#the world doesn’t rest on my shoulders and it’s not my problem or my responsibility

[sunniques]

— 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

➺ PAIRING: kim mingyu x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepbrother au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: mingyu will do anything to make sure no man takes his place in his stepsister’s life.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, yandere themes, stalking, violence, blood, manipulation, mentions of blackmail, jealousy, possessiveness, mingyu can lift reader, slight size kink, oral sex (f & m), 69, unprotected sex, riding, creampies, cockwarming

➺ WC: 7.7k

NOTE: don’t like don’t read. as always, thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading <3

If anyone were to ask you about Kim Mingyu, you’d have nothing but nice things to say.

The large, puppy-like man is the epitome of kindness and happiness. Despite his tall stature and modelesque looks, he’s pure-hearted and a little naive. It’s why you’re so endeared with him. No one in this world is more lovable than your foolishly kind stepbrother.

“Are you gonna need a ride today?”

You look up to see Mingyu leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a small smile on his face. Your heart jumps, still not fully used to how handsome he is. The loud thrum of your heart is easily ignored when you remind yourself that you can’t do anything except acknowledge your stepbrother’s good looks. In another world, you’d definitely allow yourself to have a crush on him, maybe even flirt with him a little.

“No,” you say as you unplug your phone from the charger. “Minghao is picking me up.”

Because you’re busy making sure you have all your things, you miss the look that crosses Mingyu’s face.

“Oh. I didn’t know you guys were talking again.”

Part of you feels a little embarrassed. Mingyu is very much aware of how things ended between you and Minghao. After all, it’s his broad shoulder you cried on after everything was said and done.

“It’s not like that,” you insist, feeling your face get hot from how intense his stare is. “We’re just friends now.”

Mingyu frowns but doesn’t say anything. It’s times like these you’re grateful that he’s such a nice guy. Anyone else would’ve pointed out that you and Minghao were never actually friends. You two just fucked around until he got sick of you. It was devastating for you in the worst way, but since he reached out to you under the pretense of wanting to be friends, you couldn’t say no. The last thing you want is to let him know how much he hurt you.

“Okay. Well if you need a ride later just text me.”

You’re grateful that Mingyu isn’t judgmental like you know the rest of your friends are going to be when they inevitably find out.

When you’re done with your last class of the day, you text Minghao to let him know you’re ready for him to come get you. A sickening feeling coils in the pit of your stomach when ten minutes go by without a response from him. You bite your lip as you contemplate sending him another text. Double texting wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t Minghao. Given the way you two left things, you don’t want to seem desperate. (Although you’re pretty sure it’s a little late for that.)

When another five minutes go by, you’re sure you’ve been stood up. You’re so angry that you feel like crying. The entire situation is so humiliating. To think that you thought giving him a second chance was a good idea. You feel so stupid, and you know that there’s no way you can ever tell anyone about what happened.

Well, there is one person. 

As soon as you call your stepbrother, he drops everything he’s doing to come get you. Because it’s Mingyu, you don’t feel as stupid and embarrassed when you get into his car. Not even when you start to ramble on about what an asshole Minghao is. Mingyu listens attentively, offering supportive comments here and there. There’s no judgment or pity when he talks, either. Just empathy that gives you enough comfort to make you feel like you’ve finally made it back to your safe place.

“Don’t even think about him,” Mingyu says as he grabs your hand. He brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before letting go. “He doesn’t deserve you or your anger.”

His words make you smile and feel warm inside. Aside from feeling a little embarrassed, you’re okay. Especially because your stepbrother makes it his mission to make sure you feel better.

You spend the rest of the day with Mingyu, and it’s not long before you completely forget about Minghao.

“I used to like you, you know.”

You choke on your drink, eyes going wide as you splutter embarrassingly. “What? Seokmin—!”

“I don’t any more!” He reassures you, looking around with slight panic. “And keep your voice down! I don’t need your guard dog acting up if any rumors start.”

You’re still too shocked by his confession to question who he’s talking about. You messily wipe your mouth and focus on getting Seokmin to explain because what he said doesn’t make any sense. Especially because of how things went down after you drunkenly admitted to liking him back freshman year.

“When was this?”

Seokmin looks ashamed. “A little after we met.”

There’s no way.

“You’re fucking sick. When I confessed to you that year, you friendzoned me.”

Seokmin has the decency to look sheepish and guilty. “It was a dick move, I admit it. But it’s not my fault!”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

“Your stepbrother had made it clear that you were off limits, okay? I wasn’t about to cross him.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Literally, what are you talking about?”

Seokmin blushes and looks around again. You’d laugh if his behavior wasn’t so odd. You’re not sure why he’s acting like he’s scared of something or someone, but you can’t focus on that too much. His bizarre story is throwing you off.

“Mingyu has always been very protective of you, and he’s actually really fucking scary when he wants to be.”

Silence. 

You two stare at each other until you burst out laughing. That’s all you can do because there’s no way your friend is being serious.

“Hey!” Seokmin slaps your arm to calm you down. “I’m being serious!”

“Mingyu? Kim Mingyu?” You say between breaths. “Your best friend—my stepbrother?”

“Yes, lovely Kim Mingyu who wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Seokmin scowls as you keep laughing.

Of all the reasons Seokmin could come up with for rejecting you while allegedly having feelings for you, you didn’t think he’d use your stepbrother. It was such a cheap cop-out. Mingyu has never cared about your unexciting love life. He’s always encouraged you to have fun and find a guy who deserves you. 

There’s no way what Seokmin’s implying is true. Even if it was, you’re sure he’s exaggerating. Your goofy stepbrother doesn’t have one mean, intimidating bone in his body. 

“Okay,” you wheeze. “Let’s say I believe you, which I don’t. What exactly did Mingyu say for you to reject me?”

Seokmin blinks and hesitates. Maybe it’s better if you don’t know all the details. “He just… advised me to not play with your feelings if I wasn’t ready for a relationship.”

You roll your eyes. Instead of bringing up the fact that he freely dated around after turning down your confession, you choose to steer the conversation in a different direction. There’s no need to keep rubbing salt in an old wound, anyway.

“Whatever. You’re still sick,” you say. “Anyway, are you still going to Chan’s on Friday?”

“Are you?” Seokmin counters. “Minghao will be there.”

Your lip curls up in disgust. “Like I’m going to let that asshole stop me from having fun.”

“True. And actually, he might not even go. I think he’s still recovering.”

“Recovering? What do you mean?”

“You don’t know? Minghao got into a fight last week! He won’t say with who, but he got fucking wrecked.”

You’re shocked into silence. A fight? It’s pretty hard to believe since Minghao is a pretty passive guy. He rarely gets angry or upset. 

So many things are going through your mind at once that you can’t get any of your thoughts straight. Had it happened the day he stood you up? If it did, why didn’t he say anything?

“Poor guy looks like shit. I doubt he’ll be going anywhere for a while.”

You frown. Sure, Minghao isn’t your favorite person in the world, but that doesn’t mean you would wish something like that on him. You know you shouldn’t be worried about him, but part of you still is. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble with a frown, not really knowing what to say. “Poor him.”

“Poor who?”

Your head snaps up at the sound of a familiar voice. A smile lights up your face when you see your stepbrother approaching the table. 

“Minghao,” Seokmin says as his best friend sits beside you. “Remember I told you someone beat his ass?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mingyu says with a frown as he slings his beefy arm over your shoulders. “Poor guy. I hope he gets better soon.”

You lean into your stepbrother, chest warming at the worried frown on Mingyu’s face. His kind heart is so admirable. Despite Minghao being a certified piece of shit, he still has the empathy to feel bad for the guy. It reminds you of how Mingyu is someone who’s a way better person than you, and you can’t resent him for it.

“Don’t worry, love. Minghao will be okay.” Mingyu says as he squeezes you into his side.

Like always, your stepbrother knows what you’re feeling without you telling him. It’s hard to stop the affection you feel from deepening when he always makes sure to comfort you first. His thumb gently caresses your shoulder absentmindedly as he and Seokmin start to talk about their statistics class. Just knowing your stepbrother is so understanding of your complicated feelings makes you feel so much better, and it’s not long before the topic of what happened to Minghao is long forgotten.

Mingyu will never forget the first time he saw you.

It was at one of Seungcheol’s notorious frat parties. Back then, he hadn’t been too into the party scene. Honestly, he’d gone out of pressure and boredom more than anything. One day he’ll have to thank his older friend for being the reason he saw you.

Unlike Mingyu, you were letting loose and having fun. He can’t forget how beautiful you looked while taking shots and laughing without a care in the world. Something inside him switched that night, and instead of being scared of the unfamiliar feeling, Mingyu quickly embraced it.

The feeling pushed him into watching you all night. To this day, Seungcheol thinks his friend had as much fun as everyone else. Which he had, just a different kind of fun.

At the end of the night, Mingyu secretly followed you as you stumbled your way back to your dorm. It’s not like you went home alone, but he had to make sure you were safe. (He also was curious to know if you lived on or off campus.)

Finding out your schedule wasn’t hard. As an attractive man, it’s always been easy for Mingyu to get what he wants. One charming smile and a little harmless flirting had him securing a paper with all your classes on it within minutes. Everything was too easy after that, and Mingyu couldn’t feel anything like guilt or shame as he went to go find you.

For weeks, he watched you from afar. Despite knowing he was most people’s type, Mingyu was still nervous about talking to you. He wanted everything to be perfect. Setting up a meet-cute was hard work, which meant calculating the time and place took a tremendous amount of effort. Honestly, he did start to get a little impatient when watching you no longer felt like enough for him. Mingyu was itching to know you and everything about you. To have you all for himself.

Luckily for him, swooping in when you almost got hit by a football was the perfect opportunity to worm his way into your life. Mingyu played the perfect part of a knight in shining armor, one that was undeniably kind and empathetic. Exactly what you wanted.

Mingyu still fantasizes about the way you looked at him that day. The lidded gaze you directed at him and the way you bit your lip was tantalizing in the sweetest way. It was easy for you to become friends after that.

There was an unexpected roadblock a month later when his mom told him she was marrying the man of her dreams. It’s both devastating and thrilling for him to find out that man is your father. You’ll be closer to him than ever, but now there’s this forbidden aspect that wedges itself between the attraction between you two.

Despite this, you two grow closer. All of your interests and hobbies line up almost perfectly, and the fixation Mingyu has on you steadily grows, slowly morphing into an undeniable obsession. Luckily for him, the new role he has in your life allows him to ward off any vultures that are lurking around you.

The loser in your calculus class was the easiest to get rid of. Once Mingyu caught him staring at you at a party, approaching him and telling him to stop staring at you like a fucking creep was enough for the guy to never look at you again. Then, there was your scummy coworker. Mingyu had to politely remind him that it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep bothering you unless he wanted his parents to find out he had dropped out of college and spent all of his financial aid partying.

Then there was his dear friend, Lee Seokmin.

“Y/N is single right?”

Mingyu looks up from his phone, jaw tightening as he fixes his dark stare on Seokmin. His friend is oblivious to the dangerous territory he’s venturing into, and there’s a moment where Mingyu contemplates whether or not to disregard the many years of friendship they have to impulsively act on his dark thoughts.

“Yeah,” Mingyu’s tone is clipped.

Seokmin hums thoughtfully. “Do you think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu says through gritted teeth, still trying to be somewhat nice. “You’re not good at commitment, and that’s what she’s looking for.”

His best friend doesn’t seem to care for the advice he’s getting. “I can do whatever for someone I actually like.”

“You really like her?”

Either Seokmin doesn’t hear the venom in his friend’s voice, or he doesn’t care. Mingyu’s not sure which pisses him off more.

“Yeah,” Seokmin replies. “She’s smart and pretty. Exactly my type.”

Seokmin flinches when Mingyu slams his fist on the table. A dark look he never thought his friend was even capable of making is being directed at him, and he suddenly feels like he’s unknowingly walked into the lion’s den.

“Don’t you even think about going near her.” Mingyu spits, not caring that he sounds like an asshole. “I’ll cut your dick off if I find out you even hint at wanting anything more than a friendship with her.”

Seokmin laughs weakly. “You’re not serious—”

“Test me and find out.”

Mingyu smiles, but it’s a chilling smile. One that has Seokmin spluttering out an agreement before he realizes it.

After that, Mingyu knew he had to make sure everyone knew you were off limits.

The only dumbass that didn’t take Mingyu’s warnings seriously was Xu Minghao. The idiot had the audacity to laugh in his face when Mingyu suggested he find someone else to fuck around with. Unfortunately, Minghao didn’t have any dirt on him—not any that was serious enough for Mingyu to use as blackmail, anyway.

And so, Mingyu was forced to back off—for the time being.

His promiscuous ex had always been so eager to please that she didn’t hesitate to give in to Mingyu’s request to seduce and ensnare Minghao. It left you heartbroken and ready to receive your stepbrother’s comfort. Everything slowly went back to the way it was supposed to be. You were more dependent on Mingyu than ever, which made it easy for him to slowly erase that asshole from your life.

Until he finds out that scumbag was worming his way back into your life. 

Instead of attending his first class, Mingyu has his ex lure Minghao to her apartment building where he puts an end to that idiot once and for all.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Minghao groans and he coughs up a bit of blood.

Mingyu slams him into the wall, wounded hands moving to squeeze his throat and cut his words. “I warned you a long time ago to stay away from Y/N. This is the last time I’m going to tell you.”

When he does let go of Minghao, the idiot stops Mingyu from walking away. Even through large intakes of breath and spluttered coughs, he manages to piss Mingyu off some more. “You think Y/N will forgive you when she finds out what you did to me?”

Mingyu spins on his heels before landing a hard punch on Minghao’s nose. The loud crack echoes in the air, and it sounds almost dull compared to the yell that idiot lets out. Blood pours from his nose immediately, and it slips through the cracks of his fingers as he holds it in pain.

“You think she’ll believe you over me?” Mingyu’s laugh is dark and cruel. “Y/N knows I would never hurt anyone. Not even a piece of shit like you.”

Minghao’s heart rate spikes when he sees the way Mingyu smiles at him. A chill goes down his spine when he realizes just how depraved the man in front of him is. So for once, he does the smart thing and decides to cut off all contact with you. It pains him to stand you up and ghost you, but no pussy is worth this. Not even yours.

Mingyu sees you before you see him. You’re sitting at one of the many tables in the refectory, but you aren’t alone. Some guy is talking to you, grinning from ear to ear like some disgusting creep. Immediately, he recognizes the starry-eyed look in his gaze. A lot of guys get that same look when they see you. Even if you don’t notice it, Mingyu always does.

“Hey, man.” The stranger has the fucking audacity to smile at Mingyu as he sits across from you.

As much as Mingyu would like to tell the creep to fuck off, he can’t. Not while you’re around, at least. “Hey.”

“I’ll see you in class,” the guy says with an unattractive smile as he slowly stands. 

Mingyu feels like throwing up when you actually smile back.

“Bye.” You wave with a cute laugh.

The guy finally leaves, and it takes everything in Mingyu to behave normally. Dark thoughts loom in his head, ones that involve taking care of that idiot like he did to your ex situationship. He forces his depraved thoughts to the back of his mind to focus his attention on you.

“Who was that?” He wonders casually like he’s not losing his mind.

“That’s Josh. He’s in my communications class.” You say indifferently.

“Did he ask you out?” Mingyu wonders, trying to make the lilt in his voice sound teasing. And like the very thought isn’t killing him inside.

“Yeah,” you say. “He wants to hang out after my last class.”

Mingyu’s stomach turns. He smiles at you, so pained that you’re being so casual about some loser hitting on you. Especially in front of him. He’ll have to find out more about that asshole later and figure out exactly how he’s going to get rid of him, but right now there’s a more pressing matter.

“And?”

You give him a funny look. “And I told him no. We’re hanging out tonight, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

It’s a relief, and Mingyu hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

An unsavory feeling settles in Mingyu’s chest after that day. You slowly start to mention Josh more and more without knowing how insane it makes your stepbrother feel. It’s all so maddening because this Josh character is actually close to being a perfect guy. He’s been in a few relationships that have all ended up on good terms, and he doesn’t have any questionable behaviors. Mingyu almost considers fabricating something so he can get the loser away from you.

It’s not until a random Friday night that Mingyu decides he’s finally had enough. You were supposed to have been home hours ago, and you’re barely getting here. Accompanied by dumbass Josh, no less. He almost feels like throwing up as he watches you from the security camera. Mingyu clenches his jaw as anger seeps into his bones and clouds his mind.

Something inside him snaps, and he decides right then and there that you can’t keep doing this to him, and he can’t keep torturing himself like he has been.

“I had fun with you,” Joshua says sweetly.

Mingyu almost smashes his phone when you give him a hug and respond in a dulcet tone. “Me too.”

When he sees you waving at Josh with both of your hands in the cute way you always do, he’s quick to lock his phone and go downstairs to intercept you. 

It’s quiet when you enter the house. You didn’t see your stepmom’s car or your dad’s in the driveway so you know they aren’t home. Since it’s so quiet, you wonder if Mingyu is asleep or something.

“Where have you been?”

You jump with a quiet yelp, not expecting your stepbrother to be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. There’s a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, and he almost looks threatening.

“Um,” you stutter, not sure what to make of the shift in his demeanor. “I was with—”

“With who?”

Dark eyes examine your face, demanding answers. Mingyu stalks toward you until he has you pressed against the front door. His large hands cage you against it as he leans close to your face.

“Tell me. I want to know why you’re so late when you promised me you’d be home sooner.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. “What? Gyu—”

“Let me guess,” he hums, sounding completely depraved. “You were with Josh.”

You swallow nervously, wondering why he sounds jealous. The thought sends a jolt of thrill down your spine. “Yeah. He just wanted—”

“Wanted what?” Mingyu’s glaring eyes get more intense. “To fuck you?”

You’re completely floored. That was the last thing you expected your sweet stepbrother to say, and for some reason it makes you feel dizzy in a thrilling way. You lick your lips, feeling your skin get hot as anxiousness mixes in with arousal. It’s been too long since you had sex, which is why you started to get wet from Mingyu’s uncharacteristic behavior. 

“N-No.” You say somewhat firmly. “We’re just friends.”

“Then why was he touching you?” He growls as one of the hands braced on the door moves to your neck.

Your cunt throbs at the action, and you feel like your mind is swimming from the sudden turn of events.

“It was a quick hug,” you say as he lightly squeezes your throat. “Something between friends.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, seemingly unbelieving of your words. More slick pools in your panties as the dark gaze stays locked in your face. You try not to make squeezing your thighs together obvious, but you haven’t felt so turned on in a long time.

“You’re sure?” Mingyu’s voice sounds entirely different as he squeezes your neck again.

“Yes,” you easily say. Deciding to act on instinct, you slowly smooth your hands over his chest and look at him through your eyelashes. “Promise, Gyu-Gyu.”

As always, he’s putty in your hands as soon as he hears that cute little nickname you gave him. Mingyu lets out a shaky breath as you go to cup his face. His eyes fall shut, and he lets himself lean on you and sandwich you between his body against the door. Your thumbs gently, caress his cheeks as you work to placate him. He loves every second of it, and just being pressed up against you has his cock twitching in his pants.

Fuck it.

Mingyu opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. “I’ll let it go this time, baby girl, but I better not catch him or any other guy touching what’s mine.”

He sounds completely insane and feral, but that only makes you want him more. It’s almost like you’re in a trace as you lock your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. The heat in his eyes makes you feel like a goddess, and you wonder if it’s always been there.

“Say it,” Mingyu demands as his hands trail down your body to squeeze your ass. “Tell me you won’t let any asshole touch you ever again.”

You whine in your throat. “I won’t let anyone else touch me. I promise.”

Mingyu grins, little fangs poking out like the cat who ate the canary. “Good girl.”

With that, he easily lifts you and locks your legs around his hips. For a moment, his pretty eyes search yours as if he’s trying to search for any sign of hesitation. He seems satisfied with what he sees, and in the next second his lips catch yours in a wet, heated kiss.

You mewl into his mouth as you grind down on his very large bulge. It all feels so good, and you groan when Mingyu eases his tongue into your mouth. There’s a desperation behind his movements that make you more horny than you already are.

Everything else happens in a blur, and before you realize it, you end up sprawled out on Mingyu’s bed. He handles you with care, but there’s also a roughness to his movements. It makes you gush because that’s exactly what you like.

“Naughty baby. Gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

There’s that switch again, and it makes you squirm. You squish your thighs together, both anticipating and dreading what’s in store for you. Mingyu seems like a feral animal, one that’s close to acting on primal instincts only. The thought excites you.

“Why?” You pout, wondering how you can get him to just fuck you. “I’ve been a good girl.”

You’re such a little minx, and Mingyu has to turn away so you don’t see the fond smile that forms on his face. As usual, you’re too cute for your own good. It’s always so disarming, but all Mingyu has to do is remember what led to this for him to get himself back on track.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns as he takes his shirt off.

Mingyu’s cock twitches when your pout accentuates. You still nod obediently, though. He kicks off his pants until he’s left in only his underwear. The way you hungrily eye his body (especially his large bulge) makes him feel like he’s in the clouds. All his plotting and waiting was really worth it.

“Show me your panties.”

You whimper quietly, not believing how filthy your stepbrother is. It makes you that much more eager to give him what he wants.

Slowly, you discard your jeans and spread your legs to show Mingyu how wet you are. His eyes are dark dark dark when he sees the material is almost see-through.

“Fuck,” he moans as he palms his throbbing cock. “Take them off.”

The fabric slips down your legs and dangles from your fingertips in the next second. Mingyu snatches them from your hands and presses the soiled fabric to his nose. His eyes stay on your pretty pussy as he carefully places your panties on his nightstand

“For later,” he clarifies with a filthy smirk.

You curse under your breath as more arousal drips out of you.

“You like that, baby girl?” Mingyu coos as his eyes stay on your dripping pussy. “Like that your stepbrother is going to use your cute little panties to jerk off?”

“Yes,” you admit through a whine. “Fuck, Gyu. I’m so wet right now.”

“I know,” his eyes flicker up to your face for a second. “But I still have to teach you a lesson.”

You pout at him again. “Even though I promised you already?”

His laugh is dark. “Have to make sure you keep it.”

“I’ll be good, I swear. Please, Gyu-Gyu?” You bat your eyelashes at him, and any resolve he has just breaks.

Mingyu slips out of his underwear, and he smirks when you gasp at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. It’s so hard and leaking with so much precum. You’re eying it so hungrily that he decides to get the upper hand once again.

“I’ll give you what you want, baby. Just play with my cock first.”

“Really?” You ask eagerly, as Mingyu starts to stroke his huge cock.

“Yeah. Use that pretty little mouth on me, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

You jump to your knees in excitement. “Okay!”

“You want to gag on your stepbrother’s cock that bad?” Mingyu laughs as you eagerly nod and crawl toward him. “What a slut.”

“Can’t help it,” you say as you push on his shoulder to get him to lay back. “Want your pretty cock in my mouth.”

“Fuck,” Mingyu hisses as he leans against his pillows. His cock throbs at the fact that you’re making every one of his fantasies come true.

You press a gentle kiss to the tip, lovely eyes staring at Mingyu. A string of precum sticks to your lips, and you’re quick to lick it off with a salacious moan. You start to kitten lick his fat tip until his cock steadily leaks with sticky blobs of precum. The mewls and moans your stepbrother lets out only make you that much more eager to please. He’s really too hot for his own good.

With a grin, you wrap your lips around the head and slowly take him into your mouth. Slowly, you force the girthy organ down your throat. Your eyes start to glaze over, already addicted to the thick cock in your mouth. Mingyu thrusts his hips forward, sinking another inch into your hot mouth. The fat tip teases the back of your throat, making you gag on his dick. A loud moan tears from his throat when you take it like a good girl before pulling off with a wet cough.

“Messy girl,” Mingyu says with a groan.

You moan and start to lap at his cock again. Your tongue teases around his tip, and you can’t stop your thighs from clenching together. The arousal is practically leaking from your pussy, wetting your thighs obscenely.

“Aw, baby girl. Look at how fucking horny you are,” Mingyu coos. “Bet that little cunt’s soaked. Can’t wait to taste it. Gonna eat you out for hours after this.”

“Why not now?” You pout against his dick. “I suck dick better when I get eaten out.”

Mingyu tries not to blow his load at your filthy words. “Yeah? Want me to lick your little clit over and over and then suck it in my mouth until you’re begging to cum?”

Once again, Mingyu is putty in your hands when you blink up at him with your cute pout and tell him that’s exactly what you want.

And so, within seconds you’re laying on Mingyu’s hard abs, suckling on the head of his cock as you wiggle your ass, teasing Mingyu with your pussy. He groans, savoring the sight of your pretty pussy hovering over his face. Deciding that he deserves this treat more than anyone, he finally takes what you’re so willingly giving him.

You cry out when Mingyu licks across your swollen clit. He grabs your ass and spreads you open so he can lick into your pussy easier. Eagerly, he starts to lap up all the arousal from your drippy pussy. He loses himself in your taste, fucking his tongue deeper into your clenching hole. You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets anyone else drink from his sweet oasis.

“Mingyu,” you slobber against his cock, grinding your cunt into his eager mouth. “Fuck. Your mouth feels so good.”

Mingyu groans as you start to suckle on the head of his cock before you fully sink your mouth on it again. Your hot little mouth works his cock, giving him the best head he’s ever gotten. You’re so messy and eager, kissing and licking all over his cock. The way you’re getting him all wet and messy almost makes him feel like you’re prepping him for your cunt. That turns him on more and has his muscular thighs clenching with restraint. 

Your stepbrother moans into your cunt as you suck his dick. The vibrations run through your fluttering walls as his tongue fucks deeper into your hole. Pleasure consumes you as Mingyu continues to slide his tongue in and out of your soaking pussy with a filthy schlick sound. All the sweet sounds you’re letting out are slightly muffled by Mingyu’s cock, and he loves every second of it.

Mingyu sucks your pulsing clit into his mouth, making you whine around his cock and grind harder on his tongue. Your orgasm abruptly hits, and your cries of pleasure are gagged by Mingyu shooting his cum down your throat. You continue to suck eagerly as you rub your messy pussy all over your stepbrother’s face.

You pull off Mingyu’s big cock after you swallow all his cum, mewling in pleasure when he starts to press soft kisses on your pretty pussy. God, he’s unreal.

“Sweetest little pussy ever,” he moans reverently, not ready to separate from the heaven between your legs.

Your face gets hot, pussy clenching at his praise. The fact that someone as hot as Mingyu is so into you feels surreal, and it makes you more eager to get his big cock inside you.

Mingyu apparently thinks the same thing because he’s quick to lay you on the bed and get on top of you. His dark eyes drink in your naked body, licking his lips like he didn’t just finish eating you up. 

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

And you really don’t.

“Mingyu,” you whimper desperately when he starts to rub his dripping cock across your sensitive cunt. 

The sticky tip of his cock catches on your leaking hole and you moan loudly. God, you’ve never wanted anyone to fuck you so badly. He’s so hot, and you know he’s going to send you into another world of pleasure.

“Fuck, Gyu. Need you to fuck me. Please. I need it so bad,” you beg against his mouth as you start to kiss him repeatedly.

“Yeah?” He grins, blush spreading across his face at the affection you’re giving him. “Need your stepbrother to stuff you full of cock?”

“Yes.” You whimper shamelessly. “I need you to stuff my little pussy full. Want you to breed me.”

The groan he lets out is feral, and Mingyu buries his face in your neck so you won’t see the depravity your words cause. He kisses and nips at your neck as he grinds his cock on your messy pussy.

“Please, Gyu-Gyu.”

“Fuck. You’re so hot, baby girl,” Mingyu groans as he slips the head of his cock inside your needy hole. 

He pulls back to watch your face as he slowly sinks into your pussy. You’re so overwhelmed with arousal, and it’s evident. It makes the feral beast inside Mingyu yearn for more.

“I’m gonna ruin you for everyone else, baby. Gonna make sure the only cock you want is mine.”

With that, he bottoms out with a loud moan as you whine loudly. Your pupils are blown wide as your nails scratch against his broad chest. It turns you on to feel and see how big he is. He’s completely enveloping you in the best way. All that fills your mind is your stepbrother and his big cock.

“So fucking tight,” he hisses as he rolls his hips and fucks his cock deeper into your pulsing heat.

You wrap your legs around his waist to get him as deep as possible. Moans spill from your mouth as your hands smooth up his muscular chest and clasp around his neck. No one’s ever been so deep inside you, and you love it.

“Fuck me, Gyu.” You mewl, brain fuzzy from the stretch his dick provides. “Want you to fuck me dumb.”

“Shit,” Mingyu grunts with dark eyes. “My slutty baby wants her pussy creamed so fucking bad, huh?”

“Want it so bad, babe.” You whimper as you buck your hips.

Mingyu snaps when he hears the little pet name. Immediately, he starts to slam into your squelching cunt over and over again. You cry out loudly as juices leak from your stuffed hole. It takes him no time to find your g-spot, and he angles his cock to hit it every time he snaps his hips.

“Fu-Fuck, Gyu.” You whimper as you tug him closer to ghost your lips across his. “Gonna cum again. Gonna cum all over your big cock.”

“Do it, baby. God. Need to feel you cream on me,” he groans. 

You move your hips to meet his thrusts, eager to gush all over his dick and give him what he wants. Mingyu goes to kiss you deeply, moaning in satisfaction when your pulsing pussy clamps down on him again. His mind is swimming with pleasure as you cry out for him.

Mingyu’s heavy balls slap against your ass as he fucks deeper into your wet hole. You’re gushing so much that he knows you won’t be able to stop at just one orgasm. Which is exactly what he wants. He needs you addicted to his cock so you don’t ever consider going to someone else. Even if you do, he’ll get rid of them. Now that you’ve given him a taste, he’s going to make sure no one else has the chance to.

“God, Mingyu.” You whimper, toes curling in pleasure. “Just want you to keep me stuffed with your fat cock all night.”

Mingyu groans and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. He’ll give you anything you want. “Don’t worry, baby. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Gonna breed you all night.”

Your stepbrother’s promise pushes you over the edge. Those filthy words make your legs tighten around him as your pussy clamps down on his dick. You moan out Mingyu’s name loudly as you cover his cock with your orgasm. Your legs tremble as you keep getting fucked through your mind-numbing pleasure.

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over your stepbrother’s cock. Fuck. So good for me.”

Mingyu’s thrusts get rougher as he pistons his cock deeper into your pulsing cunt. There’s no hotter sight than you cumming all over his cock. The pretty face you make is something that he’ll never forget, and that’s all he needs to reach his own climax. Mingyu buries his cock to the hilt and spills all his hot, sticky cum inside you with a loud moan of your name. He keeps fucking his cock into your hot cunt, stuffing it full of cum. 

“Take it like a good girl,” he pants, eyes shut tightly as he keeps fucking his aching cock inside you. “Take every fucking drop, baby girl.”

You move your hands to cling to his hair, grinding your sloppy pussy to get his cum deeper inside. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he creams your pussy.

“Gyu,” you whimper. “You came so much—fuck. Feels so hot inside.”

Mingyu groans as he buries his face in your neck, cock pulsing at your words. “Shit, baby. Making me want to fuck you all over again.”

You hum, deciding that you won’t be leaving his bed anytime soon. “It’s my turn.”

Mingyu grunts in surprise when you push him off and make him lean against the headboard. Immediately, you go to straddle him before smashing your lips together. He hungrily kisses you back, big hands gripping your ass to grind your messy cunt onto his hot cock. 

“So hot,” you gasp in between kisses. “You’re so fucking hot."

Mingyu giggles into your mouth. “Yeah?”

You hum in confirmation as you suck on his tongue. Again, you tangle one of your hands in his hair and pull his head back so you can kiss him deeper. The kiss you share is nasty, and it just makes you needy for him all over again.

You pull away and grab his cock. Mingyu bites his lip as you slowly sink down on it. He slumps back against the headboard, giving you time to adjust to the stretch of his thick cock. Your stepbrother smooths his thumbs across your hard nipples, smirking when you clench down on him.

“God, you’re fucking pretty,” Mingyu growls as he punches your nipples. “My pretty baby.”

“Mingyu,” you sigh as your eyelashes flutter in pleasure.

You grind down on him, hips swivelling to fuck him just right. It doesn’t take long for him to become a mess under you. You smirk and start to bounce on him, loving how he’s practically writhing with pleasure. 

“I just wanna be inside you all the time,” he tugs on the sensitive buds until you’re arching into the motion. 

You duck your head down to sloppily kiss Mingyu again when there’s a knock on the door. Even to your surprise, you don’t stop your movements. It feels too good. You pull away, wondering when your parents came back home and how you didn’t hear them. Your pussy gets tighter, and Mingyu bites his bottom lip as he grabs your hips to keep you from moving.

“Mingyu? Are you still awake?” His mom calls through the door. 

At that moment, you two make a decision. A nasty, filthy one. Mingyu maintains eye contact with you and slowly fucks his cock up into your sloppy pussy. 

“Yeah. Do you need something?”

Your eyes roll back, cunt spasming around Mingyu’s dick. The lewd switching coming from your pussy seems louder now, but you don’t think to stop your stepbrother from bullying his cock in and out of your hole. 

“Have you seen Y/N? She’s not in her room.”

“She’s in here. We were watching a movie and she fell asleep,” Mingyu’s voice is smooth and even. It makes you start to bounce on him again. “I’ll take her to her room in a second.”

Your stepbrother’s dark eyes never leave yours as he starts to whisper. “You like that we might get caught?”

You nod again, barely able to hold back your moans.

“Okay good. I was worried since it’s getting late.”

Mingyu grinds his cock deep in your cunt and moves his thumb down to rub your clit roughly. You’re so wet that even with Mingyu's slow, deep thrusts, your pussy is squelching with every movement. 

“Dirty little slut. Imagine if she had opened the door,” Mingyu holds back a groan as your hot cunt clamps down on him again. “She would’ve seen how much you love your stepbrother’s cock.”

You bounce a little harder on his dick when you hear his filthy words. His thumb continues to flick and rub at your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your pussy gushes around his cock when your orgasm hits out of nowhere. 

Mingyu watches your throbbing pussy clamp down on him as he slowly thrusts into you. You feel his hands squeeze your hips hard enough to bruise. His slow thrusts are prolonging your orgasm, walls fluttering constantly around his dick. Mingyu’s thumb is still rubbing your clit, overstimulation making the muscles in your thighs jump. 

“God, baby.” Mingyu groans. “So fucking dirty, cumming all over my cock like that. Did thinking we were gonna get caught turn you on that much?”

“Yeah,” you mewl, too turned on to feel embarrassed.

Your thighs shake with the force of your second orgasm, pussy trying to milk Mingyu’s cock for more cum.

“You’re so nasty, baby girl.” Mingyu moans, raising to suck on your nipples. He smirks when your pulsing pussy clamps down on him again.

“My dirty little slut. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He bites down on your nipple as he pumps his hips into your soaked cunt. You moan as his hot cum fills your greedy pussy, walls fluttering and urging him to spill more inside of you. Mingyu fucks it deeper into you until all you can do is whimper and mewl like the fucked out slut he turned you into.

After a few minutes, he relaxes back into the bed, pulling you down to lay on him. You close your eyes, completely sated and full. As you go to move, Mingyu holds you still before his cock can slip out of you.

“Stay where you are,” his voice is commanding. “Want to keep you plugged up.”

You shiver and relax against him. “Okay.”

Soon enough, your breathing evens out and you fall asleep. Mingyu places a gentle kiss on your hair, loving that you’ve fallen asleep with his cock and cum still inside you. He closes his eyes and squeezes you against him like he’s afraid you might disappear.

It took a long time to get here, but it was all worth it

From suggesting to his stepdad that you moving back home would be a good idea to making sure his mom did the same. That made it easier to listen in on the many calls you had with your friends and find out everything about your ideal man. It helped him mold himself into everything you wanted, which wasn’t too hard because Mingyu swears you were describing him.

Going into your room when you were out of the house also lets him know more about you. All of your interests and hobbies are there for him to learn and master. It also made it easier for him to get you gifts.

And finally, constantly borrowing your laptop to find out what type of porn you liked. It was all good stuff, things that he knew he was good at. Obviously, you liked to be degraded a little, but also worshipped. Mingyu licks his lips as he thinks about all the things he’s going to recreate with you. His cock throbs inside your warm pussy just thinking about it.

Everything is perfect, and Mingyu will do anything to keep it this way. He’ll continue to drive away any threats from your life because he’s the only one who can have you.

And if a day ever comes when you no longer want him, he’ll make sure no one else can have you either.

[geneviveleocardius]

viktor, and his way of loving you

yes babys, arcane

viktor has a way with words, and his flirting style is sharp and witty. he’ll tease you with playful sarcasm, often catching you off guard. for example, if you ask him if he likes your outfit, he might quip, “well, it’s not terrible. you’ve exceeded my very low expectations.”

despite his often aloof demeanor, viktor absolutely melts when you lay on him. whether it’s resting your head on his chest or curling up next to him while he works, he’ll grumble about being “distracted,” but his hand will instinctively settle on your back or stroke your hair. je secretly craves the comfort and connection.

viktor loves to rile you up with gentle teasing. if you’re trying to impress him or show off, he’ll smirk and say something like, “adorable. is this your best attempt?” he doesn’t mean it harshly—it’s his way of engaging with you and keeping things lighthearted.

viktor isn’t shy about casual touches. he’ll rest a hand on your shoulder as he leans over to show you something, trace patterns on your palm while deep in thought, or brush your hair out of your face with a surprising tenderness.

viktor is reckless in his own way when it comes to showing love. if you mention wanting something or needing help, he’ll dive headfirst into solving the problem, often overextending himself. you’ll have to remind him to slow down and take care of himself, but he’ll just shrug and say, “i’ve survived worse.”

if you try to challenge him intellectually or make a point, he’ll raise an eyebrow and give a smug response like, “oh, is that what you think? fascinating. completely wrong, but fascinating.” he loves engaging with you in debates, even if it’s just to watch you get riled up.

viktor might tease and joke, but when you’re upset or vulnerable, his sarcastic edge softens. he’ll hold you close, quietly reassuring you with words like, “it’s okay. I’m here. Even when you’re being insufferable.” his way of comforting is uniquely viktor—pragmatic but undeniably warm.

viktor doesn’t get overtly jealous, but he’ll throw in pointed remarks if someone gets too friendly with you. “oh, how charming he is. do you need me to take notes, or are you already smitten?” it’s mostly to amuse himself, but there’s a spark of possessiveness behind it.

viktor’s love is as sharp and nuanced as his personality—equal parts teasing, intellectual connection, and quiet, tender affection.

viktor’s kisses aren’t rushed. he takes his time, savoring the moment like it’s the last one he’ll get for a while. a soft press of his lips to your forehead, the corner of your mouth, or your temple says more than words ever could.

when he’s feeling cheeky, viktor will give you the faintest ghost of a kiss just to hear you complain. “oh, you wanted more? perhaps if you asked nicely,” he’ll smirk before pulling you in again.

if the two of you have time alone, his kisses are deep and filled with unspoken emotions. his hands might grip your neck or your waist as if he’s afraid to let go, his lips moving with a raw intensity.

viktor loves how your eyes reveal your emotions, even when you try to hide them. he’ll hold your gaze longer than most, often smirking as if he’s read something you didn’t want him to see. “your eyes always give you away,” he’ll murmur.

viktor expresses love through action. he’ll quietly fix things, design little inventions for you, or work late into the night to make your life easier. to him, love is about making sure you’re cared for, even in practical ways.

while he’s often buried in his work, viktor treasures the moments he spends with you. whether you’re reading, talking, or simply sitting together, those quiet moments mean the world to him.

viktor loves subtle physical contact—resting a hand on your knee, brushing his fingers against yours, or tucking your hair behind your ear. he doesn’t need grand gestures; these little moments are enough for him.

viktor values your opinion more than he admits, and he loves pulling you into his world. he’ll explain his latest project with a mix of excitement and sarcasm, often teasing your lack of technical knowledge: “hmm, not bad—for an amateur.”

viktor is deeply aware of his flaws, but your understanding of him—and your ability to look past his gruffness—means everything to him.

he adores how you can match his sarcasm or challenge him in conversations. if you manage to catch him off guard, he’ll smirk and say, “impressive. i’ll allow it—just this once.”

viktor’s greatest fear is losing you, whether to time, danger, or his own mistakes. he hides this fear behind sarcasm, but it’s why he can be fiercely protective. “i don’t have time to worry about you,” he might say, but his lingering gaze betrays his concern.

viktor’s love is quiet, witty, and deeply intentional. he doesn’t always say the words aloud, but every touch, every action, and every teasing comment is his way of showing how much he adores you.

[we all know he’s in love with jayce, though]

[menelausblues]

𖥔 ݁ you try to break things off with xavier. 

mdni.

you suggest to xavier that perhaps you should both take a step back from the relationship so he can focus more on his work and you’re met with the most pained expression you’ve ever seen on his face.  he cups your cheeks, trying his best not to let the words you’ve uttered ruin him, but it’s hard when the one he loves tries to break his heart so casually. “there’s no taking steps back.” he murmurs, and it’s said as a claim but the fragility in his voice folds into a plea. “we can't take any steps back, okay? please.” it’s the love in his eyes, glistening with unshed tears. it’s the hurt in his voice, the way his heart is stuffed into his cheeks and weighing his lips down into a pout. you can’t stand to see him so close to breaking, your golden boy who gives the sun a reason to shine. “i just…you’re so busy, xavi…i don’t want to get in the way of things for you.” even more than discarding him and all the fondness he can’t help but hold for you, it hurts him most to hear you speak of yourself as a burden in his life, as if he didn’t choose you. choose this. as if he doesn’t revolve around you and your smile. as if he doesn’t wake just to see your eyes. as if he doesn’t love you more than life itself. it’s insulting. it’s ache-inducing. “things for me?” he repeats, dizzy with disbelief as he blinks repeatedly, trying to understand. “you can’t be in the way of things that are just as much for you as they are for the rest of us. we’re a family. you do know that, yeah? you’re not in the way. we’re in this together. i need you by my side with me. that’s the only way.” that’s the only way. you feel a little silly, of course you do.

you see a man with the world on his shoulders telling you he wants to love you and it feels like all it would do is make his atlas fate emboldened. like it would all become heavier for him to hold out of spite. and you don’t want to be a kiss that curses him. you don’t want to be the one that erodes his strength. you see a man that shines like the northern star and you don’t want to be the one to make his light burn out. but it wouldn’t, would it? it could never. “no steps back, okay? whatever you need for reassurance just tell me. it’s not a problem.” you sigh, looking up into his eyes as your hands reach to curl around his. “i don’t want to be another problem you always have to solve.” “well, it’s a good thing you’re the love of my life and not a problem then.” even despite his aching, he offers you a playful smile. “now say it with me: xavier is my favorite boy and i won’t break his heart and spirit by worrying about useless things like leaving him.” a groan. “c'mon, xavi. not this.” “xavier is my favorite boy and i won’t break his heart and spirit by worrying about useless things like leaving him.” he repeats, eyes expectant as he squishes your cheeks together. “come on, baby. don’t be bratty after you almost killed me.” you roll your eyes, but your heart soars. “fine, xavier is my favorite boy and i won’t break his heart and spirit by worrying about useless things like leaving him.” and of course, he beams. his boyish smile that always says leave it to me. “see? was that so hard? now let me kiss you.” without waiting for a response, he leans down and kisses your lips, puckered from squeezing your cheeks. he makes a show of it. sloppy wetness and an exaggerated mwah. you scrunch your nose in disgust at the sound. “gross,” you grouse. “i don’t care at all. you’re stuck with me.”

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘: 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓

main masterlist | series masterlist | tag

⬩ pairing(s) gomez inspired!simon "ghost" riley x morticia inspired!fem!reader

⬩ warning(s) language, spiders, devoted husband!simon (seriously, he's absolutely obsessed with you!), pregnancy (mention), dad!simon, mom!reader

⬩ author's note spooky season might be over but it's always halloween at the riley house! saw an addams family gif a little while ago and had to go back and watch the sitcom version from '64. i ended up not being able to stop imagining simon in a relationship like gomez and morticia's–passionate and completely devoted to each other and their family! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it, as there is much more of the riley family to come! (lovely divider is by @wethairjoel)

⬩ word count 1.4k

You’re uncomfortable here. Simon can feel it without even having to look at you.

The lights are too bright in the headmaster’s office, as are all the colors decorating the walls around you. No wonder his little Raven comes home with a frown that reminds him of yours and stories that make the entire house groan.

It’s when you shift for the second time, sniffing and rolling your stiff shoulders, that Simon places a warm palm on the back of your neck. The man watches you carefully as you all but melt into the touch, sinking against his hand with a soft sigh. It takes you a moment but you finally turn your head to meet his eyes, a silent thank you oozing from them in the quiet. His response–a squeeze of his hand–works well to settle you.

“Just a little longer, my darling,” your husband murmurs softly, not having to lean very far in his chair to plant a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear. He takes in a long inhale, the smell of you somewhat calming his frayed nerves. He breathes you in once more before kissing you again, this time on your jaw. “Then we’ll pick up our girl and leave this fuckin' hell they call a school.”

Simon’s lips drag nicely against you as he speaks. Slipping against you with light pecks, and staying there so long that it glides your hand into his grasp without you even noticing.

“I wonder what she’s done now. Hopefully something only a little unfortunate…” you sigh out, Simon laughing shortly against you as his mind fills with all the possible troubles his firstborn can cause. She takes after both you and Simon, he finds. Wickedly smart, fearless, and holds just enough disdain to make it the rest of the world’s problem.

Oh, your little Raven. Named after the blackbird that landed on the window seal the foggy morning you found out you were pregnant nearly seven years ago.

Neither of you bother to look when the door creaks open behind you, as Headmaster Archer is no one to be impressed by. A microscopic grin, however, cracks your lips when you hear his steps hesitate at the sight of you and your husband settled in front of his desk. It’s gone quicker than it came when you remind yourself where you are; in a little man’s stupid office for a reason you already know you’ll despise.

The footsteps resume after a quiet sigh, Headmaster Archer plastering an obviously fake smile as his greeting. He has to ease down in his chair, still not used to how harsh the pitch-black hue of your and Simon’s clothing clashes with the rest of the school.

“Mr. and Mrs. Riley… always a pleasure.”

“I wish we could say the same,” Simon rumbles back with an unimpressed look, the index finger of his free hand absentmindedly drawing swirls on the back of your hand. “Can we get on with it? ‘Ve got places to be.”

“Don’t we all,” Headmaster Archer chuckles rather nervously. The smile on his face drops into something uneasy at the displeased expressions on your and Simon’s faces. He gathers himself with a pathetic clearing of his throat and straightening of some blank, unimportant papers. He doesn’t even attempt to look at you, knowing that his bones will shake hard enough to shatter if he were to do such a thing. Instead, the headmaster settles for a few meek glances in Simon’s direction. “Alright. Well, I’ll try to make this as simple as possible; there was an… incident that occurred in Raven’s class today.”

Even with Simon still gripping just above your back, you grow painfully rigid. Your question leaves you, hot and quick.

“What incident?”

Headmaster Archer swallows thickly, still unable to flick his eyes your way. “It happened during today’s show and tell–”

“Look at my wife when you speak to her, Headmaster.”

The man behind the desk nearly jumps at Simon’s words. They ring darkly in the room, and the headmaster has to wring his shaking fingers hard to gain the courage to finally do as Simon commands. He doesn’t remember how to talk until an arched eyebrow from you has his voice croaking out.

“Tarantulas. She brought tarantulas–three of them, all as big and hairy as a rat–for show and tell. Pulled them out like they were nothing, then tried to pass them around. Her instructor was barely able to reign them up in all the chaos they caused. Children were crying. The adults were shaking. In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it…”

The ramble trails off into nothing, allowing you and Simon a moment of quiet while the headmaster wipes at his face with a cheap handkerchief. God, you two make him sweat, and not in a good way.

Tilting your head, you peek over at your husband. He’s already looking at you, face reading ‘For fuck’s sake.’ Licking your lips, your eyes cut back to Headmaster Archer. 

“Not to be obtuse,Headmaster, but I don’t see what your issue is. All she wanted was to show her fellow pupils her favorite pets. Is that really so bad?”

“It is when the pets are spiders, Mrs. Riley. Not just spiders, but dangerous ones that, frankly, a child as young as Raven should not have access to.”

The headmaster has no idea where the things spilling out of his mouth are coming from. Maybe it’s the heat of the room making him a little braver. Maybe it’s because he knows he’ll see Raven’s spiders in his nightmares tonight, you and Simon standing along with them happily while they eat him alive. 

Regret soon washes over him faster than he can think. Even more so when he sees Simon, in all his dark clothes and scars and thick muscles, clench his jaw and shift in his seat like he’s thinking about hitting the man. Coincidentally, you’re the one moving first, giving the hand of a seething Simon a tender squeeze before you uncross your legs to stand.

You don’t have to move any closer than you are now to say what you want. The anger dripping from your tone is sharp enough to slice at him as it always does.

You’re all sinister smiles as you promise the man. “If you upset my daughter again, you’ll have a lot more than a few spiders to worry about, Headmaster.”

With that, you’re gone. Nothing more from you other than one last glare at the headmaster and a sweet kiss on Simon’s cheek before your heels click out of the horrid office. If Simon wasn’t so miffed, he’d remember to swivel his head to watch your hips as you go.

Unlucky for the headmaster, Simon does not swivel or admire. All he does is stare something horrid into the man across from him, eyes so hot they could bore a hole into the sweaty head of Archer if Simon wished it hard enough. 

The two remain in that position for a good while–Headmaster Archer doing all he can not to evaporate into a puddle of fear and Simon nearly wishing the man dead for making his girls upset. It’s around five minutes later when a small voice sounds at the office entrance.

“Papa, can we leave now? Mama’s ready.”

Simon rips away his glare, making sure to soften his eyes as he looks back at his daughter. He can tell she’s a little sad, mostly annoyed, as she cradles her tarantulas in a see-through cage. 

“Of course,” he coos without a second look to the headmaster, raising from his chair and moving to lift his daughter into his arms. He kisses her forehead, arms encircling her to ensure she doesn’t fall. “And you did nothing wrong, my girl. Do you hear me? Let’s just make sure to keep our pets at home from now on, yes? These silly little people don’t know how to appreciate them like you do.”

“Yes, Papa,” little Raven nods dutifully, Simon rewarding her with another kiss on the cheek and rub on her back. “Can we stop and catch crickets for my spiders on the way home? They’ve had a rough day…”

Simon huffs a laugh, glancing down at the cage of spiders with a short smile. He looks back up at his daughter and winks, exiting the office and leaving behind a shaking, sweating, helpless Headmaster Archer.

“Anything for you, my little devil.”

VOTE IN THE LATEST POLL (NOV 4-5)

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[bowtiepasta]

akaashi is not having a good time.

he didn't even want to come. but bokuto swore up and down that it would be fun. which, in his vocabulary, translates to “i am about to make a series of poor decisions and require a responsible witness.”

then he sees you, and well. he-

“keiji! hi. can i sit here?”

what really scares him — is how he can’t even tell if you’re sober. but he can’t ever say no to you, can he?

one knee slides between his, then the rest of you follows, easing down into his lap; the most natural thing in the world. “i’m sitting here.”

“i noticed,” he says to your back. “comfortable?”

you turn around like you’re about to tell him a secret, breath tickling his ears. “i would be if you weren’t sitting like you were in a business meeting.”

that earns a soft laugh from him. his other hand comes to rest just above your knee. he squeezes it gently.

“better?” low enough that only you can hear.

you hum, nodding while you readjust. your skirt flies up a little, and he fixes it for you. “getting there.”

“you’re drunk,” he says, as if noting the weather.

you laugh into his neck. “tipsy. not stupid.”

akaashi hums, low in his chest. “there a difference?”

“mhm,” your hand slides up and down his shoulder, fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. “if i were stupid, i’d be over there—” you point.

bokuto and hinata were trying to convince atsumu to climb on kuroo’s shoulders for a chicken fight in the middle of the living room. grown men, may i remind you. osamu, in the kitchen, looked two seconds away from lighting the countertop on fire.

“—and not over here.” you boop his nose, then scrunch your own because you can feel it flush.

“you’re tense,” you murmur, drape an arm over his shoulder, toy with the curls at the back of his neck.

he moves his head to study you. “you’re drunk.”

you pull at your collar. “i’m hot.”

“that too.”

“oh shut the fuck up,” you push his head away, laughing, and he chuckles. “is the air on in here?”

he glances around. it’s hot, yes. not to mention loud, and someone cannonballed into the inflatable pool in the backyard. bokuto’s acting like it’s the olympic finals.

but you, flushed and draped across his lap, eyes glossed over, skin warm — you’re the real problem.

“c’mon.”

you lift your head. “what?”

“we’re going outside.”

“but i’m-”

“you’re sitting on me, yes,” he says evenly, “which makes it very difficult to stand up. so help me out.”

you groan, dramatic, and peel yourself off with all the grace of someone who is definitely more than tipsy. he steadies you with one hand at your waist before slinging your arm over his shoulder and gently sliding his own around your waist.

you blink, a little thrown. “keiji, if this is your version of kicking me off your lap, just say that.”

he doesn’t answer, shrugs off his jacket without a word, draping it over your figure before weaving you through the bodies in the crowd ‘till you’re settled out in the cool air.

“i told you i was hot.”

“it’s going to be cold outside.”

“you’re kind of a romantic, you know that?”

akaashi laughs, and you curl your fingers around the jacket lapels. it smells like him. of course it does.

“so what’d you drag me out here for?”

he sits down on the porch step and pats the space between his legs. “here. since that’s apparently your favorite seat tonight.”

you narrow your eyes at him, legs already moving anyway. “don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

“don’t put words in my mouth.”

you twist in his lap, knees on either side of his hips now, straddling him while he swallows his own name from your lips, and he groans into your mouth like that’s what he’s been trying not to do all night.

“you’re—” you gasp between kisses, “such a liar.”

“about what?”

“i think you do like having me in your lap.”

his teeth graze your bottom lip. “isn’t that obvious?”

when you laugh into his mouth, he kisses you again like he never wants you to stop. and he thinks maybe, he doesn’t hate parties after all.

[miraclewoozi]

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome.  or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it. 

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader.  content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.  content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song. 

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong. 

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.” 

He was right. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all. 

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say. 

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position. 

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air. 

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done. 

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal. 

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present. 

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort. 

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you. 

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember. 

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.  

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter. 

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again. 

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary. 

The urge to just… lean in to you. 

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees. 

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again. 

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly. 

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop. 

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday. 

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare. 

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once. 

He swears. 

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure. 

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting. 

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway. 

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t. 

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances. 

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise. 

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that. 

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come. 

Eight seconds later… still nothing. 

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light. 

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug. 

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again. 

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?” 

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue. 

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before. 

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip. 

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter. 

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh. 

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair. 

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop. 

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders. 

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help. 

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place. 

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head. 

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in. 

I love them. Thank you, you said. 

It’s perfect. 

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double. 

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead. 

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue. 

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose. 

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late. 

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to. 

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are. 

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob. 

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum. 

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him. 

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen. 

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door. 

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important. 

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair. 

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath. 

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright. 

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened. 

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head. 

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop. 

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together. 

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said. 

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love. 

With someone who wasn’t him. 

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt.  And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before. 

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder. 

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it. 

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush. 

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head. 

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth. 

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you. 

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too. 

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure. 

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together. 

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try. 

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could. 

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down. 

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better. 

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same. 

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved. 

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person. 

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say. 

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here. 

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no. 

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline. 

Not enough, but some. 

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin. 

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky. 

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour. 

2.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough. 

1.

Happy New Year. 

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes. 

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you. 

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow… 

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there. 

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you. 

You could do it, his brain tells him. 

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter? 

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside. 

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said. 

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in. 

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule. 

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all. 

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday. 

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you. 

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change. 

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant. 

The pouting continued. 

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table. 

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right? 

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling. 

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together. 

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features. 

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road. 

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess, 

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks. 

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer. 

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks. 

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick. 

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone. 

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own. 

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block. 

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths. 

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too. 

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again. 

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

[delulu-julia]

Hihihi! I saw your that requests are open and I know you love getting little weird requests so I was wonderinf of you could write the turtles with someone (romantic or platonic) who has powers similar to Doctor Strange or the Scarlet Witch. Before Y/N even got them and at the early stages of having it they used to be so kind and bubbly but now that they've gotten used to it and how it works they're all serious and stressed and not aa bubbly, a complete 360 if you will.

Please and thank you!! ( ・∇・)

Tmnt 2012 x ScarletWitchPower!Reader (Romantic)

Leonardo

Leo understands responsibility, so when he sees how much you’ve changed, he immediately gets it. Power comes with a price, and you’re carrying a lot on your shoulders.

But he misses the old you—the one who would laugh at his lame jokes and tease him when he was being too serious. Now, you’re always serious.

He tries to remind you to take breaks, to breathe, to just be for a moment. “Even warriors need rest” he tells you.

He’s so gentle with you. He doesn’t push too hard, but he makes sure you know he’s there, always offering small touches and quiet reassurances.

If you ever break down, overwhelmed by the weight of your powers, he’s the first to hold you and remind you that you’re not alone.

Raphael

Raph is pissed. Not at you, but at whatever changed you. He remembers how happy and carefree you used to be, and now all he sees is the weight dragging you down.

He doesn’t know how to help, so he does what he does best—he sticks by your side, even when you try to push him away.

“You ain’t gotta do this alone, y’know.” That’s about as sentimental as he gets, but the way he stands between you and danger every time? That says more than words ever could.

If you snap at him in frustration, he just crosses his arms and glares. “Yeah, yeah, take it out on me if ya want. Not gonna change the fact that I ain’t leavin’.”

Expect him to physically pull you away when you’re overworking yourself. “Alright, that’s it—time for a break. Non-negotiable.”

Donatello

Donnie notices the change in you right away, and it worries him more than he lets on. He’s used to analyzing problems and fixing them, but this? He can’t fix this.

He researches everything about your powers, trying to find ways to help you control them, make them easier to bear. He’ll even build devices to help you stabilize them if needed

“You don’t have to bear the weight of the universe alone, Y/N… Let me at least help you carry it.”

He misses the way you used to be—how you’d geek out with him, how you’d joke around without a care in the world. He tries to bring that back in small ways, sneaking little jokes into conversations, nudging you playfully.

He’s so soft about it. He won’t push, but he’ll always be waiting, ready to hold you if you ever let your guard down.

Michelangelo

This breaks Mikey’s heart. He remembers when you used to light up every room you walked into, and now… now you carry this heavy sadness.

He tries everything to bring back even a sliver of the old you—bad jokes, spontaneous pizza runs, even pulling you into dance-offs.

“C’moooon, Y/N, just one little smile? For me?” Cue the biggest puppy eyes ever.

But when he realizes that you’re really struggling, he stops pushing and just sits with you. No expectations, no pressure—just quiet companionship.

He’s the kind of person to remind you that you’re still you, even if you don’t feel like it. “Your powers don’t define you, sunshine. You’re still my Y/N.”

[poweredbycoffee]

A Month of Sundays

Pairing: florist!San x fem!reader (also starring nosy neighbor Wooyoung)

Genre: fluff, a little angst, and a side of adultery

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Four Sundays, four encounters with a handsome florist who treats you better than your boyfriend ever could. “Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.” San’s comment that he’d have been a florist if he hadn’t been an idol was too romantic to not turn into a story.

Sunday, March 7

You’d always had a habit of wandering off on your own. Whether it was hiding behind the bags of rice as a child while your parents did the shopping or being found halfway across the library with a pile of books in your arms, you’d been born curious about the world around you. An open door was an invitation you’d more often than not accept if what was within intrigued you.

Unbeknownst to you, this time it was about to change your life.

You almost tiptoed into the flower shop, not having seen anyone inside, and wondered for a moment if you’d mistakenly walked into someone’s home instead. Wooden shelves were lined with pots of various shapes and sizes, the vines trailing out of some of them sprawling across the windowsill. Wire plant stands were full of succulents and vases overflowed with roses, lilies, and daisies. What appeared to be a park bench along one wall had a basket of chrysanthemums sitting at one end.

“Hello?”

You looked around for signs of non plant life and, not getting a response, tried again. “I’m sorry, the door was open. I’ll come back another time.”

“We’re open until seven the rest of the week,” a voice said from behind the counter along the back wall. “Today it’s six.”

When the owner of the voice stood up, you found yourself wishing he looked more like your grandmother than a male model. Leaving? Did I say I was leaving? Just kidding! “Oh! You—you work here?”

Back when you’d worked in retail, you’d hated that question yet here you were asking it. Way to go. Insert foot in mouth.

He looked around then back at you, his dark eyes taking on a sudden spark of amusement. “No one else has showed up to put the apron on.”

“Sorry, that came out totally wrong. I meant-“

I meant that you look like you should be giving a smoldering glare from an ad in a Seoul subway.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t expect a flower shop to be open on Sundays. Seems like everywhere else here is closed except unless there’s food involved. I’m not used to it.”

“Thought I’d try it for a while to see if it makes a difference. In a small town like this there isn’t much to do so I may as well try to make something of it. Besides, I like being with the flowers. They listen well.”

“Is it true that talking to plants helps them grow?”

“I like to think so.” He chuckled. “And if it doesn’t, at least they don’t seem to mind my trying to carry on a conversation.”

You glanced at his name tag and blushed seeing how fitting it was after your eyes had lingered a little too long on his broad shoulders. San. The word for mountain. Of course it is.

“But I’m sure they’re happy I’m talking to someone else for once.”

You weren’t sure if it was the combined scent of all the flowers making you lightheaded or the rush of seeing an attractive man who wasn’t your boyfriend, but both were for the moment irresistible. So am I.

Sunday, March 14

You didn’t know why you’d decided to visit the flower shop again on White Day of all days. It should’ve been your boyfriend smelling the bouquets of a dozen roses each that lined a shelf in their sparkling cut glass vases, not you. Socially constructed holiday or not, it didn’t feel right.

The problem was that San knew it too.

”Gosh, they’re so pretty. Especially the pink ones.”

“I’ll drop a hint for your someone special if I see him. It’s White Day after all. Tell me what he looks like.”

“He wouldn’t buy these for me.” Your lips pressed into a flat line as you stared at the roses. “Flowers are a waste of money if they’re going to die anyway.”

“The practical type, huh?” San shook his head. “There’s always miniature roses in pots but they aren’t as pretty if you ask me. Don’t get me started on the men that buy their girlfriends a cactus. What does that say about them? You think she’s too sharp to touch?”

You couldn’t help but smile at how worked up he was getting. “Low maintenance.”

“Or is it because women think that wanting more is wrong?”

He might not have meant his words to be so profound, but they gave you pause. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve spent the past three years gaslighting myself into being okay with only getting what I need instead of something I want.

“I should go. It’s getting dark outside.”

“Nothing for you today?”

“Nothing today. Thank you.”

His brow furrowed with concern for a moment before he composed his face into its usual friendly employee expression. “See you around.”

You waved and walked outside, closing the door behind you.

But what is it I want?

You’d moved here so you could move in with your boyfriend, the security of his new job and the promise of a better one for you in a more urban area making you think it was exactly what you needed to get your life together before you turned thirty. You were supposed to be happy. Hopeful for marriage, even. Yet the feeling that something was missing gnawed away at you in those quiet moments beside him in bed, that you’d wandered down the wrong path you didn’t yet realize was a dead end.

“I have got to find another place to lurk before he kicks me out for not buying anything.” You sighed and leaned against the wall outside the shop, watching the sun sink behind the nearby office buildings. “Why couldn’t I avoid going home at a cafe like a normal person?”

“You? Normal?” A familiar voice rang out from the crosswalk followed by laughter. “Since when?”

“Very funny. What, did my other half send out a search party?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “No, I just figured I’d find you here myself. Exactly where I found you last week, the week before, the week before that…”

You rolled your eyes and elbowed him in the ribs, almost sending the iced Americano he held flying. “You made your point. Thanks for not telling on me.”

“What are friends for? I see you resisted the urge to buy another lucky bamboo.”

Wooyoung, one of your few neighbors who gave you the time of day, had quickly become a close friend who could be counted on for three things: good coffee, good gossip, and not telling your boyfriend where you’d been. Everyone else’s tea was free to spill in his opinion and you were grateful he was still keeping a lid on yours.

“I don’t think it’s helping. The money rolls in, the money rolls out to the investment portfolio. We haven’t gone out for dinner in months.”

“He’s not taking you on dates? Stingy.”

“He says it’s for our future. Which I get, but would a little fun kill him?”

“Probably.”

You felt less guilty than usual for laughing. “And then what?”

Wooyoung grinned and jerked his head in the direction of the flower shop. “Run away with the sexy florist and send me a postcard from your honeymoon.”

“Even if I were single—which I’m not—for all I know he isn’t.”

“He is.” Wooyoung sipped his coffee and wiggled his eyebrows. “His sister used to work there and ask him when he was going to get married. I went to school with her.”

“Okay, and for all I know he wouldn’t be interested.”

“You’re lonely, he’s lonely. See, already one thing in common.”

“I feel like you’re ignoring me when I say I’m not single.”

“I promised I’d never tell on you.”

Your face grew hot at the thought of San being the other man in your life and you shook your head to try to dislodge the thought of being kissed on the shop counter. “We should get home before we both get in trouble.”

Wooyoung gestured toward the crosswalk. “After you.”

Sunday, March 21

“I know what day it is…” Wooyoung teased you as you stood next to him sorting your respective loads of recycling. “Let me go with you this time. You can see him and I’ll get some flowers for my mom.”

“You got flowers at the grocery store earlier.”

He looked vaguely offended. “Maybe I wanted to get extra.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s easier for me when no one else is around.”

“What? Does he not have other customers at the same time as you?”

You tried to recall if you’d seen anyone else the past two Sundays and paused, crumpled plastic water bottle in hand, when you realized you hadn’t. “Not when I’ve been there.”

“Lucky you, alone with him surrounded by roses. It’s like a drama.”

“And you’re the guy yelling at the TV for the main couple to kiss before the last episode.”

“Hey! Nothing wrong with enjoying a little romance as a man.” He tossed a handful of junk mail into the paper bin. “You smile more on Sundays, you know.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah.”

“I wish it wasn’t. I’ll only look suspicious.”

“I’d rather you look happy and when you’ve seen him you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile thinking of his soft voice greeting you, the atmosphere of the flower shop almost like a library where neither of you dared disturb the peaceful blooming of the eternal spring inside.

“And there it is. Go on, I’ll finish sorting yours for you.”

“Are you sure?”

He grinned and tossed a milk carton into a bin as if he was practicing a basketball free throw. “Get out of here. You have an appointment to keep.”

Fifteen minutes later, seeing San’s face appear from behind a bucket of lilies, you knew you were exactly where you wanted to be.

Sunday, March 28

San had almost finished closing up the shop that night when he heard a rattling sound behind him, thinking it was a customer who hadn’t bothered to check the hours painted on the front windows. “Sorry, we’re closed.”

The rattling continued and he leaned the broom against the counter with a grumble. “Ah, really…”

“San? It’s me.” You tugged on the door handle and knocked on the glass with increasing desperation. “Please, I need your help.”

At the sound of your voice he turned on his heel and hurried to the door, unlocking it from inside and closing it behind you. “What’s wrong?”

“We had a bad fight and I didn’t know who else to talk to. My one friend wasn’t picking up the phone. I was halfway here when it started raining and I’m so sorry, I know you must think I’m insane.” Rain dripped from your hair on the tile floor and your voice trembled with every word. “Can I stay here until the storm passes?”

“Of—of course. I’ll turn the heat up so you won’t catch a cold.”

You crossed the room to stand by the radiator, holding your hands just above it to chase the chill away until you could feel your fingers again. “That will teach me to leave the house without an umbrella.”

“I’ll be back in a moment.” He unlocked a door just behind the counter and jogged up a flight of stairs you’d never known was there. “Getting something else.”

Whether it was kindness or a practiced efficiency in dealing with sudden calamities, his willingness to help with no questions asked made you want to cry from sheer gratitude. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you wiped them away with your jacket sleeve. He has enough to deal with without seeing me like this.

Minutes later San returned, a mug of steaming tea in each hand and a blanket under one arm. One mug he placed on the counter before handing you the other. “Take this. The chamomile will calm you.”

“And the blanket?”

He unfolded it and draped it around your shoulders. “More warmth. Does that help?”

“A little.” You sipped the tea and felt your shoulders finally release the tension they’d held since you’d left. “If I asked you to try to spend more time with me but your boss wanted to increase your hours, what would you do?”

“Work more during the week to have more weekends free. I take it that wasn’t the answer, however.”

“Would you think it was selfish to ask?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Relationships take work, you can’t expect the other person to wait for you to schedule them into your life.”

“Thank you. That was all I needed to hear.”

The two of you drank in silence, listening to the tapping of the rain against the tiled roof.

“Funny how you somehow scheduled yourself into mine, now that I think about it. A month of Sundays one by one.” He raised an eyebrow. “Had you not come, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

“Gone home on time?”

San put his mug on the counter with a soft smile. “Yes, but something would have felt like it was missing. I get used to seeing the same people and when I don’t it’s…lonely. I used to think the quiet was nice but I’d rather have you.”

Your heart felt like it rose into your throat so quickly you had to choke it back down, gasping for air in the process.

“Don’t say anything yet or I’ll lose the nerve to do this.”

“Do wh—“

Before you could fully process what was happening his hands were on your hips, lifting you onto the counter with surprising ease. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then close your eyes.”

You did as he asked and felt his breath against your lips for a second before his mouth met yours. Your arms wrapped around his waist, relieved to finally hold him, and pulled him close until he stood between your legs with his chest flush against yours.

“What the hell are we doing?”

He smiled up at you. “Whatever you want.”

Your lips traced from his ear down his neck and he shivered at the feeling, which you took as a sign to continue, repeating the same on the other side. “I haven’t felt this way in so long, I…”

One hand moved to your lower back to rub slow circles at the base of your spine. “What matters is how you feel now. If you want to forget him, forget him.”

“You seem willing to help.”

He laughed softly. “You’re quite a special customer.”

“That must be why you never banned me after a month of barely buying anything.”

“I was worried about you. If I didn’t see you I wondered if you were all right but it wasn’t my place to ask.” San kissed the tip of your nose before kissing you again, this time more gently. “So I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me.”

Your vision blurred again with barely suppressed tears, unsure of where to begin untangling the way he made you feel from your present situation. I wish it was you I went home to. I wish it was you kissing me hello. I wish it was you on top of me in bed.

“I can’t go back.”

“Neither can I.”

“Then where do we go?”

He was close enough then that his hips were almost aligned with yours, the growing bulge in his jeans easily felt against your stomach. “I think we can stay right where we are.”

You woke up the next morning with only two things on your mind: how good in bed he’d turned out to be and how little you cared that you’d cheated. It was more or less over between us anyway.

San was sound asleep against your side with one arm slung across your torso, his fingers curled around your hip as if he was holding you in place.

I’m just…speeding up the process.

Not that it mattered the morning after, but he really hadn’t left you much of a choice. His kisses hadn’t been so intense that he’d completely broken your resolve. You’d tried—three times, in fact—to slide off the counter and into the night before things went too far. The problem was that each attempt had been met with the same plea murmured in your ear and the same hands beneath your shirt.

“Don’t leave me, I’d miss you.”

And so you hadn’t, wrapping your arms and legs around him to allow him to carry you upstairs to his small apartment above the shop.

“Let’s go to bed. It’s getting late.”

You’d smiled into his neck, knowing odds were good you wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. “Not even dinner first?”

“I did give you flowers at least,” he’d teased. “Effort to be a gentleman was made.”

As you tried to stretch your legs, which were still heavy from sleep, the soreness between them reminded you of how long it had been since you’d been made to feel it was a good thing. Gentleness had only gone so far before you’d needed more from him—and lucky for you he’d been happy to oblige. “Mm, that was nice.”

San felt your shifting weight on the thin mattress and rubbed his eyes until they fully opened. “What is?”

“Last night. You. It’s been a while since I had any.”

“Me too.“

You moved to lie on your side in order to be face to face with him. “You’re joking. You don’t have women lined up around the block giving you their numbers?”

“None that I was interested in. Besides, until you came along I was always too busy running the shop. I inherited it from my grandfather and didn’t want to ruin his legacy by letting it fail while I went on dates.”

“That explains why I’ve never seen a part timer instead of you.”

He sighed. “It’s the Choi family business to be a workaholic.”

“How long has it been since you took a night off?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Sounds like we both needed it.” Your fingers slowly traced the outline of his abs as he arched his back slightly, evoking a cat enjoying the sun that had begun to shine through the window. “I’m trying to make this part last before I have to make what’s going to be the worst call of my life.”

“Don’t call him. Go home.”

“It’ll be easier if I tell him without seeing his face.”

“If he gets upset and does any damage to anything of yours, you need to be able to gather the essentials and leave.”

You winced knowing he had a point. While your boyfriend had rarely raised his voice at you, he still had a short temper that manifested itself in passive aggression that cut just as deeply. “Where will I go? I have some savings but it’s only enough for a couple of months. He paid most of the rent.”

San brushed your hair away from your face with a smile. “You’ll come back here. I’ll order some food and wait for you. If you’re in danger, you call me or that nosy neighbor of yours to come get you.”

“Wooyoung said your sister used to work here. He knew her from school. Small world.”

“Too small. He’ll be messaging Haneul the second he hears what happened and telling her all about how I finally got a life.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s all he wants, a source of entertainment.”

“He’s already said, and I quote, ‘run away with the sexy florist’. At least we know whose side he’s on.” You kissed the palm of his hand. “He’s been covering for me for a while.”

His ears turned as crimson as the roses on display downstairs. “Sexy?”

“He’s not wrong.”

“In all seriousness, please be safe. I want my flower girl back here in one hour and in one piece.”

Your heart skipped at how casually he’d called you his and for a moment your fear of what was to come disappeared. The future was more blurred than it had been before, but at least for now you could clearly see who would be by your side for it.

“Come to think of it, I never did buy flowers from you this entire time. Even for myself.”

San kissed you deeply. “Too late. I’ll just have to give you enough of them to make up for it.”

[swirly-strawz]

some doodles of Samadhi Fire MK

If you’re interested in my ramblings about this ⬇️

I wanted to explore the angst that this AU would have and I’ve thought about a bunch of things

1. Guilt

Oh boy, where do I even start? Everyone’s a mess in this, with MK being the biggest mess. I’ll ramble about the ones I thought about.

For MK, he feels guilty about losing control since the others are in a close radius. He screamed his problems out on Wukong, lashing out and crying. What’s worse is that his mentor even walked through the flames for him, getting some burns in the process. The hug was short but it’s what he really needed at the moment.

Wukong feels guilty, his student was screaming about how he felt abandoned because of HIM. Wukong swore to protect MK and yet there he was, crying, raging, burning, etc. He apologizes for leaving him alone, for not being there for him as he walks through the red and purple flames, towards MK. His heart broke as MK shoved him away, looking at him with eyes filled with defeat and sorrow before flying away.

Mei hates herself for not being the one to step in and help her best friend. It took her a few minutes in this disaster to do something, to be there for MK like she always have. But before she could act on it, Wukong swoops in and goes into the fire. Mei wishes that she was hugging MK at the moment when the flames disappeared, not for long though. She runs after MK, reaching out before he leaves a red trail behind as he flies into the sky.

Tang was the one who finished the ritual, who inflicted such unimaginable levels of trauma upon his son. Why did he do it? Why did he listen to the shadow monkey? How could he? He felt so sick, the Samadhi Fire is not something that can be tamed. It can burn anything and anyone, even immortal beings. Pathetic. Useless. Horrible. Responsible. He doesn’t know why no one blames him for what happened, sure they didn’t know MK is the fourth ring, but he’s still the one who caused this to happen! How can he trust himself anymore when he bears the hands that afflicted pain upon his son?

2. Pressure

MK would feel more pressure on his shoulders, now that he has this burden to carry. He learned enough so that the Samadhi Fire is more docile and less chaotic. But that isn’t enough! After the event that occurred in the ritual area, he’s still processing this life. His mind is scarred. He’s so frustrated, he could hear LBD laughing and taunting him at the back of his mind. Why is this so hard?! He’s the Monkie Kid! The world is in danger! He can’t rest right now! If he doesn’t control the fire, the world will burn because of him! Everyone will die!

3. Aftermath

I think after S3 in this AU, MK wouldn’t be as cheery and energetic as his canon self. He would act more as if he just got punched in the gut. Like how Mei acted more rash, impulsive, and impatient, MK would be more on edge, tired, short-tempered, not to the point of being an asshole though. I think he also would be more stressed because of the trauma he faced from the Samadhi Fire. Even when he fully wields it, he’s afraid of accidentally losing control again. MK is more prone into acting feral and pissed off as S4 proceeds. He would lose his shit faster when Azure reveals his true plan.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

DIANA PRINCE | WONDER WOMAN (generalized canon)

—

Going to Carnival w/ Diana (Diana Prince | Wonder Woman x Fem!Reader)

Headcanon

SFW, established relationship, vigilante, fluff, vacation, caribbean setting, civilian shenanigans, dancing, -caribbean!reader

Once again, mind my choppy ass yanking; it’s the story of my life, just go with it. Pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (Pic source — Reign of the Supermen DCAMU)

Diana loves tropical weather and feeling the sun’s rays rushing over her tanned skin so visiting your part of the Caribbean is a refreshing change from Washington and the States, where she’s primarily lived since leaving Themyscira and meeting Steve.

The second you’d stepped off her jet the both of your shoulders had dropped. Diana’s little smile when she turned to you had been brittle around the edges but it had still been bright and her eyes had still been warm.

She’d pulled you close and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips before asking you if you were excited. In response you’d squealed and started bouncing on your toes in your elation.

Once you’re on your home island Diana honestly doesn’t see a need to pretend like she isn’t an Amazon or pull out any type of secret identity; she dislikes hiding herself away like that and figures since she’s on vacation she could be a little more free with her powers.

When you get to your family’s place or the hotel you’re staying at she’s so happy as she floats around you and basks in the new environment that you don’t dissuade her from using her powers around where you'll both be calling home for the duration of your vacation. And when you’re in public she otherwise stays lowkey so there’s really no problem letting her have her fun.

Diana in turn doesn’t hesitate to do things like pick you up and swing you around with her at her leisure. You scream and then you laugh and she looks so smitten with you that you have to duck your head as your face heats up.

Once you get to the festivities Diana doesn’t particularly care for how you’re dancing (and does have problems relaxing when she’s out of her armor and off duty). She just lets you do you.

On Themyscira she’d been far more inclined towards dancing, but since coming to “man’s world” she’s found she enjoys it less when in public. Diana doesn’t appreciate the leering men so love even a little bit.

She keeps an eye on you from the sidelines, standing or walking along the outskirts of the crowd as she gets lost in the beats and energy around her apart from the way her gaze is glued to you.

She smiles and lightly converses with people as she goes, so used to how you speak after being around one another for so long that she doesn’t even have to use the lasso she had wrapped around her waist like a decorative belt — some of the end pulled out of the spool to thunk against her thigh till just above her knee every time she moves — to help translate.

Diana focuses on you as you cycle through dancing with person after person. As you help a girl get on her hands to wine with her ass in the air while you hoot and holler behind her with her legs resting atop your thighs as you bend your knees to dance yourself. And when you get tired enough to accept a waterfall from someone else who’d began dancing alongside you.

After about two hours of you throwing looks your s/o’s way without garnering any desired advancement from her you begin making your way through the mass of sweaty roiling bodies, thankful for the ocean breeze gliding over you with every step.

You don’t rush to her as you hold her gaze, dancing as you go and even cheering a little to yourself when your attention makes a goddess’s smile spread across Diana’s lips. You’re at the outskirts of the crowd when you decide to slow your advance and just dance where she can see all of you, she whistles and you feel lightheaded in a good way that you’re pretty sure has nothing to do with heat exhaustion.

When your newest dance partner manages to hip you off balance you trip into Diana, blink up at her through your lashes, smile, and move to snatch the kenep she’d already halfway peeled into your mouth with your teeth.

She lets you, her gaze bright as you squeeze the fruit out of the remaining skin and past the plush of your lips.

—

“You know,” you say over the noise and past the thrum of the music up your throat, only screwing up your face a little as you nibble on the orange fruit around the seed in your mouth, “it’d be easier to keep an eye on me if you just danced with me.”

For her part Diana only raises a brow at you for a few moments, lips quirked. You’re about to threaten her with begging and puppy dog eyes when she leans into you, her own blue orbs glancing briefly down to your mouth.

“Well, I suppose if you're going to ask so prettily,” she murmurs, eyes alight. Diana runs the tip of her nose over the dewy skin of yours and your breath stutters past your two-toned lips. Before you can reciprocate and go in for a kiss, however, she pulls away and presents out her palm.

You make a soft disgruntled sound. Diana chuckles, glances back down at her palm and, mouth open in a silent gasp, you drop the now barren kenep seed into her hand.

A few beats pass where you only blink up at her as your face heats up before Diana casts a lazy glance out at the crowd behind you.

When she looks back at you her gaze is more appreciative, traveling over the brown expanse of your exposed skin with abandon. And you have a lot exposed.

Her eyes jump back up to meet yours and you have to bite back a groan.

“I thought you wanted to take me dancing?” she asks, smile widening.

“…right,” you grunt, wide eyes narrowing, and pull her into the fray with a set to your jaw.

Goddamn Amazons.

—

Diana finds the rhythm where she’d thought she’d find none and you suck your teeth the second the sway of her hips syncs with yours. You could’ve dragged her into the crowd hours ago!

She’s gorgeous to watch backlit by the setting sun though, wining her waist around slow on every downbeat like she doesn’t have a care in the world, and the compliments she whispers into your ear before she turns you around so you can dance for her (on her) are kind of worth the wait.

She positions you both so that your hips are comfortably at level and her solid grip on your waist does wonders for your balance once you start dancing again, wining up on her with her words of encouragement accompanying the booming music.

Diana keeps you at her pace though, the two of you in your own little bubble surrounded by the gradually waning high energy from the people around you, one hand wandering forward to splay across the sun warmed umber skin over the small of your back while she wines back into your ass from where she’s keeping herself in position for you to brace against.

With you it’s easier for her to let go, to get wrapped up in your essence and forget for a moment about the less savory eyes on you both.

Though, there is a point where she looks up from your sparkling eyes and her glare isn’t enough to send a certain tourist packing. Diana’s grip on your hip tightens and she pulls you closer, has to grit her teeth through you urging her to look back at you with a palm on her cheek.

“Forget him,” you murmur against her lips and Diana’s lashes flutter as your hold on her jaw tightens and you make her look only at you; make her forget anyone else exists so the pounding in her heart doesn’t send her flying across the space in search of a fight she’ll regret picking. These men did not deserve you, even just to look, but then Diana wasn’t sure she did either.

Outside of Carnival and the parades Diana loves going around to try all the different foods. Since she first ventured off the island she was conceived and raised on Diana’s favorite thing to do to get a feel for any new cultures when she travels is to eat.

It’s a personal mission of hers to teach humankind — to guide them to what’s right and protect them from what isn’t, even when they often make her as angry as they do inspire her fondness — but that doesn’t mean she can’t learn from humans or appreciate their culture, and she loves a lot of yours. She will go out of her way — carrying you on her back if you’re too tired — to go to the art night of Carnival. To walk through art galleries, pop-up exhibits, and historical sights listening to people talk of the history she’s witnessing with rapt attention.

By the next time ayo go to participate in the parades during a day of Carnival you’re a part of a troop, Diana ends up carrying you while you sit over her shoulders, and she’s well stuffed with homemade peanut punch and plenty of starfruit and just barely holding herself back from causing a scene by flying.

Diana compliments you endlessly the whole trip, even more than usual. She loves the glow you get in the Caribbean sun and how her woman looks backdropped by the beaches of your home or laid out across your bedroom sheets for her. Her ‘I love you’s’ are so fervent when you’re like this.

She’ll whisper praise as she rubs sunscreen into your skin, pressing a kiss to the tip of your broad nose before she gently rubs the cream over your face. She’ll press brief kisses to your wrists in public and smile brightly at the way the breeze ruffles your kinky hair or flows around your dresses.

The Amazononian insists on having a big dinner when you get home because it’s Diana and a big feast is befitting your homecoming and a celebration of your people’s emancipation, she decides. You either go to a popular island restaurant or to one of your relatives but it’s a wonderful occasion and you have a blast feeding Diana different foods to try that aren’t as available (especially this good, directly from the source) in the States.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!🫶🏾

Another addition to my promise to post more of DC’s Trinity (that’s not just Bruce), and I’m pretty happy with it. There were some little interactions, like how Diana would be with little island girls and how she’d definitely let the kids climb over her and marvel at her strength and whatnot, that didn’t make the Final cut, but that’s just because I’m tired rn. But I present you with the idea, at least!

Also, this fic has a series tag so if you’d like to read the other festival/carnival entries then clicking on that tag would be how you’d find them.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Caribbean words of the Day (ie: the glossary):

“Ayo” (pronounced “īˈyō” 2 syllables) — meaning and use equivalent to “you all” or “y’all”. There’s also a greater origin to where the word as a whole comes from but I’m not going to get into all of that rn.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [22] - Newcomers

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: New deals mean new players.

Word Count: 2300

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You had always loved watching the city at night.

When you were little, after making sure everyone else at home were asleep, you would sneak out of your room to get to the terrace, and sit there for hours, watching the glimmering stars and the city lights. Even after you grew up, it still filled you with a sense of peace-

Well.

Until now.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you only noticed Bucky’s presence in the living room when he touched your arm to hold out a cup of coffee. You paused for a moment, then shook your head.

“No thank you,” you murmured and he put it on the coffee table, then clicked his tongue.

“You didn’t sleep last night?”

“I couldn’t,” you managed to say. “I know I said I’d come to bed, but…”

A silence fell upon you before Bucky heaved a sigh from behind you.

“Charm, last night—”

“Was the proof, wasn’t it?” you asked. “He doesn’t believe in me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It makes it official.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s official or not.”

You shook your head again and he clasped his hands over your shoulders, your eyes fluttering close for a moment despite your better judgement, a warmth spreading over your skin before you opened your eyes again.

“The therapist said open communication,” he told you, making you roll your eyes.

“You don’t even believe in all that.”

“You do,” he said. “And he said we’re supposed to talk about our feelings so, how do you feel?”

“I want to kill Ian.”

“I don’t think that counts as a feeling, Charm.”

“Not with that attitude, it doesn’t.”

A small chuckle spilled from his lips.

“Listen, you know I have no problems with killing him, but you told me yourself that it’s not the way to putting you on top. Besides—” he paused and shook his head. “Your father named him his heir, and he’s not an idiot. He would know that we killed him, which is fine by me but…”

“That’d officially put an end to the truce,” you finished his sentence for him. “It’d make me look just like Ian, and then no one would back me up because the whole reason why we’re doing this is to keep the truce.”

“Not the whole reason.”

You turned your head to look at him and he scoffed a laugh.

“Come on Charm,” he said. “You can tell everyone else whatever you want but part of the reason why you want that crown is because you want power. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

You swallowed thickly and turned around to see him better.

“I want to keep the peace.”

“Never said you didn’t,” he murmured. “But someone has to be on that throne while keeping the peace.”

You ran a hand over your face.

“The meeting is next month with the rest of the bosses,” you said. “If my father named him heir, it means he gave him some sort of responsibility, something to give him the opportunity to show off. A part of the territory, or…”

“He wouldn’t give him a part of the territory,” Bucky told you. “Not with HYDRA attacking every territory. He can’t afford any security flaws.”

You arched a brow. “Shipment?”

“Shipment,” Bucky said with a nod of his head and you tapped your lips with your finger, stepping away from him.

“That could make things easier for me,” you said. “And to make sure he makes a mistake.”

Bucky grinned at you.

“You know how it works,” he said. “A lot of things could go wrong with the shipments.”

The question you wanted to ask him was on the tip of your tongue but before you could open your mouth, his phone started vibrating and he took a look at the screen, then held it up.

“Speaking of shipment,” he said. “Excuse me.”

He answered the phone and walked away from you, and you bit inside your cheek, massaging your temples. Your headache from last night was getting heavier by the minute the more you thought about it, so you pressed your palms on your eyes, then dropped your hands.

“I need a nap,” you muttered to yourself and made your way to the bedroom with Alpine following you.

                                            *

When you woke up from your nap to the nonstop vibration of your phone, it was already afternoon and as the note on bedside table told you, Bucky had already left for work. You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed your phone, pressing your lips together when you saw your father’s name flashing on the screen. For a couple of seconds, you considered not answering but the old habits were hard to shake off so you touched the screen and took the phone to your ear.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he said. “I hope you weren’t busy?”

You bit inside your cheek, commanding yourself to be calm.

“Father.”

“We could barely talk last night,” he said. “How are you?”

“How do you think?” you asked back and he heaved a sigh.

“I’d rather it if we didn’t have this conversation on the phone,” he said, making you let out a dry chuckle.

“I agree.”

“But I’d like to invite you and Bucky for dinner whenever you’re free this week,” he said. “Your aunt is back in the city, she arrived this morning and she’s so excited to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes and made a face.

“She said that?”

“Of course. Despite some disagreements, we’re still a family and she knows it. So does Ian.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your teeth, willing yourself not to take the bait.

“I know you’re angry,” he said, making you raise your brows. “But in time, you will see that I’m looking out for you.”

“Oh do you now?”

“Y/N…”

“I’ll ask Bucky when he’s free this week,” you told him. “I can let your assistant know.”

“You can just let me know,” he told you. “It’d be a nice change, getting a phone call from you. Just saying.”

You bit back the retort and threw your shoulders back.

“Is there anything else, father?” you asked, your voice completely calm and he paused for a moment before heaving a sigh.

“No,” he said. “See you at dinner then.”

“Sure,” you said and hung up, then threw the phone on the other side of the bed with a groan. Alpine meowed from her spot on the floor and you hung your head off the side of the bed to see her better.

“Fathers, am I right?” you asked and she blinked at you, then made her way to you to plop down next to you. You reached out to scratch at her head and heaved a sigh.

“Do you want to come to that dinner?”

Alpine meowed again and ran back to her spot, making you click your tongue.

“Of course you don’t,” you said and sat up, then pushed yourself off the bed. “Very well then. Let’s text auntie Becca and Leila to see what they’re up to and if they want to go shopping with me. Some distraction can’t hurt.”

                                                   *

As it turned out, Becca and Leila were busy; Becca had therapy while Leila had to drop by her office to take care of some last minute changes. You did manage to distract yourself a little with shopping, and once you got bored you decided to pick up sandwiches from the shop you knew Bucky liked, then told your driver to take you to Bucky’s office.

When you got to Bucky’s office, his assistant greeted you and stood up.

“He’s about to be finished with his meeting, Mrs. Barnes,” she said as Bucky’s laughter reached outside, making you tilt your head.

“Sounds like a fun meeting.”

She offered you an apologetic smile.

“The sign of a deal gone well,” she said. “Miss Williams was already sure of herself when she walked in, I’m not surprised."

That made you arch a brow.

“Miss Williams?” you asked and she nodded.

“Mr. Barnes’ appointment,” she said, motioning inside and you nodded.

“Ah,” you said, your stomach doing an unpleasant flip for some reason before you threw your shoulders back. “I’m in a bit of a hurry actually, I’ll just—”

You didn’t even bother finishing your sentence as you walked to the door and knocked, then stepped inside and closed the door behind you. Bucky’s smile widened when he saw you and the woman sitting on the armchair across from his desk looked over her shoulder, letting you see her face.

Oh.

Well, apparently this Miss Williams was not only funny, but also very beautiful.

What you were feeling couldn’t possibly be jealousy of course, perhaps just mild irritation but you didn’t dwell on it as Bucky stood up to walk to you.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss on your temple. “Anna, this is Y/N, my wife. Y/N, this is Anna, our new shipment manager.”

You willed a smile on your face and walked to her as she stood up as well, then offered your hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Barnes,” she said with a smile as she shook your hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“So have I,” you said as Bucky went to sit behind his desk again and you took the armchair across from her. “Sam speaks very highly of you, Miss Williams.”

“Please call me Anna,” she said with a wave of her hand. “And I’m forever in Sam’s debt. He was the first person to actually give me a chance in all this.”

“Sam has a talent for finding the best people for the job,” Bucky said, making Anna grin.

“I’ll make sure to tell him that.”

“No no, don’t,” Bucky told her. “He will hold it over my head forever.”

You bit inside your cheek, trying to shake off the discomfort pulling at your stomach before you crossed your legs.

“Oh but I must tell him,” Anna teased him. “He’s my first reference after all. There has to be some loyalty.”

“Can I by any chance buy your loyalty?”

“I wouldn’t be standing here if anyone could buy my loyalty,” Anna said with a grin, making Bucky chuckle.

“Very well then.”

It wasn’t jealousy.

Of course it wasn’t, you and Bucky weren’t even together.

In any case, you were irritated because this was a business decision and Bucky had decided to hire her without so much as your input, that was all.

That had to be it.

Anna’s phone beeped and she took a look at the screen, then gasped.

“Oh I completely lost the track of time!” she said, jumping on her feet. “I had another meeting, I’m so sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Bucky said, standing up as well. “So my people will send your people the details then.”

“That sounds good,” she said and shook his hand. “Looking forward to doing business with you, Bucky.”

First name basis.

Great.

“And it was a pleasure to meet you,” she told you and you nodded, giving her a smile.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“I’ll see you later then,” she told Bucky and walked out of the office, then closed the door behind her. You tried to get rid of the bitter taste in your mouth, then cleared your throat, shifting your weight.

“The new shipment manager?” you asked and Bucky nodded.

“She’s a genius,” he told you, making you arch a brow. “Seriously, I thought Sam was exaggerating it, but apparently he downplayed it.”

You picked at a piece of lint on your dress, humming.

“I thought I was going to be involved in the business decisions,” you said, making him frown slightly.

“Yeah but this has nothing to do with your father’s business,” he said. “Or the plan. It’s just shipment, and I killed the last guy because he tried to kill me. You were there.”

“Right.”

“Sam vouched for her,” he reminded you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah I know, it’s just…” you trailed off and shook your head. “Never mind.”

“Charm.”

“I just think it’s funny you had no problem involving me when it was a guy, and now that it’s a very hot woman, you decided not to involve me.”

“That’s not what it’s—are you actually jealous?” he asked as if the mere idea was ridiculous and you let out a small laugh.

“Jealous?” you repeated. “Get over yourself Buck. You told me I would be involved in the business decisions, you can’t blame me for questioning whether it has changed.”

He gave you a chiding look.

“It hasn't,” he said. “Sam vouched for her, and it’s just one shipment right now as a trial period. I can give you her file if you want.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“No, if you decided she’s good, I’m not going to muddy the waters,” you said. “Trial period it is.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “And you’re sure it’s just the business side of things?”

You scoffed.

“No, this is me telling you I desire you carnally,” you spat, making him chuckle and hold up his hands.

“Fine,” he said. “Just asking.”

“I brought you lunch but if you’re going to be like this, I’ll eat what I brought in front of you—”

“You brought lunch?” he cut you off, staring at you and you nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

“Marry me.”

“Way ahead of you on that one,” you deadpanned, then let out a laugh. “Why?”

“I haven’t eaten anything whole day,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “What did you bring?”

“Sandwiches from that shop you like.”

“Jesus, you’re amazing,” he told you and you grinned, then stood up from the armchair.

“I really am,” you told him as you walked to get the paper bags from the waiting room. “Make sure to keep that in mind, will you?”

Chapter 23

[plushieray2]

For Your Insane Heartslabyul AU, I'm curious on what happened to Grim? Is he still at the school or is he with Yuuken in Heartslabyul or is he at Ramshackle still?

Kind of hoping he turns out like American Mcgee's verison of Cheshire Cat since he's from the world of TWST and not from Yuuken's world.

Unrelated to Grim, but what does Yuuken look like aside from looking like his Canon Manga appearance? I dunno why I'm depicted him with swirly eyes as a side effect of the blot and that Riddle forces him to wear shades during school time, claiming light sensitivity for him after all..... she was a doctor, so it would make sense to Crowley that Riddle took Yuuken to his mother and that one of the more responsible dorm leader is looking after Yuuken since Yuuken's been sick though Crowley is suspecting there is a much darker reason for it, he just can't put his finger on it yet.

Kind of like this for Yuuken's eyes:

Sorry for more than one question, but I am curious on the visual side effects aside from Yuuken having memory problems, headaches and being sick.

I also think Crowley and the teachers would be more suspicious of Heartslabyul but can't get much out of them outside of Heartslabyul immediately heading back to their dorm either after class or before class.

Insane Heartslabyul AU

danganronpa jump scare.

I’m gonna try my best to answer everything to the best of my ability here!

Grim is at Heartslabyul with Yuu. He actually stays pretty quiet mostly just hanging out on guys shoulder. The blot actually doesn’t affect him (subject to change if chapter 8 ever comes out) but Heartslabyul has scared him enough to keep quiet.

I actually really like the idea of yuu having to wear glasses and living in Heartslabyul. Like I never even thought of that but it’s mine now. Sorry not sorry. Your idea? You mean my idea.

Besides the eye thing Yuu doesn’t really have much different. Through sense they live in Heartslabyul they constantly feel pretty sick considering the blot doesn’t affect them in the same way as the rest of Heartslabyul. They would leave if their memory issues weren’t so bad and riddle is just a pretty good manipulator.

Anyways ya the teachers are pretty suspicious of all this but just like Idia nothing like this has ever happened before so there’s nothing they can really do about it.

You’re whole ask just made me really want to right a fanfic. I’m not gonna cause I’m an horrible writer but the thoughts in my mind.

Happy Easter y’all.

[annie-creates]

Almost four hundred years

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x sister reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 900

Note: So I usually don't introduce new characters on a whim but I've been so obsessed I literally jumped out of the shower for this, so I just had to write it right away even when it's not that good. And to my possibly new Marvel/witchy/Agatha fans who haven't seen me before, hi, I hope you like this and please check out my blog for more very demure, very cutesy and most of all very lesbian fanfictions I write.

When you got on the Witch’s road, you didn’t know exactly what you expected to get out of it. You weren’t hungry for power, you were doing alright for yourself and there were seemingly no problems to be fixed or mysteries to be answered in your case. But the thought of belonging somewhere some time again was taunting, almost mocking you. You knew building an actual lasting coven with Agatha by your side was impossible, but still you hoped to have something that at least reminded of home.

As you left today’s trial behind and healed the teen’s wounds, you set up a campfire gathering around, using whatever was available to sit on. In your opinion, the ground covered in leaves was good enough. The kid was resting and Agatha was nowhere to be found, which gave room for an actual friendly conversation with the rest of the witches. One by one they shared stories and funny encounters, keeping the mood up, and you quite enjoyed their quirky company.

“Y/n, what’s your problem with the kid?” Lilia asked suddenly, all of them noticing you weren’t exactly fond of his chirpy personality. “Why are you so cold to him?”

“Nonsense, I’m great with children,” you emphasized, slightly offended.

“Come on now,” Jen forced with an amused smile.

“Well first of all, he’s unhealthily obsessed with Agatha and that in itself is a red flag if you ask me,” you shrugged. “And anyone who likes her this much just doesn’t know her enough.”

“Well for how long have you known her?” Alice reiterated.

“Almost four hundred years,” you admitted with a bit of shyness.

“How come?” asked Teen joining you at the fire without you noticing. “What’s your problem with her anyway. People change, she’s not the same witch she was in Salem.”

“Not this much, no. She killed my mom… my family, my coven, everyone I knew at the time,” even after all this time it was hard admitting everything that happened, partly because you blamed yourself for at least half of it. “And unfortunately, she’s my sister.”

“Wait so you’re… Y/n Harkness?” Alice questioned.

“Yeah,” sometimes that name scared even you yourself. “And believe me there isn’t a day I didn’t wish I was there back then to stop her. But at the same time… she’s my sister, you know? And she wasn’t always bad… she was a good witch, corrupted by her powers too young,” you turned to Teen. “It’s like having an emo kid, you think it’s just a phase and fun and the next day they’re smoking pot and running around at 1 a.m. playing Batman.”

“You think dark magic is just a phase?” Jen laughs.

“Well who hasn’t ever tried a bit of it, right?” you brush it off with a guilty smile.

“Wow you’re acting like I’m the only one wicked here. I clearly remember you set your ex-boyfriend’s car on fire… with him in it,” Agatha snaps back as she joins your circle.

“Hey, that was your idea! And I was only a 100, you led me to it,” at your response she snorts and gets up again to rather get a walk.

With a sigh you get up off the ground to follow her this time, which wasn’t any hard of a task. Your relationship with Agatha was complicated at the very least, but to you, she was still the only family you had left, even if it was her fault. Gently brushing her clearly tired shoulder she refuses to look at you.

“Agatha… I know I haven’t always been the nicest to you, but you’re my family, I love you. And I want you to know I will always stand by your side, even if I don’t agree with you,” after all you would be a little lost in this world without her.

Giving into your comforting words she turns around embracing you in a tight hug. It was hard being mad at you, after all she was the one who always caused the problems in your relationship. No matter how much you wanted to talk sense into her, she was always selfish and short sighted. As she hugged you, she felt herself finally catching the first break in at least the last five years. You could feel all the trauma and exhaustion from the past few days getting just the littlest bit lighter when you shared it together.

“I miss him so much,” she admitted into your shoulder.

“I know. I miss him too,” you assure her, her lost son clearly being a constant on her mind lately.

“I don’t know if I can save him,” Agatha whispered with vulnerability you didn’t see often.

You thought of something comforting to say. „I know you will try everything you can to get him back,” you kissed her cheek lightly.

Holding onto her, you didn’t feel completely lost in the wide world, and you realized no matter how bad she screwed up, you’ll always be her light, just like she was your torch, hurtful when held too close for too long but helpful, warm and comforting at the same time. You didn’t know if there was any chance her son was still somewhere at least a little alive, but you knew that if there was one parent in the world who would move mountains and rivers to find their child, it was Agatha.

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Passion in Chaos

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

SMUT

The Xavier Institute is unusually quiet. Charles has left for a few days to handle some matter, leaving Erik and Y/N in charge of the institute. But tonight, with all the students finally in their rooms and peace settling in, they’ve found a rare moment for themselves.

In the soft light of their bedroom, Y/N lies beneath Erik, their bodies entwined. He is deep inside her, his movements fast and intense, muscles taut. His gaze is soft, filled with affection.

Y/N lets out a loud moan, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. “Erik…” she whispers, her voice husky with desire and closeness.

Erik, his face resting near her neck, murmurs softly, “You’re incredible.” He quickens the pace, and Y/N can feel how close they both are to the edge. Her nails lightly dig into his back, and she moans again as Erik thrusts deeper and harder.

Suddenly, a deafening bang echoes from inside the building. The entire institute shakes, as if something heavy has toppled or exploded. Erik pauses briefly, his instincts immediately focused on the danger.

But before he can pull away, Y/N grabs a fistful of his hair, gently tugging his head back. Her eyes gleam with determination and desire. “Erik, I swear, if you stop now, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Erik stays silent for a moment, then raises an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Is my wife threatening me?” His voice is quiet and teasing, but there’s no trace of anger.

Y/N pulls him closer, her voice demanding. “Yes, and you know I mean it. Finish what you started.”

Erik grins, almost helpless against her resolve. “Impossible,” he murmurs, his words soaked in tenderness. Without another word, he resumes his pace, his movements stronger and more deliberate.

As Y/N moans beneath him, her breathing quickening, a knock suddenly sounds at the door. “Erik! Y/N!” Hank calls from outside, his voice laced with concern. “There’s a problem. Something’s happened out here!”

Erik doesn’t stop, his movements only becoming more intense as Y/N writhes beneath him. “Erik! Y/N!” Hank calls again, louder this time, almost panicked.

Erik, breathless and nearing his own release, finally shouts toward the door, “I’ll… be right there!” The double meaning of his words isn’t lost on Y/N, and she chuckles softly, wrapping her legs even tighter around him.

Erik flashes her a grin before fully focusing on what they’re about to achieve. The world outside their room seems to vanish for a moment as they both finally let go in a shared, intense climax. Y/N cries out, and Erik stays buried deep inside her, his muscles tensed as the last waves of pleasure roll through him.

After they finish, Erik lingers above her for a moment, his forehead resting against hers, both of them panting, savoring the aftermath. Then Erik presses a gentle kiss to her lips, his affection clear in the gesture. “That was worth it,” he murmurs softly, before slowly pulling away.

Y/N, still smiling and completely content, watches him as he stands and grabs his boxers from the floor. He pulls them on and reaches for his shirt, tossing it over his shoulders but leaving it unbuttoned. His chest, still glistening with sweat from their exertion, rises and falls quickly as he leans against the bed.

“Erik!” Hank calls again from the door. “It’s important!”

Erik gives Y/N a knowing look, murmuring with a mischievous grin, “Sometimes, I wish this institute wasn’t so chaotic.”

Y/N laughs quietly, sitting up with her hair tousled and her skin flushed. “You can’t avoid responsibility forever, love. Besides, who would’ve thought the great Magneto had trouble multitasking?”

Erik shakes his head, the grin still on his lips. “You don’t make it easy, you know that?”

“That’s my job,” Y/N replies playfully, giving him one last kiss on the lips.

Erik chuckles softly before standing and heading to the door, where Hank is visibly anxious, waiting.

“Finally,” Hank sighs in relief. “There was a loud bang, and it looks like something exploded in the library. We should check it out.”

Erik nods, throwing Y/N a glance over his shoulder before following Hank. “Let’s go see.”

Y/N grabs her robe and joins them.

When they reach the library, they see a large hole in the wall and a group of younger mutants standing around, looking guilty. Some of the bookshelves have toppled over, and pages are scattered everywhere. Erik lets out a deep sigh as he surveys the destruction.

“What happened here?” he asks in a deep voice, eyeing the students.

One of the students steps forward hesitantly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lehnsherr. I… I lost control of my powers. It was an accident.”

Y/N stands beside Erik, watching the scene with a mix of amusement and understanding. “It’s always like this when Charles is away,” she murmurs quietly.

Erik shakes his head, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Alright,” he says finally. “Let’s clean this up.”

[mizading]

Clingy Mornings

~SATORU GOJO~

╰┈➤Synopsis: A simple morning spent with a clingy Gojo.

╰┈➤Warnings: Fluff, abandonment, overthinking.

You gasp lightly when your white-haired boyfriend suddenly rests his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist as you brush your teeth. He groaned softly into your ear, rubbing his nose against your neck.

“Come sleep with me, please?” Gojo whined like a needy child, rubbing your stomach as he held you. Before you can mutter a response, he’s already carrying you bridal style back to bed with ease.

“Gojo.. you could’ve at least let me wash my face” you groan, the feeling of defeat settling in.

Gojo doesn’t bother replying; he carefully places you on the bed, quickly snuggling into you before you have the chance to leave. Little coos of delight leave Gojo's soft pink lips as he nuzzles himself deeper into you, inhaling your soothing scent. His soft hair trickles onto your face, tickling you lightly.

“I love you more than anything baby, you know that, right?” He whispers, placing a little kiss on your nose. He gazed at you like nothing else in the world mattered—just you.

"How could I not know when you’re holding onto me like your life depends on it?” you say between giggles, returning his nose kiss. “But I love you too baby”.

You begin tracing his stunning features, pressing feathery kisses after each stroke. He was so vulnerable in this state, letting his guard down in your presence.

Gojo takes your dainty hand, kissing each fingertip gently. Moments like these remind you just how precious Gojo was to you. There was nothing like having the strongest man in the world lying in your arms, needy for your love. You were the only one to ever see this side of Gojo.

“You left me here alone in bed, without your warmth, without your love.” Gojo whines, rubbing his cheek against yours. He felt extra sensitive today; all he wanted was for you to coddle him. Gojo just couldn’t get enough. He wanted to touch you, squeeze you, kiss you, bite you, and so much more.

“You won’t ever leave me, will you?” Gojo asks in a soft voice, burying his face into your chest. Ever since Geto left, the fear of being abandoned lingers within Gojo, whether he acknowledges it or not. His past haunts him. If only he had done this or done that, maybe he wouldn’t have lost so much.

“Of course not; why would I ever leave you?” You respond in a voice equally as soft, stroking his fluffy white locks.

“Maybe because I’m not enough..?” I’m just terrified of you leaving, just like..

Without warning, you quiet Gojo by pressing a kiss onto his soft lips, forcing him to stop talking. Gojo kisses back hungrily, pulling you deeper into the kiss when you try to pull away. He finally pulls away after losing almost all of the air he had left. One kiss from you solved just about every problem in his life.

“Sorry, I needed that. I've been missing your lips lately." Gojo whispers, wiping the bit of saliva he left on your lips.

Without speaking, you embrace Gojo once again, understanding that he just needs to be held right now. “You will always be more than enough for me, Gojo. I’m yours, and yours only.”

Gojo looks up at you with teary blue eyes, a faint smile on his beautiful lips. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt at peace.

“You don’t have a choice but to be mine, and mine only” he whispers, trying to lighten the mood. Gojo wraps his legs around yours, keeping you trapped within his large frame.

“Gojo.. baby, you’re suffocating me; please let me go..” You whine, desperately trying to push him away.

“Never, never ever. You’re trapped with me for forever.” He replies, littering your face with his sweet little kisses. The rest of the morning was spent with Gojo in your arms, demanding kisses and tighter snuggles.

[airybcby]

my top artist is laufey and my top song was falling behind…i may have a teensy bit of a problem but it’s okay!!🤗

if your top artist is laufey and your top song is falling behind, i'd pair you with...

hiori yo

જ⁀♡⊹｡° only getting older

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event! - masterlist -

♡ content — hiori yo x gn! reader, gn! reader, hiori and reader are kinda friends?, set before he leaves for blue lock, fear of the future

♡ synopsis — you feel like the only person who can't figure out what;s going on in your life, until you meet hiori.

The wind carries a faint chill as you step onto the rooftop, the heavy metal door creaking shut behind you. It’s quiet here—far enough from the chaos of the school day that it feels like another world. You’ve been coming up here a lot lately, seeking a moment to breathe amidst the endless noise of expectations you’re not quite ready to meet.

You don’t expect to find anyone else.

But there he is, sitting on the edge of the rooftop, his legs dangling over the side as though gravity is just a suggestion. His back is to you, and for a moment, you consider leaving. Yet something keeps you rooted—a magnetic pull toward the boy with windswept hair and a soccer ball resting at his side.

“Hiori?” you say, your voice hesitant as the breeze carries it toward him.

He glances over his shoulder, and his face softens when he sees you. “Oh. Hey.”

There’s a beat of silence before he pats the spot beside him, wordlessly inviting you to join. You hesitate for a moment, then cross the rooftop and sit down, careful to leave just enough space between you so it doesn’t feel too close. Neither of you says anything at first, the sounds of distant cars and rustling leaves filling the quiet.

“Didn’t know anyone else came up here,” he says eventually, his voice as soft as the sky’s fading hues.

“I didn’t know you did, either,” you reply. “I come up here to think, mostly.”

He nods, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Same.”

The two of you lapse back into silence, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, it feels like an unspoken understanding, as if the quiet is its own kind of conversation. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his expression is tinged with something you can’t quite name—melancholy, maybe. Or doubt.

“Hiori,” you begin, your voice tentative, “do you ever feel like… you’re falling behind?”

He turns to you, his brows knitting together. “Falling behind?”

“Like… everyone around you is moving forward, figuring things out, but you’re just stuck. Watching,” you say, your hands gripping the edge of the rooftop. “I mean, I’ve never even held someone’s hand in a way that meant something. Everyone’s talking about love and relationships like it’s this huge, life-changing thing, and I don’t even know where to start.”

You force a laugh to lighten the words, but they hang between you, heavy and raw. Hiori doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks at you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “I get that.”

The simplicity of his response catches you off guard. “You do?”

He nods, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I feel like I’m stuck, too. Like… everyone has these big dreams, these plans for the future, and I’m just going through the motions. Pretending I’m someone I’m not.”

There’s something in his voice—something fragile, like he’s peeling back a layer of himself he doesn’t show to just anyone. And you? You’re not sure why he’s showing it to you.

“Well, you’re not alone,” you say softly. “I don’t have it figured out, either.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a fleeting moment, you see something shift in his expression. Vulnerability gives way to something warmer, something almost hopeful.

“I think…” he begins, then hesitates, his fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. “I think you’ll be okay. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“Yeah?” you ask, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet but sure.

The sun sinks lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. You sit there together, the silence no longer heavy but comforting, like a shared secret. You don’t know why you feel so at ease with him, why his words feel like a lifeline in the endless tide of uncertainty. But you do.

Eventually, he stands, brushing his hands against his pants. “I should go,” he says, though his tone is reluctant, like he doesn’t want to leave.

“Okay,” you reply, standing as well. “Thanks for… being here.”

He nods, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You, too.”

He starts toward the door, his steps slow and deliberate. Just before he reaches it, he pauses, glancing back at you. There’s something in his eyes—an unspoken weight that makes your stomach twist.

“Take care,” he says, his voice softer than the breeze.

“You, too,” you reply, the words catching in your throat.

And then he’s gone, the metal door clicking shut behind him. You stay on the rooftop a little longer, watching the sky darken and the stars begin to peek through. You don’t know why, but something about the way he said goodbye feels final, like he’s carrying a secret he doesn’t have the heart to tell you.

And maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to know.

i hope it's clear, but i wanted this to be about hiori worrying about his love-life future AND him going to bluelock

i hope you liked it!