#the masked gentleman pretends to be right handed

[bywons]

MORE THAN PRETEND 愛｡ fake relationship

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───tired of playing pretend, they want to make it official with you

𝑜𝑓 ܃ fake bf!enhypen x f!r 2739 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 headcannons fluff fake dating au ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 skinship kissing jealousy suggestive? ｡｡｡ ／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 )

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა wow this could've been better, i rushed a lil TT but hope you guys enjoy ^^ !

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung’s always been the cool, nonchalant type—someone who can laugh off pretty much anything with that easygoing smirk of his. so, when one of your guy friends throws a casual arm around your shoulders during a group hangout, you expect heeseung to ignore it or joke in to the gossip, at least that's what he should do since you're not his real girlfriend. instead, he goes silent, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watches the interaction with a clenched jaw.

the shift is subtle, but you know him too well. he doesn��t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, but the way his gaze follows your every move is unnerving.

“you good?” you ask, stepping closer after the gathering got over, and tugging lightly on his sleeve. his eyes snap to yours, and for a second, something almost dangerous flickers behind them before he masks it with a tight-lipped smile.

“yeah, i'm good.” his voice is flat, the usual playful tone gone. “didn't know you two were that close.”

you arch an eyebrow, tilting your head. “what, jealous?” you tease, hoping to break the tension, cracking him a smile.

heeseung lets out a humourless chuckle, his gaze sliding back to where your friend was standing. “of him? please.” the words are dismissive, but there’s a sharp edge underneath. heeseung finally pushes off the wall and closes the distance between you, his tall frame towering over yours as he dips his head down, his hand slowly caressing your upper hand. “but just so you know,” he murmurs lowly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that only you can hear, “i’m your boyfriend, even if it’s fake. he doesn’t get to touch you like that.”

before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. the way he holds you is different—no teasing, no joking, just a raw, simmering intensity that makes your heart race.

PARK JONGSEONG

calm and collected are two adjectives that can define jay the best, a total gentleman— a perfect choice to play your fake boyfriend, the best fake plus one for your uncle's wedding. but tonight, at the party, you see his mask slip. it’s subtle at first—the way his eyes harden when he spots you talking to some random guy by the drinks table, swiftly turning his head away. he doesn't think much of it until the guy leans in closer, saying something that makes you laugh.

that’s when jay moves. he’s at your side in an instant, so swift you down even realise his imposing presence as he slides an arm around your shoulders. “hey,” he says, his voice light but his grip firm. “who’s your new friend?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanour. “oh, uh—a family friend,” you answer, a tight lipped smile, but jay’s gaze doesn’t leave the guy’s face.

“right.” his smile is strained, more of a baring of teeth than an expression of friendliness. the guy glances between you and jay, looking a bit uncomfortable before mumbling an excuse and walking away.

as soon as he’s gone, jay pulls you closer, his hand slipping down to your waist, fingers digging in ever so slightly, your back hitting his chest. “next time,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, hot breath travelling softly down to your neck, “just tell him you have a boyfriend—me.” his voice is low and intense, vibrating through you.

your heart skips a beat. “jay, it’s not—”

“real? yeah, i know,” he cuts you off, turning you to face him. his dark eyes bore into yours, darting across your face real quick, resring on your lips. “but i don’t care. i don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance with you,” he leans in even closer, his lips almost touching yours, “even if this is just pretend… you’re mine.”

SIM JAEYUN

the party is loud, laughter and music filling the air as you stand awkwardly by the punch table, watching jake from a distance. he’s talking to someone, a girl with long hair and a smile that lights up her face. his ex. you bite your lips, feeling a dull ache in your chest. it's silly—you’re not even really dating, but seeing him so at ease with her, leaning in to listen, his familiar grin in place, makes your heart clench, makes you feel it was you making his heart flutter instead.

they look like a perfect couple. a real couple, with real feelings for each other.

you turn away, trying to shake off the pang of insecurity by getting out of this place. but before you can slip out of sight, a familiar voice stops you.

“hey, what’s with the long face?”

you glance up, startled to find jake standing right in front of you, concern etched in his features. “n-nothing,” you mumble, forcing a smile. “just —felt out of place, i guess.”

jake’s gaze softens as if he can see right through your flimsy excuse. he steps closer, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a worry line that you hadn’t realised had formed. he leans in ever so close, “is it because of her?” he asks softly, nodding back toward his ex. when you don’t respond, he leans in, his eyes locking with yours. “you know she’s just the past, right?”

“but you looked so happy, jake! and we're not even—” “i’m only yours, you hear me?” he whispers fiercely, his fingers tightening around your waist, pulling you into him. “fake or not, you’re the one i want to be with.” his voice is low, almost pleading. “i’m not going anywhere.”

warmth blooms in your chest, melting away the doubts. and when he kisses your forehead gently, it’s like the final seal on his promise.

PARK SUNGHOON

the elevator doors slide shut, leaving just you and sunghoon in the small, enclosed space. his shoulders brush against yours, a stark reminder of how close you’re standing. you glance up at him nervously, noting the sharp line of his jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. why does he look so annoyed? he hasn’t said a word since you two left the event.

you press the button for your floor, stealing another look at him. he’s staring straight ahead, expression unreadable, but you can tell something’s different today. his jaw is clenched, his hands stuffed into his pockets, tension radiating from him.

it hits you then—he saw you talking to that guy earlier. your colleague from work, who’s been too friendly lately.

the elevator jolts slightly as it begins its ascent, and the silence stretches. you clear your throat, shifting nervously, taking a quick glance at his side profile, “sunghoon, about earlier—”

“does he always touch you like that?” his voice is low, cold even, cutting through the still air like a blade, face away from yours, looking straight ahead.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “what?”

he turns to you, stepping closer until the space between you is almost nonexistent. “your ‘friend’ at the office,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing, leaning his head down as he loosens his tie. “he seemed too comfortable.”

you feel a flicker of heat rising in your chest—he’s jealous. But why? “sunghoon, it’s not—”

“i don’t care what you think it is.” his hand reaches out, gripping the side of the elevator wall beside your head, caging you in. his breath hitches as he leans in, his face just inches from yours. “we might be pretending, but i don’t like it when anyone else looks at you that way. you’re mine.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends shivers down your spine. your heart pounds as you try to process the sudden shift in his demeanour, the unspoken intensity in his eyes, the impossibly fast heartbeat of yours.

“we’re not real, remember?” you manage to whisper, though your body betrays you, leaning into the space between you two.

“then tell me,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. his fingers brush lightly against your waist, the touch sending shivers down your spine. “why does it hurt so much seeing another guy looking at you?”

you stare at him, mouth dry, as his eyes drop to your lips.

“i don’t want to pretend anymore,” he whispers, “please..” a desperate plea from his lips as his hands control itself to not pull you in, but you don't wait, and close the gap between your lips. and he pulls you closer, bodies clashing against each other as the kiss escalates. he smirks into the kiss, you're his for real now.

KIM SUNOO

it’s pouring rain, and you’re soaked to the bone, standing under a bus stop shelter that does little to keep you dry. you mentally curse yourself for forgetting your umbrella, shivering as the cold wind cuts through your drenched clothes. just when you think your day can’t get any worse, a familiar car pulls up beside the curb, headlights cutting through the downpour.

the passenger window rolls down, and there he is—kim sunoo, your ‘fake’ boyfriend, his brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and concern. “get in before you freeze,” he calls out, voice muffled by the sound of the rain.

you don’t need to be told twice. you scramble into the car, teeth chattering as you tug the door shut behind you. the warmth of the heater engulfs you instantly, and sunoo’s jacket is shoved into your hands before you can even register what’s happening. “you’re going to catch a cold,” he scolds, his voice laced with worry as he glances at your shivering form, “why didn't you call me?”

you blink up at him, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “i … i didn’t want to bother you.”

sunoo sighs, leaning closer until you can see every droplet of rain clinging to his hair, every crease in his usually cheerful face. “idiot,” he murmurs, voice low and filled with something you can’t quite name. “you’re never a bother to me.”

your heart skips as he reaches out, brushing damp strands of hair away from your forehead with gentle fingers. his hand lingers, thumb tracing your chilled cheek softly.

for a moment, he’s quiet. then, he reaches over, wiping a raindrop from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, the gesture so gentle it makes your heart skip. “do you know how worried i was? pretend or not, i don’t want to see you like this,” he murmurs, his hand lingering near your face.

before you can respond, he leans over and tucks the jacket around your shoulders, pulling you close until you’re huddled against his chest and neck. “you’re mine to worry about,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then one on the bridge of your nose.

in that moment, under the sound of rain and the warmth of his embrace, it doesn’t feel like an act anymore.

YANG JUNGWON

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. the plan was rather simple—show up together at the dinner, play the perfect couple in front of his friends, and go home as usual. but then the storm hit, trapping you at his apartment afterward, the rain pouring down outside in heavy sheets, drenching the city.

jungwon sits beside you on the couch, the dim glow of the lamp casting shadows across his sharp features, and you force yourself to look away. his jacket is discarded on the floor, sleeves rolled up as he runs a hand through his damp hair, frustrated by the turn of events. he looks too handsome right now.

it’s quiet, too quiet, with only the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

“looks like you’re stuck here,” he says, leaning back casually, but there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore. you tug the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to stay calm, but the warmth of the apartment and the intimacy of the moment is starting to make you nervous.

“i'll crash on the couch,” you mutter awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, but jungwon’s eyes are on you, piercing, like he’s studying every inch of your face. he doesn’t say anything at first, but then he moves closer, his knee brushing against yours, you shiver.

“you don’t have to,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver through you. his hand rests lightly on your knee, but it’s enough to make your heart race. “you can take the bed.”

before you can respond, jungwon cups your chin gently, turning your face toward his. his touch is soft but firm, like he’s been holding back for too long. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch, as his as well.

“we don’t have to pretend all the time, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darkening with something deeper, something real, “it's getting so hard for me…”

your heart skips a beat, and suddenly the fake relationship feels far too real. “jungwon, what are you saying?” you ask, your voice trembling as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, hands falling down to your waist to pull you closer.

“i'm saying,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours, “that i want to kiss you, but in a real boyfriend way, and love you too while at that.”

the rain continues to fall outside, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart as his lips brush softly against yours, the kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotions, before it quickly melts to an intense one. he pulls away slightly, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers, “stay with me tonight… for real.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

you never expected to find yourself in a fake relationship with riki, of all people—the energetic, mischievous older brother of your best friend. when he overheard you venting about your annoying ex constantly showing up at your favourite hangouts, he had put up a sly smirk and volunteered to be your fake boyfriend.

“think of it as a win-win. i get to mess with people’s heads, and you get a human shield. plus,” he had said, winking playfully, “it’ll be fun.”

you should’ve known that riki’s idea of ‘fun’ involved way more than you’d bargained for.

tonight, at your favourite late-night café, you spot your ex walking in, scanning the crowd. you freeze, heart thudding. before you can react, riki slides his arm around your shoulders, tugging you close. his scent—a mix of citrus and something else uniquely him—makes your pulse spike. it’s only for show, you remind yourself. except … he’s suddenly so convincing.

“hey, baby, you okay?” riki’s voice is loud enough to catch your ex’s attention, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath tickling your ear. “you’re all tense.”

you fight the shiver that runs down your spine. “stop playing around,” you mutter, but he just smirks.

“i’m not playing,” he murmurs back, eyes twinkling. his gaze flicks toward your ex, who’s now glaring at you both, and riki’s grip tightens around you possessively. “i told you i’m the best at this.”

the next thing you know, riki’s turning you slightly in his arms, cupping your cheek in a way that looks so natural it makes your heart skip. the café lights catch on the gleam in his eyes—intense, focused. your ex is staring daggers at him now, but riki pays him no mind. instead, his thumb brushes your jaw softly, his face hovering inches from yours.

“relax, would you?” he murmurs, but his voice has lost its teasing edge. there’s something almost… protective in the way he’s watching you.

“riki —” you start, but he cuts you off by leaning even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me handle this.”

before you can process his words, he pulls you flush against him, his eyes never leaving your ex’s face. then, with a cocky grin, he dips his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

you freeze, heart pounding. when he finally pulls back, his gaze meets yours, unreadable. “there,” he says softly, still holding you close. “you’re mine now. got it?” and from the look on his face, you’re not entirely sure he’s pretending anymore.

© BYWONS, 2024 / do not copy or repost without permission / div cr plutism

taglist────open tags in the reblogs ! network tag. @/k-labels CLICK ME

[klonoadreams]

Okay so I can't be the only one getting MAJOR touch starved vibes from Skully, right? Like, dude is constantly seeking out touch with zero abandon.

SCULLY IS A VERY LONELY BOY.

Like, the guy is clearly touch-starved AND social interaction starved. He wanted to hold hands and walk in a forest with Trey.

HE HAD US SLEEPING IN HIS ARMS.

He is a very dapper gentleman but also a lonely boy who craves friends.

He is very much Malleus, if Malleus didn't keep a distance. Very AuDHD/ADHD Squad with Yuu (ewe), Ace, Deuce, Floyd, Jade, Jamil, Kalim, and Rook (Rook is heavy on the autism with a dash of impulsiveness heavy ADHD, my boy literally spent hours going off on Vil when he gave the guy a chance).

Anyways, welcome to the squad. Trey is also there, he likes to pretend he is normal, but his ass fixated on toothbrushes and MUSTARD of all things. You are not normal. You just think you mask well, when you're surrounded by people who are far bigger messes lmaooo

ANYWAYS HAPPY ADHD AWARENESS MONTH!! Along with being spooky month, it's time for more ADHD squad shenanigans from me, your local ADHD and legally not autistic writer (for various reasons, it is far safer for me to avoid an official diagnosis but the signs are definitely there for me that I avoided getting clocked at a young age cuz I was too "normal" despite the ADHD).

YOINK.

*yeets Scully J. Graves into the ADHD Squad*

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 5

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Enjoy Simon being a gentleman in this part 😉. I can't find a nice pic to post here so maybe I'll skip that. Anyway, just wanted to let y'all know that in this fic, reader is 25 years old and Simon is 28.

“I hate to sail on this rotten tub, leave her Johnny, leave- oi, ye cannae be serious. Take off that mask!”

Johnny's singing was interrupted by Simon, who was just entering his living room, dressed and ready to leave to meet ____. He looked at the agitated Johnny, who was now sitting up straight on the couch. 

“What d'you mean?” Simon asked, pretending not to have understood or heard his friend. 

“The maaask. Take it off,” Johnny ordered, gesticulating wildly, “Why'd ye want tae wear it if ye showed yer face to her already?”

Simon rolled his eyes, now taking off the mask, making Johnny smile. He settled back on the couch comfortably. “That's more like it. Oh, also… Catch.” Johnny stuffed his hand in his pocket and threw something at Simon, which he caught. 

It was a condom. 

“Johnny! I don't fucking need this!” Simon roared, throwing back the contraceptive, which hit his friend in the face and fell on his lap. 

“Ye don't? So yer gonna rrrrrawdog her then, are ye, ye animal?” Johnny smirked, clearly trying to annoy Simon, especially by rolling his r's more than usual.

“Johnny…” Simon's voice lowered to a threatening growl. 

The room thundered with Johnny's laughter; having known Simon too long, he wasn't threatened by him, but he relented regardless, not wanting him to be in a bad mood before meeting his crush. “Okay, okay, if ye have nae use for a condom, I have something better for ye.” He beckoned his friend to sit with him on the couch. 

“This better be good.” Simon narrowed his eyes, noting a mischievous glint in his best friend's eyes as he sat down. 

“She's an author, yeah? Those book lassies will love this. I'll tell ye.” 

In the meantime, Simon's crush found herself in front of her mirror getting dolled up by her best friend, Lindsey, who turned the bathroom into a university lecture hall. 

“Tell you what, babe,” said she as she very lightly brushed some blush on her friend's cheeks, “Boys will never make the first move, yeah? So you have to openly flirt with them, right? You literally have to hold up a sign at them telling them you're interested.” 

____ tried to chuckle, but Lindsey lightly slapped her shoulder. “Don't move yet,” she ordered, throwing her long, curly red hair over her shoulder. 

Lindsey finished up the simple, natural looking makeup look and spritzed some setting spray on her friend's face. ____ still didn't dare move, because Lindsey was checking for any mistakes, scanning with her big green eyes. A bit of an odd thing to do, especially after putting the setting spray. 

“Lovely!” she exclaimed, slamming down the can of setting spray on the bathroom counter, “Now you can move.” 

While ____ admired herself and Lindsey's makeup skills in the mirror, Lindsey watched, her smile slowly disappearing; her shoulders slumped slightly as she moved behind her friend, giving her a worried look in the mirror. 

“What's wrong, Linny?” she asked, noticing the look. 

“This Simon guy… Is he really good?” Lindsey whispered, lightly squeezing the other's shoulders while glancing at the phone on the bathroom counter. “He's not like the other guy, right?” 

____’s brows furrowed slightly. She placed her hand over Lindsey's and squeezed it. “Don't worry, Simon's nice, and we're actually a lot closer in age, if that's what worries you.” 

Lindsey was relieved about the smaller age gap, but didn't look completely convinced. She said, “He's nice so far. You do know that a crush is a lack of information, right?” 

The only infuriating thing about Lindsey was how she could get a little too realistic. 

____ sighed. “Linny, that's the whole reason why I'm going to hang out with him: to find out if he's better than nice.”

Lindsey huffed, but nodded anyway. “Okay, but if anything happens, you know who to call.” 

“You worry too much.” 

“Because you're literally so hopeless when it comes to men.” Lindsey let out a chuckle as she lovingly wrapped her arms around her friend's neck and gave her a back hug. ____ leaned into it, grateful for the concern of her ever worrying friend. 

It was soon time to leave. The two ladies headed downstairs to the entrance of the building, where ____ was to wait for Simon to pick her up. Since Lindsey had other plans, she couldn't wait with her friend, and had to go. 

And so did ____ wait by herself, watching the cars go by on the glistening, wet streets. The night air was cold from an earlier rain, and the jacket in her hands seemed to be calling her to wear it and feel warm. 

“I hope he won't find it weird if I wear his jacket,” she thought as she put the garment on after much mental debate. The warmth immediately silenced her thoughts, and she just decided to enjoy it while it lasted. 

Before long, Simon pulled up to the entrance, but the pillion was occupied by an unfamiliar man with a cheeky smile and a short, dark brown mohawk. As he got off, he whispered something to Simon and then turned around. The man grinned at the waiting lady and then walked off. She, confused, returned the gesture with a little smile of her own and then walked up to Simon. 

“Who was that?” she asked as soon as she was near the motorcycle. 

“Don't mind him. He's my friend, Johnny. I had to drop him off around here since he had some stuff to do, so…” he shrugged. “Were you waiting long?” 

She smiled. “Not at all. I came out just five minutes ago.” 

“Brilliant,” he said with a nod and then took notice of her outfit. “You're wearing my jacket,” he observed, sounding amused. 

She noticed his cheeks going up from behind his mask; a smile. “Uh, yeah,” she answered, blushing a little, “I'm sorry, I felt a little cold so I put it on.” 

“No worries.” His voice mellowed as he stared at her, taking in the sight of her in his jacket, “Keep it on. You look good in it.” 

“Thanks,” she grinned, now taking hold of his shoulder as she got up on the pillion. 

Johnny was in the distance, watching the two with wide smiles. He even managed to secretly snap a few photos of them as they talked so that he could tease Simon with it later. 

“Hey you! Delete that picture right now!” a high pitched voice ordered behind Johnny, making him flinch in surprise. 

He immediately turned around, but saw nobody. But when he looked down, he saw a little lady in front of him, arms crossed and staring at him with furrowed brows. 

Johnny, for a moment, was taken in by her beauty. Her pale face was dotted with red freckles, more intense on her cheeks, and her hair was a deep red like the color of the setting sun, loosely coiled like curled satin ribbons. Her flashing eyes were a light green, the color of grass reflecting evening sunlight.

It took a moment for him to regain himself, and when he did, he cleared his throat, saying, “Lassie, that's my friend there,” he answered, pointing to Simon, “I'm gonna tease him with this photo. I'm no’ gonna delete it.” 

“And that girl with him is my friend,” she declared, “And I don't really trust that guy she's going out with today.” 

Johnny wasn't sure what prompted her to say that, but his eyebrows rose with intrigue anyway.

“Small world,” he remarked and then put forward a proposal with a wide grin, “Tell ye wit, wee lassie, we can dae something together. Let's both stalk them. Ye get to see my lad Simon in a good light, and I get to take some candids of them, yeah? Wit dae ye think?” He opened both his hands out to her and batted his eyelids, hoping she would accept. 

“No!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms, “It's not good to stalk.” 

Johnny groaned. “But dinnae ye want tae see if Simon is good for yer best friend? This is a win-win situation! I can show ye all his good points!” 

“You're only saying that because you're his friend,” she challenged. 

“No, no, listen here lassie,” he waved his hand, now meeting her eye, “I've known Simon since we were wee lads. I know everything about him, and I can assure ye that he's good. Let him have a chance, won't ye?”

The little lady paused. Was she going to trust him? While she wanted her friend to be happy, she didn't want to sabotage her friend's chances with her crush because of her incessant worrying. 

Johnny could see her mental debate and smirked at how funny her thoughtful face looked; it was a sneer with furrowed brows, while her fingers tapped over her crossed arms. She eventually relented. 

“Perfect! Now we go stalk them.” He held out his hand to her. “By the way, I'm John, or Johnny.”

She cautiously took his hand and shook it, answering, “Lindsey.” 

Simon and ____ already reached the restaurant they decided to have dinner in. He led her to a quieter part of the establishment where they could chat in peace, and just as she was about to pull out her chair to sit, he held out his hand to stop her. 

“Allow me,” he smiled and pulled out the chair for her. 

Her face glowed with joy and excitement at this display of chivalry as she sat down. Her reaction made him smirk to himself, mentally thanking Johnny for this important tip. 

“You're such a gentleman,” she praised, smiling widely as she watched him take his seat opposite to her, “I know we're in the age of the strong, independent woman, but wow, it's actually really nice to be treated like this.”

Her blushes were encouragement enough, and he smiled. 

“Thank you, I try,” he bragged. “Do you normally like this sort of thing? Or do you like it from me?” he asked with a chuckle, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. 

She laughed, not yet willing to admit that she liked it especially from him. She answered, “I like it generally. It’s just nice to know that someone is thoughtful enough to do a gesture like that, you know? Even though it was the standard back in the day.”

Simon took mental note of that. 

Any further conversation was interrupted when a waiter brought them two menus and glasses of water. While the two pored over the laminated card to decide what to get, the lady was momentarily distracted by the sight of the man in front of her. 

He wore a black button up shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up his thick forearm, the rest of it tightening around his flexed biceps; the unbuttoned collar displayed his neck and a metal chain underneath, which made her wonder what was dangling at the end of it. He wore blue chinos, and black sneakers. It was the best casual outfit he could put together with Johnny's help. 

The outfit, in addition to his handsome, unobscured face was a treat to sore eyes. She couldn't help but allow her eye to linger on the curious scar on his cheek, and to wonder about the cause of it. 

Simon noticed her gaze and he met her eyes with a cheeky smile. “You're staring,” he told her. 

One corner of her lip tugged upwards in a sheepish smirk. “I was just thinking your outfit looks really nice.” 

“Thank you, I try,” he echoed his earlier line with a smirk and a proud shrug, but really, he would've been hopeless without Johnny giving him such meticulous advice on the basic rules of dressing well. “You look nice too,” he decided to turn the tables on her, “Especially wearing that.” He pointed at his jacket that she was still wearing. 

She blushed at that. “I can't take it off. It's nice and toasty in here.” 

“I don't mind you wearing it for the rest of the evening, so long as you give it back later. It's my favourite.” 

She grinned. “I'll take good care of it.” 

The waiter came by again, and the two placed an order for a 12 inch pizza to share and some drinks.

Small talk was made, until it led to the topic of her novel. 

“I only just finished reading Firefly Trails a couple days ago and I must say that you're a brilliant author,” Simon praised, “I could not have expected a plot twist when Adelheid was betrayed by Elystran just to get a hold of the magical fireflies.”

The lady snorted proudly and jokingly patted herself on the back. “You can count on me to make a good plot twist.” 

“No, but seriously. I really didn't see it coming,” Simon leaned forward slightly with eagerness twinkling in his dark eyes, “You see a friend betraying someone all the time in the media, yeah? But this one was so unexpected, especially when Elystran stole the bottle of captive fireflies from Adelheid. It's really awful how he had no remorse in potentially letting her die without a cure for her disease, just so he could save the kingdom he was going to rule. He was a very convincing actor.”

She found herself gazing at him as he went on with his long winded speech about Elystran, the anti-hero of her novel, who pretended to be Adelheid's close ally. It was heartwarming to her to see his enthusiasm for her work, but she also wondered if he resonated with Elystran in some way. 

Simon's pale face was a little pink with exertion after the speech and he finally sat back, tugging at his collar and flapping his shirt. “A bit hot in here, innit?” he asked. 

“The air con is working just fine. I think it's because of your passionate speech that you're feeling so hot,” she said with a grin. 

Simon's pink face turned a hint more pink at the observation. He was usually reserved with people he knew a little less, but he hadn't realised how passionate and talkative he had gotten about a fictional character. He could attest this to the fact that she wrote so well as to stir his normally taciturn feelings. Art never stirred his soul, but if hers did, he was damned. 

He nodded, admitting, “Well, it was because you write so well. Anyone who doesn't talk so passionately about it is missing a few bolts.”

The high regard in the compliment made her giggle. She rested her chin on her hand and looked teasingly at him, saying, “So, you told me that you're getting more into reading thanks to Firefly Trails.” 

“I never wanted to be a reader, but it's all your fault now that you're turning me into one.” Simon unconsciously mirrored her as he smirked, returning her look with his playful sarcasm.

“I'm honored,” she grinned at him, “Do you want recommendations for more books?” 

Simon pulled out his phone and opened the notes app. He handed the phone to her. “Fill my cup, darling.”

A wide smile graced her face as she excitedly snatched the phone and started typing away her list of recommended books. Simon watched her with wonder, smiling at her enthusiasm. He was truly interested in reading now, thanks to her, and to see her so excited about suggesting him more made him feel loved, in a way. 

And the love of a woman was truly something different, even if it was just platonic. 

He sighed as he stared at her, at how focused she was on typing out the list. When he thought of it, he couldn't really remember if he had a normal friendship with anyone of the opposite sex before, all thanks to his unhappy, troubled youth. 

“By the way, Simon,” she called, now lifting her eyes from his phone, only to be met with his thoughtful thousand yard stare directed at her.

“Simonnnn, can you hear me?” she called again, snapping a finger in his face. 

“Huh?” he blinked. “Oh, fuck. Sorry, I was just thinking of something.” 

“It's alright,” she smiled, wondering what his stare meant. She asked, “I was wondering why you call me darling and love so often.” 

His eyes rolled off elsewhere as he tried to think of an answer that wouldn't give away what he felt for her. “Well,” he began, voice quivering slightly, “It's just something I call the women in my life, yeah? Female friends and maybe family members. I think it’s also a British thing.” He shrugged. 

It was only the partial truth. 

“Hmm. I see,” she nodded, her eyes still glued to the phone. As she moved her hand to get a sip of the water, her finger accidentally swiped to the home screen of his phone, and she couldn't figure out where to go back to the notes app. The little mishap allowed her to take notice of his phone background, which was a closeup photo of a German Shepherd looking directly at the camera with its large, inquisitive eyes. She gave him his phone back, asking him to help her get back to the notes app. 

“I just happened to see your home screen. Is that dog yours?” she asked as he gave the phone back to her, now displaying the notes app. 

“My uncle's.”

“He's beautiful. What's his name?” she questioned, now getting back to typing out the book list. 

“It's a female. Her name’s Riley.”

“Riley! Like your surname?” 

“Yeah. I found her starved and thrown in a dumpster as a puppy, and I called my uncle to help me get her out. He adopted her and named her after me,” he said with a chuckle. 

She smiled as she finished typing out the list and handed the phone back to him. “That's really nice, and really strange too, because my ex has a female German Shepherd named Riley too.”

Simon raised a brow as he took the phone and glanced at the list before keeping the device aside. “Chalk that off as a coincidence. I guess many people have German Shepherds named Riley. The name is quite common… I think,” he said. But the mention of the ex intrigued him. “You mentioned your ex. So, you've dated before, then?” he asked directly but casually, hoping he wasn't being too nosy. 

She shrugged. “Yeah, one guy.” 

“What happened with your ex, if you don't mind me asking?”

He saw that she stiffened slightly and looked away for a moment, clearly looking uncomfortable. He was so close to backing off when she answered him, “Well…” she paused to suck in a sharp breath through her teeth, “He was an older guy, and I happened to keep bumping into him at my local grocery store.”

He raised a brow, first of all at the fact that she dated someone older, and second of all, she met him at the grocery store, the least romantic place to find a boyfriend. But he didn't say anything and listened anyway. 

“The first time we met, he mistook me for an employee and asked me where he could find the dog food,” she chuckled, “He was new to the area and didn't know where to find it in the grocery store, and I was also wearing something similar to the uniform of the store employees.”

“So you two hit it off then?” 

“Yeah, after that, we'd have small talk, and he was actually quite charming. He asked me out on a date, we liked each other, and then we dated for two months.”

“Hm, that's not very long, innit?” he murmured, “How old were both of you?” 

“I was nineteen and he was thirty-five.” 

“Holy fuck,” his eyes widened slightly, “Nineteen? That's really young.” He then paused to count, “And you guys had a sixteen year age gap.”

Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “Yeah, I know, it's crazy.” 

“You prefer older blokes then?” asked Simon, fiddling with his fingers as he leaned forward on the table, hoping she would refute it. 

“Well no, but I was…” she sighed, “I was trying to figure out what sort of man I liked.” 

“And your first choice was an older man,” he thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud. “Wasn't that potentially dangerous though? Sure, you weren't a minor, but you were still young.” 

She sighed again, but heavier this time. “Yeah, it kind of messed me up a little.” 

“It did? How?” 

She told him about how he could get a little demanding when it came to spending time with him, as she was a budding author at the time, and was busy with writing a good piece that was worth publishing. 

“Of course, even though I was busy, I tried my best to spend time with him. But he just wasn't satisfied. And since I lived at the dorm in uni, I had a curfew, but he would disregard it completely and beg me to stay and spend the night with him, when I wasn't comfortable with it yet. Thanks to that, just being around him ramped up my anxiety, and our relationship that was once enjoyable wasn't anymore.”

Simon felt tempted to ask if she had done anything intimate with her ex, but bit back, not wanting to come off as rude and intrusive. He listened with narrowed eyes and keen earnestness. “And so you broke up then?” he asked. 

“Yeah, and it surprisingly went well. Both of us mutually agreed that the relationship wouldn't work out, and we parted ways.” She paused for a long time and Simon didn't break her spell of silence, sensing a struggle in her to say the next words. She finally continued, “I thought that that was the end of it, but lately he's been calling me again, asking me if we could get back together.” 

Simon raised a brow again. “What? How daft is he? He has no shame groveling back to you.”

“Yeah… I spoke to him once to clearly tell him I wasn't interested anymore, but I don't think he understands.” 

As if on cue, her phone started ringing. When she checked who was calling, she recognized the unsaved number immediately, having seen it several times. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, feeling the same old anxious feeling rise from her chest to constrict her throat. “It's him,” she said, her voice quivering. 

Simon held out his hand. “I'll speak to him.” 

“Are you sure?” she asked frantically. 

“I'm sure. Give it here before he cuts it,” he urged. 

She hastily placed the ringing phone in his hand and he immediately picked it up. 

“Hello, mate. ____’s boyfriend here. What do you want with my missus?” he asked calmly. 

There was a brief silence. 

“Simon?” asked the deep, rumbling, yet gentle voice on the other side. 

The colour drained from Simon's face as he recognized the voice he knew and loved. 

“Uncle John?” 

Plot twist?

End of Part 5.

Part 6

-

I'm making a taglist btw. Leave a comment if you want to be included!

[animentality]

Your post about Gortash being embarrassing and cringe and not realizing it is SO real to me. I think he is perfectly suave and charming to everyone except when it comes to someone he ACTUALLY likes, at which point his usual mask is useless because he has no idea how to cover up Real Feelings. The way he 🥺 and grins and blabbers nonstop to Durge at the coronation reunion is exhibit A for this of course. Personally I think he had no idea what was happening on his face during that, it just earnestly happened, and he probably THOUGHT he was being chill but he so wasnt. He is a 40 or 50 year old teenager with a crush and he’s clueless that it gets him acting like an idiot. Important Gortash characterisation (to me!)

It just makes sense to me given his history and overall emotional immaturity that he does not know how to express casual affection for something, let alone someONE. (And yeah the whole thing where he and Durge are both really smart people capable of near-flawless teamwork but they also genuinely make each other kind of stupid when they’re around each other. It tracks.)

He wooed Jannath with unimpeachable charm because he did not actually care about or love her (im really sorry Jannath 🫣) so he was just being a fake bastard, and thats easy. But real affection? Real love? He has no framework for that. Catch the Chosen of Bane in the most unbecoming act of ducking his head to hide his stupid smile after taking Durge’s hand in his. Embarrassing!

ANON, your mind.

It's powerful.

I am gnawing on the wonderful idea, because I love the concept of, Gortash is the perfect gentleman, he's great at copying others, at pretending to be a patriar, and exuding this carefully constructed charm.

He was raised by DEVILS. He was in a GANG.

He has Raphael's bullshit charm, and all these rough edges.

But he smooths them out, when he's trying to seduce rich women or arms dealer.

But that act doesn't work on the Dark Urge, of course, and he would never even try that sort of thing with them anyway.

Because anyone who seduces people for a living knows, not everyone reacts to the same tricks.

BUT.

Maybe he starts out trying to seduce them, by being cold and practical and intelligent...but then, surprise surprise.

it ends up not being an act. he finds the dark urge is warmer and more receptive than he thought they'd be, after decades of being alone.

and they have things in COMMON.

And he IS honest with them, as his partner.

And then, when he's NOT trying to seduce then....he accidentally seduces them...by being such a fucking nerd.

And THEN.

as you said.

He is SO dorky and cringe...because he's being honest, for one thing, AND he doesn't know how to act, when he genuinely likes someone, and isn't just trying to seduce them.

And he's THRILLED that that's what gets the Dark Urge hot under the collar.

The biggest freak in all of Baldur's Gate, meets the second biggest one, and they don't know how to act "right," but their version of right ends up being healthier than anything else they might have ever been capable of.

UGH, anon.

Do not SEND ME DOWN THIS RABBITHOLE.

You couldn't pry soft dorky lovestruck idiot Durgetash from my dead claws.

I think they committed horrible atrocities together.

I also think they were so sweet on each other, it would make Bhaal gag.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

GhostGaz Week - Photograph // “quick, pretend you’re my boyfriend!”

Working with the 141 is always interesting, but not for the obvious reasons. When he’s bragging, Gaz will talk about falling out of helicopters and tracking nukes. But when he’s not indulging his inner adrenaline freak enthusiast, the most interesting thing to Kyle is his team mates.

Price, the fearless leader, who smokes cigars and tosses them away half finished like he gets them for free. Who has strong opinions on beer but drinks whiskey in front of others because he thinks it makes him look distinguished. Who falls in love with every capable woman he meets but is too much of a chickenshit gentleman to say anything because he’s anxious about what people think of him.

There’s Soap, who goes by his nickname everywhere because he hates being one of four to six Johns in any given room. Who has ADHD and acts like it to make people underestimate him. Who has a degree in chemical engineering. Who takes good care of his mohawk because of an agreement he made with some punk kid in his hometown.

And finally, Simon. Simon who learns a lot about people because they talk around him and forget that the Ghost is just a man. A man with a dry sense of humor and an eclectic collection of sci-fi romance novels. A man with a Zune that he pretends to use so he can listen to old-ladies gossip at the library.

Simon who sees something as they're walking into a gallery for an opening party and says, “Quick, pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Kyle doesn’t resist as Simon intertwines their fingers, but he does ask, “What?”

It’s not like they’re inconspicuous right now. Simon’s in an all-black ensemble that accentuates his bulk and sharp angles. It looks elegant, but Kyle knows it has dancing skeletons on the lining. He’s not wearing a skull mask, at least, but instead a black neck gaiter that really rounds out the outfit. Kyle’s own suit is dark gray with a purple shirt and waistcoat. He’s gone all out with his jewelry and makeup, since he’s off duty for once. He knows what they look like, standing next to each other. Heads turn when they walk past. Three separate people stare at their clasped hands before tittering with their cluster of people.

When Simon only hums and squeezes his fingers, Kyle leans in a bit and smiles as he says under his breath. “You know we’ll have to keep this up all night, right?”

Simon brings their hands up to kiss Kyle’s knuckles through black, silky fabric. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “’Course, love.”

Kyle knows, deep down, that he didn’t need to say it. One of the most interesting things about Simon is that he commits to the bit. So if he says that they’re pretending to be boyfriends, that’s what he’s doing. He’s probably already made up a back story to tell anyone who asks. There will be loving stares at the side of Kyle’s face in a "candid" photo. He might even ask for a dance. Everyone in the gallery is going to be convinced.

Kyle gives a rueful laugh and shakes his head because he’s too proud to go into bi panic mode over the same man for a fifth time.

@ghostgazweek

[websterss]

THE HADDONFIELD BOOGEYMAN — EVAN BUCKLEY

SUMMARY: Halloween can be scary, especially with a pyscho killer running around town.

WARNING(S): Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, mentions of massacre and dying

WORD COUNT: 2,523

PAIRING: Evan Buckley x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

2018, Haddonfield, Illinois

Travesty broke through the town of Haddonfield again. It appeared that nothing could kill the man named Michael Myers. Yet man seemed like an oversimplification. Someone who could take hit after hit. That wasn’t a man, he was the eternal of evil, and he was wreaking havoc on Halloween night again.

And what better way than for you to spend your Halloween. Slumping it with a nice cold beer at Mic’s Bar. Watching the oh so talent your neighbors and friends possess. You raised your beer to the previous girl group who finished up. Applause rumbled up the bar. You took another sip of your beer then checked your phone. No messages from Buck yet. He usually checked up at this hour of the night, but you wouldn’t hold it against him. His job required his full attention. “Another round Y/n?” The bartender caught your attention. You sighed and put your phone down.

“Keep them coming!”

“Ladies and gentleman, I’d like to introduce our next Thespian, now I used to bust this guy’s balls when we were kids, but he is all grown up now, and he’s become the most captivating…bird whistler.” Lonnie Elam ran off stage and then walked on, Tommy Doyle. 

“Hey everybody.”

You turn around on the stool and rest your back against the counter. If you were gonna stay here, then you were gonna enjoy the most of it.

“Uhh Lonnie put me up to this shit.” Tommy adjusted the mic stand to his liking. “I’m not gonna whistle for ya…instead I’m gonna tell you a story.”

“Ghost and Goblins!”

You chuckled at the girl who shouted out. That got everyone to laugh.

“Any of you know the story about Haddonfield’s Boogeyman?” When he got no reply he continued. “Too young to give a shit, too drunk to remember?”

It was silent. Yet he kept going.

“Forty years ago, a madman escaped from a mental hospital. It was the night before Halloween and three teenage girls were walking home from Haddonfield High. They had sightings of…a ghost-like figure creeping right through our town. A man in a white mask, or was it more than a man…” A shiver ran down your spine as you pulled down your long sleeve shirt. “He was watching them. Before the night was over, three people would be murdered. And the house next door, there was a babysitter, and a young boy and a young girl, and they were brutally attacked by this stalker. Who had a power, beyond any mortal man.” Whispers and chatter arose amongst everyone. “My name is Tommy Doyle…and I was that young boy.” Gasp of disbelief could be heard in the crowd. “So please join me in commemorating the victims and the survivors of Michael Myers.” You brought your hands together to clap along with everyone. It was touching. “Now we have the lovely Miss Lindsey Wallace, her babysitter Amy Brackett was executed that night. Now we have Miss Marion Chambers, she survived an assault. We have Lonnie Elam.” Tommy took the big spotlight and shined it down on each three of them. “Lonnie survived a face to face encounter.” Your eyes grew big. Your parents and friends always told you it was a myth. You were one of those “I gotta see it to believe it” types. Safe to say you’ve never encountered Michael Myers. Not really sure what you’d do or how’d you react if you did, but hearing other people survive him, it scared you half to death.

Yet you wouldn’t know that the only reason they survived was because they were children at the time, and Michael Myers never killed children.

“It’s Halloween night in Haddonfield, when terror is supposed to be fun…” Tommy stared into the crowd. “When we hide behind masks, and we pretend we aren’t who we are. Is he real…who knows? Who’s next? Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but the Boogeyman is coming for me, and he’s coming for you, but he’s not gonna get us. Not this time! Because we will never succumb to fear. This is for your Laurie! Wherever you are!”

You grabbed your drink and raised it up in salute to this Laurie chick. You gulped down the rest of your drink and asked Brian for another one. “Brian can I have one more?” You raised your pointer finger.

“That makes three now…and you drove here right?” He asked you. 

“Mhmm.”

He scoffed and came back with-

“Water? I asked for a beer…”

“And I need a raise for taking care of you careless drinkers, but you know what…” 

“What?” You laughed rolling your eyes.

“Life’s a bitch like that.” You pouted and traced the rim of the glass. “Drink your water!” He gestured to the glass in front of you.

“Alright, alright.” 

-

“Copy that. Utilities are being shut down!”

Buck slammed his shoulder into a door of the house looking around and calling out for any survivors.

“We got a gas fed fire in here!” Buck spoke into his walkie.

His partner that was with him gestured to him to continue moving forward. “Ten-four. Stand by!”

“Copy!” Buck dragged the heavy hose then released the water. Hoping to reduce the amount of fire that was spreading like crazy.

“Assignment complete! Utilities are disengaged.”

“Copy! Eyes on the roof. Watch out.” Buck warned as some of the wood from the floor was starting to break. “With me!”

“Command ladder 13, do you copy?”

As he kept walking further into the house the radio chatter became indistinctive. He was worried he was missing something.

“This is Buck with Engine 118, I didn’t quite catch that!”

Nothing could be heard but the loud crashing that came from behind him. He whipped around and walked closer to the edge.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday, we have a firefighter down. There’s been a structural collapse. We have a firefighter that fell through. I repeat we have a firefighter down, over!” He peered down. “Brenton you okay?”

“M-My air supply is busted.” He then pulled his emergency alert button on his portable radio. 

“Radio silence, we have a mayday alert!”

“I’m gonna get you out of there, okay? Just hang tight alright.” Buck called out to him. Brenton called out to his radio. “This is Brenton with Engine 8. There’s been a structural collapse. M-My air supply is compromised. PASS alarm has been activated…Oh shit!” Brenton’s eyes widened as he saw a masked figure standing not more than a few feet away from where he lay.

“Come in, Engine 13, Engine 118.”

“There’s somebody else down here!” Brentom exclaimed as the man walked over to him. He was then kicked in the face making him head his head against the ground.

“Brenton!” Buck watched with wide eyes as the man started beating the shit out of him. “Do you copy?”

Brenton felt his world stop as finally realized who hovered over him. It was Michael Myers. He cried out as he saw the pick ax being raised. “Buck run!”

“No!” Buck cried out for the man, but stumbled back as Michael turned around to look up at him. Buck didn’t think for a second to get the hell out of there.

-

It had been some time late in the evening when every phone in that damn bar started going off and chimming.

“Oh my god!” Marion gasped. “Tommy look, hey turn it up!”

Brian turned the Tv on, and what popped up on the screen had turned out to be your worst nightmare yet.

“…at the service station earlier today. This evening four bodies were discovered in three homes along the same residential street. Residents of North Haddonfield are on high alert. Officials are investigating.” The newsported announced. The man followed up with a report about a house fire, but what was said about a huge massacre of firefighters made your heart plummet to your feet.

“Hey isn’t Buck on that call?” Brian pointed out to you.

Your glass shattered to the floor as you stood up grabbing your coat and keys. “Oh my god!” You felt like you were gonna throw up.

“Hey it’s not safe out there.” The man Tommy called after you. “Y/n!”

“It’s not safe anywhere!” You pushed your way through people to get to the door. 

“Y/n, be careful!” Brian called out after you.

-

“Got a goddamn massacre on our hands.” Sheriff Baker stood up from peering inside of the car with a decapitated head inside. “Graham.”

“Yes sir!”

“Establish a perimeter.” 

“Copy that!”

Sheriff Bakker walked around the car to fully inspect the blood shed before him. Firefighters dropped dead on the lawn. Heads bashed into, you could hardly even recognize them anymore. “Motherfucker!”

When you got to the location you had quickly put the car in park. The car rolled a centimeter as you got out. You looked at all the chaos, mostly seeing officers, and…

“S-Sheriff Barker!” You ducked under the ‘do not cross’ tape line and ran towards the tragic scene before you.

“Attention, all responders. Be advised we have a violent criminal at large, armed and dangerous.” Graham spoke into his megaphone. “We will deploy all units of frontline and tactical officers to search the area. This fugitive is on foot…and his name is Michael Myers!”

You stumbled back seeing the mess Michael left behind. All what once was the boogeyman used to scare children to go sleep or eat their veggies was now a reality. None of the firefighters were spared, and if that were the truth then that meant….You were pulled out of your daze feeling hands lightly push you away from the scene.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need you to step back, you can’t be here right now.”

“Is my fiance here? I need to know if Buck’s here?” You brushed past him trying to look for him. 

“Y/n please-”

“H-Has anyone seen Evan Buckley? First responder Evan Buckley! He’s with Engine 118. Please, has anyone seen my fiancé!” You frantically looked around, shouting and trying to get the attention of any of the officers around you. Your breathing was growing uneven with every swivel of a turn and whip of your head you did.

“Evan!” You cupped your mouth glancing over at the dead first responders. “Oh g-god…” You almost threw up at the scene. Dead wasn’t even the correct term to describe the horrid scene before you. You didn’t even want to imagine that Evan could be amongst the bodies. “Evan!” You shouted out again. “Evan-“

“Y-Y/n?”

You turned around and let out a broken sob. There he was. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t dead. You kept repeating to yourself. The love of your life wasn’t dead. You ran over to him. When you reached him, you didn’t know how to grab him, whether or not to tighten your grip on him or wrap your legs around him like your life depended on it. You didn’t know. You pulled him in close. Your hand curling around the back of his head of hair. His face falling into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my god!” You thanked whoever the hell was listening to you. “I thought you were dead. I thought he killed you. A-Are you hurt?” You examined him for any injuries. Buck shook his head no.

“I’m okay, I promise. I hid in the woods as soon as he killed the captain.” He whimpered into your neck. “I-I didn’t do anything, I didn’t help anyone. I just ran like a coward…” It was your turn to shake your head.

“No, Evan no. You’re human okay, those were just your instincts kicking in. I think anyone would have ran. But if I’m thinking selfishly…” A tear fell down your cheek. “I’m glad you did, I’m glad you didn’t stay rooted to one place.” You nodded furiously. “I’m glad you’re right here in front of me. I’m so glad!”

“I was scared.” He shook his head sitting at the back of the ambulance. “I couldn’t breathe, and then he came out of the burning house…picking us off one by one. I didn’t think I was going to see you again.” You reached forward and cupped his face. He looked exhausted. You turned your hand and placed the back of it against his forehead. He was sweaty and warm. 

“Let’s go home.” Buck sighed his head falling forward against your chest. “Please.”

“W-We can’t.” Your voice cracked. “He’s still out there.” You were trying to stay calm for you and for him. Yet your heart that was practically beating out your chest told you otherwise.

“Five years.” Buck said out of the blue. He scoffed then chuckled, shaking his head. 

“What?”

“I’ve never seen him in Haddonfield for five years. Each year on Halloween for five years, he’s shown up and killed people.” He looked down at his lap. “You don’t really start believing the stories they tell you until you see the blood and the bodies on the ground and when you finally do. You start realizing there’s a pattern. One after the other, bodies start dropping, people go missing from a party….and there’s nothing you can do. I’m supposed to save people, but lately…there hasn’t been a whole lot of that.” A tear fell down his head.

“You’re not invincible, Evan Buckley.” You half-heartedly laughed as you caressed his birthmark on his left eye. “A firefighter, yes, but you act like you have more than nine lives. You can’t keep over exerting yourself because one day you’re gonna push too far, and something is gonna shove back. I’m scared of what that day will feel like. I am. I adore how much you love this job, and I love you for being the caring and loving person you are.”

“But?” He looked up at you, frowning a bit.

“I can’t stop you from running into a burning building…I knew the minute that I met you what I was signing up for. I can’t stop you, but I can tell you I can’t bear to lose you. You’re too important to me.” You pressed your head against his.

“I can’t lose you either.” He turned his head and pressed his lips against yours. You placed your hands on his cheeks trying to cherish the moment while it lasted since tonight was still going on, and Michael was on a killing spree. “We can’t stay here, we have to go somewhere safe.” 

“Where else would we even go?” You looked back at the blood bash. Covers being draped over the dead firefighters. You shivered and focused on Buck’s touch.

Buck stopped for a second and thought about it. Then it looked like a lightbulb went off inside his head.

“There’s always the fire station. He’s never really gone there over the time I’ve lived here. We can try there.”

“As long as I don’t look like them…I’m all in.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, not on my watch okay?”

“I trust you.” You nodded and took his hand. He got up and you guys walked over to your car. 

[nightmare-niko]

A little bit of Jealousy [Kim Hongjoong x reader]

A/n: should I make a smut pt 2 of this??

Warnings: jealous reader, not proofread <3

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

Dating someone as famous as Kim Hongjoong had its obstacles. Nothing that the two of you couldn't handle, of course. But one thing you were never prepared for was following him on tour. You’ve been dating Hongjoong for almost five years, you had become amazing friends with all of the members in that time. Even though you had been together for so long, you'd never had thought about following him around the world on tour.

But here you were; mask and hat on hiding your identity, pretending to be staff (Don’t question it???) You made sure to keep your distance from Hongjoong, staying a few paces away from the commotion.

You kept a careful eye on your beautiful boyfriend. He's been on work-mode all day, you couldn't wait to have boyfriend-mode Hongjoong back. You watched as he signed things and took selfies. You loved watching his fan interactions, but seeing them in real life felt different. You had no problem watching tons of fans call your man handsome online, but in real life...

Jealousy slowly seeped into every fiber of your being. You knew it was ridiculous to be feeling this way but you honestly couldn’t help it. You decided to just bite your tongue and try to keep cool.

•

The two of you finally were alone in the blacked out van. Sitting basically on top of him, your nerves finally began to settle.

"Are you hungry?" You look over at Hongjoong.

He hums gently, "a little." He looks up to his manager that driving the car to the hotel. “When our manager goes to sleep wanna sneak out and get some food?” He whispers in your ear. His warm breath making your skin break out in goosebumps.

"Okay but i we get caught, im blaming you.”

Hongjoong laughs gently and tightens his grip on you.

•

The two of you slip into a private booth at a restaraunt nearly your hotel.

"Oh my god! Is this a date?" You joke, leaning into him.

"Of course, why wouldn't it be! " He reaches across the table to hold your hand.

"We haven't beenon a date like this in so long!" You cheer, tightening your grip on Hang joongs hand.

“I know, this is nice... I’ve missed you.” His voice a sincere tone.

Oh how this night was perfect...

That was until your waitress scampered up to your table. The sentual sway of her hips and the swing of her ponytail was enough to have you on edge. You had to watch other people flirt with your man all day, and now you have a waitress to worry about.

The girl batted her eyelashes seductively as she introduced herself to only your boyfriend. Unluckily for you, your lovely Hongjoong was ever the gentleman. That meant he already knew your order. You knew that he wasn't flirting with her. He just happened to be oozing with charm and charisma. The waitress was eating it up regardless and by the time she walked away steam was blowing out of your ears.

“What's wrong my love?"

You clench your jaw, "nothing, why?"

"Cmon, baby, don't be like that."

You sigh, "she was flirting with you." you mumble, rage quickly being replaced by embarrassment.

You watch Hongjoongs face turn from worry to something more mischievous, “you’re jealous?”

“What! Ugh! No-” You defend, "I'm just pointing it out, that's all...”

Your boyfriend doesn’t believe your half assed lies. Not does he have time to calm your worries, because the waitress was back with your drinks, great. You and Hongjoong usualy ordered cokes with your food, simple. But unlike your soda Hongjoong’s drink had a tiny decoration on top of it. You scoff, staring daggers at the bold waitress. You continue to star as she walks away.

"Are you kidding mie right now??” You shift your gure to meet Hongjoong’s”

He just shrugs, "maybe she's just a fan!”

"Just a fan my ass. She hasn't even looked in my direction the whole time we've been here!" You complain to your boyfriend. "She's totally into you. WOW that little-"

“Baby! Please,” he stops your outburst. “I’m here for you. Only you, no random waitress is going to change that’s.”

There’s not a single part of you that thought Hongjoong was unfaithful. But you still didn’t like watching randoms flirt with what was yours. You sigh, deciding not to let something so small ruin your night with your boyfriend.

By the time the two of you got back into your hotel room there was only one thing un your minds.

Bed time.

"What time do we have to wake up tomorrow, Joong? " You ask, taking out your pjs from your suitcase.

"Not until later," he pauses, "Why?"

You shrug," I was just gonna hop in the shower real quick." Hongjoong quirks up, "wanna join me?”

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@nallasstuff

@chmpgneprblem

@qoopeeya

@lilybellalana

@sleepysongbirdsings

[frankoceanluvrr]

𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 - 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

pairing : friends to lovers , fem!reader , college!peter, college!au

warnings : nothing serious. english isn’t my first language, urdu is! so please tell me about grammatical errors like spelling and punctuation as those i struggle with

summary : [Name] and Peter have been friends since college started. He soon finds out his friend has a ‘crush’ on the masked vigilante Spiderman, and cant help but feel a little jealous.

italics = flashbacks !

“What you drawing?” Peter smiled, looking at your notebook.

You quickly shut the book closed, looking at him laughing, “you’ll say it’s dorky.”

“Oh, come on? Me saying somethings dorky? Isn’t that like, hypocritical?” He said, tilting his head.

“I guess nerd, forgot you take physics” You said, “and anyway, we’re supposed to be studying. Not focusing on little doodles”

“Please [Name], I promise I don’t think you’re secretly the biggest dork ever” He sarcastically stated, “and I definitely do not think you’re a bigger nerd than me.”

“How dare you cross that line!” you say, holding your hand on your heart, tilting your head back.

While you were doing your dramatics, he quickly got your notebook before you could even react.

“Hey! That’s private property.” you gasped, watching him gloat since he got the book.

He opened it and flicked through the pages to see simple notes covered in Spiderman doodles.

“Oh, wow dude you really are a dork” he laughed looking at every drawing, feeling himself blush a little bit.

“Aren’t you literally in a robotics club? Or what about the time you made me watch all of those Star Wars movies? How about the time—”

“Okay that’s enough” Peter interrupted, looking around the library.

“Exactly, I cant out nerd the nerd” you shrugged, “I bet spiderman isn’t a nerd.”

“He most definitely is. Probably old and wrinkly” Peter said quickly, “yeah, he definitely has crusty bleached hair and 47 years of age.”

“You really think so? I’d love him no matter what then. I’ve actually met him before.” You said, completely unaware of who you’re exactly talking to.

**

“Are you alright?” The superhero said, looking at you while you attempt to carry new furniture into your new student accommodation.

“Yep, I’m good. Great, actually. I really like this lamp” you tried acting cool in front of the superhero, but he could tell you were secretly fangirling anyway.

“I can take some of those in you know, it’ll be easier with two people.” He offered, watching you stare at all the boxes, “which floor will you be on?”

The mask gave Peter confidence, it made him feel like he wasn’t scared of anything. It was like he was a complete different person with the mask on.

“Sure, I’m on the bottom floor so it’s not a massive job. Anyway don’t you have like, superhero duties to attend to or whatever? Sorry, that definitely came out rude. I’m very thankful you’ve offered to help me and-” you rambled, wanting the ground to swallow you up whole.

“No, no, it’s fine honestly. I’m happy to help you”

You obviously couldn’t see, but he was smiling so hard under the mask.

Peter had been crushing on you since you first met, and it’s safe to say you felt the same. But neither of you confessed your feelings, in fear of what might be ruined.

After moving all your furniture inside, you had thanked him about a million times.

“Your smile is beautiful, by the way.” He said, looking at you.

**

“And that’s how spiderman helped me with all my furniture. He’s such a gentleman” You smiled, pretending to be all smitten, “He even said my smile was beautiful.”

“He wasn’t wrong.” He said, barely audible.

Without the mask, Peter was very shy and awkward. The mask “completed” him, and he was always said he was nothing without it.

“Who even uses the word beautiful anymore? The chivalry! But he probably says that to every girl, right?” You giggled.

“No” he said quite quickly, only to receive a confused look from you, “I mean like, obviously he won’t say that to every girl because none of them have a pretty smile like you.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you could feel the heat in your cheeks rise. All you could muster out was a simple “shut up” as you looked away.

“Aw, did I make you nervous?” Peter teased, still flipping through the doodles.

“I want to kill you” you said, still attempting to hide your blush.

“Moving on,” Peter whistled, “I stand by the fact he’s probably old and musty.”

“No, no, he sounded young. Also, I saw his abs through his suit. Definitely not that old.” You smirked before bursting out laughing.

Peter clenched his jaw for a second, then realised his crush was literally checking him out.

“Gross.” Peter said, not even trying to wipe the smile off of his face.

a/n : part 2 :

[amalthea-fictions]

hello! i am here to make a request :) could you write Rengoku x Fem!Reader where reader is a demon slayer that has to work as an oiran in red light district to spy on clients. Reader is selected for this job because she is the only one unmarried.

thank you xoxo

AH this is such a cute idea because Kyo is such a GENTLEMAN!

-----

Your fingers are calloused from all of your years as a Demon Slayer, so the scrubbing doesn’t bother you so much.

Your hands are red and knuckles white against the brush. Of course, you’ve been going back and forth across the same spot for over an hour now, so it’s already glittering– but the wall is thin between this room and the next. Perfectly conducive to eavesdropping. So, what’s a few hundred extra floor scrubbings if it means getting valuable info for the Corps? 

“...aren’t as skilled as the ones in Yoshiwara.” The client is sighing.

You hear your manager scrambling. “Ah, that can’t possibly be true! Besides, Yoshiwara is dangerous!” 

The client snorts. 

You have to crane your neck with your ear against the shoji to hear your manager continue. “..’s true,” she says, hushed. “I’ve heard that attractive young men and women turn up missing all the time.”

That’s not the first the Corps has heard this rumor. What you’re interested in, is if it could be a–

“Pfft, ‘demons?’ You really think you can scare me into buying an oiran in this small town?”

You hear footsteps approaching your room from down the hallway. But you need to hear what your manager says next.

“If you want to risk your life, fine…” Her indignant snort is muffled through the wall.

The footsteps are closer. Tip, tip tip. 

“..but don’t come crying back to me when the Red Light Princess eats you for dinner.”

“Red Light Princess.” That’s a new one. Perhaps some of the other slayers should investigate Yoshiwara.

Tip, tip, tip–

You’re able to jump back into a tabletop position just in time, huddled over your floorbrush as the Tayu steps into the room. 

“Ah, there you are, [Y/N],” she smiles. You look up, pretending not to have noticed her entering. “Please, come with me.”

You bow your head politely and leave the brush on the bucket. The Tayu spins around and begins back down the hallway, and you follow.

“Is everything alright, madam?” You’ve quickly put back on the mask of a sweet, innocent courtesan. 

The house Tayu doesn’t look up, but continues gliding forward with perfect posture. “It seems you have made quite the impression in town, already.”

Your stomach churns. You’ve only been here a week, but haven’t been called by clients. There’s no way you could have done anything to blow your cover yet, right?

“What do you mean, madam?” 

She stops in her tracks to turn to you. Her smile is saccharine when she says, “You are being summoned by a client. He has asked for you by name.”

You must visibly blanch, because her gaze turns sympathetic.

“Ah, do not fear,” the Tayu chuckles. “This will be your first, no?” 

The Tayu continues down the hall and gives you “friendly and helpful” reminders over how to entertain the client for the night. You’re not worried about pouring tea, or playing shamisen, or making intellectual conversation. You’re worried about the fact that, fundamentally, a client could ask for… other services.

Of course you understood this when you accepted the mission. It’s just, the plan was always to lay low, and not stand out, so that this possibility could be avoided. 

You’re so lost in your thoughts, that somehow you miss the boisterous laugh echoing from the front of the house.

“That is him,” the Tayu says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Are you ready?”

You nod and smile. Thankfully, your years of demon-slaying have helped you school your emotions enough for your face to stay blank as you step out of the hallway.

Because there, surrounded by giggling women, with his arms folded, and a smile from ear to ear, is the flame hashira Kyojuro Rengoku. 

The Tayu bows politely and hands you off. “[Y/N] will guide you to your room for the night, sir.”

“WONDERFUL!” Kyojuro shouts, earning another giggle from the crowd of women around him. “Thank you very much!” 

You say nothing to Kyojuro as you lead him away from the entryway and into the house, but you can feel his owl-eyed stare boring into you the entire time.

Finally, when you’re in the guest’s quarters, you slide the door behind you and spin to him.

“Rengoku!” You hiss, and then bow. “I mean– It’s a pleasure to see you– but what’s wrong? Why are you here? I thought I was only supposed to communicate with the corps through crow?”

“NOT TO WORRY!” He booms, and you stare daggers at him. His eyes bulge. “Ahem. Not to worry!” he corrects, now in a whisper. “I am not here on official demon slayer business!” 

You raise your eyebrow at the way he sets his pack of belongings on the floor. “Then… why are you here?”

“To be frank, I was worried about you!” Kyojuro offers you the biggest, sweetest smile. And suddenly your face goes red. And all of a sudden you’re acutely aware of how you’re dressed, all of the makeup plastered on your face, and the fact that you and him are alone in a pleasure room together. 

You brush your hair away from your face, turning so that the flame hashira (hopefully) cannot see the blush flaring your cheeks. “I– I appreciate the sentiment, really. But there don’t seem to be any demons here? And even if there were, did you not think I could handle myself?”

“Quite the opposite!” He assures, catching himself before he grew too loud again. “If it were a demon, I would not be worried at all. But I was quite uncomfortable hearing that you were sent to work undercover as an oiran.”

“B-but–” you stutter over yourself. Kyojuro really came here just to make sure you were okay? Suddenly it’s way too hot in the dress you’re in. “Kyojuro, by being here, you could compromise my cover!”

He shakes his head vigorously. “Not to worry! I had the house women convinced I am but a simple patron who was enraptured by your beauty!” 

Your throat works. 

By all means, he shouldn’t be here. But sending him away now would make you even more suspicious. And yet, you can’t seem to convince yourself that you even want to send him away.

“Moreover,” he adds, and his tone has changed. When you turn up to see his gaze, his expression is solemn. “The thought of you being forced to participate in unseemly activities for the corps is deeply unsettling. I would not want you treated so indecently.” 

Your brain has frozen. 

Your… your duty is to stay and collect information for the Corps. So you should. Right?

Suddenly Kyojuro steps forward and places his hands on your shoulders. Your heart stops. It’s not until he gently guides you away from the wall that you realize you’ve glued yourself there the entire time. 

“[Y/N],” he whispers. “Your honor is more important for me to protect than your cover.”

He slides his thumb across your cheek and you realize you’re crying. And now that you’re aware of the hot tears on your face, they seem to overflow. 

You try speaking but it turns into a shaky hiccup for air.

“I am sorry you were selected for this mission.” His voice is soft and sincere. 

You shake your head. “It’s– it’s alright.” You try and sound confident through the tears, but the truth is, this is the first time you’ve even thought about how you felt being on this mission. 

Kyojuro chuckles. “It does not seem that way to me.”

He smiles at you, and he’s bright and safe and warm. You lean your forehead into his chest. He responds by wrapping his arms around you. His uniform and haori smell of smoke and ash– and it’s comforting, being cradled by his scent. 

He holds you until you steady your breathing through the tears. Finally, he whispers into your hair: “Have you found enough information to leave yet?”

You shake your head. “Kyojuro, I’ve only been here a week–”

Your eyes widen as he presses his finger to your lips. “That is not what I asked, little flame.”

You sigh as he lowers his hand from your chin. “I… I have reason to believe there are demons in the Yoshiwara red-light district.” 

He smiles, and you can practically see his eyes overflowing with pride. “See? I knew you would make quick work of this mission!”

You shake your head. “But, Kyojuro, that doesn’t mean I can just leave–”

“If I recall correctly,” he interrupts, and you feel his arms around your back pulling you closer. Your breath hitches as you’re pressed into him. “A client can request to marry a courtesan, correct? And, with the appropriate dowry, she is able to leave the house.”

You blink. “Are… are you proposing to me?!”

He laughs. “Not to worry! I would actually propose to you in a more beautiful place than this. This is a means to an end.”

You try to process the meaning behind his words. But, between the heat of his arms around your back and the way he’s smiling at you, you can’t seem to put together any logical thoughts right now.

“So, what if I ask the manager to marry you in the morning? Then, once we leave, I will treat you to a dinner! And we can report back to the demon slayer corps together.” 

“I…” your heart won’t slow down. “I suppose that would work. But you’re sure–”

“Absolutely.” He smiles at you again, and cups your cheek. “Unless, the thought of being betrothed to me is that unbearable?” 

You shake your head, perhaps more eagerly than you intended, because he laughs. 

Then, he brushes hair behind your ear, and his fingers are gentle and tender. Every nerve in your body is on fire.

“Then,” he says, voice in a low whisper, “let’s get married, little flame.”

[lorimnnn]

I watched ✨House of WAX✨and YOU BEST BELIEVE I'M POPPING OUT A REVERSE HAREM WITH THE SINCLAIRS ONCE I'M FINISHED WITH THE FICS I PROMISED YOU. ALL OF YOU. YOU'RE FINISHED.

Vincent the voyeur. The second you come into town you can feel eyes on you but you don't know who they belong to, and you can't shake the feeling of being watched. But he's everywhere. He's sneaking peaks at you hiding in plain sight, shuddering as he completes his sketch, pencil moving frantically over every inch of the page. He can't move fast enough.

You're in awe of all the effort he takes into making the wax sculptures and beg to meet the artist himself, and he's scared shitless that the mask will bother you but you're just impressed it's molded so accurately to his face. Let's you touch it and guides your fingers over the contours of his mask, shaking at the miniscule tingles he can feel against his weathered skin.

obviously you're attracted to him

Bo the flirt, of course. The second he sees you he knows you'll be fun. Heat licks up your spine every time he looks at you and it's a burrowing, soul-squirming, slow and steady kind of stare that makes it feel like he's looking at every part of you, not just the parts that they all usually like.

And obviously you're this sweet, shy thing emboldened by his attraction. You can't get enough of it and he can't get enough of you. It really will be a shame to kill you.

All your friends are terrified of the goofy, scraggly driver and kind of dicks to him, and you're frowning and he's feeling his heart stutter at someone finally standing up for him and appreciating him the way he deserves. Lester giggles when you ask him more questions, normal questions, almost like you're trying to get to know him. Calls you a 'pretty thing' and gives you a little pendant made from a squirrels skull for good luck, knowing what lies ahead.

And he's falling all over himself too to be the perfect gentleman. Holding your hand to help you out the truck, the touch lingering a tad too long (he's not extending this gesture to your dick head friends of course) leaning against said truck to talk to you and missing like a complete dork, falling on his face. Embarrassed but it's all worth it when you laugh

and then all three of them when you're still roaming around and you can't find your friends, not knowing they're already dead and you're the only one left. You go to the gas station to ask around and they're all there and pretending they have no idea, smirking at your flustered expression when Bo flirts to redirect the conversation, backing you into Vincent as he does. Now you're a bit intimidated. Why are they cornering you like this? Even Lester isn't doing anything apart from an occasional 'knock it off, eh?" when you're too flustered to speak

Hehe you're in for a ride

Mini rant:

No because immediately what struck me watching it is that Carly and her friends are kind of asses??? Like yes I'm all for character flaws but just being an idiot is basically your death sentence. It was karma. The only one I feel bad for is Paige. Tell me why I had hope that they would deserve to live when it was a bunch of college kids - - - you can never trust them to be protagonists of a horror movie because WHERE IN UR RIGHT MIND DOES IT BECOME ACCEPTABLE TO TRESPASS INTO AN AREA THAT CLEARLY SAYS 'CLOSED' OR KEY A WALL FOR PROOF??? like what if I went to ur house and saw it was locked and was like "oh, that's just a decoration" and to prove your window was real glass I threw a brick at it??? Same energy really Carly's boyfriend had it coming.

p.s. i've started writing a reverse harem novel based on house of wax--- it's gonna be a slow burn that's kind of romantic and has a lot of sexual tension hehe. would any of you be interested if I posted it on ao3, or posted updates here so you know when you can perhaps... buy it? i feel like it's going to be around 150,000 - 200,000 words

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, Chapter 3

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~2600

Story Summary: Steven meets a beautiful woman in the Egyptian exhibit at the British Museum...

...Too bad she's his new boss.

Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship, boss/employee relationship (of sorts)

A/N: Here's chapter 3! I'm still not quite sure how long this will be, but hopefully I'll have an idea soon since I know where the plot's going.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this or any of my stories, please let me know!

Title from the song of the same name by The Police.

“...So, what do you think?”

Steven turned as Christina walked up next to him. He had been in his new position for a few weeks and was attending his very first members-only museum gala. “There's quite a lot of people here, isn’t there?” he replied.

Christina shrugged. “Usually it’s the same bunch of trustees and benefactors wanting to brag about their ‘generous’ donations while simultaneously making sure of where said donations are going, but yeah, there’s definitely more members here than usual.”

“Have you seen Dr. Y/L/N yet?” 

Christna shook her head. “No, but I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.”

She waved at someone. “Oh, if you'll excuse me, I just saw one of my old professors from uni. I'll catch up with you later, okay?”

Steven nodded. “Yeah. Laters, gators.”

Once Christina had left, he continued looking around the room. Maybe I should walk around, see if I spot her.

Good idea, Marc replied in his head.

Steven took a single step before someone moved out of his line of sight, revealing Dr. Y/L/N.

She had traded in her usual business attire for a silky floor-length purple dress with a shimmery beaded bodice and a pair of high-heeled shoes. On her left wrist was a wide, flat, silvery bracelet that reminded Steven of the bangles that Egyptian queens were frequently depicted wearing while a double-layer teardrop diamond necklace rested at her throat.

Steven’s breath caught. Gods, she’s beautiful.

Stunning, Marc agreed.

Dr. Y/L/N was engaged in conversation with an older gentleman that Steven vaguely recognized as one of the museum's trustees -- or from what Steven could tell she was actually being talked at while she discreetly looked around for an escape route.

She smiled as Steven caught her eye, then while the man speaking to her was briefly distracted by a passing waiter she made a face before quickly schooling her features back into a blank mask.

Steven chuckled and shook his head as the man turned back to Dr. Y/L/N and began speaking again while she pretended to be interested.

Go help her, Marc said.

How?

I don't know, make something up. Say you need to talk to her about something important.

Steven downed the glass of champagne he had been holding just to have something in his hands and set the empty glass down on a nearby table. “Right, off I go then.”

He walked over towards Dr. Y/L/N. “Dr. Y/L/N, there you are!”

“Ah, Steven!” Dr. Y/L/N replied, looking relieved. “Cohen, this is Steven Grant, our absolutely brilliant Visitor Engagement Specialist here at the museum. Steven, this is Cohen Robbins, one of the museum's benefactors and member of the board.”

“How do you do,” Cohen said, shaking Steven's hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Steven replied. 

“Steven has been instrumental in improving the museum's visitor numbers,” Dr. Y/L/N continued. “Just in the past month that he's been in the position we've more than doubled our guided tour numbers and increased memberships by 20%.”

Steven’s face flushed at the praise. Dr. Y/L/N had loved his revamped tour and had approved it as the new standard as soon as Steven could train the rest of the Programming staff.

“It's all been thanks to Dr. Y/L/N’s incredible leadership,” he replied. “I'm just grateful that she's given me the opportunity to show her what I can do.”

He cleared his throat. “In fact, I actually have important museum business to discuss with her now, so unfortunately I need to steal her away. Quite urgent, you see, can't wait till tomorrow.”

“Apologies, Cohen,” Dr. Y/L/N said. “I'll see you at the next board meeting.”

Steven began to lead Dr. Y/L/N away. “I was thinking about what you said regarding our next special exhibition and I've come up with something that I really think you'll --”

He dropped the act as soon as they were out of earshot. “Everything okay? You looked like you were in need of a bit of a rescue.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded with a smile. “I was, actually. I knew that events like this require a lot of schmoozing benefactors and listening to them talk about their art and car collections, which totally isn't my scene but unfortunately came with the job description, but I swear if I had to listen to Cohen blather on about his prized Vermeer painting for one more minute I was going to go insane. You're a lifesaver, Steven, thank you.”

Steven huffed out a laugh. “Happy to help, ma'am.”

“Are you enjoying the gala so far?”

Steven nodded. I am now. “Yes, ma'am.”

He had been surprised to see the invitation to the gala in his email inbox a few weeks before and in questioning Christina, he had learned that while the galas were open to all staff (which he never knew since Donna had never bothered to let the gift shop staff know) the Curation and Programming department heads in particular were encouraged to attend in order to show solidarity and support for the museum -- and to be on hand to answer any questions about the exhibits. It's not actually required, she had said, but we get overtime for it so it's worth it.

Dr. Y/L/N smiled. “Good. I'm glad.”

Steven gestured towards the table that was acting as a makeshift bar. “May I get you something to drink?”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “Yes, a glass of champagne would be lovely.”

“Be right back.”

Steven walked over to the bar and requested a glass of champagne and a bottle of water, then headed back over to Dr. Y/L/N once he had received them.

He handed her the glass of champagne. “Here you are, ma'am.”

“Thanks so much, Steven.” Dr. Y/L/N grinned. “The one upside to these parties… getting paid to dress up and drink fancy champagne.”

Steven took the opportunity to admire her once again. “You look lovely tonight, by the way. Very reminiscent of an Egyptian goddess.”

“Thank you.” Dr. Y/L/N briefly glanced down at her outfit. “That's actually kind of the look I was going for.”

She paused. “You look really nice as well.”

“Thank you.” Steven had "borrowed" a tux that Marc had stashed in the back of their closet after a mission. It had been a bit wrinkled when Steven had pulled it out but luckily there were no bloodstains, so after a bit of dry cleaning it was as good as new.

Dr. Y/L/N took a sip of her champagne. “Oh, I meant to tell you, that teacher from the school group you gave a tour to on Wednesday emailed me this afternoon and absolutely raved about you, said it was the most engaged she's ever seen some of her students and that they were still talking about it yesterday in class.”

Steven grinned. “Oh, they were a fun group, asked some good questions.”

“She also wanted to know if she went ahead and booked another tour for next term if she could request you as her class's tour guide.”

Steven nodded. “Yeah, that's not a problem. I'll make a note when she sends in her tour reservation to schedule myself for it.”

“Okay, I'll email her back on Monday and let her know.”

“Okay, great.”

“You know, that was actually the fourth message we've gotten about how great your tours in particular are just in the past two weeks alone. I need to watch out -- another museum might get wind of how amazing you are and try to steal you away.”

Steven grinned and shook his head. “No chance of that, ma'am. I plan on staying right where I'm at.”

Dr. Y//N nodded with a smile. “Good to know.”

“--Ah, Dr. Y/L/N, there you are!”

Dr. Y/L/N turned as Helen walked up. “Good evening, Helen.”

“‘Evening, ma’am. ‘Evening, Steven.”

“Good evening,” Steven replied. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for your welcome speech, Dr. Y/L/N.” 

“Oh, it is? I'm sorry, I had no idea of the time.” Dr. Y/L/N turned back to Steven. “Would you mind holding my champagne for me, please? I'll be right back.”

Steven nodded and took her glass. “Absolutely, ma'am.”

He watched Dr. Y/L/N head over to a makeshift stage and clear her throat as the music that had been playing softly over the museum's intercom system faded into silence. “Hello, everyone,” she said. “For those of you that don't know me, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N and I’m the director here at the British Museum. On behalf of myself and the entire museum staff, I'd like to welcome you to this evening's members’ gala.

“For years the museum has been the cornerstone of enlightenment and knowledge and it is only with your continued support that we are able to present such a large and wonderfully diverse collection of artifacts for exhibition. It's an honor and a privilege to be part of the growth and development of the museum and its collection, and from the bottom of my heart I thank you all for being here. Enjoy your evening.”

Steven politely applauded along with the rest of the crowd, then watched as Dr. Y/L/N made her way off the stage back towards him.

He handed her her glass of champagne. “That was a lovely speech.”

Dr. Y/L/N smiled. “Thank you.”

“It really is fascinating, though, innit? I mean, the history of the museum.”

Dr. Y/L/N nodded. “Oh yeah, very. And to think it started with someone's private collection.”

Steven took a sip of water. "So you never did say what brought you to England, if it was strictly for work or..." He trailed off.

Nice segue into finding out if she's single, Marc said in his head.

"Well, the short answer is strictly work," Dr. Y/LN replied. "But the long answer is that I got a dual Master's degree in history and linguistics before getting my doctorate in Archeology and had originally planned on being a real-life Indiana Jones, but then the university museum offered me a position as their director and I almost had to take it. I enjoyed it immensely but I’d always wanted to come to England, and a couple of months ago a museum job board I’m part of had posted that there was an opening for the director of the British Museum, so I figured why not at least apply? Honestly never thought I'd actually get it, although I'm really glad I did."

Steven gave her a small smile. “I am too.”

Dr. Y/L/N shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve been blathering on about myself for too long. Tell me about you.”

“Oh, er, well…” Steven licked his lips nervously. “There’s not much else to know besides what you’ve read on my CV, really.”

“Nothing? You don’t have any family? Friends? Things you do for fun?”

“Well, there was my mum, but she’s…” Steven trailed off. “She’s gone now.”

 Dr. Y/L/N gasped softly. “Oh. Oh, Steven, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. It was a while ago.” Steven shrugged. “I’ve got a goldfish, at least. Gus. Gus the goldfish.”

“Gus the goldfish…” Dr. Y/L/N nodded with a smile. “I like that.”

Steven took another sip of water. “I don’t suppose you have any pets.”

“No, I considered getting a pet of some sort, but my hours at the university museum were always so long that I would’ve felt bad leaving whatever sort of pet I chose to get home alone for hours on end.”

Steven nodded. He wasn’t exactly sure which iteration of Gus he was on thanks to Marc. “That’s understandable.”

“Maybe one day. We’ll see. So, what do you do when you’re not working?”

“Actually, I’m studying hieroglyphics at the moment.”

“Oh wow, that’s so cool!”

Steven grinned at Dr. Y/L/N's enthusiasm. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to see if I can translate whatever’s on Akhenaten’s coffin so I can add it to the information on the display placard, although it’s probably just something like ‘here lies Akhenaten, who died from eating spoiled lentils’.”

“Want to go find out?”

Steven blinked at Dr. Y/L/N in surprise. “What, really? Right now?”

“Yeah, why not? I don't think anyone will even notice we're gone.” Dr. Y/L/N gave him a cheeky grin. “Come on, I promise I won't tell the boss.”

Steven chuckled, then nodded. “Okay then. Let's go.”

They quietly made their way upstairs to the 3rd floor and into the Ancient Egyptian hall.

Steven crouched down next to Akhenaten’s sarcophagus so he could read the inscription that had been etched onto the side. “Alright, let's have a look.”

“Well?” Dr. Y/L/N asked. “Does it say he died from eating some bad lentils?”

Steven chuckled. “Actually, no. It says ‘Here lies Akhenaten, beloved of the Aten, great of kingship in Akhetaten, who has elevated the name of the Aten, the perfect one of the manifestations of Re, who is beneficial to the Aten.”

Dr. Y/L/N crouched down next to him. “So he was a sun worshiper.”

Steven nodded. “Specifically the sun disk, Aten. He tried to force monotheism and make Aten the only worshiped god, which backfired spectacularly. He wasn't very well-liked and is sometimes referred to as the ‘heretic pharaoh’.”

Dr. Y/L/N winced. “Ouch. No wonder his sarcophagus isn't as nice as some others.”

“It appears that it wasn't even made for him originally -- it was made for a woman and was either second-hand or retrofitted to him.”

Dr. Y/L/N turned towards him. “So what happened after his death?”

“Polytheism was slowly reintroduced, and he was largely forgotten about until the discovery of his tomb in 1893.”

Dr. Y/L/N shook her head. “Geez. Imagine going from being an all-powerful pharaoh to getting stuffed into a second-hand coffin upon your death and left to the annals of history.”

Steven nodded as he stood. “Yeah.”

Dr. Y/L/N went to stand as well, but wobbled as she straightened.

Steven instinctively grabbed her hand to keep her from falling. “Woah there. Are you alright?”

Dr. Y/L/N looked down at their joined hands then back up to Steven’s eyes, an unreadable expression on her face.

She blinked a few times then nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Thank you.”

Steven was filled with relief. The last thing he needed was to have Dr. Y/L/N be hurt, especially while they had snuck off to go look at an exhibit. People would talk. “Oh, good.” 

He let go of her hand and took a step back. “We should um, we should probably get back downstairs, yeah?”

Dr. Y/L/N cleared her throat. “Right, yes. Yes, of course.”

They headed out of the Ancient Egyptian exhibit and back down to the gala on the first floor.

Dr. Y/L/N paused at the foot of the stairs. “I um, I probably should go speak to some of the benefactors since the gala is almost over, but just so you know, I really enjoyed our conversation tonight.”

Steven smiled. “I did too. Enjoy the rest of your evening, ma’am.”

“You too, Steven.”

Steven watched as Dr. Y/L/N walked away. If he got to spend every gala like he did this one… he definitely wouldn't mind having to attend.

[dross-the-fish]

What are some of your headcanons for Henry and Edward.

I head canon that Jekyll/Hyde is from a Scottish family but in order to blend into English society he adopted a posh London accent. Hyde reverts to a Scottish accent, it gets more prominent the more excited he is.

He's naturally left handed but was forced to use his right hand in school. Hyde uses his left hand.

His family didn't start out wealthy, I head canon Jekyll's father got very lucky on a business deal while Henry was a child and they went from being lower middle class to being wealthy and had to adapt to their new social status very quickly which is part of where Jekyll's concerns for his reputation come in. To some extent he's always felt like an outsider and a pretender.

He's every bit as intelligent as his peers but he's not old money like they are and he's not even properly English. He wears the mask of being a Victorian gentleman well but that's definitely what it feels like to him, a mask and then you add in his more depraved urges and it's no wonder he cracked and became Edward.

[beanghostprincess]

Opinions on Sanuso ?? 😁

this is like asking jesus his opinions on the bible but okay i'll answer your silly question (-> said by someone literally desperate to answer this question. thank you.)

sanuso, to me, is the most domestic and realistic ship when it comes to sanji. of course, usopp too, but i'm focusing on the one who has more ships than fights in this show. dude is shipped with everybody (as he should be. sanji deserves all the love). what i mean by this, is that their personalities match perfectly:

they're both insecure and have self-worth issues, but cope with them in different ways, and the reason why they're like that is their different but oddly similar pasts if you think about it!!

sanji has... a fair amount of trauma. my poor boy. he was born into a family that constantly told him he was weak and undeserving of love. he was abused, physically and mentally, and he lost the only one who truly made him happy. then he finally made it to the east blue, but even if zeff's a great father (we love you, king) his views on strength and masculinity obviously had a lot to do with sanji's personality. he had to learn to cope in silence, to deal with pain like a man, and to sacrifice himself for others every damn time, not only because he's too kind for his own good, but also because he doesn't think he deserves to be a priority.

on the other hand, usopp was born into a loving family, but his father and role model disappeared and his mom died when he was still very, very young. he had to cope on his own, but at least he had kaya. and the village. right? however, he has spent his whole life pretending and lying and not acting like himself because he doesn't like himself. because he dreamt of bigger things and he was nothing compared to the fantasies he told kaya about.

sanji is the dream usopp seeks, and usopp is the domesticity sanji needs.

sanji sacrifices himself and deals with pain in silence like a man. usopp lies and hides and runs from the truth because he thinks he's not good enough.

so here we have these idiots who do not love themselves but love everyone else with the biggest hearts we've ever seen.

and, you know, people don't ship sanuso as much as they ship other pairings. and i'm not gonna go into the whole "actually, usopp's ships are underrated because usopp himself is underrated and it has to be with him not following stereotypes and normativity regarding his looks and personality in shonen manga" but it's literally just that. i'm so, so sure the ship would be more popular if people actually stopped and valued usopp more... not gonna go into this. sorry. i just love him too much to not defend him to death all the time.

so... the thing about sanuso that makes them so special to me:

they understand and complement each other in a way i think no other mugiwara would understand, and they know how to deal with each other's pain.

(i know this is just my opinion and not an analysis, but i'm annoying when it comes to sanuso so i'm just gonna keep writing until my hands fall off!)

their personalities are... different. like. not "opposites attract different" but... different.

sanji masks his insecurities by acting like the gentleman he already is. he just hides his past and, when the situation comes, he always sacrifices himself but never says the reason why. he covers the fact that he sees himself as undeserving of living and being a priority by putting others first, using his "prince-like/gentleman" facade. we see this with women, mostly, but he's always giving and never taking. he isn't selfish. in fact, he's selfless to a worrisome extent (thriller bark, for example. skypiea, too). but he masks all of this just by saying he's strong enough to take it! man enough to protect everyone! and both can coexist, but it's pretty obvious that he wants to feel useful and loved and the use of self-sacrifice shows us both at the same time.

usopp, on the other hand? he's more fond of running away from his problems and hiding and using his "god/warrior" facade to cover all of his hatred for himself. hatred that not only comes from his past, but also from being surrounded by men who are stronger to an insane extent that's even weird in the anime fantasy world they're in. of course he feels insecure! he's not selfish, per se, but he's kind of a coward and he has this survivor's instinct that sanji lacks. but also, when the time comes, his own morality and good heart make him act beyond that instinct and he's the one to save the ones weaker than him (dressrosa).

okay, so, they both feel very insecure. sanji about his masculinity and worth, and usopp about his strength and bravery. sanji deals with it by self-sacrificing himself and using his gentleman facade, and usopp does the same by lying and running away. sanji doesn't fear death if it's to protect others, and usopp is scared of dying but he would fight against it in some cases for the same reason.

this is why i think they understand each other on a deep, intimate level that other mugiwaras don't get. water 7 is the best example of this, and it will forever be (along with skypiea) the best arc to explain why sanuso works so well. i honestly miss pre time-skip sanuso. they were so, so good...

and it's not only that they understand each other deeply, but the fact that they know how to work with it! their personalities match so well...

sanji thinks before acting and makes plans and his whole life is this complex recipe he has used ever since he was a kid to achieve the expectations of others, hiding his past and his fears. sanji understands people. he can read them well and knows how to approach them with a gentle, caring behavior. he's a sweetheart. he sees somebody suffering and goes to help. or, you know, he can also be a bastard and act on impulse but that's him too, isn't he? (by the way, not gonna mention zosan's dynamic here because that's a complete analysis of them also and it would make this thing longer). his actions are thoughtful but they're led by emotions and empathy mostly.

usopp is more logical and anxious, though. he thinks things through and tries to find the better outcome for himself and whoever he's trying to save, but it isn't really helpful the fact that he's an anxious guy with the constant fear of failure and hurting himself or being seen as weak. but he approaches problems nevertheless when he needs to, and he understands people and gives them what they need at the moment, if that makes any sense.

sanji needs somebody who will understand him but also will give him what he needs at the moment, and usopp needs somebody who's thoughtful and will see beyond his insecurities. that's why they work!!! they make me ill!!!

they're, for me, one of the best ships because they can talk things out. well, of course, sanji's repressed ass would have thousands of issues with liking a boy and also with opening up to somebody. but after seeing usopp is the same as him? after noticing that usopp's just pretending to be confident and he's also worried about what sanji thinks of him? it's beautiful. they could have, as a couple, such a deep connection!!

sanji knows usopp can protect himself but still helps him out all the time because of fear of losing him, and usopp gives sanji enough space to let him open up without suffocating him. they don't rush things. their thing happens naturally. gradually. it's slow and gorgeous and sometimes a bit angsty from both sides, but... it's the magic of a relationship turning into romantic when it used to be only a friendship. i love them so much!!!!! aghhhhhhhh *bangs head against concrete floor*

not to mention, also, that their canon dynamic is hilarious. usopp taking care of sanji at gyojin island when he's being uh.... all over the place with women, but also being done with his behavior is so married couple coded. and also, their whole thing ever since they've known each other is so so funny. because usopp can be as chaotic as luffy sometimes, when he's actually a very logical guy (he loses brain cells when he's around luffy and chopper istg), and sanji has to deal with it. and sanji is calm and collected but a fucking mess when it comes to feelings and love and usopp has to be the one to ground him. also, usopp teases him constantly when he flirts with women.

and, idk, their whole relationship feels very domestic and beautiful to me, especially after skypiea and water 7. i really do miss them there!! they're still boyfriends, though.

and also... gonna go into mbti stuff right now, kay? i love, love, LOVE sanji being an enfj and usopp being an entp:

-> ENTPs and ENFJs are both Extroverted, Intuitive personalities, meaning they tend to enjoy being around others and focusing on the big picture. However, ENTPs are also logical thinkers, who enjoy pursuing new experiences, while ENFJs are empathetic and prefer following set schedules. ENTP personalities should engage in casual, personal conversation with ENFJs, while ENFJs should communicate clearly and logically around ENTPs. -> ENTPs should be sensitive to ENFJs’ feelings by addressing issues gently and helping ENFJs feel safe enough to share their thoughts openly. ENFJs should work to focus carefully on the facts of the situation and avoid overly emotional expressions around ENTPs.

NOT TO MENTION SANJI IS 1W2 AND USOPP IS 6W7 AND THEY MAKE ME GO INSANE CRAZY I'M UNWELL-

but yeah, you can say i like sanuso a fair, normal amount! :)

(i'm not normal)

i just love how domestic and genuine their ship feels. because unlike their other ships, focusing mainly on either sexual tension or painful pining and devotion, these two have such a natural and sweet dynamic... it kind of reminds me to usopp and kaya, too! perhaps that's why it works so well (in this blog we support and love both ships. usopp has two hands!).

10/10 great awesome ship. they give spiderman x gwen stacy but maybe that's just me and my fantasies of them doing the spider-kiss with sogeking.

[mikhailwrites]

Look at me like we've never met before / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #2 - Roleplaying

John is sitting at the bar, nursing his glass of scotch. Usually, he only drinks whisky on a special occasion. Well, he supposes tonight is a somewhat special occasion. He's not a Sergeant of the SAS tonight. It was a stupid idea. Something he’d read somewhere and thought would be fun, but now he just feels... nervous. How the hell is he supposed to pretend he doesn’t know Ghost? Ghost! There is literally no one like him. He takes the glass and sips at the scotch. It calms his nerves some. Whatever, he’ll just enjoy himself, have a bit of fun, and then they’re gonna fuck, and come morning, they’ll be Sergeant John MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon Riley again.

His thoughts are interrupted when he notices movement in the corner of his eye, and suddenly, he knows he can play along. Because the man that just entered the picture is Ghost, but at the same time... it’s not.

The man looks like trouble. Broad shoulders, scars only barely hidden behind plain black medical face mask, large hands that could kill a man. The blonde hair does very little in terms of softening the brute. As does the deceivingly nice dark red button-up with a tasteful pattern paired with black chinos that hug the man's legs and especially his arse tight. John looks away, hoping he wasn't caught staring and feeling a little bit underdressed in plain jeans and an even plainer white tee. He’s been told it suits him, and he can believe it; John is not a complicated lad, and the get-up the blonde guy sports would look ridiculous on him. Like a costume. That, honestly, might be, in part, what intrigues him about the stranger. By all means, he can see him in worn denim and a tank top or maybe a cheap suit fit for a bouncer. Yet the clothes he wears suit him. He looks like... what exactly? Something prestigious yet predatory. There has to be risk involved. A lawyer? An entrepreneur? Stock trader? John’s intrigued because what can he say? Slender, pretty boys never quite did it for him. Dark, mysterious, huge and menacing blokes, however? Now, that is right up his alley.

Turning the glass in his hand, he downs the rest of the drink, savouring the thick smokiness and the burn of the alcohol on his tongue. Should he order another one? Does he actually want to hit on the lad?

The choice is made for him as another glass lands on the counter. As he looks quizzically at the bartender, she only shrugs, nodding towards the blonde stranger. “Compliments from the gentleman over there.” John looks the man over, trying not to flinch as dark brown eyes lock on him. There is absolutely nothing gentlemanly about him. Not even when he raises his own glass in a silent toast, he looks like a tiger stalking its prey. However, he did buy John a drink; it would be rude not to thank him, especially since John doesn’t drink cheap.

Grabbing his drink and sitting next to the stranger, John feels small, which is ridiculous, of course, because John is not a small man. "Thanks for the drink. Ye shouldnae have," John smiles, letting his accent slip deliberately. The stranger's eyebrow rises as he tries to decipher what John just said. This close, John also gets to smell him. The stranger’s wearing something interesting, no doubt very expensive. There’s musk, at first, then some exotic wood, morphing into something dark and spicy. There are layers to it, and John finds that he actually really likes it.

"It's no bother. You looked like you were debating whether or not to have another, I merely assisted." The stranger has a nice, deep voice with a distinct rasp to it. There's also a hint of accent. Manchester, maybe? John licks his lips.

"Mhm, was waiting for some company, but it seems I’ve been stood up," John says with a pretend annoyance.

“One person’s loss is another’s gain,” the stranger notes cryptically, taking a swing from his glass. John smirks. Oh, the lad is smooth, if direct. John’s definitely interested, and it seems to be mutual.

“Name’s John,” he extends his hand.

The stranger takes it. His palms are dry, warm, and surprisingly soft. “Simon.”

John lets go of Simon’s hand after holding it for what would definitely be considered too long. “Simon,” he rolls the name on his tongue. It’s a soft name, gentle, almost. No hard r’s or pointed t’s. “’S a nice name.”

“Thank you?” Simon chuckles. That, too, seems a bit out of character, but maybe he simply read Simon wrong. “You sound local, are you?”

John smiles, fiddling with the glass and turning it in his fingers. “Aye, from Inverness, actually. I’m only in Glasgow for a few days before I head back. What brings you here?”

“Business,” the answer is clipped. It’s clear that he’s unwilling to discuss it any further. John doesn’t mind; he’s not that interested, anyway. “I have to say, I’m somewhat surprised by the city. I’ve heard so many bad things about it, and I can see why.” John is already jumping the gun, more than ready to defend Scotland and all its parts (even the certifiably weird ones) from yet another smug, entitled Brit, but Simon isn’t finished yet. “It’s got character, and most people don’t like that. They want simple, uncomplicated, boring things.”

“What do you want, Simon?” John narrows his gaze, boring into the whisky-brown eyes.

“Something interesting,” he smiles, swallowing the last of his drink. Before he sets the glass down, he runs his tongue over the edge, chasing the last remnants of the taste. It’s a deliberate show for John’s eyes only.

Feeling bold, John rests his hand on Simon’s knee. The implications of the gesture are clear as day. How would it feel to have those large hands on him? To be overpowered and taken? Or, maybe even better yet, to have all this strength beneath him? To command it? Having Simon surrendering and pliant? John quiets his mind, lest the rest of the bar gets an eyeful of his stiff prick; these awfully tight jeans would do absolutely nothing to hide it.

“If you’re thinking half of what I’m thinking,” Simon says, low and incredibly enticing, “we should probably move this upstairs.”

John hasn’t paid and exited an establishment faster in his life, with Simon right behind him.

They are keeping their hands to themselves until the door closes behind them. After that, it’s a fair game.

John pulls Simon down for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Before he can do anything more, he’s being manhandled. Simon presses him against the wall, grabbing his arse and hoisting him up as if John weights nothing. John lets out an exasperated laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it but plays along, wrapping his legs around Simon’s waist and his arms around his neck. His prick is pressed between their bodies, and John rolls his hips, gasping at the amount of delicious friction he gets.

“I bet I could come like this,” John breathes out, half drunk off his scotch, Simon’s smell and this entire scenario, which only just an hour ago, seemed preposterous and could never work.

“Now, wouldn’t that be a shame when we have a perfectly good bed to ruin, sweetheart?” Simon growls, running the tip of his tongue along his ear, and John shivers. The pet name is new, and as stupid as it is, it’s doing something to him.

“Let me down, then,” John asks, and Simon obliges, unaware of what he just unleashed.

John shoves him back with enough force to catch Simon off-guard, sending him stumbling back until the back of his knees bump into the bed. He goes down without a fight. Before he can do anything more, John is on him, straddling his waist and impatiently working on the small buttons of Simon’s shirt. He’s tempted to cut his losses and rip the damn thing, but Simon probably wouldn’t approve. Never one for frivolous wasting.

Finally, finally! He reveals a pale chest dominated by a long, thick scar from the heart surgery, a flat abdomen with fine, fair hair, a collection of more scars. He knows every and each one of them intimately.

John kisses Simon on the neck, then the collarbone, and proceeds to lick at his nipple, revelling in the tight gasp he gets. He does it again, grazing his teeth over the hardened nub. Simon grabs at his forearm, grip strong enough to leave bruises.

“Fuck, Johnny...,” he breathes out. Now that’s out of character. Are they back to their usual selves? Whatever.

John doesn’t waste time, getting rid of Simon’s belt, unbuttoning his pants and divesting him of them quickly.

John drinks the sight in. Simon’s shirt lies open and crumpled around him, the blood-red colour of it beautifully contrasting against the paleness of his skin. The simple black briefs strain with his hard prick. It’s a sinful picture, one John commits to memory. For this moment alone, the whole charade was absolutely worth it. However, the moment passes, and John desperately needs more.

Bending over the edge of the bed, he finds Ghost's duffel bag and, soon after, a bottle of lube and condoms. Not that they need those; it's merely a testament to how far Ghost was willing to go with the roleplay. Before he can turn around, Ghost smacks his arse as John very helpfully offered.

John yelps in surprise, looking at Simon with the most disapproving look he can muster. A sly grin that answers him tells him he wasn't very successful. Were he slightly less horny, he would think about some proper vengeance; as it is, he takes off his briefs, breathing out as slightly chiller air hits his prick.

He's a bit careless with the preparation, partly because he already did some beforehand. Simon watches him with searing intensity as John fingers himself open. He doesn't say a word, doesn't as much as twitch a muscle. He just looks with an insatiable hunger as John finally removes Simon's underwear and resumes his place sitting on Simon's hips.

"Tell me what you want, Simon?" John purrs, enjoying the momentary illusion of power.

Simon smirks, putting his hands on John's thighs, kneading the muscles gently but insistently. "Need me to spell it out for you? I wanna fuck that tight arse of yours until all that'll be left in your pretty head is my name."

John's breath catches in his throat, his blue eyes widening a fraction. They do a bit of dirty talk every now and then, but it still catches him by surprise. He does recover quickly. While his brain, for once, doesn't have anything clever to say to Simon, he opts for something even better as he takes Simon's prick and slowly sinks down on it. He moans loudly, not holding back in the slightest. He has to when they shag in the barracks, and he hates it just as much as Simon does.

"Fuuuck, I love yer cock," Johnny whines as he bottoms out, closing his eyes and enjoying the stretch and the fullness. He startles a little bit as Simon takes his prick in hand, giving it a firm, slow tug.

"I think my cock loves you too, Johnny," Simon chuckles, but it's breathless and strained.

Johnny huffs out a laugh before he goes up and down again, maybe a tad too fast. He whimpers and knits his brows together, but the discomfort subsides soon. He sets a steady rhythm then, even though he knows they won't last. Simon wanks him off like a bloody specialist, and judging by his low moans and unfocused gaze, he's not far behind.

He doesn't mind. It's dead brilliant, really. Picking up the pace, Simon helps him a bit, meeting him halfway. The room is filled with the filthiest of sounds: wet slapping of skin meeting skin, moans and breathy encouragements. Johnny gives up, whining as Simon jerks him to completion while fucking him through it. It's an absolute bliss that swallows him whole.

Simon is mindful, slowing down a little bit but never stopping as he chases his own orgasm. It's just around the corner, clawing at his insides with the insistent "yes, yes, yes, just a little more, almost there, come on, come…" until he groans, throwing his head back on the pillow, arching up and fucking into Johnny, as deep as he can get as he rides the high.

"Not bad for a one-night stand, huh?" Soap says smugly because, of course, he has to say something bloody stupid.

"I've had better," Ghost deadpans, fully aware that the remark will get him at least two days of silence.

[justfangirlstuffs]

Not Defective

Wearing a mask to impress others is beyond exhausting. Thankfully, you aren't completely alone in this endeavor.

You x Sun (Agent Dawn)

Why am I here? That was the question you'd been asking yourself multiple times now. The question you asked yourself while you had a grin plastered on your face and sweetness injected into your tone. It was your mask for the night, and it was one of the more exhausting roles you had to play.

If there was one thing life had taught you, it was how to mask. How to pretend. Out in the 'real world', life was a stage and everyone was playing a role. And if you didn't play along, you were booted off the stage, blacklisted, and scorned. So, ironically, there was very little real when it came to the 'real world'.

You were currently busy trying to win over some elites whom the agency were looking to make backers. Originally, you weren't supposed to be at the forefront of this adventure, yet, inevitably you had caught someone's attention and now they would not leave you alone. No matter how many times you tried to politely excuse yourself, or pass along the hint that you just were not interested, this guy would not let up.

No, you did not want to take a cruise on his most recently bought yacht, seriously, what the absolute hell, and if you had to remove his hand from your hip one more time you might just stab it with one of the serving forks. However, you reminded yourself, it was not polite to punch this guy in the face, or spill your drink on him, or use his throat as a stress toy. No, no, you were blending in with 'polite society'. Your job was to smile and play the game, no matter how exhausting it was. No matter how you felt like downing wine glass after wine glass just so you didn't have to be mentally present for any of this.

“I feel like I've shared my entire life story with you,” the barnacle of a person said with a laugh that sounded so fake.

Damn near, you thought. It was a credit to your acting skills that you had faked being interested in any of it.

He sidled close to you, invading your personal space for what must have been the dozenth time. “I'd much like to get to know you.”

And there again was the hand, okay. Fork. Stab. Where is a fork so you could stab... no, no, violence is not polite, no matter how gratifying it would be right now. You just wanted out. You wanted out. Please, someone, anyone...

“There you are, darling! So sorry to keep you waiting.”

Your heart gave a small skip as you were gently but effectively, pulled away from the offending party and against a much more familiar and far more comfortable person. You gazed up at Agent Dawn, cheeks heating but the relief that flooded you was overwhelming.

“Ah, you two... know each other?” The man said, looking both dumbstruck and a little emasculated. Good.

“Yes,” you said, taking the line Dawn had cast you and wrapping your arm around his waist. “The two of us are very close.”

“So close there's not much room for a third, I'm afraid,” Dawn said with a little shrug and a friendly grin that was just a touch sharper than usual. “Better luck next time, friend.” The friend was very sardonic, a bit of salt in the wound.

The man's face turned beet red. Pride thoroughly run through, he skulked off. You released a long breath, relaxing against Dawn's side. You felt his fingers gently squeeze your shoulders as he looked down at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Fine, I just...” You trailed off, your throat closing up. Shit, not now. You could feel yourself shutting down. You took deep breaths, forcing yourself to keep from hyperventilating.

Agent Dawn must have sensed your distress because he took your arm and, looking much like a gentleman escorting you so as to keep others from noticing your breakdown, he guided you away from the party to an outside area. The cool evening air was a welcoming relief and you took several deep breaths. Your body was shaking and you had to bite back a few tears.

“Ahaha, wow, sorry,” you apologized, dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Gosh, this is embarrassing. You must think me silly or something.”

“Now why would I think that?” Dawn asked, pulling out a black pocket handkerchief and offering it to you.

You accepted it with a mumbled 'thank you'. “I've never been good with stuff like this. Yet, it seems to come so easily for everyone else. I feel like such an alien most days. Like... something with me is broken, or I wasn't made right, you know? Defective.”

“I don't believe that,” Dawn said, leaning down so he was at eye level with you. “Not for one second. I've seen you in your element, and you're brilliant. You have talents others don't. What you bring to the world, and this agency, no one else can. And if you continue speaking badly about my dearest friend, I may have to punish you.” He said that last line with a playful wink.

You gave a small snort, which bubbled over into a laugh. It was incredible how quickly at ease he could make you feel. How he was able to make your world-ending issues seem so small and laughably insignificant. Or maybe he just made you stronger, more capable of dealing with them. Either way, you felt better, like you'd been pulled away from a deep hole that you would have had a time crawling back out of otherwise.

“Do you want me to take you home?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, I'll see this through. Just... could you stay with me?”

“I'll be by your side the rest of the night,” he promised. “At least until you get sick of me.”

You grinned at that. “Not gonna happen.” You held out his handkerchief. “Did you need this back?”

He placed a hand on yours, gently curling your fingers over the scented cloth. “Why don't you hang onto that for me, hm?”

Your face heated but you didn't refuse. The two of you rejoined the party, and with Dawn by your side, the night was significantly more bearable. Your smiles felt far less forced because he was right there, making your world brighter, much like the sun did.

(I blame @clxckwork-sun-n-moon for this. Another fanwork from Accidentally Undercover AU by @lavenoon) The brain rot they give me is just all-consuming I swear tg.

[slow-slug]

(not) lonesome practicalism

AN: Okay first of all, the person who forced me into making tumblr account, please do not look at this post lmao I want to save my dignity, let's pretend it's not here. Second of all it's all @angelchigiri fault that I've written it, and thirdly it was not suppose to be that long but my hand slipped. And at the end I want to mention, english is not my first language and I do not have a beta, so yk, probably a lot of mistakes, sorry :,) Enjoy!

Its all fluff I promise! Oh and it's Chigiri x Reader ofc!

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

You pouted as the ball you just had kicked rolled not into the direction you wanted it to go. You had to admit it was a very pitiful picture, the net of the goal waved slightly with barely noticeable breeze, and the ball was, well, not in the middle of it as you wanted it to be. 

It was really frustrating, you were on the field that belonged to your old school, for quite some time now. Long enough that the sun started to set, and the hot summer temperature was slowly but surely becoming a chilly one. 

You felt like a fool, despite the fact that because of summer vacations no one was nearby, you still were feeling rather embarrassed. How was kicking a ball into the right direction so hard? It just never went the way you wanted it to go, honestly it was so silly, all you wanted to do was learn some basic football movements. That’s all! Was it so bad wanting to be more invested in your boyfriend's activities and passions?

You flopped down on the hard ground, feeling the artificial texture of it beneath your fingers. 

Sighhhh.

Honestly, Chigiri was so amazing in every way. He was caring, a gentleman in always asking about your mood, and making sure you were comfortable in everything you two were doing. Since you started dating, two months ago, suddenly your world felt a lot brighter and colorful. You spent so much time together, and when not, you were texting and sending stupid photos to each other. A true honeymoon phase in all its glory.

But the most important thing to you that he was doing was the way he was so invested in your hobbies and interests. You never had someone so, so genuinely interested in your passions. It was such an amazing feeling, when he sent you links to silly videos that he knew you would be interested in, and what's most important was the fact that he was never scared to spend time with you doing those activities. No matter what it was. Baking? He would research the best recipe that there exists. Dancing? Bring it on, with his coordination skills it was a lot of fun twirling together. Drawing? He wasn’t really good at it, but you still had the portret he drew of you, hanging up proudly above your desk. Hell, he even went shopping with you for new makeup products you needed and later, when you got back to your house, he did face masks with you and cuddled while watching some cheesy kdrama. 

And you wanted to return the favor, so, a whole week you spent walking to the field and practicing the damned football. It was your favorite thing, watching him being all excited about matches and scores. He smiled so widely and his eyes sparkled with such a real passion. And you wanted to be part of this world as well. 

You understood the rules of the game, knew the professional and more inside terms used for different moves, you were there for Chigir’s practice when you only could, you were watching matches with him and engaged in long discussions about them. 

The only thing is that, well, you kindly speaking, sucked at playing the actuall game. 

And it was so embarrassing! 

You heard your boyfriend's wishes that you could play some nice and short matches. He had never said it outloud, but you could read between the lines well enough that you understood his shy smiles and quick looks on the field when you were passing by it. So you did the only reasonable thing. Decided to learn this sport, at least a little bit, so you could surprise Chigiri and see his beautiful smile when you would show him the skills you had. 

You observed the slowly moving clouds. Well, you must admit that the practice you had, everyday for the whole week, was really effortless. Sadly. The ball never went in the direction you wanted it to go, you couldn’t run with it without losing it or falling on your face. You didn’t even attempt dribbling. 

You covered your eyes with your arm sighing quietly, and felt the frustrated tears to prickle them. This isn’t fair, you’ve seen so many matches, and Chigiri’s practices, so why couldn’t you repeat any of the things he did? 

The moment you decided to stand up and try again you felt someone laying down next to you also sighing quietly. Your tensed muscles relaxed as you felt your boyfriend’s comforting smell enveloping you. Dammit, you didn’t even hear him creeping on you.

You laid in silence for some time, breathing quietly. Then you felt his pinky touching delicately yours, and you smiled softly against your will. 

“Are you gonna tell me what you've been up to this past week?” He asked quietly not breaking the tiny physical contact he had with you. 

“It’s stupid” you’ve murmured. 

“It’s not if you spent so much time on it” he responded gently. 

That made you uncover your face and shift it so you could take a better look at him. Pink hair spilled around him, and tickled his perfectly looking skin. His pink eyes blinked at you, patiently waiting for your answer. 

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You’ve asked uncertainly, it was so stupid now that you looked at it. He nodded softly, enveloping your hand fully and giving it an encouraging squeeze. “I just wanted to learn some basic football I guess…” you turned your eyes to your hands observing the color of your skin. You heard a quiet oh, and your face flamed red. 

You’ve quickly sat up, and buried your head in your knees. That’s it for you, never coming back nope. And Chigiri was still silent! He did sit up with you, not so abruptly as you of course. He was always so smooth and elegant in every move. 

“You did?” He sounded weirdly breathless. You nodded without looking at him. You sat there in silence for a while. You wanted to go away, to stand and ask Chigiri to forget it, to never mention it again, so you can just skip this embarrassing chapter of your life. Yet, before you could act on those thoughts, you felt arms wrapping around you from behind and his hair tickle your nape when he leaned on it with his forehead. 

“Gods I love you so much.” He whispered in a hushed tone. You felt the warmth on your cheeks and the butterflies in your stomach. Chigiri never really says it outloud, his love is more hidden in gentle kisses and in the time you two spend together. You muffled a groan, his random declarations of love will always mean so much to you.

He stood up, and turned to be in front of you. When you looked up, the last sun rays made up a halo around his hair and the smile that graced his lips was so fond and kind. He put out a hand in your direction. 

“Come I’ll teach you.” And in what world would you say no to him? 

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

i feel cringe