutt, your internal wallowing being cut short

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

...

....

“well would you look at that,” jungkook snickers, sighing through his nose as your eyes finally meet his, directly stubborn yet soft around the edges

“she’s not my girlfriend, and he’s not your boyfriend. what a coincidence.”

god did he feel so threatened the moment his eyes couldn't find you besides hobi and instead next to jimin, eyes crinkled in laughter without hesitation

have you been chasing after one another this whole time?

jungkook silently grabs you by the hand and you wave no opposition to it

maybe it's your liquor-influenced vision or maybe it's you hyperfixating on such a warm moment, but your eyes immediately lock to see the matching red thread bracelet he wore like yours

you're dressed in next year's spring collection line, and the structured silk black gown that has a train behind it doesn't exactly scream to have a simple red thread bracelet as its accessory according to your mom's designer and everyone else —

but you don't have the heart to take it off

there's no need to take it off

jungkook drives your car and no one says a single thing about anything

his hand’s on your thigh and you don’t question it, eyes locking into the way his hand looks perfect and the way the bracelet looks meant to be wrapped in his wrist in the first place

you're sure this time that it's not the newfound courage you have, but rather the need to do it

you kiss jungkook's cheek on a red light.

it's on a red light that jungkook realizes he could fit the visage of his world within one hand, finally kissing you like he's always wanted to

“yeah. what a coincidence.”

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Seven Demon Lords’ Pet Human

So I’m quite fond of the idea that the lesser demons see MC as the brothers’ dumb pet human up until MC is revealed to be a five star badass who can control the brothers on a whim. But Himiko isn’t okay with being referred to as anyone’s “pet”, and after a very bad day, she’s going to let the brothers know that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Genre: Half Crack Half Fluff

Warning: This story features my MC, who uses she/her pronouns, if that makes you uncomfortable no harm no foul, see you next time

“Just their pet human,”

“Aw, they let their cute widdle pet walk around all by herself~.”

“The brothers’ new pet looks so delicious…”

Himiko Nanami was not one for demeaning nicknames. She had told Luke over and over again that the reason people kept calling him a chihuahua was because he gave them a reaction, but she just couldn’t follow her own advice. A pet… the brothers’ pet… what complete and utter shit.

She had forged pacts with the seven lords of Hell. She had escaped death more times than she could count. On her first day at RAD, she had gouged out a demon’s eye with her headband for trying to eat her. She had walked Cerberus and survived. Himiko was no dainty little pet.

It was a tragedy that some of the demons that wandered the halls of RAD couldn’t see that. Not all the demons were irredeemable anti-human trash, some were quite sweet. But it only took one weird squishy grape to make Himiko refuse to eat the rest of the bowl. That’s how that saying goes, right?

It was supposed to be a good day, it was a Friday for Christ’s sake! But no, the world at large was conspiring to make Himiko’s forehead vein burst.

First period with Satan went normally for the most part, until the two paired up for an assignment and Himiko decided to give Satan a few pats on the head. A few snickers coming from a few rows behind her drew her attention, and right after Satan left to use the bathroom, that’s when she heard it. The first comment of the day.

“Aww, a pet petting her master, how sweet.”

When Satan returned, Himiko was holding a broken pencil.

To her credit, she didn’t dignify those idiots with a response, but their comment managed to burrow its way into her brain and settle there right when she snapped the pencil.

Second period shouldn’t have been so shitty, Himiko had friends in that class. Friends other than the brothers and the other exchange students, but no. Everything sucks in the Devildom.

Paimon had so sweetly offered to share some of his chips with her when he heard she had skipped breakfast. Himiko was in the middle of happily chowing down when some asshole decided to ruin the cute friendship moment.

“Geez Pai, I thought you’d be more responsible than that~.” A demoness a few rows ahead cooed. “Feeding other people’s pets without asking~.”

Paimon choked on the chip he was chewing on while Himiko gave the demoness a bone chilling glare.

“Sh-she’s not- I’m not-”

“How about you mind your own fucking business?”

The demoness only rolled her eyes and turned back to giggling with her friends. It was truly a shame that at least 60% of all the demon ladies in the school were incredibly mean and/or homicidal, a shame for Himiko because she’s a raging bisexual.

With her appetite lost, Himiko forfeited the rest of the chips to Paimon.

Lunch went by as normal as it could have gone. She sat with the brothers as usual and happily watched their antics. When she left the table to throw her trash away was when all hell broke loose.

“-Pet,”

“-Pet…”

“-Pet.”

“-Pet!”

All those damned whispers reached Himiko’s ears and if she had any less patience she would have pulled her hair out and screamed. When she got back to the table, she spent the rest of her lunch period in silence.

What’s worse was that her next class was with Solomon, and the only seat available was next to him. Great…

“Grouchy today, ms. Nanami?”

“Annoying today, mr. Wizard?”

Solomon let out a quiet and carefree laugh and rested his head on his hand. “Oh Himiko, you know I’m always up for being a little annoying.”

Himiko rolled her eyes and tried to pay attention to the teacher. “Whatever…”

Class went on, but Solomon didn’t let up on his quiet pestering.

“Himiiiiii, tell me what’s wrong, I won’t laugh.”

“Go to hell.”

“Poor choice of words, you’re there with me.”

“I hate you.”

“So mean, I’m just trying to help. Solomon the Wise is known for giving great advice!”

Himiko turned and looked at the immortal sorcerer next to her and saw his pitiful attempt at what looked like puppy dog eyes. She rolled her eyes again and turned back to her work.

“I thought you were known for ordering a baby to be sawed in half.”

“Hey!” Solomon huffed, crossing his arms. “The baby did not get sawed in half. The saner of the two women got to keep the baby, I was being smart.”

“Sure, sure.” Himiko couldn’t hold back a bit of a smile. To her own surprise, Himiko began to weigh the pros and cons of actually telling Solomon what was going on. Hm, on one hand, Solomon was the only other human that might possibly understand what Himiko was dealing with, on the other hand, Solomon was a known shifty bastard and could barely be counted as human at this point. In the end, human solidarity won out.

“Solomon,” Himiko began. “Have you ever gotten called a pet before? Like a demon’s pet..?”

Solomon thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Probably. I’ve been alive too long not to have been called every name under the sometimes lack of sun, but I’ve always been more widely known as someone who makes demons into his pets.”

“Mmm, sure.”

“But fret not Himiko, those closest to you know the truth. You’re no pet.”

Not exactly the heaps of comfort Himiko wanted, but at least Solomon answered truthfully and didn’t say anything that would get on her nerves-

“I don’t know why you’re so upset about that nickname though, you’d look amazing in a collar.”

For what happened to poor Solomon right after he said that, let’s just say a palm reader could read Himiko’s future off Solomon’s face.

In fourth period, Himiko had to hold herself back from bitchslapping someone else who decided it would be a good idea to test her. A quick word of advice to anyone in the Devildom who would like to survive an encounter with Himiko, never, ever, fuck with her headband.

“You fiendish demon!” Luke yapped, trying to help get Himiko’s headband back from the nasty awful no good demon who decided to pluck it off her head and hold it out of reach. “Give that back!”

“N’awwwwww, pet buddies!” The taller demon laughed and dangled the headband a little closer. “So cute! Someone get a picture for Devilgram-”

Luke slammed his foot directly into the demon’s kneecap. The demon practically shrieked and doubled over only to be met with Himiko’s knee in his gut. She daintily plucked the headband from his grasp and quickly pulled Luke out of the room.

“Are you okay?” The moment the two were far enough down the hall, Luke began to fuss over Himiko like a tiny nurse. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No buddy, I’m fine.” Himiko held out her hand for a high five. “Up high,”

Whack!

“Down low,”

Woosh!

“Too slow.”

“Hey!” Luke whined. “No faaaaaiiiiir!”

———————

No one wants their human to be grumpy, especially not the brothers, so when Himiko spent the rest of the time until dinner holed up in her room, they were a tad concerned.

“My human’s all saaaaaaaaad,” Mammon rested his chin on the table and whined. The rest of the brothers sans Asmo were sitting at the table awaiting dinner. “Himiko said she didn’t wanna play the Game of Life, and it’s like, the one game she’s good at…”

“Yeah, she’s been pissy all day.” Belphie added before quietly yawning. “What’d you do, Mammon?”

“Me?!” Mammon sputtered, practically scrambling out of his seat and pointing an accusatory finger at his brothers. “I didn’t do shit! What about you idiots?!”

“Well, let’s look at what we know,” Satan said, waving off Mammon. “During first period we partnered up for a project, I left to use the restroom, then when I came back she looked upset. During lunch when she left, she came back and didn’t speak the rest of the lunch period. Any theories?”

Beel raised his hand, and Satan nodded to him. “Himiko has terrible separation anxiety now, she can’t go too long without us.”

Satan gave Beel a few nods, then turned to the others. “That’s one guess. Anyone else?”

Mammon raised his hand, and Satan promptly ignored him.

“Oi! Pay attention to me!” Mammon stuck his hand in the air and waved harder. “She’s angry because she’s failin’ a class! Every time we’re not distractin’ her, she remembers!”

“I would have heard if she was failing a class.” Lucifer finally piped up from the head of the table, his face was buried in RAD’s newspaper. “You on the other hand, Mammon, are failing three of your four classes this semester.”

Mammon slid back into his seat and scratched the back of his neck. “About thaaaaaat, I need money for uh… for new books n’ pencils n’ shit. That’s why I’m failin’, you’ll lend me money, won’t ya big bro?”

Lucifer didn’t get to respond as Asmo burst into the door of the dining room with a pot of pasta that was almost half his height. “DINNER IS SERVED~!”

As everyone settled in to eat, Himiko finally made her appearance and plopped herself down in her usual seat next to Mammon and helped herself to the pasta with rosé sauce.

“It’s good! It’s good right?” Asmo peppered the group with questions about the food and how good he did. Himiko had to admit, this was damn good pasta. Smooth, creamy, cheesy, all that was missing was garlic bread. In a matter of minutes Himiko had cleared her first bowl and was going in for seconds.

“So Himiko,” Satan said as Himiko continued to shovel pasta into her face at a pace that could rival Beel. “We’ve noticed you’ve been looking a little upset today, care to satiate our curiosity?”

Himiko paused mid bite, which wasn’t doing wonders for her appearance considering she had sauce on the tip of her nose. But still, how sweet of her boys to notice, it made her cold dead little heart swell with love.

“Oh you know, just idiots at school not worth my attention.”

“What have they been saying?” Asmo asked, his voice unusually stiff.

“They’ve been calling me you guys’ pet.” Himiko grumbled. “How ridiculous is that?”

The clattering of forks and the chewing of food halted as the boys went completely silent. Himiko shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she looked around. Had what those demons said been a greater insult to the boys than she-

“Pfff- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mammon erupted into laughter and the rest of the brothers followed suit.

“G-Geez,” Belphie snickered, feigning wiping a tear from his eye. “Humans are so sensitive.”

“Excuse me?!” Himiko gripped her fork so hard she was sure it would leave indents.

“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Himi,” Levi said between bouts of cackling. “But you are a teeny tiny little normie human surrounded by well… us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! That I should just roll over and take it!?” Himiko immediately turned and pointed at Belphie. “Don’t you dare.”

Belphie’s mouth was open to make a comment about Himiko’s poor choice of words, but the pact activated and any words died in his throat. Belphie flipped her off and Himiko returned the gesture.

“Himiko,” Beel was sweet enough to not laugh at Himiko’s predicament. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, people love their pets.”

As sweet as Beel thought his words were being, Himiko really wanted to send him to bed without dinner.

“Yes, yes, Beel’s right.” Satan took a deep breath and collected himself after his laughing fit had finally ceased. “It’s nothing to worry about, Himiko. It shouldn’t be bothering you. Just don’t listen.”

Himiko somehow gripped her fork even tighter as she levelled her ice cold glare at Satan. “Thank you so much for demonsplaining how I should deal with and feel about the very human problem of people seeing me as some toy.”

The venom in her words seemed to snap the rest of the table out of their giggly stupor, and Mammon gave Himiko a few pats on the back.

“Ah don’t worry about it, Himiko. I’ll fight any bastard who says anythin’ like that.” Suddenly realizing he hadn’t been a tsundere for five whole minutes, Mammon went red and snatched his hand away. “Ya know, just because you’d probably use the pact and order me to anyway…”

“I’m not a dere~” Levi began to softly sing, Himiko perked up and grabbed Mammon’s cheek.

“A tsun-tsundere~”

“Not that song again!”

That should have been the end of that whole debacle. Himiko’s decent mood had been restored and all was well! The gang chatted amicably for the rest of dinner. Himiko made sure to heap loads of praise on Asmo for his amazing pasta. She felt a part of her die when she went in for fourths and the spoon scraped the bottom of the pot.

Too bad nothing ever goes smoothly in the Devildom.

Since it was Asmo’s night to cook, it was Himiko’s night to do dishes, so she got up and began to clear the table. As she began to collect the unused knives, Lucifer, not looking up from his newspaper, handed Himiko his plate.

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

Himiko stopped dead in her tracks and her grip on the plate tightened. “Repeat that, Lucifer?”

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

A tiny smirk spread across Lucifer’s face, which only served to make Himiko’s blood boil. If he thought he could make a joke about that while she was still mad he had another thing coming.

As quick as a flash, she had whipped the plate straight at the ground, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces, before Lucifer even had a chance to say anything, Himiko was standing in front of him with a frigid glare on her face.

“Lucifer, put your hand flat on the table and spread your fingers. Keep quiet.”

With no choice but to obey, Lucifer slapped his hand down on the dining table, though, the glare he was giving her wasn’t any less murderous. Not caring, Himiko’s gaze remained cold and calculating, she turned to the other brothers, who were rooted in place from sheer shock. “Stay.”

“I’d just like to get something out there to you seven,” Himiko said calmly, holding one of the knives in her right hand and waving it around like it was the most casual thing in the universe. “I, am no one’s pet,”

Himiko turned and slammed the knife right between Lucifer’s middle and index fingers, imbedding it deep in the table.

“Arm candy,”

The second knife was slammed right in between Lucifer’s middle and pointer finger.

“Or accessory.”

The final knife went between his index and pinkie finger. Himiko’s next words were slow and deliberate as she stared the strongest of the brothers directly in the eyes.

“I am your friend, and equal, I won’t accept being anything less, whether it’s a joke, or not. You agreed to those terms the day we made our pact, didn’t we Lucifer? Have you changed your mind?”

It was so quiet you could hear Henry 2.0 swimming around in Levi’s room upstairs. No one dared to breathe as the seconds ticked past.

Finally, Lucifer responded, his voice tinged with exasperation. “No Himiko, I haven’t.”

“Good,” A small triumphant smile appeared on Himiko’s face as she removed the knives from the table and finished up cleaning the table. “That goes for the rest of you boys too, got it?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Mhm.”

“Yes…”

As Himiko walked into the kitchen to do everyone’s dishes, they quietly reminded themselves exactly who they were dealing with. Himiko Nanami was no dainty little human, no no no, she was the one master to rule them all, and by god was she going to make sure no one ever forgot.

——————

AAAAAAAA THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!! I really need to write more stuff with Himiko! Inspiration struck at like… 10 this morning and I just ran with it.

Now on one hand, I can see that people might think that Himiko overreacted to Lucifer’s little joke a tad. Buuuuuuuuuuut she’s gotta shut down that shit early, right? She doesn’t want “pet” to be the next “chihuahua”.

Lucifer’s probably trying to stick his nose back in his newspaper as he wonders whether he’s incredibly enraged or unbelievably turned on.

Hope you all enjoyed! Now back to the regularly scheduled shitposting.

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part Two

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,331

Warning: Flirting, Fluff

***

After having traded spots with Emma, over the next two weeks, you worked on your new drama project with the other group. But this didn’t mean that you didn’t see Cillian. To the contrary. You saw him more often than you were comfortable with and your attraction towards him intensified every time you interacted with him.

Every morning, Cillian would get his coffee at the local coffee shop where you worked as many as four days per week. In addition, just like you, he would spend a lot of time at the nearby second-hand bookshop looking for random and interesting novels.

The small bookstore had a reading area upstairs which no one really knew about and, on a rainy Tuesday evening, you sat there for three hours, researching for one of your other literature units.

That day, Cillian had the same idea as you, evidentially bored on his own since temporarily moving to London for the drama project.

‘Interesting choice’ Cillian said as he saw you sitting in the reading area with a stack of books by Charles Dickens.

‘Oh yes, Dickens. He is making some good points which I can use for my literature project’ you explained.

‘And some random ones too’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to raise your eyebrows as if you were asking a question.

‘For example, he states that there is no greater gift than the love of a cat. I would question this statement’ Cillian laughed.

‘I am fairly sure it was a contextual question’ you chuckled.

‘Nah…I think he just likes cats’ Cillian then went on to say before sitting down next to you and asking you whether you wanted some help with your research.

You nodded in agreement and probably spent the next hour or so with Cillian in the small book store looking through Dicken’s many novels.

***

Then, the following day, when you came walking out of your bedroom, you couldn’t believe your eyes when Cillian stood in the kitchen with Emma.

That was two days in a row that you saw each other by chance. Clearly, he didn’t live far from campus either.

‘Oh…uhm…hi’ you said when you realised that he saw you, although deep down inside, you hoped that he didn’t as you were wearing nothing but an old grey t-shirt, cotton panties and a pair of bed socks. Your hair was messy and tied up in a bun and you wore your black framed reading glasses.

‘Hi Y/N’ Cillian said with a warm smile, unable to take his eyes of you, causing your cheeks to flush.

‘Cillian was nice enough to help me carry these upstairs as I ran into him on the street and one of the shopping bags broke’ Emma explained and Cillian was quick to advise her that he needed to leave as he had a call scheduled for 3pm.

‘See you’ you quickly said just as you stumbled back into your room and Cillian nodded, having a slight chuckle as you appeared rather clumsy.

‘Did you instigate this?’ Thomas then laughed and you couldn’t help but poke your head back out of your room, waiting for Emma’s response.

‘Maybe’ Emma then went on to giggle and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her. She clearly had a crush on Cillian and you certainly couldn’t have told her about why you wanted to change to the other group.

The truth was that you liked Cillian a lot and every day you saw him, you could feel butterflies in your stomach. But it wasn’t like a silly crush. Instead, it was an attraction not only on a physical but also intellectual level. He was funny, smart and you loved talking to him. There was something that distinguished him from guys your age and from other men you’ve met and this is what attracted you.

Every time he came into the coffee shop at which you worked and ordered his latte, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement, something you had never really felt around a man before. But then again, you knew this was pointless and inappropriate and you quickly realised that you shouldn’t waste your time and energy in pursuing anything with man who you barely knew and who was 20 years older than you. You knew you needed to steer clear from him, avoid him wherever you could.

***

Unfortunately for you, it was the Monday on the fourth week of the drama project that Aiden had called in sick for the week after having contracted food poisoning and it was Cillian who took over his project until Aiden’s return.

Instantly, when Cillian walked into the theatre room, your butterflies returned. But, at the same time, you were incredibly nervous. You really didn’t want to work with him again. It was the whole reason you changed groups, so you didn’t have to be around Cillian.

Luckily for you, in this group, you only played a minor part in the play and Cillian was focused on the other students who needed more help than you with the script.

However, following the three-hour program for the day, Cillian asked whether you could see him after class. There was something he wanted to give you for your research program.

You nodded shyly and, after everyone had left, followed him to the office he was assigned temporarily by the university.

‘This is for you’ Cillian grinned as he handed you a print out entitled ‘Dicken’s fascination with Cats’ and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Geez, are you still on about that?’ you asked as you realised that Cillian didn’t like to be wrong.

‘What can I say Y/N? It kept me up. I had to research it further’ Cillian laughed before handing you a second print out.

‘Oh common’ you laughed as he handed you a thirteen-page research paper on Dicken’s different cats.

‘Perhaps it is you who likes cats’ you then went on to say and Cillian confirmed that he does, in fact, have a ginger cat named Garfield back in Dublin.

‘Garfield? Now that is a creative name for a ginger cat’ you giggled just as Cillian pulled out his phone and showed you a picture.

‘Cute’ you giggled as you looked at the picture while leaning in closer, your arm brushing against Cillian’s arm gently.

Just as your skin lightly touched his, you could feel goose bumps raise all over your body and it was almost as if Cillian had noticed.

He cleared his throat and you startled, collecting your thoughts before telling him that you should probably get back home.

Cillian nodded but, just as you were about to walk out of the door of his office, he called after you.

‘Y/N?’ he asked and you turned around and looked at him while a short ‘yes’ escaped you.

‘Nothing, sorry’ he then went on to say, realising that, what he was about to ask you was highly inappropriate.

‘Alright, uhm, see you later’ you said just as your cheeks turned red instantly.

***

Later that evening, when you arrived at home, Emma had told you that she had a surprise planned for you.

‘I’ve organised a date for you. Tomorrow night. His name is Patrick, he is Irish and a little older than you. He works at the university hospital and he is taking you to see the game tomorrow, Ireland vs France’ Emma said with some excitement.

‘Emma, I am not going on a date with someone I don’t know’ you fussed but Emma was insistent.

‘You haven’t been with anyone for two years Y/N. Common. Despite we are having a party at the apartment and I know you hate frat parties. Just give him a chance’ Emma said and you immediately rolled your eyes.

‘Fine’ you huffed. ‘But I will meet him at the sports bar at 7 o’clock. He isn’t coming here’ you demanded and Emma nodded excitedly.

 Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo​ @vhscillian​ @ysmmsy​ @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  ​

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

[aenaxes]

OMG ok for the 200 follower celebration (based on your smoking post) PLZZZ write sharing a spice blunt with cross or any batcher of your choosing I would simply die 😩💅🏻❤️

vapor trails

[crosshair & hunter x f!reader] you don't really run with the fett twins' crowd, but you find yourself at one of their parties anyway (in reference to this post lol)

warnings: college!au, recreational drug use, suggestive themes, but consent is sexy & mandatory & sober babes

w/c: 3.8k

a/n: anon, you ask for one batcher, but why not two? thank you for enabling me nonnie & @mallr4ts lol (im so sorry to all the previous requests for the event, this one has just been needling in my brain all day and i had to get it out hsdfs)

event details here! requests are open until july 4th!

You don’t know much about the Fett twins.

They’re something like campus legends even though they’re only a year your senior and at the tail end of their fourth years. But as much as you’ve heard their names slung around in weekend plans and excited chatter, you’ve never once met them, much less seen them yourself. Between idling class whispers and dining hall conversations, all you can piece together from the rumors is that: one, they’re from a big family (you’ve heard anywhere from two to twelve other brothers, yikes); and two, as much as they work hard (because the venture capital and pre-professorial tracks seem rigorous enough), they play even harder.

It helps that they apparently own one of the biggest apartments off campus, one in which you find yourself hopelessly and miserably lost. And overdressed.

Great.

It hadn’t occurred to you that your roommate, who is nowhere to be seen, had been dressing up for her girlfriend, and that most people who had half a mind would wear something comfortable that could withstand a few spilled drinks and ash. So seeing the rest of the room in rumpled tees and sweats has you and your little black dress seeking out the nearest wall as you fiddle with your questionably sweet cup of margarita mixer.

You feel like a first year, and it sucks.

But for once, with everyone too busy mingling amongst themselves over the heavy thrum of some mumble rap beat, you manage to slip by unnoticed.

Every now and then, you dart your eyes around the ever shifting landscape of faces in the dim room, looking for even the vaguest familiarity that might let you feign being tipsy and join a group for the night. But every time you try, there’s no luck.

Fuck, you haven’t even seen anyone here before.

But there might be a god watching out for you yet when the crowd shifts just enough that you catch sight of the couch, and on it, someone you suspect to be one of the twins as he greets a few girls with a disinterested nod.

Emboldened, but mostly nervous that in the crowd of bodies and red solo cups you’re still helplessly alone, you push off the wall and squeeze past huddled cliques of conversation to make for the dark couch.

By the platinum bleached hair and big-name consulting group quarter zip, Crosshair—at least you think it’s him—lounges over the couch. He isn’t the only body on the suede seats, but he keeps to himself, his head dipped low as he works one hand over a small metal canister in his other palm.

If you weren’t having luck with the other nameless faces around you, maybe the Fett twin would keep you company—at least until your roommate came back to find you (if she did). And worst case, you’d just slink back to your dorm and mope until your roommate apologized to you with your favorite overpriced smoothie bowl the day after.

Mustering every ounce of courage you have, you plant your feet by the couch and finally speak.

"Is your name actually Crosshair?" you ask.

The man on the couch pauses, his motions stilling over the small metal cylinder in his palms, and he lifts his chin just enough to flick his eyes up towards the sound of your voice.

You always thought the girls in your droning 9AM gen-ed were wildly exaggerating his hype for their own devices, squealing over his (apparently) brooding charm and sharp looks to nip at his stash for free. But for all the vague haze surrounding your perception of the twins, you never thought that they were telling the truth.

If you had been in broad daylight under the incandescent glow of your creaky lecture hall lights, you might have called him cocky, almost haughty, how he meets you with an unreadable look for having interrupted him. But in the purple LEDs and heavy haze of vape juice and shitty tequila, he’s captivating, all dark eyes and perfectly lit skin, marked only by the needle-thin design tattooed over the right side of his face and a worn wooden toothpick bitten between his teeth.

You swallow down the dry lump in your throat when you catch him flick his eyes from your face, down the short length of your dress, and back up again.

"Smoke with me; maybe you'll find out," he drawls, toothpick bobbing as he speaks. He twists the cylinder once and offers you a wry smirk. And when you stay, speechless but there all the same, Crosshair scoots to the side and pats the narrow space between him and the couch arm, inviting you close.

"I've never smoked before," you admit a bit shyly as you drop down beside him. Your dress hikes up your thigh, and you shiver when your skin presses up against the soft denim of his jeans.

"Not even cigs?"

You shake your head. And you tell yourself that when he leans close and brushes his shoulder up against your arm, that he’s only doing it because someone’s boosted the bass, and you can’t hear him over the reverb.

"Well, good thing I'm here, yeah?"

He gives the metal canister a final twist and sets it down on the coffee table before you. Swapping the canister for a small brown sleeve, you watch in a daze as he pulls a semi-transparent leaflet from the folder and tears a strip of cardstock straight from its flap. He has pianist fingers, you think wistfully, neatly kept nails and slender grace, and you wonder if he’ll entertain you if you ask to compare your hand to his.

“What’s your name?”

You scrabble back to the present at the sound of his voice. “Uh, y/n,” you offer.

“Well, y/n,” he says with a soft laugh, having caught on to your daydreaming. “Step one, you fold your filter.”

You nod along absently as Crosshair artfully crimps the thick paper into a neat roll. As if there isn’t thirty-some odd people crammed into his apartment, he quietly takes you step by step, offering you the filter, the paper, then the contents of the canister (a grinder, he explains) like it’s a game of show and tell. But with every piece he places into your hands, you gravitate closer, closer, until you’re flush against his arm and practically hanging over his side to watch as he gently taps a line of bud over the paper.

“Here, let me give you a better look,” Crosshair says.

You expect him to bring the neat line of bud to you, but when nothing comes, you look up and find him waiting for you, one arm open in invitation as the other pats once on the dark denim of his thigh.

“Uh—”

“Sit,” he says as if you haven’t just met him fifteen minutes ago. “Front row seats if you want ‘em.”

On one hand, you barely know Crosshair outside of the rumors you hear on campus. On the other hand, he’s a genuinely pleasant person, careful to accommodate for your boundaries and offering a snide playfulness that’s banished your nerves from earlier in the night.

He’s also really fucking hot.

“Okay,” you murmur, and you let him wrap his arm around your waist and tug you onto his lap. And he’s right. Perched over his thighs, you see with perfect clarity (and without the strain in your neck) as he gently folds the paper over the mound of bud and carefully twists. It’s the prettiest joint you’ve ever seen—though it might be because it’s the only one you’ve seen.

"Final touch," Crosshair's voice rumbles over your back, shooting straight into your core as he lifts the paper's vellum edge to your lips. “Lick it for me.”

Since you sat down with him, you’ve only been the passenger, nodding along as Crosshair’s long, nimble fingers creased over filter paper and patiently pointed out things like the stray pistils in his baggie and the keef gathered at the bottom of his grinder for if you really want to get fucked up. And even though you aren’t doing much (because licking paper doesn’t really seem too crazy), it’s a step forward from the comfortable rhythm that had settled between you, and you twist around in his lap to shoot him an uncertain glance.

“Just,” Crosshair flicks his tongue over his lower lip, flashing a brief glimpse of a ball piercing towards your wide eyes. And if you weren’t so flustered, you might have recognized the coy playfulness in his gaze. “Give it a lick, right over the edge.”

“I—uh, what if I—” you stammer.

“You’re not gonna mess this up, darling,” Crosshair chuckles. If his hand squeezing brief over your waist wasn’t enough to bring heat searing over the tops of your ears, his next words, crooned low and breathy into your ear, certainly do. “You’re a smart girl. You can do it.”

"My brother giving you trouble?"

Another voice cuts through the din of the party, sparing you your stammering nerves as you whip your head up in its general direction. You’re greeted with the sight of his brother, peering down on you as he takes a sip from his cup.

“You’re such a killjoy,” Crosshair mutters, drawing his arm tighter around your waist as he jabs the half-rolled joint to where Hunter sprawls down onto the couch beside him. “No, I’m not being a creep. I’m teaching our pretty underclassman here how to roll.”

Oh.

Heat rushes over your cheeks, and you can’t decide whether you want to shrink into yourself or bask in it and beg for more.

He called you pretty.

“With her in your lap,” Hunter snorts into his cup.

“It was your idea to invite your entire fucking rugby team. Where else would we do it?”

“I’m so sorry he’s like this,” Hunter laughs, tilting his head and looking up at you through his (unfairly) long lashes. Where you thought Crosshair’s tattoo was bold, Hunter’s practically blows him out of the water, a well-worn swath of ink on the left half of his face, curving into neatly stylized teeth right at the edge of his lips. “I’m Hunter.”

Huh, maybe you do have a thing for tattoos.

“Y/n,” you squeak. “It’s, um—it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he says as he offers you an easy smile. “Has my baby brother been treating you right?”

“God, two fucking minutes,” Crosshair snaps. You hear the embarrassment seeping from the vitriol, and it strikes you like a shot to the head that he’s trying to play cool in front of you. “I come out two minutes after you and—”

“We’re fraternal, and I got all the oxygen in the womb. Explains why he has awful people skills,” Hunter fake-whispers loud enough for Crosshair to hear, and you giggle as the other man groans from behind you.

“No, he’s been really nice,” you say softly once you realize that you’ve been laughing a little too loud. “He’s teaching me about weed.” It sounds juvenile when you say it, awkward and clumsy on your tongue. It’s a dead giveaway that has Hunter’s smile mellowing into something soft.

“Your first time?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Cross here’s high as shit at least four hours every day. Says it helps him do the math. I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands.”

“You try running a nonlinear regression sober,” Crosshair snorts. “Anyways, we were just finishing up this joint before you decided to kill the vibe.”

Crosshair lifts the half-rolled joint back up to your chin, and this time, he leans forward and presses his chest close against your back as the playful snark leaves his tone, in its wake, something patient and calm as his voice rumbles by your ear.

“You gonna help me finish the job, sweet girl?”

You surprise yourself when the initial trepidation vanishes as you tip your chin down and stick out your tongue. Maybe you’re showboating now that you have an audience, feeling Hunter’s dark eyes on your lips when you touch the tip of your tongue out over the edge.

Whether it’s your lip gloss or the fine crumbs of bud stuck to the roll paper that fills your mouth with something earthy and sweet, you can’t say. All you know is they’re both following you with that intense intent, the bass and blend of voices faded out around you; just you in Crosshair’s lap and Hunter pretending to care about the drink in his hand as you lift your tongue off the far corner of the paper and close your lips.

“Good job,” Hunter muses, and you’re pretty certain he’s not talking about the joint when you feel his gaze boring into you alone.

The smell of smoke pulls you out of Hunter’s gravity, and you look back in front of you to see Crosshair snap a scuffed metal lighter shut and toss it onto the coffee table. He brings the joint back down in front of you, blowing a neat stream of whitish gray smoke past your ear.

“You know how to pull?” Crosshair asks, and his chin brushes over your bare shoulder as he speaks. He’s so close. You can smell the burn, acrid and sour, but it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t smell like some bubblegum vape when you feel his breaths curling over your skin. You just want more.

Mutely, you shake your head.

“Mm, you know how to shotgun?” Hunter offers, and you hear Crosshair huff laugher from behind you. “Might be easier for your first try.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s,” Hunter pauses, and his brows knit close as he thinks for a moment. “It’s kind of like a kiss. But not really. I take a hit and you catch my smoke. That sound okay?”

You don’t think it matters that someone’s hit shuffle on the playlist, filling the room with a hard electronic beat that might have otherwise drowned out all sound. All you hear is your heart pounding in your ears as you nod and watch Hunter lift the filter to his lips and inhale deep, then pass the joint back to Crosshair.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, white trails of smoke curling over his upper lip as he lifts one hand to cup over the base of your neck.

“Open,” Crosshair whispers.

Wordlessly, you obey. Your lips part just as Hunter pulls close, so close you feel the heat of his skin spreading warm over your cheeks, and blows a soft stream of bitter smoke into your mouth. It can’t be more than a few seconds, but all the while, you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his.

“Breathe in, deep,” you hear Crosshair instruct as he begins to rub one thumb over the curve of your hip.

The smoke is thick, sluicing down your throat and filling your lungs like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not bad, just new, and pressed between the twins over the couch, you think it just might have been worth being ditched by your roommate earlier in the night. But your lungs ache, and you slowly exhale, watching as your vision fogs with a loose cloud of smoke until your chest feels clear again.

“And you didn’t even cough,” Hunter smiles. His calloused fingertips follow the slope of your neck, lingering one moment more before he pulls away. And you aren’t sure if the low buzzing in your fingertips is the weed or their combined warmth as Hunter rubs over your knee and Crosshair leans his head against your neck. “Good girl.”

“Wanna do it again,” you whisper as the buzz begins to crawl up your neck, fizzling around your temples as you lean your cheek over where Crosshair nuzzles into your shoulder.

“With him or me?” Crosshair murmurs, his lips brushing over your skin.

“You,” you say dreamily, and Hunter laughs, a sound that suddenly seems so far away as you tip your head and press close against Crosshair’s silver hair.

Crosshair leans into your touch, pressing his cheek up against your neck one last time before he’s lifting his head and bringing the joint to his lips. You hear the hiss of his inhale, smoke curling up through the narrow body of the joint as the charred end glows warm beside you.

And instead of Hunter’s approach, level with you, Crosshair looms above you, meeting your wide eyes with something of a fond smile. Dragging his hand up your chest, he follows the line of your neck and holds snug over your chin. He squeezes softly, and your jaw falls slack, lips parted in a soft ‘o’ as he dips low. He's closer than Hunter as you feel his mouth just brush over yours and breathe smoke over your tongue.

This time, it’s easier.

You swallow down the smoke and hold, just a beat longer than before. But both Crosshair and Hunter notice as your lips stay parted, and they share a soft laugh that has you exhaling smoke and pride all at once when you finally relax your diaphragm and breathe out.

“Fast learner,” Crosshair muses, nosing up under your jaw as you sink back against his chest.

You mumble incoherently, chasing his touch as the high creeps heavy and warm from your chest to your collar and settles at the back of your throat. It anchors you, molding you up against Crosshair who feels nothing short of perfect as he circles his arms loose over your waist.

You turn your head to thank Hunter when you distantly register him pressing a cool cup into your hand (water, you think you hear him say), but the words slip back down into your throat, your eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy and coarse over your blurry vision.

“You wanna lay down?” Hunter offers, and his voice comes to you like you’re underwater, warped and bubbling past the din of the party around you.

You're pretty sure you nod.

For a few moments, you catch traces of an unintelligible exchange between the twins, only aware of the rumble of Crosshair’s voice at your back, and then you’re being lifted up off the couch, the music and raucous laughter fading behind you.

A door opens, squeaking half-shut, and you wince as a light clicks on beside you. Whoever was carrying you sets you down on something soft and cool, and you sway as the light dims and you settle into your seat.

You’re on a bed, you think.

Crosshair’s, judging by the shock of light hair that you can make out through your lashes. He helps you into a worn tee that reaches past the short hem of your dress, and you wiggle into it with a soft whine, holding it tight.

But where you expect a familiar weight to dip down next to you and pull you close, your eyes fly open when you see his figure turn away from you and towards the neon lights of the party outside.

“You aren’t staying?” It's the most coherent you've been through your first high.

“Not tonight,” Crosshair says softly. He turns back towards you and reaches up to fix the strap of your dress as you sit on his bed. “Baby’s first tokes got you all dopey. Right now, what you need is this,” and he presses a plastic bottle of vitamin water he’s seemingly produced out of nowhere into your palm. “This,” he adds, pressing your phone into your other hand. “And a good night’s sleep.”

“And what if I say I need you, too?” you pout.

Some part of you—the conscious part locked away in the back of your skull—bangs up against the hazy high at the crown of your head because when you’re good and sober and when Crosshair inevitably turns you down, you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for the next semester.

But he breaks into a smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead. It’s just a split-second of warm, chapstick-soft lips on your skin, but it floods you with an indescribable good from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.

And as high as you are right now, you have a hell of a hunch that the flutter in your chest is going to stay, even when the room stops wobbling around you.

“When you’re all sobered up in the morning, we’ll make you breakfast, and we’ll figure it out from there,” Crosshair says after he’s pulled back, reaching up to smooth his palm over your hair. “Sound like a plan?”

You nod, probably with a little too much enthusiasm, but you’re rewarded with another low chuckle that’s practically music to your ears. His hand gentle and firm over your shoulder, Crosshair guides you down onto the bed and pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Now text your roomie so she doesn’t call the cops on us, get some sleep, and drink all of that, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond.

“Good girl.”

And when the lights click out, you curl into Crosshair’s pillow, breathing in cold, fresh notes of his cologne, and then you’re asleep.

You climb out of bed the next morning, your minidress rumpled under a long shirt. It's not like a hangover, no, you just find yourself a bit lightheaded and throat parched, and the disorientation makes your head spin as you’re greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and something savory—

Your roommate doesn’t wake up earlier than you, and she can’t cook for shit. And why were your sheets grey? Whose shirt were you—

Oh.

Fuck.

You practically burst out of Crosshair’s bedroom, and you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you hadn’t expected to see Hunter sipping mildly on a mug of coffee while Crosshair pushes something around in a pan over their kitchen range.

“Mornin,’” Hunter offers you a small wave, and reaches for a third mug on the countertop. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee so we just made it black.”

“What happened last night?” you gasp. If you weren’t so panicked, you’re certain the sight of them sporting nothing but grey sweats would have been your only concern, but you’ve just woken up with foggy memories and the slimy dread of anxiety that follows a blackout night.

“Easy, easy,” Crosshair assures you as he steps away from the stovetop. “Nothing happened after we smoked. You took, like, two hits, and you were so hazy you couldn’t remember your dorm number, so we put you to bed, and I slept out in the living room. Fetts are wild but we’re not scumbags, promise.”

And judging from the throw blanket sliding off the edge of the couch cushions, you’re fairly certain you can believe him. Relief floods your chest.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh, and your shoulders sag as the weight of panic sloughs off your back.

They both laugh softly, the sudden tension lifting from the bright morning light, and you can’t help but join in. And when that rosy relief gives way to silence again, it’s Crosshair who speaks next.

“So, you staying for breakfast?”

“Can I borrow some actual clothes first?”

“Done deal.”

[captain-hawkeyepierce]

we’re safe (and this is real)

Fandom: M*A*S*H 

Tags: Emotional hurt/comfort, nightmares, literal sleeping together

Post s05e14: “Hawk’s Nightmare”

1586 words.

Read on AO3

It was sometime in the middle of the night, which was all BJ knew for certain. Well, that wasn’t quite right. Strictly speaking on what he knew to be true for the night itself, he knew many things: he knew he was in Korea; he knew his lovely Peg and adorable Erin were back at home in Mill Valley. He also knew that Hawkeye Pierce was his best friend- the best friend he’d ever had, actually.

And he knew it was sometime in the middle of the night. That was the thought he woke to, mere milliseconds before a second piercing scream filled the Swamp.

BJ was up and across the other side of the tent before the scream could finish echoing; his hands placed firmly on Hawkeye’s shoulders as he shook him and called his name loudly.

Hawkeye cried out once more and then sat up straight with a cut-off gasp, recognition dawning in his eyes as he reached up and clutched BJ’s forearms tight. “Beej?”

“Right here,” he promised, rocking them both a little as he leaned closer. “I’ve got you.”

“That dream, it was- it was-” Hawkeye tightened his grip on BJ's arms, trembling as he inhaled unsteadily.

“Oh, would you knock it off, for crying out loud! This is the fourth night in a row!”

“Shut up, Frank!” BJ snapped. “If you’re so bothered, sleep outside.”

"If anyone should sleep outside, it's Pierce! It's not like he's getting much sleep anyway! We shouldn't have to sacrifice our sleep just because he gets a few nightmares."

"Frank, say one more word and you'll be sleeping in the latrine for the rest of the night, you got it?"

"You can't do that!"

"Try me."

“Rude,” Frank huffed, but he was otherwise silent as he rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head.

“Hawk?” BJ asked quietly. Hawkeye's head was ducked, his expression blank even as he rocked back and forth silently on his cot, still holding onto BJ’s arms tightly.

No response came.

“Hey, Hawk. You with me?” BJ moved his hand from Hawkeye's shoulder, touching his cheek lightly.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen again.”

The words were said so quietly, BJ barely heard him despite being a few inches in front of him. “What wasn’t, Hawk?”

“The nightmares. I talked to Sidney- I was feeling better. I was feeling better, damnit, this wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Hawkeye released his arms suddenly, his hands a frantic blur as he brought them up and tugged at his hair, breathing fast. “This wasn’t supposed to happen again- why did it happen again? What am I supposed to do, not sleep?”

BJ reached up and gently took hold of Hawkeye’s hands, easing them away from his face. Hawkeye withdrew at his touch, leaning away from him, but at the same time, he squeezed his hands in his own, refusing to let go. “I think there’s something really wrong with me,” Hawkeye whispered.

His breathing was unsteady still.

“Nothing’s the matter with you.”

“No? Tell that to my clammy hands or my ticking time bomb of a heart, or better yet- tell that to my brain. I don’t think it believes you.”

“It doesn’t have to; you do.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

“I’m serious. Nothing’s wrong with you. What you’re going through, all these nightmares, they’re a product of the stress of this place, of having to operate on boys so young, they can’t even grow beards yet. Your nightmares are the product of the war, it’s not a symptom that something’s wrong with you.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can. And Sidney said the same thing too, didn’t he?”

“Maybe he’s wrong.”

“Do you trust me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“An important one. Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Hawkeye.”

At his tone, Hawkeye sighed and glanced up, finally meeting his eyes. “With my life,” he admitted.

“So, you trust me to tell you the truth?”

He nodded, expression tight with anxiety but his eyes earnest.

“Good.” BJ squeezed his hands. “Then I need you to believe me when I say that there’s nothing wrong with you, and that you’re not fighting this alone.”

Hawkeye sighed, looking as weary as BJ had ever seen him. He supposed the war did that to him- it did it to all of them- but the lack of sleep the past four nights certainly hadn't helped either. “Not that I don’t appreciate that, but there’s nothing you can do for me.”

A loud snore interrupted them. BJ looked over his shoulder, staring in annoyance at the Frank-sized lump on the cot. “Ignore him,” he said, turning back to Hawkeye. “Maybe I can’t do anything for the nightmares, maybe. But I can at least make sure that you don’t have to grin and bear this alone.”

“It’s that, or cry.” Hawkeye paused, considering. A bitter smile crossed his features; it looked a lot like shame, maybe disgust, too. “Or play basketball while I sleepwalk, apparently.”

BJ shook his head, refusing to be out stubborn-ed. “Move over.”

Hawkeye frowned at him. “What?”

“You heard me: move over.”

“Yeah, I got that the first time. Move over why, exactly?”

“Take a guess.”

“Can I remind you that you’re a married man?”

“If Peg were here, she’d be telling you the same thing.”

Hawkeye stared at him. BJ gestured for him to move to the far end of the bed. Still with a stunned expression on his face, Hawkeye moved over silently. “Thank you,” BJ told him. “Get comfortable, okay?”

Hawkeye silently laid down on his back and stared up at him, his eyes wide. His expression was vulnerable in a way BJ had never seen before despite being up with him after a nightmare for the last four nights in a row. He clutched onto the blanket covering him with a grip so tight his knuckles had gone white, but despite whatever confusion and reservations he had, he still held back the covers partially so BJ could join him.

BJ slid under the covers, curling up on his side so he was facing Hawkeye. There wasn’t an inch of space in between them.

The Swamp was still for a moment; Hawkeye didn’t seem to be breathing. “Easy, Hawk,” BJ murmured. He lifted his arm and gently laid his hand on the center of Hawkeye’s chest. At his touch, Hawkeye shuddered, his breathing a touch unsteady. “This okay?” he asked softly.

“That’s one way to put it.” Hawkeye’s quip sounded tense, and they both knew it. BJ waited him out, and sure enough- “Beej, what’re you doing?”

“When Peg was sixteen, she was in a car accident. A nasty one, her father nearly died next to her waiting for the fire department to come. Sometimes she would dream about it, she’d wake up screaming. She used to never sleep afterward, she told me there was no point when another nightmare would be awaiting her. It took a while before we realized that if we laid down together like we are now- pressed up together with my hand on your chest- she'd be able to fall asleep. And not just that, she'd be able to sleep through the night without a single other bad dream."

Hawkeye was quiet for a long moment. “And you decided to do the same for me?”

“Like I said, that’s what she would do if she were here. But since she’s not, I know this is what she’d want me to do.”

“I don’t know if I deserve all this.”

“‘Course you do.”

Under his hand, he could feel Hawkeye starting to breathe more slowly. “You sure this is okay?”

“More than. Get some sleep, Hawkeye, okay? I’ll be right here.”

Hawkeye's response was a soft sigh. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming right now? This feels too good to be reality, especially for me- especially in this place."

BJ laughed because it was expected, but his heart hurt just a little for the insecurity he could hear in Hawkeye's voice. "If it is, we're having the same dream."

It was quiet for a moment before Hawkeye admitted, "If this is just a dream, I don't want to wake up."

BJ raised himself up to his elbow and looked down at Hawkeye as he reached over and gently pressed Hawkeye's hand to his chest. "I'm here." He squeezed Hawk's hand briefly and then let go, putting his hand back on Hawkeye's chest. "You're here. We're safe, and this is real."

Hawkeye stared up at him, eyes a little wet. "How'd you know it was about you?"

"You shouted my name."

"Ah." Hawkeye grimaced and his hand fell away from BJ's chest to rest in the lingering space between them, but that was as far as he moved.

In the following silence, BJ laid back down, keeping his hand where it was. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," came the curt response. Hawkeye sighed and then said quieter, "No, but thanks anyway."

"Okay," BJ agreed softly. He let his eyes fall closed as he murmured, "It's okay to go back to sleep, if you can. I'll be right here."

Hawkeye didn’t respond, but he exhaled deeply and with it, BJ sensed that he had finally relaxed some. It took only a few minutes for him to begin breathing long and deep, and by BJ’s estimates, it took only a few breaths more for him to fall asleep.

The rest of the night passed by peacefully.

[pretchatta]

@kaneraweek day 3: night out

this is the last kanera week prompt and makes up for the one i decided not to post on day 3. it may be a month late but i'm very happy to have finally finished them all!

rating: teen || 3k words || AO3

---

"Sabacc," Kanan said triumphantly, fanning out his cards onto the galley table with a dramatic flourish. "I win again."

Hera stared at him in disbelief, not bothering to reveal her own cards.

Tonight was a rare free evening on the Ghost, and it had been Hera who had suggested they play Sabacc. When Kanan had first come on board, they'd played card games often as a way to pass the long hours in hyperspace, so it had seemed like a nice idea at the time. Especially for Hera since, despite spending so much time in bars and cantinas in his old life, Kanan wasn't a very good player so she won the majority of their games.

Not tonight, it seemed. That was his fourth win in a row.

They hadn’t played in a while, it was true. When Hera had installed a Dejarik table in the common area she’d persuaded Kanan to teach her the game, and while he was much better at that kind of strategy she hadn’t relented her efforts to beat him. But she knew her skills hadn't lessened in the intervening years – Sabacc was as much about numbers and probability as it was about betting, and keeping the Ghost running was plenty enough practise for that. Nor had his ability improved, if the few games she'd heard him play against Zeb were anything to go by.

"Are you cheating?" she demanded. It was the only explanation she could think of.

Kanan looked indignant. "I would never cheat! Certainly not with you, Capain Hera."

"How else do you keep winning every hand? I know I'm good at Sabacc, I used to beat you all the time."

"Maybe I'm just a better Sabacc player now?" he suggested.

"Not likely," she snorted. "Show me your sleeves!"

Kanan did so with feigned exasperation, pointedly rolling them right up to his elbows to show he had no cards hidden there.

"Hmph." Hera frowned, still not convinced. "It must be the cards. We always used to play with my pack, but then someone painted over them to make her celestial tarot set. These are Zeb's, right? They must be marked, or something."

"Hera," Kanan said sincerely, "I promise you I am not cheating."

He was giving her a look that meant he was telling the truth: his expression was one of complete openness, and tinged slightly with awe. She caught a flicker of something in his eyes – was that amusement? – but then he seemed to realise she still doubted him.

He leaned forwards. "Look, I'll prove it to you. Let's go to Jho's, right now, and have a game with his set – you know, the one he keeps behind the bar."

"Fine," Hera conceded. "We’ll go to Jho’s. But when I beat you with his cards, you’ll have to admit to your crimes."

Kanan only smiled as they rose from their seats and left the galley. Zeb and Sabine were in their cabins, so Hera informed them of where they were going via the internal comm. Then she let Kanan lead her by the hand down the cargo ramp and into the balmy evening air.

Keep reading

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 9: Stubbed Out

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Even being a coward takes effort.

Mulder’s been stressed for days, trying to forget his phone conversation with Mark and attempting to hide his agitation from Scully. It’s not going well. He hasn’t successfully kept many secrets from her since they met, and at this point it’s practically impossible. If Mulder acts at all furtive or suspicious, she catches on like a shark smelling blood in the water and circles him until he surrenders.

Maybe she’s deeply perceptive; maybe he’s just not that subtle.

His resolve to keep his mouth shut lasts until Wednesday, just after lunch.

He’s built himself a fortress of stacks of newspapers on the desk, leafing through them with a magnifying glass. Scully’s in the annex, looking at some fibers under the microscope. They’ve got a case, which usually sucks up all his attention, but the phone call from a few days before is still buzzing in his ears.

“Hey, uh, has Mark mentioned the cafe incident?” he asks from across the room.

Scully keeps her eyes on the microscope. “No, he hasn’t, actually. It was hardly an incident,” she adds, switching out the slide. “You need to relax.”

Clearly, she’d picked up on his nervous energy. For once, he wishes Scully could just read his mind. Then I wouldn’t have to figure out how to tell her, Mulder thinks.

There’s no easy way out of this.

“Have you seen him since then?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

Scully huffs out a breath. “We went out last night. Mulder, I’m trying to focus-”

“He called me,” Mulder admits suddenly. “On Sunday.” Whelp, consider the beans spilled, Mark, he thinks. You dick.

Scully looks up at him then, brows furrowed. “He did? Why?”

“First of all, let me make it clear that I wanted nothing to do with any of this,” Mulder says, setting down the newspaper. “He dragged me into it. I wasn’t going to say anything but it’s been pissing me off.”

Scully gets up from the little table and walks over to the desk, perching on the edge of the chair across from him. “Mulder,” she says slowly, “What are you talking about?”

“Mark called me on Sunday night, saying he had some questions for me regarding your character.”

“My character,” Scully echoes, eyes sharp and questioning.

“That’s what he said,” Mulder says, picking up a pencil and rolling it between his fingers nervously. His heart is leaping in his throat. “But what he really wanted to know was if you… um. Sleep around.”

The words land heavily, their weight sending ripples through Mulder’s body.

Scully’s face turns to stone. “Really,” she says tightly. “I don’t see how that is any business of his, or yours,” she adds.

Mulder’s blood pressure has to be at a record high. “He mentioned something about planning for long term, and his daughter. And he thinks we, um.”

Scully crosses her arms, and Mulder’s never seen such an icy, quiet rage. “He thinks we what, Mulder? Tell me exactly what he said.”

Mulder digs the point of the pencil into the desk until the sharpened lead snaps. “He thinks I fucked you,” he says quietly, not looking at her.

“Oh,” she says, louder than he expected. “Well, that’s lovely, Mulder. Did you happen to tell him that it’s not true?”

“I essentially said ‘see you in hell’,” Mulder admits.

“Right,” Scully says, pressing her lips together so hard they turn white. “And you weren’t going to inform me of this because…”

“Because it’s none of my business,” Mulder explains. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

“A first,” Scully says sharply.

“Hey, I learned from last time,” he replies, feeling suddenly defensive. Why am I in trouble here? “You made it pretty clear after Jerse that this is your life, and I’m genuinely trying to honor that. But your boyfriend called me, Scully. I didn’t ask to get dragged into this shit.”

She’s angry now, and he can’t tell if it’s directed at him or Mark. It feels like both. “You didn’t think I might want to know about this, Mulder? You didn’t think to give me a heads-up that the man I’m seeing thinks I’m an easy lay?”

“Whoa, whoa, nobody said that,” Mulder says quickly. “And I’m telling you now because I think you should know I had this conversation with him. I’m sorry I waited but I was unsure how to-”

Scully’s eyes are red, and Mulder stops. “Scully?” he asks quietly.

“He kissed me,” she says hoarsely. She takes a deep breath. “Can’t think why… don’t really want to think why.”

Mulder feels hot and cold all at once.

“It’s funny,” Scully continues, “I-I could tell he wanted more. It was surprising, and not entirely unwelcome, but I stopped it because something felt off.” She emits one small sniff before setting her jaw firmly. “I guess now it makes sense.”

“Scully…” Mulder says softly.

She gets up from the chair. “Thank you for letting me know,” she says woodenly, before returning to the annex and sitting behind the microscope once more.

Well that went perfectly.

-

They barely speak for the rest of the day, buried in their respective piles of research.

At the end of the day Scully packs her briefcase with short, sharp movements, her shoulders rigid. She slips into her coat, and Mulder sees her mouth set in a grim line.

“Scully,” Mulder says quietly.

She shakes her head once, the smallest negative movement. “I have a phone call to make.”

-

He leaves the office about forty minutes later, a parcel of newspapers under his arm; homework he knows he won’t be able to focus on.

He takes the elevator to the fourth floor of the parking garage, and sees Scully standing at the far end of the row of cars, leaning against the cement wall, cigarette in hand. He walks to her and rests his elbows on the wall, looking out at the twilit city.

“How many of those have you gone through?” Mulder asks, peering around her in search of burnt stubs.

She doesn’t answer, just holds the cigarette out to him. He hesitates, then gingerly takes it and raises it to his mouth. There’s smudges of lipstick on the filter, and he’s not a good enough man to ignore the eroticism of it.

“I haven’t smoked since ’89,” Mulder says, exhaling. He passes the cigarette back to her.

“Sorry to break your streak,” she murmurs, taking a puff. He watches the smoke escape her full lips, her angelic face profaned by tobacco and a dishonest man’s kiss.

“You didn’t,” he says softly.

They watch the world rotate below.

“I broke it off,” she says, eyes tracing the skyline. He doesn’t need to ask what she’s referring to, and she doesn’t elaborate.

Mulder shifts his weight awkwardly. “That night we got drunk… you asked if I thought you were settling.”

“Mm,” she hums. “No spark,” she recalls.

He nods. “It didn’t feel right to say at the time, but the answer was yes. You should be with who you want to be with, Scully. Someone who makes you… makes you feel things. Not the guy who seems good on paper.”

“It would have been right to say,” Scully says. “I asked you. I don’t- I don’t know why you’re suddenly hellbent on staying out of my life, Mulder, when I’m asking you to be in it. I appreciate your respecting my privacy and boundaries, don’t get me wrong; it’s a welcome change from past experiences. But I… I need a friend.”

There’s a tightness in his chest at her words. “I guess I’m overcorrecting,” Mulder admits. “You’ve been through so much hell, had so much taken away… I wanted to let you choose for once.”

Scully shakes her head. “This mentality you have of letting me choose isn’t much better,” she says softly. “Someone else still controls the information. You trying to protect me by omission doesn’t give me much more agency, Mulder.” She stubs out the cigarette and turns back to the rows of parked cars. “You of all people should know the most empowering thing you can give someone.” She starts to walk away.

“What’s that?” he asks.

She looks back at him. “The truth.”