#then we go back and forth for a while trying to schedule something because nobody else has a key to let work people in to my place

[emi1y]

lol fuck that guys pipes <mantra of clearing out my shower with draino instead of trying to get my dipshit absentee landlord to call a plumber for me

[calypso-finale]

Ninety Nine.

The way I have been back and forth to France, I am busy and now I get how my mother felt, but with me it’s close enough for me to get back for Aziel and I can be with him, so I think London being my home was the best idea to me. Aziel gets my time, and this is what I wanted, I did not want him to be left out, I didn’t want Aziel to suffer because of me working which he isn’t, he has a perfect schedule. But I have left him with Grace since his father is in France still, he has been in France ever since, I actually don’t know but he has been away for a while promoting his music, so he is busy himself, but I try and get back for him a lot of the times but this time I am staying over because I have the Dior thing going on. Grace has come in handy, I dropped him off and jumped on a jet here. Halle bless her heart, she took a career break to be with me, and I was shocked she said that “I can get used to this life I can’t lie” she said as she sipped the champagne “it’s not even nine you know, it’s morning still” she is drinking already “one little glass please but the fact I have been on a jet more times then I have fingers, I am shook to the core. My passport is running out of pages, I am loving life, but you know when I got home I said to Colin thank you, for being understanding. He said oh it’s ok you know, you want to be there for our friend, even though you never asked. I think, well I hope I am a help” I chuckled “of course you are, you give me strength. The meetings, just to have you there with me, I feel confident and you being here has given me that, I am happy you are here Halle, and I can’t thank you enough. Lillian I appreciate her too, the boys. Like you all care for me like we family, and we are family, but you didn’t have too” Halle shook her head “to know what you went through, I mean ok we tried but it’s going to affect you, like being alone and doing this? I was like I can take year out and be with you, no string attached. But Lillian said” she cackled “she said I am missing the fucking gossip; I am sick. But when we go back, we need to update her like she wants to know. So fuck that, how are you feeling. Photoshoot and then the whole runway thing with him” I blew out air “I am not nervous, like I am up for it. It’s in the back of my mind and always will be but I am excited, I can’t wait to get out there, but I think Oakley is mad with me about it, he calls and is like Aziel there” I sniggered “oh” Halle said, “oh my god, you know what when you said I have something to tell him, was it that?” nodding my head “oh” her eyes bulged out “oh girl, I never said it to you because like obviously we been here and there and everywhere so fuck” now I am scared “bitch what happened?” I am so confused.

She shushed me “just please don’t mention it to him but anyways we was at the food place, and I was like fuck it, I am going to ask him. I said how you feel after the whole Rylee thing. Oh bro, he was like it is what it is I guess but she could have done it differently, she could have said wait for me and let me heal but she is being a better person for some next man, and I don’t rate that, but whatever I guess. I love her, ain’t fake shit but the way she did it I ain’t like it. Then he snapped because I said bro you taking it the wrong way, because you have nobody so what the fuck. He goes you ain’t see the videos, you ain’t see it. I did, that shit engraved in my head. I am like is this guy real, because you literally fucking wide open, so we had that, but made up then you said that, oh shit” she laughed, I stared at Halle “really?” I am shocked “fucking really, girl. He was really hurt by it, like why she trying to be better for another man, so like I wasn’t worth it for her” covering my face shaking my head “oh my god” I said “I know, I fucking thought the same, like Oakley you not getting the picture, but he is slow. Men are fucking slow, London men at that are slow sister so this is no shock to me” I am shocked “so he didn’t like I said that, I literally told him I have no other man, like this is it for me so why is he acting like I am doing this for another man?” I said “because men, that is it. Colin and Diji would fucking do the same, he just sees you doing better for another man, guy is acting injured” I groaned out “so that is why he is being weird, no wonder but now I know. I can’t say anything” I scoffed “he is butt hurt for nothing, I wasn’t being good for him, so goofy wanted me to be a nut job?” Halle kissed her teeth “leave him, let him realise. Let him do it, these men are dumb” she waved me off, I am just shocked that this happened with him.

My mind is still stuck on what happened with Halle and Oakley, is he that stupid and did he really take it that bad and why, I never meant it in that sense. I am not even looking for another either “I don’t drink, my friend will have that, but can I have water please?” I said to the assistant “of course” she bowed out “I am about to be drunk?” Halle froze staring at me “can’t be rude now” I laughed “no you’re right, we can’t waste” I am going to be the sensible friend now that doesn’t drink. I prefer it this way anyways “these dresses are nice; I am loving them. You think a bitch could get some free ones” I shrugged “possibly, I will find out for you” I grinned “oh clink clink bitch, but I need to get for Lillian too, she is hating me too much” she kissed her teeth “Rylee” the assistant came back in “rapper and now model Digga” oh he is here “aw shit” he said laughing “hi” I smiled “ladies, I am Digga, let’s be formal” he got his hand out, shaking his hand “we don’t hug now?” he said “my legs hurt” I said lying “oh yeah” he laughed “I know you” he pointed “of course you do, who doesn’t know me Diggles” Halle said and he busted out laughing “oh man, this is crazy” he sat down “what is your real name?” I don’t like his rap name “ask your man, he knows” oh he is annoying “oh wait, no sorry. You both aren’t together. Rhys, Rhys Herbert” I laughed out “my uncle is called Herbert too” he let out an oh “I was about to say, you laughing at my name now but Rylee and Rhys sounds peng though, I mean let’s be real. Rylee and Rhys” he clapped his hands smiling “beautiful” I sighed out “how is big Oaks, he good? I peeped his friend Wadz, they been running from my fade, but I have changed, closer to god now” oh this man is annoying “they both ok” he smiled “I ain’t seen man in West, did he erm” he pointed “moved out of west because it’s a bad place in court, oh yeah, yeah he did. Man rather kill himself then catch a fade from me” he laughed “that isn’t funny nigga, we ain’t laughing so shut the fuck” Halle said “I am sorry, I apologise. My bad” he said, that was a nasty thing to say, and I get why Oakley and him didn’t get on.

Halle is sticking by me so close, me and this guy having to be with each other all day is going to kill me because he just talks just to talk and at this point “has big man Oaks ever tell you about his school life? You know what we could have been friends but it’s his fault” looking over at him “he has told me stuff but yeah” I don’t really want to know “he hung out with my opps” he looked me dead in the eyes and I don’t care “so you stabbed his brother” he pointed at me laughing “innocent until proven guilty, they locked me up for nothing” he laughed “but this guy right, he was a hustler, I give him that. But he hung with the wrong niggas, he hung with the people that put him down. He’s a little bitch, like half of these shots didn’t need to be aimed at him but they were and ever single one of this friends that have died is because of him, he’s a pagan, and we don’t like them people. You run with the devil you going to get burnt” squinting my eyes “but you do the same shit, I wonder how many of your friends have died because of you” he went silent and looked away from me “allow it though” he waved me off “plenty, I know this shit boy, we know. You both do the same shit just one has moved out and the other is still stuck on this shit, like grow up now” he sniggered “Halle you know how we do with this postcode war shit, I don’t play that. He moved and he switched, fucking white boy. I’ll beat his ass if I see him, Wadz ran from me. I don’t care about guy; I mean come on. I am me; I am here at Dior who the better one? Please don’t play me” Halle kissed her teeth “I am not doing this with you, but I know the shit, now shut up” I have no clue about this British shit they be talking about “guy is a joke” he laughed to himself “diggles, stop!” Halle spat.

I have already told Dior, I don’t want him touching me at all but the rest we can move with, but the pictures are fitting “we look good together, Rylee and Rhys. Yeah boy” side eyeing him “break for five” the assistant said “so tell me about yourself? I been around and like why you choose him, you have to break your neck to look up at me” he smirked “and I still don’t see it” I said, “oh shit, see you been quiet but like let me take you out and show you how a real man does shit” rolling my eyes “real man, do they exist?” he chuckled “yeah me man, you beautiful and clearly your standards are low because you went with a white man” I kissed my teeth “nigga shut up yeah, my standards are high. You don’t know him, I don’t care if he is whatever with you just shut up ok, I don’t want it. I am not interesting you are obsessed with my ex, get over it” now he made me snap “jeez I was just saying Rylee” shaking my head “I apologise but let me take you for some food, friend thing” shaking my head “no” where is Halle now “how you get with him and now me? He can’t handle a woman, like look at you, you’re peng. Beautiful peng, I don’t even care he been there. I will take it” I scoffed, I walked off “aye, you beautiful” he laughed, he is a fucking idiot, he just wants to piss me off and laugh about it. Let me just stand somewhere else, somewhere where there is peace, he does too much and finds it hilarious when it isn’t.

Turning to Halle and rolled my eyes “he never mentioned that he would be performing here at all, he knew he was doing the afterparty too” I said to Halle “girl, you know he going through some invisible trauma” I chuckled, out of all the afterparties, Central Cee performing here, I mean I don’t mind it. But he never mentioned it and I was never told he would be here either, I really think that he needs to relax. I told him I am not looking for others but Halle told me that in confidence so I can’t say anything to him, looking to Halle and laughing “he is a trip, he didn’t even say. Least he did Obsessed with you, and you right here in the crowd, chile. He love him some of you” I giggled to myself and looking back at the crowd “oh brother” of course he is here “I hope your trap boy is your type” Digga pointed as he made his way into my section “yeah I am not into them, I am turned off by them actually” he sniggered “I can change your mind, a real nigga” I scoffed “yeah I have heard this a millions of times, there is no real. The real I had is over with, he is the realist now drop it” he shook his head “I think he a little butt hurt seeing me here, aye! White boy” Halle swatted Digga “you leave him alone, why can’t you act normal. We are in France not fucking west” she spat “and I am saying hey to him? Can’t I be nice” shaking my head “I am not not doing this, I am not standing with you and you making him mad, it’s bad enough that you and I walked together and did a shoot, it’s business ok” I pointed “but you fine, and I think you need a real man. I won’t lay my hands on you” I kissed my teeth “nigga fuck you” I shook my head walking off “Why you being a bitch for” he grabbed my arm “the fuck you touching” I stepped back and hit his shoulder “you playing me b” he grabbed my hand and I moved “you stay out of it you fucking bird bitch, I am sick of your mouth” he said to Halle “you leave me alone and I will pretend this shit didn’t happen” I said to him, he stared me down “you fuck that white guy, you fuck anyone” he said in my face, a loud gasp left my lips as Digga was thrown down to the ground, he hit the table with the drinks and all the glass smashed. Oakley started to beat him up “holy shit” I just said, Digga threw Oakley off him “Oakley leave it!” I shouted to grab his arm, but Halle just moved me “oh my days, I been waiting on you bro” he is so demonic “fuck you bro” Juke kicked him in the face “he has a knife” I said to Halle “leave it!” I said “just stop” Digga got up like it’s nothing and went towards Oakley and punched him in the face but Oakley just didn’t care, they both grabbed each other and they both fell off the platform we are on, hitting the ground “he has a knife” I rushed away from Halle, security started to pile in “get off him! He has a fucking knife” pushing my way through.

They backed Oakley up in the corner, I managed to push my way through “your face, what did you do? Why did you do that, he has a knife, he could have stabbed you” I said “you got tissues? He needs tissues!” I spat, his nose is bleeding badly “I saw him touching you, I peeped it ok” the security guard tapped my shoulder “he needs to leave” I scoffed “he fucking didn’t do anything, Oakley just put your head back” he is so quiet “I am here!” Halle said “tissues” I ended up forcefully putting his head back and placed the tissue under his nose, Oakley is just staring at me and I stared at him back “why?” I said to him “he touched you, I saw it” I shook my head “and he had a knife, he is unhinged. Please don’t do that, I could have handled it” he didn’t need to do that “he needs to leave, now!” security are being so annoying “from the back! Don’t test me, you don’t know who the fuck I am, this afterparty is mine! Done for me by Dior and what I say goes, so you open the back door, you get a car for him! He will be then gone” who do they think they are “I am good, I am fine” Oakley said, moving hand back “allow it” he mumbled “Oakley, don’t say allow it and walk off” Halle said, “I am gone, don’t worry about it” Oakley just walked off “you stubborn man!” Halle shouted “nigga you ran from the fade again” why is Digga still here, then I see he is in handcuffs.

[copingmechanism1899]

July 31, 2024

Hmm… it’s been a while. But now I’ve got to change. A big thing this summer: therapy. I’ve done the one-on-one thing before, but this is some group shit.

Now don’t get me wrong, I think group stuff can work for some people, and I like the handouts we get (I like having notes on paper, visible in front of me). But… most of my problems are with people, so being with people isn’t my favorite.

There are some “characters” there, but they come and go. And we’re not supposed to become friends or anything so it’s fine 90% of the time. I just, don’t talk to anyone during breaks. Sometimes people will say something and I’ll respond, we’ll have a lil back and forth, but that’s about it.”

During groups, I do my due diligence, answering questions when asked, and sharing when all of us are told to say something. I have a bit of a problem where I don’t like silence, and so when the therapists are at the front and say “Anyone? I can’t really read the vibe of the room if nobody says anything,” I sometimes say stuff even if I’ve already gone. And I fear that makes me seem like I talk lot because I also hate when people can’t stfu.

But I digress. I’m a people pleaser and a pushover so every time I open my mouth it’s a little game of “am I talking too much? Is everyone annoyed? Do they think I’m trying to make it about me?” Haha… fun inner monologue.

Schedule wise, I was at the all day “PHP” (9:30-2:30) for a while, and have since been moved down to “IOP” (9:30-12:30), so, nice. I’ve not really had a summer of freedom since before highschool. From going into freshman year of hs, into sophomore year of college, I was doing summer school. And after that, every break I was in a cast/boot/wheelchair, unable to walk.

Last summer was the first time I didn’t have summer school. I thought that I would actually do something fun, then buckle down next summer and get a job or something. But I didn’t. Sucks, but what can I do. So I thought, “maybe this summer.”

But nope, I come home, and not even a week later I’m in therapy for most of the day. (Not to mention all the dr appts I was catching up on before that as well.)

Overall I think it’s going… fine. It’s not as painful/cliché as it could be, and I think what they’re teaching is good. In theory. And that’s the problem. I’m not sure that I can use what I’m learning in the moment.

This past week, I actually went out of state with family to visit other family. And yeah, it was fun, and stressful. But overall, no thoughts. And if you asked, I’d say I had fun and list the stuff I did.

But in hindsight, there were probably someone moments where I could have used some of the skills I learned. But they never even crossed my mind.

I’m very forgetful, and another example of that is I had a convo with the therapist, and she suggested “journaling”. And gut reaction: how in the dork diaries is writing in a little glittery book from justice going to help me?

But I know “journaling” can be different. I know a lot of people do poetry (i fucking despise poetry), or just write down to-do lists or what they did that day. So I figured, hey. I’ve already done this, right? I’ll just go back to tumblr.

Whatever, she asked me to do this, when? The 16/17th? And this is my first time doing it. Yikes. Not too hot on the consistency train. But it’s a step right? They say “trying is doing” so they’d count this as a win (even if I wouldn’t).

Feels like a cop out, like I’m doing it just to do it, it feels disingenuous. But I feel worse saying that I’m not doing everything I can (no matter how stupid) to get “better.”

So I’m going to therapy, I’m taking my (newly prescribed) meds, and I’m trying so f*ing hard to “be open” and talk with my mom.

Yeah, that’s another can of worms. But it’s getting better ig. I still feel like if I’m not doing something productive, that I’m failing and disappointing people, but that’s a personal thing.

I need to working through that, but therapists aren’t there to tell you exactly what to do. And that sucks. I want someone to tell me how to not be scared of the (very near) future full of unknowns and uncertainties. Nothing is guaranteed, and I’m terrified that I’ll make the wrong choice (or that I already have), and that I’ll be a burden or a failure.

Yay, rumination (that’s something I learned about haha…). Great start to this journaling stuff.

[bravewolfvesperia]

"Yeah, more or less. Sometimes we split up to do solo work where we can. More jobs at the same time is more money to help sustain the guild." Also meant more jobs done, which helped their reputation. Even if Yuri was back and forth between Dahngrest, Aurnion and Zaphias, as long as the jobs got done under their guild name, it didn't matter what location they were completed in.

Hearing about malevolence was pretty new to him though, so even if this too was a guild job, he was more thankful he took this one. Dahngrest had been plagued by infighting once Don died, and while it was getting better, some guilds were still far too loose with their actions. Governing such things was difficult without a definite central leader. Harry was getting there, but many people still looked at him... and didn't see "Don Whitehorse". Didn't see a man capable of intimidating them to behave.

Heck, maybe it was good that they came here. Yuri couldn't help thinking that as he watched them flee in terror at nature turning on them. If the "danger" of the area made them second guess themselves, maybe they would rethink coming back, or trying to mess around in another territory just because it wasn't theirs. The cave was going to block out his view for a little bit if nobody else was in here, but hopefully most of the inner area wouldn't have many people if any. Last time he'd been to a mountain it was pretty desolate too.

"Ladylake, you say... I think I've heard of it, but I don't think I've been there yet. Not much time to explore while on the job, but... well, maybe after. I've heard something about that name and it being a beautiful place or something. Maybe once I head home I can plan to visit it sometime. There's someone I'd like to take with me if I can, depending on our work schedules."

She seemed a bit distant if nothing else, but maybe that was just because Yuri, too, was human. It didn't sound like she was keen on human friends or associations. The princess in question must have been a special sort of person for Edna not seem worried about malevolence around her. "Well, it's nice to hear you have a human friend though. I know a lot of us are whackjobs, but there are some good ones out there. I know a good bunch myself. Grew up around a community that sorta made me what I am now."

The last member's description does strike her as odd. A woman wearing a psuedo-shirt... Edna is not crass enough to ask, but Yuri seems fine with that person, so she's not going to ask anyway. ( Just hopes it's not another pervert because Zaveid is like five perverts in one. ) ❛  She's too busy to help you here, I'm assuming?  ❜

She remembers how the malevolence back at Goddodin was murky and depressing until Sorey found them a Lord of the Land to purify it. It would only affect Edna in a terrible way if she was surrounded by it. She still doesn't know how it happened to her brother, but she had her suspicions... ❛  I'm fine with that. Perhaps you didn't know, but it's easy for a seraph to be suspectable to malevolence that humans make from their negative emotions. If exposed to it for too long... It wouldn't be good for us seraphim. It wasn't a risk I wanted to take. That, and because of the curse Onii-chan had.  ❜

Yet, he still left all the same, she bitterly thinks, but is surprised to see Yuri suddenly excusing himself. She watches him work; it looks like they're discussing something, but the other man seemed very... vexed? His mood seems foul as he starts walking away, Yuri coming back to accompany her. Edna won't ask about what was said, but she is thankful that he got the man to leave without destroying anything from the mountain. At his suggestions, she curiously tilts her head.

Looking at two small figures with pickaxes in the distance, she figures they are the second and third looters, affiliated with the man who just left, and so: she stomps once on the floor, pouring some of her powers into the earth, then she says, ❛  Oops,  ❜ leisurely watching the giant rock spike on the ground suddenly breaking in half, the sharp top portion conveniently falling tip-down towards the spooked intruders. At the same time, a boulder comes rolling down the path, both of them desperately backtracking after scarcely evading the spike. Finally, a great idea that she likes! Edna resumes leading the way, more pleased now. The halfway point is just over there with its circular platform leading into a short tunnel. It contrasts the thin path they're on; although, there are more thin paths and forks beyond the tunnel's exit. 

❛  I don't want to handle so many thickheads at once. I've got my hands full here anyway.  ❜ A beat passes when she remembers the dream Sorey and Mikleo always wanted. They're a step closer to it if she's still talking with Yuri. Surely, this is proof that it isn't an impossible dream; that it will someday make true progress. ❛  But I do visit a town sometimes, though: Ladylake. A few friends live there. One of them is a human—more precisely, a princess.  ❜

[thunderheadfred]

❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

[fruitcoops]

Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better. 

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood. 

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more. 

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment. 

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen. 

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them. 

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.” 

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?” 

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius.  I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.” 

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!” 

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.” 

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus. 

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.” 

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.” 

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.” 

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending. 

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.” 

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

[sourholland]

Hello! Would you be able to do a timothee request? I just went to the gyno yesterday(tmi lol) and they found a lump in my breast:( I have to go get an ultrasound(since I’m 21) so could u do something based on that?Like where he comforts the reader cause ngl I was freaking out a little when they told me haha. Thankyou! And if u can’t or don’t feel comfortable I understand:)

What If? || Timothée Chalamet

Summary → A doctor finds a lump in your breast. When you come home, Timothée comforts you and let’s you know how incredibly strong you are.

AN → so normally i wouldn’t write something like this, only because i don’t want to spread misinformation—but i feel extremely strong about breast cancer awareness. sweetheart, i am sending you all of my love and affection rn. if you feel comfortable, feel free to update me with how your ultrasound goes. i hope this eases some of your anxiety and brings some light and love into your heart. To everyone reading this, please perform breast checks on yourself! See this link to get more information. Requests Open

Pairing(s) → Timothée Chalamet x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Talk of Potential Breast Cancer

Word Count → 900

There are some things nobody can prepare you for in life, most you hear about throughout youthhood. The realities of marriage, parenthood, losing someone close, relationships coming to an end, and so on and so forth.

“So—we’ve found a lump in your breast.”

This was one hundred percent, not fucking one of them. You could still recall the feeling of the waxy paper against your exposed skin. The ringing in your ears remained the whole drive home. The rest of her words almost certainly went in one ear and out the other. Something about how these things can happen, not to worry yet, blah blah blah blah.

Numbness.

No tears, no panic, no disbelief. Utter and complete numbness. Of course, those things would come later. Halfway down the highway on the way home, you’d pulled over the car and couldn’t help letting out a sob of sorts. Nobody ever wants to be told that they could potentially have cancer.

You couldn’t help thinking: I’m young, relatively healthy, a good person. Why do bad things happen to good people? This question posed itself quite incessantly, it wasn’t until you opened the front door to your apartment when you finally felt a bit of relief. The same couch, the same kitchen, the same photos on the wall.

Should I call my mom, you wondered. Would that just make everything worse?

It could be several other things, you could be completely fine, but there was still that small section of your brain asking ‘what if?’ What if what? What if it’s not nothing? What if it’s serious? What if you’ve wasted all of this time? What if you’re sick?

With a shaky breath, you poured yourself a glass of water and sat down on the sofa. An ambulance sounded on the bustling street below you, car horns, and the noise of people going on with their day. This was always such an odd concept to you, the way nobody truly knows what another person is going through.

You’ve just gotten this horrid, anxiety-inducing news; everyone around you continues to live their lives as if nothing has happened. You walked out of the doctor’s office, watching all of these random people meander through the small suburban neighborhood of your gynecologist. There was a woman walking her daughter across the street, a group of teenagers hanging out by the curb, a man driving while music blared through his speakers.

They are completely unfazed, completely unaware. How many times are we all truly unaware? How many strangers have you walked past that have just received the worst news of their life?

The jangling of keys at the door brought you away from your thoughts, Timothée coming into the living room. He yawned, pulling his baseball cap off and throwing it on the kitchen island. His hoodie was eventually thrown on the floor, white t-shirt riding up his stomach when he flopped down onto the couch beside you.

“How did your appointment go? That was today, wasn’t it?” He asked, seeming to look for the remote.

“Yeah—yeah, it was today,” you responded a bit dazedly. “They actually found an abnormality.”

This seemed to catch his attention. You sighed, watching him sit back and look at you more pointedly. He stopped looking for the remote, waiting for you to elaborate. You didn’t want to cry, to make the situation bigger than it was. Truth was, you could very well be completely fine. This was stressful, though. You were rightfully scared.

“Abnormality? What does that mean?” He asked, head propped up with his hand.

“A lump. She found a lump in my breast, I have an ultrasound scheduled for next week.”

He seemed to let out a sharp breath. The sob you’d been holding in finally escaped, face hot and cheeks moist with tears. Wiping away the wetness, you placed a hand on his bicep, trying to ease the tension.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured.

“It could be nothing, I’ll have to go in and see. They won’t really know much until we do the ultrasound, so I don’t really know much either,” you said. “I’m just—I’m scared, T.”

He gently pulled at your forearm, bringing you closer to his body and rubbing up and down your back. With a light kiss to your temple, his words of encouragement slowed your breathing a bit. Holding you tightly, he looked down and into your eyes.

“Hey, hey—you’re going to be okay, hear me? You’re so fucking strong, Y/N. We’re gonna get through this, together. I love you, don’t cry.”

The pad of his thumb swiped underneath your tired eyes, then he leaned in and pressed a feverish kiss to your lips. He was your strength in this moment, his arms around you. You held him just a little bit tighter, telling yourself the same things he was saying to you.

“You are so strong.”

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥A Thought For a Thought🔥

~~~

It was subtle, but (Y/N) could tell he was struggling. The young Squad Leader watched out of the corner of her eye as the newly promoted Captain Levi looked over the reports in front of him, his eyes darting back and forth over the words and his brow almost imperceptibly furrowed. She watched him as he huffed a quiet breath and turned to another report instead, his eyes scanning the page furiously, as if he were searching for the key to some great revelation.

(Y/N) knew the truth. She had never told anyone, never planned to, but thanks to the significant amount of time she spent with the surly Captain, ordered by Erwin to help him manage his workload, (Y/N) could tell. Levi couldn’t read. He had never mentioned it to anyone, had never voiced his concerns with the mountains of paperwork on his desk. He only sat alone in the late hours of the night, trying to discreetly teach himself without anyone knowing that Humanity’s Strongest Soldier was illiterate.

(Y/N) lightly nibbled on the end of her pen as she watched him, pretending to be reading the document in front of her. She was worried about him. She barely knew him other than her brief interactions with him while they worked, but she could see the weight of the stress on his shoulders, see the quick flickers of anxiety flash in his eyes every time he saw the increasing workload on his desk. It also didn’t help that the other soldiers still treated him like shit due to his background. He was a Captain now, so nobody would outright insult him, especially if they wanted to keep all of their limbs, but she knew he knew about the rumors, the whispers, the sneers as he walked past.

Many of the soldiers either hated him for his very sudden promotion or were disgusted by him because of where he came from. It made (Y/N) grit her teeth in anger. People were always so quick to judge, not even caring when his two best friends died, a few of them even insinuating that they deserved to die because of their lives in the Underground.

(Y/N) knew that not only would admitting his struggle with reading and writing make him even more of a target for condescending remarks, but also that nobody would be willing to help him. Nobody would care about a rude, violent man from the slums just because he couldn’t read.

She knew she had to do something. She had been ordered to help Levi when Erwin had noticed that nothing was being turned back in to him, but she knew it couldn’t go on like this forever. Besides, (Y/N) loved to read. She loved books more than anything, they were her escape into a different reality, a whole new world to explore with millions of characters to fall in love with. She had lived a thousand lives, died a thousand deaths, loved millions of times through books, and it made her sad that he couldn’t experience that same joy, especially since it was a great way to relieve stress, something that she knew he desperately needed.

Setting her remaining reports aside, (Y/N) stood and made her way to the Captain, catching his attention as she took a seat at his desk in the chair right across from him.

“Squad Leader (Y/N)? What do you need?” Levi asked gruffly.

(Y/N) heard his rough tone, but she thought she almost saw a flash of relief flicker in his eyes at her distraction, as he placed the reports he had been trying to tackle back on his desk in front of him. Folding his hands in his lap, he leaned back in his chair.  (Y/N) took a deep breath and looked him right in the eye when she spoke.

“You can’t read, sir. Please, let me help you.”

Levi froze immediately, his whole body tensing as he glared daggers at the woman in front of him. His eyebrow raised when she did not flinch away from the dark glower that usually sent grown men running.

“I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t tell anyone, I promise, I just want to help you.”

“Why the fuck do you want to help me?” Levi asked.

“Because I can tell you’re struggling, sir, and I want you to be able to do your job effectively. Also, I love to read, and I think you’d really come to enjoy it once you learn how to do it properly.”

“What’s the catch?” Levi asked with an eyebrow raised.

“There is no catch, only that you have to work harder to save humanity by doing the reports on your desk, once you learn what’s actually on them.”

Levi contemplated her for a moment. Despite his inability to read words, he could read people pretty well, and he could tell she didn’t have any malicious intent, but he just couldn’t help but feel suspicious. He already felt a little exposed at the idea that she had discovered his secret, all on her own at that, meaning he was showing more weakness than he originally thought, but he also couldn’t deny that it was a tempting offer.

He continued to appraise her, and even though (Y/N) had the urge to turn away under his intense gaze, she held her own against him, standing tall and showing him that she had nothing to hide. When his silver eyes finally met her’s again, she could tell he was going to accept her offer, the small twinkle of hopefulness that glimmered in his eye making her heart flutter. She knew he wanted to learn, he just struggled with accepting help from others.

Finally, he nodded once, and moved his chair over slightly so she could slide up beside him and position herself at his desk. He was a little stiff, his body tense at the feeling of her being so close to him, right in the center of his personal bubble, but he eventually loosened up a bit as she gathered the reports on his desk and began teaching him the basics.

______________________________

He looked up when the door to his office opened. Not only was it late at night, past curfew for most soldiers, but (Y/N) was the only one who was allowed to come into his office without knocking, so he knew exactly who it was when he heard the squeak of the door handle.

(Y/N) came into his office facing away from him, using her back to push open the door before making her way to him holding a tray with two tea cups, a teapot, and some small cookies. His mouth watered as she came closer and he nodded at her gratefully, taking a cookie and popping it into his mouth. Usually he wasn’t a huge fan of sweets but he had learned, the more time he spent with her, that (Y/N) was an amazing baker and always made them just right for him. He hummed as the delectable taste melted on his tongue before looking down at the finished reports in front of him.

It had been a few months since (Y/N) had started teaching him how to read and write and he was already making significant progress. (Y/N) was an amazing teacher. She was always so patient with him, even when he was being moody, always encouraging him to keep trying until it finally started to click for him. She had started out with doing most of his reports for him, writing out what he wanted to say and then helping him write different sentences from the report on a separate sheet of paper, taking special care to teach him about each letter.

There were some nights where she even read to him from one of the many books she kept in her room, letting him just relax and close his eyes while laying on the couch, letting himself sink into the world of the novel and forget the problems of his real life for a couple of hours. There were other nights where she would randomly flip it on him, and have him read to her, helping him with pronunciations and challenging him with more difficult words and phrases each day. 

He normally didn’t care about other people’s opinions, but something about the sincerity in her voice, the light in her eyes when she complimented him; it made him feel so special. On top of everything, she had kept her word and refused to tell a soul, even leaving his secret out of her reports to Erwin each time. He could tell in the way that nobody treated him with more malice than usual, something he was immensely grateful for.

He had to keep from smiling as he thought about her, his grey eyes appraising her as she sat down on the couch with her small bag, her eyes focused on the contents inside while she dug through it, looking for her supplies.

“What’s on the schedule for today, (Y/N)?” Levi asked, moving his reports to the side.

(Y/N) looked back at him and smiled, her eyes glimmering with mischief in a way that had him narrowing his gaze at her.

“Oi, brat, what was that look for?”

“Oh, nothing,” (Y/N) replied cheekily, making Levi grumble to himself while he waited impatiently for her to finish organizing her things.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“It’s nothing bad.”

“I don’t believe you.”

(Y/N) snickered at Levi’s blunt remark, reaching for a notebook, a sheet of paper, and a pen from the pile of things she had brought with her. (Y/N) ignored Levi’s grimace of disgust at the mess of things she left on the couch and approached his desk.

“Today, Levi, we are going to be practicing cursive. You will need it for writing letters to the nobles, merchants, and any other groups of people who are associated with the nobility. They will be much more likely to reject requests or ignore your message if it doesn’t look neat and curvy,” (Y/N) said, rolling her eyes in disdain for the nobles and their stupid rules.

Levi scoffed but did not argue. (Y/N) knew he was just reacting to the nobles, his disgust surrounding them carrying over from his days in the Underground. Opening the notebook, (Y/N) flipped to the page where she had spent hours meticulously writing out each individual cursive letter as clearly as possible for Levi to use as a learning tool. Moving around the desk, (Y/N) turned the notebook around for him to see and started by teaching him each individual letter, just as she had done when teaching him normal lettering and spelling.

Levi got a little frustrated with some of the more difficult letters, their shapes and curves making it difficult for him to make them smooth and neat, but he was catching on quickly, taking (Y/N)’s lessons and rolling with them.

When he was finally ready, (Y/N) flipped to a different page in her notebook where she had written out sentences for him to practice, reaching over to grab the blank sheet of paper for him to work on and handing him the pen she had brought.

(Y/N) stood from his desk with a stretch, claiming she had to deliver the stack of finished reports on Levi’s desk to Erwin before the Commander turned in for the night, grabbing the stack and making her way to the door.

“I want you to copy down those sentences until you fill up that entire page, front and back, okay Levi? I’ll check your work when I get back,” (Y/N) threw over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

 Levi, meanwhile, was a little stunned, his face flushing a bit.

“(Y/N) is smarter than Levi.”

“(Y/N) is more attractive than Levi.”

“(Y/N) is stronger than Levi.”

“(Y/N) is a better Squad Leader than Levi.”

Levi stared at the page for a moment before bursting into laughter. It wasn’t a loud laugh, but it was a laugh nonetheless, the quiet sound filling the empty office as he read each sentence again. Levi shook his head at her antics, smiling despite himself as he got right to work.

______________________________

By the time (Y/N) came back into the room, he had filled almost the entire page, his letters getting more elegant with each sentence. He nodded at her when she came in, one that she returned in kind, before he bent back down to finish his assignment. (Y/N) picked up the book she brought with her and read a few pages on the couch while she waited for him to finish, the sound of his pen scratching against the page; the only sound in the small office.

“Done,” Levi said gruffly after a short while, prompting (Y/N) to close her book and walk over to him, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips.

“Let me see what you did,” (Y/N) said, holding her hand out.

Levi handed her the page with a huff, muttering something about her being a pain in his ass. (Y/N) chuckled, knowing he didn’t mean it before looking at the page he had handed her.

“HEY!” (Y/N) shouted suddenly, throwing a glare at the raven-haired man.

“What is it?” Levi asked innocently.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Levi, you know exactly what it is!” (Y/N) said with a playful pout, glaring at the glimmer in eyes.

“I won’t know ‘what it is’ if you don’t tell me, brat,” Levi said with a smirk.

“You wrote all of the sentences backwards!” (Y/N) said, turning the page around for him to see.

“Levi is smarter than (Y/N).”

“Levi is more attractive than (Y/N).”

“Levi is stronger than (Y/N).”

“Levi is a better Squad Leader than (Y/N).”

At the bottom of the page, Levi had even written in beautiful cursive:

“(Y/N) is a pain in my ass.”

(Y/N) glared at Levi again when he pretended to analyze the page, his brows furrowing.

“I am so sorry (Y/N), I guess I just read your example sentences wrong. You know how I struggle with reading, especially with this new fancy lettering, my eyes must have just rearranged the words without me knowing. I was wondering why you were so enamored with me when I read it the first time,” Levi said in a monotone voice, keeping the smirk that was straining to ride across his face from showing itself.

(Y/N) huffed and placed both hands on her hips, tilting her head in exasperation despite the twitching of her lips as she tried to keep her features straight.

“Sure you did,” (Y/N) said, sarcasm dripping from her words before she finally caved, letting a bright smile flash across her lips.

Levi’s breath caught at the sight of that beaming smile, but he shoved down the feeling that rose in his throat. Shaking his head, Levi allowed himself to give up the title of Captain for a moment, and let his own lips curve into a smile.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully, ignoring her fluttering heart, before moving back to her chair and pulling out a new sheet of paper, directing him to write the sentences correctly this time.

“I’m pretty sure this is emotional abuse,” Levi deadpanned, earning him a light slap on the arm from the back of her hand.

“It is not!”

“Really? Because I think my feelings are hurt now.”

“Oh for god sakes…”

The two bantered back and forth while they worked until the moon was starting to sink below the horizon, the night sky turning from black to a navy blue. Standing up with a yawn and a stretch, (Y/N) gathered her things and made her way to the door.

“Goodnight Captain, see you tomorrow,” (Y/N) said with a wink and a smile, closing the door gently behind her.

Levi let out a grunt of annoyance but couldn’t deny the warm feeling that was heating his heart and making his nerves tingle as he stared at the door she had just disappeared through, the page of sentences about them still clutched in his palm.

________________________

Levi knew it was his idea to keep everything a secret, knew it was him who told (Y/N) to act professional around him when they weren’t in the safety of his office late at night, but now, as the meeting he was in dragged on forever, Levi felt as if he would give anything to be able to participate in their normal banter, her good sense of humor and sweet voice always turning his bad days around. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to regret making everything secret. He found himself wanting to sit next to her when they ate in the Mess Hall, wanting to spar with her during training, wanting to invite her on a horseback ride around the base.

He shook his head to redirect his train of thought, trying to force himself to focus on the map Erwin was going over for the next mission. He trained his gaze on Erwin’s finger, watching as the giant blonde traced a trail on the map, explaining where each squad was going to be located. But his mind kept straying, against his will, to the woman sitting beside him. He had the urge to brush his shoulder against hers like he sometimes did during their midnight sessions. He then had the worse urge to place his hand on her thigh, to run his fingers along her covered flesh and trace random patterns on her pant leg.

Levi blinked a few times, desperately trying to get himself out of this rut before he did something stupid like act on said urges. He knew (Y/N) probably wouldn’t even react if he touched her leg, maybe a confused look in his direction, or maybe even the light flushing of her cheeks, but it was the other people in the meeting he was worried about. He knew that for them, if he did something like that, it would be completely uncalled for.

He was starting to get really frustrated with himself, his thoughts caving in on themselves no matter how hard he tried to redirect his focus on the meeting. He wanted nothing more than for it to be the middle of the night, back in the safety of his office with (Y/N) by his side, laughing with him and making him feel more human than he had ever felt, and his heart knew that; was using it against him.

Suddenly, all of his senses narrowed to the feeling of something lightly brushing his own thigh. Glancing down as subtly as possible, Levi’s eyes widened as he saw (Y/N)’s hand resting lightly against his leg, a small piece of paper held in between her thumb and pointer finger. Levi was careful not to draw attention to himself as he reached down and took the paper from her, trying to ignore the cold feeling that washed over his body when she drew her hand back.

Pretending to read the notes in front of him, Levi opened the piece of paper, making sure nobody was watching him with quick glances around the room. Luckily, everyone around him was focused on the map Erwin was using, which gave him enough time to glance down at the tiny piece of paper.

“Why don’t we do some reading and writing practice since you’re obviously so entertained by this meeting? What are you thinking about?”

Levi fought the urge to snort and grabbed his pen, subtly writing his own note and passing it back in the same way she did for him.

“Why the hell should I tell you?”

He saw (Y/N) smile out of the corner of his eye and his lips twitched. (Y/N) stashed the note in her pocket and picked up her own pen to write another.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking if you tell me. A thought for a thought.”

Levi wrote back.

“Will it be worth it?” 

“I guess you will just have to find out.”

Levi really fought back a smirk that time and was quick to write back a response, glancing up every so often to make sure nobody was watching them. This was a dance between the two of them, no spectators needed.

“Fine. I’m thinking that this meeting is stupid and I want to go back to my office.”

(Y/N) smiled when she read his note.

“What else?”

“What do you mean, ‘what else’? That’s what I was thinking.”

“Levi…”

“God damn it, fine! I was thinking that I wish we could talk outside of my office.”

Levi watched nervously as (Y/N)’s brow furrowed when she read his note, her reply slower in its delivery this time.

“Why would you want to talk to me?”

Levi frowned.

“I’m not answering that. It’s well past my turn. It’s your turn now, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that Erwin has large bushy eyebrows.”

Levi raised an eyebrow at her note before responding.

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s what I was thinking! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was the award for the most philosophical train of thought ceremony.”

Levi had to stop himself from chuckling at that one, resulting in a low coughing sound that made Erwin pause.

“Levi, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine Erwin, just a cough, proceed.”

Erwin watched Levi for a second before shrugging his shoulders and going back to the plans in front of him, moving on from talking about the route to the battle tactics they were going to have to use on the mission. Levi had to refrain from rolling his eyes as he heard Erwin talk. Levi already knew all of this, this meeting was nothing more than a waste of time.

A light tap on his thigh reminded him of their previous little game before Erwin interrupted, and Levi quickly moved to write her back.

“It’s not, brat. But I know you better than that, what were you really thinking?”

“Alright, alright, I’m thinking that you’re right, this meeting is boring, and I wish I could talk to you outside of your office too.”

“Why would you want to talk to me?”

Levi subtly smiled at her when she flashed him a glare at the mocking message on the note she had gotten from him.

“Because despite your main personality facet being dickhead, you actually can be less of an asshole sometimes. Sometimes I even kind of like you.”

“Like me? Are you feeling alright, (Y/N)? Maybe I should take you to the infirmary…”

“I know right? Something must be wrong with me.”

“Alright, that concludes today’s meeting. Remember to prepare yourselves, all of our missions are difficult, but this one could be devastating if we aren’t careful,” Erwin said, bringing (Y/N) and Levi out of their own world and back into the meeting.

“Yes sir!” the collective voices of the soldiers in the room rang out, each one saluting the Commander before filing out.

Levi looked at the Commander for a minute while he saluted him, his eyes narrowing on his face. When they had been dismissed, Levi turned and, when he was sure nobody was watching, leaned down to whisper in (Y/N)’s ear.

“You’re right, Erwin does have bushy eyebrows.”

________________________________

After that meeting in Erwin’s office, (Y/N) and Levi couldn’t stop the game they had started. The pair would find any excuse to meet each other and exchange notes, sometimes hiding them in the most ridiculous places for the other to find.

Levi found one stashed under his tea cup in the cupboard when he went to brew himself some of the calming brew one morning. (Y/N) found one rolled up and hidden neatly in between the cogs of her ODM gear. It was a dance, a game that the two of them shared, both of them entertaining the other with conversations about nothing and everything. They found it was the perfect way to further solidify their surprisingly strong friendship without everyone else asking questions about why they were so close in the first place, Levi still wanting to keep his past illiteracy a secret.

Good morning, Levi! Thought for a thought: I am thinking that you are an ass for making us work so hard yesterday during training. I’m pretty sure my legs are useless now, gone forever. Maybe as punishment I should make you practice writing love letters to every female cadet in the Survey Corps. Have a good day!

~(Y/N)

Levi chuckled as he read the note he had found tucked up in the nameplate on his door that morning, immediately moving back into his office to write her back.

Morning (Y/N). Thought for a thought: You’re a drama queen. Do you want to survive in this world or not? If your legs are gone, they will come back. Also, if you make me write love letters to the women of the Corps, I will end you. Have a good day yourself.

~Levi

Levi pocketed the note and left his office to start the day, eager to hide the note in (Y/N)’s coffee tin.

____________________________

(Y/N) smiled as she read Levi’s note, her eyes sparkling with mirth. It was just so him. She could almost hear him telling her that he was going to end her in person, his eyes narrowed and his brow creased in annoyance at the thought of writing love letters. It made (Y/N) giggle lightly, waving off her friends when they gave her confused looks.

Thought for a thought: Good point. I guess I would rather have sore legs than death. It was kind of a toss up at first, didn’t really know which one I’d prefer, but I guess you’re right. All kidding aside though, that mission is coming up tomorrow, are you doing okay? I don’t want to stress you out, so maybe we shouldn’t do our reading session tonight? We both need to get some rest and the last thing I want is for you to be distracted. Take care of yourself and please don’t die tomorrow.

~(Y/N)

(Y/N) put the note in her pocket and rejoined her friends, who were waving at her to follow them to the training grounds for one last field test of the ODM gear. (Y/N) touched the note in her pocket, figuring she could put it in one of Levi’s sword slots on his gear set. She felt surprisingly sad at the thought of not being able to spend the night hanging out with Levi, but she knew he needed to focus. He was important, not just to the Corps but to her. The surly Captain had definitely grown on her ever since she had been assigned by Erwin to help him with his paperwork, especially since she started teaching him how to read and write. She just wanted to keep him safe. 

She would easily consider him to be her closest friend, the one who knew the most about her, her tongue becoming magically loose when she was around him. But he had never judged her, never told a soul any of what she said, always just listening silently, his entire attention focused on her. She sighed and touched the paper in her pocket again, reminding herself that even though he was the strongest person she knew, he was also still human and needed to be protected at all costs.

Raising her head up, (Y/N) set her face in determination and slipped the note into his gear as she put her own equipment on, readying herself for her final flight test within the safety of the walls before she was exposed to the hell of the world in the morning.

____________________________

Levi had felt his heart sink when he read (Y/N)’s note. He knew she was right, they both needed rest and staying up until the early hours of the morning, reading to each other, was not the best way to go about that, but it still made him upset. 

The two of them had developed a routine. She came to his office every night after the curfew of the soldiers. What had started out as a secret way for Levi to learn how to read had morphed into a time when the both of them could just be themselves. It was the only time where Levi allowed himself to smile, to laugh, to crack jokes and to act playful. He loved how (Y/N) made him feel genuinely human, not Humanity’s Strongest, not Captain Levi of the Survey Corps, just Levi.

He loved how she called him names without worrying about being punished. He loved how she teased him and challenged him in ways no other person ever had, aside from Isabel maybe. But even then, the sweet, energetic redhead had seen him as more of a brother rather than a friend, and hadn’t treated him in the same way (Y/N) did. The way they interacted was different than any other friendship Levi had ever had.

Sighing, Levi wrote (Y/N) back saying that he agreed with her, and placed the note on the bar of her left stirrup on her saddle. Once he was sure the note was in a place nobody else would see, Levi left the stable where he had been taking care of his horse and headed back to his office, readying himself for his last night in the safety of the walls.

___________________________

Levi tossed and turned in his bed, one leg under the covers and one leg out, his body both too hot and too cold as he tried fruitlessly to get comfortable. He was normally prone to insomnia, but this was one of the worst episodes he’d ever had. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew why.

An image of (Y/N) flashed across his mind and he growled in frustration. She had to be fast asleep by now, there was no point in even entertaining the idea of seeing her. He just needed to get a grip on himself and go the fuck to sleep. He had never had a problem with sleeping by himself before, he could do this. Just because he hadn’t spent a couple of hours hanging out with (Y/N) didn’t mean anything. He could do this.

Levi took deep breaths, trying to force himself to relax. He closed his eyes and rolled over, moving his hands and legs into different positions, trying anything to fall asleep. When all of his attempts failed, he was just about ready to bite the bullet and start getting ready for the very long day ahead of him when he heard the sound of his door being opened very quietly.

Levi looked over, his eyes narrowed, ready to tear someone a new asshole when he froze. Standing in the doorway, shuffling her feet nervously, was (Y/N). Levi felt like he could’ve cried in relief, her presence already soothing him, but he forced himself to focus. Something was clearly wrong.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Levi asked, sitting up and motioning for her to come over to him.

(Y/N) hesitated but eventually walked over to him. She swallowed hard, her head hanging down.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Levi asked as gently as he could, wincing a little at his rough voice.

When she still didn’t respond, Levi felt a little panicked, but managed to pull himself together.

“Thought for a thought?” Levi asked.

(Y/N) looked up and he smiled for her, trying to reassure her.

“What are you thinking about, (Y/N)?”

“I’m thinking I am being selfish.”

“How are you selfish?”

(Y/N) glared at him weakly. “Your turn first.”

“Oh yeah,” Levi said in a low voice that sent involuntary shivers down her spine. “I’m thinking I am worried about you. Now, why do you think you’re selfish?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and swallowed again before answering. Levi waited patiently. He was an anxious mess on the inside, wanting to know what she was going to say, but he knew that if he rushed her that he would risk chasing her away, and he definitely did not want that.

“I am selfish because I care about you and I want you to be safe. I am selfish because I know you need this rest to do well tomorrow but I can’t stay away from you. I am selfish because I want to be near you all the time and I am tired of the hiding. I want to be nice to you even when we aren’t alone. I want to joke around with you and laugh with you and smile at you and not have it be weird. I am selfish because I want all of that even though I know that doing so would humiliate you, that it would reveal your secret of having trouble with reading and writing, that it would just cause more problems for you.” (Y/N) closed her eyes and clenched her fists at her sides. “I’m sorry, Levi.”

“What the hell are you sorry for?” Levi asked incredulously. 

“I’m sorry for ruining what we had with my stupid feelings.”

“Do you know what I’m thinking, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) shook her head.

“I’m thinking you’re an idiot. You’re not selfish, never have been. All you have ever done for me is help me, even when nobody else cared. You were always the first, the first to care, the first to be my friend, the first to make me genuinely laugh, the first to make me feel like I am worth something. You are not selfish. I want those things too, (Y/N). You have no idea how many times I’ve just wanted to crack a joke in front of everyone and listen to your laughter fill the hall.”

(Y/N) peeked at him from behind her (h/c) hair, her (e/c) eyes shining with tears.

“Did you know that this whole time I have been unable to sleep because we didn’t spend time together this evening like we always do? This night has been fucking miserable without you. Your feelings about this, about everything, are not one sided.”

(Y/N) looked up then, moving her hair out of her face and wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, a watery smile running across her face.

“Do you know what I am thinking, Levi?” (Y/N) asked.

Levi shook his head.

“I am thinking that I want you to hold me, if you’re comfortable.”

Levi didn’t respond, he just held his arms out for her. (Y/N)’s smile widened and she slowly sank into his embrace, following him as he laid down, his arms holding her against him so they were facing away from each other, her back curled up against his chest.

“Do you know what I am thinking, (Y/N)?”

“No.”

“I like this. I am thinking that I like holding you and I already know I will love being held by you. How do you feel about it?”

“I’m thinking that I love being in your embrace too, Levi. I feel so warm and safe right now, like I can’t be harmed,” (Y/N) said.

Levi tightened his grip around her, burying his face into the back of her neck, reveling in the warm feeling of her pulse and the sweet smell of her shampoo.

“Thought for a thought?” Levi whispered softly after a moment of silence, his eyes closed so that his eyelashes lightly tickled the back of (Y/N)’s neck.

“Go ahead,” (Y/N) said.

“I’m thinking…, that I love you,” Levi said shakily, his heart clenching nervously at her gasp. “I’m thinking that I’ve felt this way for a while but I never understood it. I’m thinking that I have a hard time with words but that you needed to hear this, and for you, I’d do anything. I’m thinking that you take my b-breath away. I’m thinking that I wish I knew how to say more, what to say to make you feel good, but that I can’t other than to say that I l-love you with every shitty inch of my being.”

(Y/N) turned around in his embrace, his arms loosening around her just enough to allow her to move. Levi felt the anxiety attacking his heart, his nerves fraying at the seams as he scanned her tear-streaked face, searching for any sign that he had just fucked everything up.

Levi was surprised instead by a passionate kiss, her warm lips nearly attacking his in her desperation. Levi choked out a chuckle that devolved into a groan as he kissed back hungrily, his arms tightening around her once more. When they broke apart, they were both panting, (Y/N)’s eyes sparkling with love as she met his intense silver stare.

“I’m thinking that I love you too, Levi. I’m thinking that my only regret is that I didn’t tell you sooner, that I missed out on this feeling for longer than I would have. Other than that, I am thinking I am now the luckiest girl in the world. You are amazing, and special, and important in so many ways. Not just because of your title as Humanity’s Strongest, but also because of you as a person. I love you, Levi, so much.”

Levi pulled her back up for another kiss, this one as equally passionate as before, but more gentle, his lips moving over hers in a sweet yet firm caress, making her nerves tingle and her heart light on fire. Holding her close, Levi wrapped himself around (Y/N) completely, resting his chin on top of her head as she buried her face in his chest.

“Take care of yourself, brat. Please, don’t die tomorrow. I can’t lose you,” Levi mumbled.

“You will never lose me, Levi, that, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I didn’t.”

Levi looked down at her one more time, his eyes scanning the determination in her gaze before giving her a light peck on the forehead.

“Good, because I’m going to need someone to keep bossing me around and calling me an idiot.”

(Y/N) flicked his shoulder in tired retaliation and Levi smiled as he felt her own grin against his skin.

“Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Thank gods, it’s you,” Levi said, hiding his grin by pressing his face into her hair, her warm body and sweet scent allowing him to drift off to sleep, the two new lovers enjoying their calm moment of peace together before they would be sent off into hell in the morning.

[chilly-me-softly]

Are u going to do a part 3 to the chilly fic its so good <3

Part 1 - Part 2

"I did something stupid" you announce as soon as Mason opens the door to his house, walking in and heading for the living room as if you were at your house.

"You? When have you ever done that in your life" the boy rolls his eyes sarcastically as you glare at him. "This is no time for jokes Mason"

"Okay come here" he claps a hand on the couch after sitting down, inviting you to sit next to him so you don't go back and forth, "What happened"

"Do you promise not to judge?"

"Hmm no but I'm listening" he retorts immediately and a groan escapes your lips as you lower your head and start to doubt at that very moment that that is the right thing to do. But if you don't tell someone, if you don't open up to him, you're gonna go crazy. So you take a deep breath and do your best not to look at him.

"Do you remember how Ben helped me that day? Well I wanted to thank him so I brought him a cake"

"Okay" Mason states looking suddenly curious as to where this is going.

"I just- I used a big plate hoping he might bring it back. But he didn't! Ugh why am I so stupid" it takes him a few seconds to realize the meaning of your words, his body straightening up at the revelation while yours almost wants to get swallowed up by the couch in embarrassment.

"You like Ben? Since when?" but still, his tone isn't judgmental, if anything curious and shocked.

"Mase"

"What? You guys are always fighti- oh"

"What oh" you look at your friend lost as he seems to be lost somewhere in his memory before returning to look at you turning slightly towards you.

"Of course! How the fuck did I miss that" he murmurs, "you acted the same way with Tim Reese when we were sixteen"

"Okay first how do you still remember Tim and second what are you talking about?!" you ask somewhat shocked as he smiles mischievously ready to strike. Oh you knew it wasn't a good idea.

"You were always nervous when it came to him and then when he got close to you you became this impassable fortress of coldness and sarcasm. The poor guy had to sweat to even get a kiss"

"That's not true" you try to defend yourself in vain.

"I might be a little offended you know, you didn't even have a little crush on me"

"Please, you're like my brother ew" you wince as he laughs shaking his head.

"So that's how it is today, it all ends over a plate?"

"It was an excuse Mase" you roll your eyes, "if he wanted to see me again he'd know how to hook me up" in short you had even sent each other a few messages, just to test the waters not knowing how far you could go at the time. But your relationship had never been just about the two of you and there was always that fear of ruining that little step forward lurking.

"Maybe who knows, he needs some kind of push too. Ben isn't the cocky guy he wants to appear after all"

"You know something I don't Mase" you look at him inspectively, him raising an eyebrow. "I won't say anything about him if I can't do otherwise"

"No mh-mh forget it" you shake your head firmly, Mason could talk to you about Ben all he wanted no one would know and you still knew how to handle a rejection by acting like nothing happened. But Ben knowing about your feelings and not returning them... no thanks, you didn't need any more embarrassment in your life to deal with.

"Well then you'll never know what he thinks of you"

"What's he even supposed to think, that I'm a crazy person who always has a say in everything and out of pity helped when I was sick" you shrug as he smiles knowingly, he's never going to tell you how worried his friend seemed in the days following your illness or how he was trying to find out something under the radar. Not if he can't tell him that he might find the door open if he wants to join your world. But as sure as hell he would have done something.

-

You correct yourself. That's the moment you know it wasn't a good idea to tell Mase.

He had asked you a couple of times if you were going to watch the game that saturday, he always did that when there were tough games because he said you were his good luck charm even though it wasn't true and most of the time they won or lost regardless of your presence. However, you had already cleared your whole schedule for that day and so he had extended the invitation to a drink after the game.

Nobody had lost, nobody had won. There was regret for a few wasted chances, but nothing that couldn't spur them on to do better the next game. You'd driven to the stadium in your car, not wanting to wait for Mason after the last time he'd made you wait over an hour outside, having him tell you where he wanted to go after the game and waiting for him there.

The place isn't that crowded and you can occupy a table further away, ordering something while you wait and taking the book out of your bag while resuming your reading.

"Hi" a voice makes you shift your gaze from those pages and you're bewildered to see Ben take a seat in front of you.

"Hi Ben"

"Mase said he'd meet us in a bit, he had something to do" the boy shrugs, "but I'm certainly not going to wait for him to order"

"Go ahead, I've already helped myself" you place the bookmark on the page you are on then put it in your bag and before you can let your eyes rest on Ben again, your phone alerts you to the arrival of a new message.

As soon as you see that it's Mason you get a bad feeling, and as soon as you open your conversation you see that he has sent you a picture of a diner where he is with some of the other guys. And it's definitely not the one you and his teammate are in.

"Son of a bitch"

"What?" Ben's voice makes you raise your head in alarm, suddenly you feel nervous and you want to strangle your friend and you want to bury yourself because what are you gonna do now. All while he looks at you expectantly.

"Um eh I- that wasn't meant for you" you murmur pathetically sighing and handing him your phone, "Mason's not coming"

"I don't understand" Ben looks at that picture with furrowed brows, but you can't read his expression.

"Look I'm sorry he set you up for this really. Um we can go and pretend like nothing happened" you stammer trying to pick up your bag and jacket deliberately trying not to look him in the eye and you try to get up but he stops you.

"Woah hey wait, wait. I'm not letting you go anywhere so upset" he is quick to grab the chair and move closer to you, if he wanted to calm you down he certainly isn't succeeding like this.

"Easy now, just try to explain what's going on please"

"Ben really it's not- it's just Mason okay? I just need to beat him up and then I'll be better" a soft laugh escapes his lips and you find yourself huffing but giggling at the same time.

"Nothing wrong with that. Just answer one of my questions first?" you nod losing focus for a moment as one of his thumbs starts stroking the back of your hand.

"He tried to set us up"

"Is that a question?" you ask struggling to swallow, your voice coming out weak and shaky. What's going on?

He shakes his head slightly, "Do you like me? That's my question" and if before it was difficult to find air now it seems like everything has closed for good. There you go, is that how you're going to die? In front of Ben of all people, and still before you can get revenge on Mason for that low blow?

"Cause Mason probably knows I fancy you-"

"You what?" you croak.

"-but he wouldn't have done that if he didn't know something else" his cheeks are slightly red, so he's feeling all that sudden heat too then!

"Ben I..."

"It's okay, it's okay. Look we're in the same boat here, if anything I'm a lot more exposed than you are at the moment because I've revealed to you how I feel and you haven't really let me know that I haven't really fucked up"

"No!" instinctively you lean forward and you don't know why you actually did it, but the sound of your foreheads colliding together resonates loudly. "Ouch I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Oh my god are you okay?" geez you feel so stupid, embarrassed like a teenager struggling with her first crush and as clumsy as you've ever been... or don't like to remember.

"I've taken worse balls" he tries to lighten the situation but your now worried look doesn't seem to want to give way to anything else as you gently test his forehead.

"What do you say we get out of here? Maybe somewhere less crowded?"

"Yes please" you find yourself nodding and after paying quickly exit the building, Ben firmly takes your hand guiding you to the opposite side of your cars.

Neither of you speak on the way, you're lost in your head trying to calm yourself down to get your thoughts in order and not embarrass yourself further. He glances at you from time to time, what he is thinking you cannot know.

You arrive at the park and after a few more minutes of walking you sit down in a fairly secluded area except for a few people walking quietly on the stone path not far from you.

"You were pretty worked up in there" Ben breaks the silence.

"Being taken by surprise throws me off. Probably if I had known you were coming I would have been prepared, and imagined all the possible situations I might find myself in"

"Do you do this often? I mean do you never live in the moment?"

"Obviously I can't predict everything that's going to happen to me in a day, but the important things I like to know in advance so I can leave the anxiety at home and not risk headbutting people" a laugh breaks free in the air and when you look at him you feel lighter, nothing like the you of moments before.

"And to answer your question, yes I like you Ben. That day you helped me I think it helped me realise that"

"Funny, I realized it that day too"

"Sorry I must have looked like a weirdo" the awkwardness comes back overpowering again as he shakes his head moving closer to you some more.

"You were cute. Different from how you show yourself to others" you smile slightly dipping your teeth in your lower lip. "Now, do you still want to beat up Mase?"

"You betcha" you reply promptly causing him to laugh, "but not right now"

[shurisneakers]

shut in [3]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, ptsd, fighting over beds

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: every part i introduce more anonymous characters smh. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Don’t make me shoot you, Wilson.”

“It doesn’t have to end this way, agent.”

“How’s it looking out there?”

“There’s been some talk. Apparently Serpentine isn’t very happy that their intel is dead. They’ve got people looking out for you everywhere.”

A frown adorned your face. Sam was leaning forward on his arms, head turned down as he listened to Ransone.

“How dangerous is it?”

“I would say that everyone’s a little wound up. Best not to go anywhere even a little populated.”

“Noted.” It would blow over in a while. The media coverage of Pierce’s assassination would die down with the changing news cycle soon.

“I can have someone pick you up wherever you are. Just tell me where.” 

“Don’t bother. We won’t be here for too long,” you responded, Sam nodding in agreement. Once it quietened down you could leave, go back to Ransone without blowing your cover.

“Whatever makes you happy. Just let me know when you’re out.”

The click of the call ending took with it the only noise in the room.

Sam picked up the phone to remove the battery, discarding it to maintain your security. Burner phones were useful, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

“Wait,” you cut in, holding your hand out for it, “I need to make another call.”

The both of you were seated at the dining table. A piece of paper lay in front of you, playing the dangerous role of being the mediator. 

You were trying to ration out your supplies and create a schedule as a way of finding middle ground. Things were more or less calm for the last two days, but the fight over the bedroom was wading into territory that could only be solved by a good old middle school fistfight.

Currently you were figuring out a meal plan so that you could establish some kind of routine. With bread as the only uniting factor, the other three components were going on a rotation. You had reached all the way till Saturday before running out of possible combinations.

“I’m just saying-”

“Don’t.”

“We’ve exhausted all edible options, it’s the only combination left-”

“I will not hesitate to fatally wound you.” You were only half kidding. The ridiculousness of the ideas he was proposing was entertaining, and you knew he wasn’t being serious. It was hard to catch a moment where he was. 

“Fine. But in case we get to the point where peanut butter and jelly is the only thing that’s left, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

“I would rather die than shovel spoonfuls of plain jelly and peanut butter into my mouth.”

“Your survival game is weak,” he chided, tsk-tsking at you.

You only rolled your eyes at him, moving on to the next subject.

Bed.

“Easy, we just alternate days. You got the last two days, so I get the next two and then we just switch everyday.” Sam eased back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head leisurely.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” you asked, writing down the plan he had just presented. The bed wasn’t queen sized with memory foam or any kind of privilege like that, but it definitely beat the couch with its odd lumps and depressions.

“A week tops. Anything more is just excessive.”

“Hello,” you said, voice low, even though you were well out of earshot of Sam. He was eying you from the living room window. If he was as good as he claimed he was, he’d know how to read lips and you couldn’t afford to have him do that.

“Code?”

You turned your back to the window, facing the large trees that loomed before you. “1993. It’s me.”

“Y/N?” He sounded suspicious, a little shocked, and you understood why he would be.

“Living and breathing.” You toed at a rock that lay ahead of you.

“Word on the street is that you’re dead,” he pointed out dryly.

“Not me; Pierce. I escaped. It was a trap.” When the rock you were playing around with escaped after a particularly hard kick, you started pacing up and down instead, “Ransone put a hit out on him because he thought he was leaking information.”

“How on earth did he come to that conclusion?”

“Don’t know. He was dead before we got there.”

“Who is ‘we’? You got someone there with you?” You didn’t realise it had slipped out during your conversation. 

“Another one of our guys. Apparently I was a backup in case he didn’t show up, but he did, so now we’re stuck together.” You averted your gaze to Sam who was still observing you from the window brazenly, intently. 

“Where are you?”

“We’re safe.” 

“Alright.” He sounded like he understood, albeit not entirely convinced. “Stay low.”

“Will do.”

With that you hung up the call, dropped the phone to the ground and crushed it under your boot heel. When you were convinced that it was sufficiently useless, you turned on your heel, making your way back.

You walked back into the house, beelining to the kitchen to make up for your missed lunch, only to be greeted with Sam sitting on the couch looking at you inquisitively.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody,” you answered straightforwardly, opening the cabinet to get two slices of bread.

“If it has somethin’ to do with this situation we’re in then I need to know who you’re talking to.”

“Just drop it. It has nothing to do with you.” You found the jar of peanut butter he had already opened, using a butter knife to spread it along the bread.

“Somehow I’m finding that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you must. I’m going to take a nap,” you answered evasively, chewing absentmindedly on the sandwich you had just made. You didn’t bother to look at him as you headed towards the bedroom.

“Hey now, hold on a minute. Who said you had bedroom privileges? You’ve been using it for two days.” You stopped in your tracks, face scrunching in annoyance. “If you’re keeping vital information about my life from me, then I think I deserve to not have a fuckin’ backache when I wake up in the morning.”

You quickly weighed the pros and cons in your head, imagining how the next few minutes would pan out if you just said ‘no’ and left. But in every imaginary argument you proposed, the bottom line ended with him prodding at you until he either got the information that he wanted or the bed.

Frankly, the bed was something you were willing to sacrifice to get him to stop meddling in your business. It seemed like the only reasonable way to get him off your ass.

“Fine.” You spun around to face him. “We’re making an arrangement.”

“Whoever has the bed has to forfeit TV privileges for that day.”

“Sounds reasonable. None of those three movies can be played more than twice in a row.”

That was more to preserve your sanity than anything. You had already seen each of them once, bordering on thrice for Die Hard. Sam’s fault, not yours.

“We should have a codeword. In case there's danger or something. Or maybe if you just want to be left alone,” Sam suggested, finger pointing to the blank space left at the end of the paper. “But it’ll be like solitary confinement since it’s so fuckin’ quiet here.”

Almost on instinct your mind flashed to images of dark cells. Quiet sobs. Blood stains on the wall, originating from clawing at it. Sunlight through one small window at the top. Utter loneliness except for yourself.

You could remember the soreness in your legs from curling up into a ball for hours, rocking back and forth. The smell of drain water collecting in the basement where the cell was.

Isolation.

“You got any suggestions?”

“Huh?” You forced yourself back to the present. Your knuckles had a dull ache in them from holding the pencil too hard.

“Do you have any ideas for a codeword?” Sam repeated, looking at you intently.

“No, nothing off the top of my head.” You shook your head, trying to regain focus. You loosened your grip on the pencil, letting it fall to the table.

“We’ll just leave it at ‘Brooklyn’ for the time being.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed to whatever he was saying. It was just a precaution in case something major happened. It was rather unlikely that you were going to use it anyway. 

Codewords weren’t uncommon in your business, but it was mostly used for missions or other professional standings. Regardless of being less adventurous than what you tended to work on, this was work at the end of the day. 

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done.” His chair scraped loudly against the ground as he got up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out for a while. Need to shake off the possible osteoporosis.”

You didn’t bother asking where he was going, ears following his footsteps as he walked down the hall to the bedroom, probably to get his jacket that he hung up in the drawer.

You left the paper on top of the mini fridge, alongside the car keys and a few dollars you had nabbed in the hurry from Pierce’s house.

Staring around you at the silent room, you realised that there really wasn’t much to do. It wasn’t like you to have so much time on your hands. You could always go for a run or test out some of the weapons hidden here. 

You had the rest of the house to explore, plans to draw up, a post mortem to assess what went wrong on the mission, even though the last option wasn’t possible without Sam’s cooperation.

Fuck it, you decided. Couch it is.

Kicking your feet up, you grabbed the TV remote to flip to the news station. The town rarely had anything to report on but it would be worthwhile to know what exactly was available around. Possibly assimilate in the crowd in case you wanted to be hidden.

It took you a few minutes of mindless surfing through static channels till you found it. It seemed like a scene right out of a Hallmark movie; the reporter was holding a microphone to a child who looked like he understood nothing of what was going on.

You were barely paying attention as it flipped from segment to segment, other things taking precedence in your mind even though you willed yourself to relax. There really wasn’t much to make a note of other than a few good samaritans and how utterly boring the lack of content was. A few occasional glimpses of stores and other resources available in the background were the only interesting part.

You were starting to drift off by the time it reached the breaking news of the evening. Sam had already come back when the sky slipped into twilight. He barely acknowledged your form lazing on the couch, only offering you a greeting and a goodbye as he made himself his dinner to take to the room.

Your eyes were just about closing when the breaking news of that evening came in. It was all politics. People you knew from old missions waving and smiling their way to lead their country as if the dubious acts they committed behind the scenes to get there was erased.

Until you suddenly jolted awake, eyes wide open.

“Wilson. Wilson!” You hit the cushion furiously to get his attention when he didn’t respond the first time around.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What?” he yelled in response, mild irritation in his voice. You knew it sounded like you were shouting bloody murder even though no one was around other than you two, but you didn’t care.

“Look at this!” You couldn’t stop gawking at the screen. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“What? What do you wa-” He stalked into the room, ready to tell you to stop yelling but stopped mid sentence when he finally saw what you were so concerned about.

“Reports claim that the victim was attacked early in the afternoon at his villa. Officers say they found multiple signs of a forced entry, following which he was shot dead. So far no arrests have been made but the police have since released photos of two suspects of whom, they claim, have reason to believe orchestrated the attack.”

On the right side of the screen flashed yours and Sam’s picture side by side. Old mugshots from a petty offence you committed years ago for which Ransone bailed you out.

“The pair are said to be on the run after escaping before law enforcement arrived. If you have any tips on the whereabouts of-”

You turned to look at Sam. His stare didn’t budge from the TV as they once again reminded the public what you both looked like.

Years of anonymity, working in the shadows and creeping around to avoid being recognised only to have the entire country know what you looked like.

“Well, shit,” he finally exhaled. “Somehow I think our stay here just got extended.”

Part 4

[luvteez]

bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong​ for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will 

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“ 

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder. 

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

[peculiarpatches]

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐱 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

this is part 1 of 4 or 5 (??) parts. if you like this, please give it a like and or reblog (or both). feedback is appreciated, always!! this first chapter contains smut. so if that makes you uncomfortable, this isn’t for you. and again, this is part one of others so there will be more :) 

WARNING: public sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, angst slightly??? but not really??? it’s going to get angsty more later down the road, lmao. so, buckle up. it’s one hell of a ride. enjoy :)

*~*

A flush of regret wipes over my body. The moment our lips touch,  it washes over me like a waterfall. One drop then thousands of drops came pouring down, soaking me until I was drowning in it. Regret & anxiety; Both washes over me and yet,  I  know  what I am doing is wrong but I can't bring myself to stop. A tiny part of me didn't want it to stop, either.  He knew that, I knew that.  Yet, nobody said anything. We didn't have to. We were too busy, too caught up, in each other that we didn't need to talk. No words needed to be spoken, to be said. We knew it was wrong but... if it was so wrong, why did it feel  so right?  A moan escapes past my lips and drips onto his tongue. His hands found their way to my hips, fingers sneakily trailing up my shirt and he curls his fingernails deep into my skin, making another whimper slip out from me;  no matter how hard I tried not to speak or let any noise out, he got me to do the complete opposite.  "Now, now, remember what I said... We've got to keep quiet, okay, baby girl?" He had said this earlier  and yet, it seemed as if he wanted nothing more than to get me to scream and shake.  To be putty in his hands, to melt under his touch..  The little shit was trying anything - everything - to get me to make noise.  And unfortunately, it was working.   I  shouldn't love him and he  shouldn't love me. Yet, here we were; Tangled together  with our lips locked and our hands caressing every body piece we could manage to find.    We were in the most uncomfortable place to do this at, though. We were in one of the closets  of Hawkin's community pool. It was after hours now,  the pool had been closed for some time, they always closed when the sun went down and when the children's fathers got off of work and the mothers had to be quick on their feet and head home to cook them a meal.  A few people were still in the parking lot, a few life guards were also gathering their supplies and getting ready to set, sail, and go home. Yet, Billy told me he had a surprise for me if I stayed past my curfew and past my work schedule.  Of course, I knew what he wanted. I knew what he had up his sleeve.  (The so called surprise, as you may have guess is... *drum roll*  his cock!! What an amazing present to gift someone, right?)   I, being the dumbass that I am, agreed, though.   It wasn't bad, per say. It never was bad. Hell, it only got better within each sacred and secret moment we shared together.  That's where the problem was at; I was tired of being a secret. Tired of hiding from everyone. Tired of feeling used. I wasn't Billy's rag doll he could use and carry with him wherever. I also wasn't his personal sex toy that he could slip his dick into whenever, wherever.  I was tired. So, fucking, tired. I was  exhausted, mentally and physically. Having to keep the secrets buried away, hiding them in a place they can't be broken or seen, it was truly going to be the death of me.  Especially from Steve. I was tired of lying to him.  Steve Harrington was my best friend. Best friends since kindergarten, he and I. I hated that I was hiding my relationship - was it even that? - with Billy to him.  Steve and I went to each other for everything.  Always have, always will. When he and Nancy broke up, he came to me, crying his heart out and drowning my shirts (and pillows and blankets) with tears and snot.  (Thankfully, he cleaned them up so I didn't have to. I would've done it in a heartbeat, though. I loved Steve. Steve is my best friend, I'd do anything for him, as I know he'd do anything for me.   So, lying to him made me feel like the shittiest person alive.)   That night, along with many other restless ones, we  talked  and talked until the sun came up.  I did everything I could to make him happy, to cheer him up. I baked him his favorite cookies and favorite meal once as well to try and make him feel better. Almost burnt the kitchen down while doing so, too. And, okay, maybe, the meal and the cookies didn't work out and I failed. In the end, it put a smile on Steve's face which is all I had been dying to see.  Soda dripped from Steve's nose and burnt his nostrils, he was laughing so hard when the fire alarm went off, letting us know the cookies in the oven were bursting in flames. Luckily, we saved the kitchen from exploding with fire and clouding with smoke. Can't say the same for the cookies, sadly.  From that day and onward, he and I still made jokes about burnt crisp cookies and nearly dying because of trying to bake them together.  It was one of our favorite inside jokes, actually.  ("I went to the store yesterday and I walked up and down the aisles and guess what? Not a single one had burnt crisp cookie dough.")  ("You see this bullshit, Harrington? All the cookies in the world are at this fundraiser expect for burnt crisp cookie dough!"  "Oh, man, I'm going to have to talk to the principal about that one... I cannot believe they'd do something like this.") When I got dumped by  one of the basketball players on the Hawkin's high school team, Steve was the first (and only) one who reached out to me and cheered me up. He rented out a few of our favorite movies together and before they could close, Steve and I were quick to rush to the grocery store and we picked up as much junk food as our arms could carry.   That night - along with others - was full of nothing but contagious laughter, sweet and salty foods, and horrible but too good to put down and look away movies.   All the thoughts of Steve wash away once I  feel Billy's hand dip  into the opening of my underwear, his calloused fingers pushing the thin layer of fabric aside  as his index finger slips between my folds, a gasp leaving me as I feel his touch.  His touch felt like fire among my skin, and I was an ice cube, melting in the palm of his hands.  I could feel myself sinking and sinking, slipping away into the pleasure he was about to bring onto me.  "I love when you make that face," He whispers against my neck, lips drifting across my skin, not quite in contact but not so far away either where I couldn't feel him. His breath was hot and I could smell the peppermint gum as he talked.  "Love hearing those pretty but pornographic moans of yours.... gets my cock so hard, you get me so worked up, baby girl...." Billy's scent was intoxicating. Even right now with the  left over smell of coconut lotion smeared across his skin from lathering himself up early in the morning, he smelled perfect. As perfect as can get. He smelled of coconut  mixed with peppermint and a cologne I couldn't pinpoint on exactly what  or which brand. All the scents together may sound odd and unsatisfying but I was nearly drooling as the different fragrances overwhelmed my senses. That and the fact he pushes his index and middle finger inside me, so easily, without any trouble whatsoever. Him, doing that earned another  gasp to fall off  of my lips as it was so sudden, so unexpected.  I knew I was wet, could feel the puddle of wetness coating the bottom half of my underwear but I hadn't known I was so hot and bothered he could easily slip two fingers into me. I shouldn't act so surprised, this was Billy Hargrove, after all. Billy was one, if not, the most attractive guy in Hawkin's, Indiana. Well...in our age group, anyways. A lot of other students and fellow classmates were far from attractive. (Minus Steve, but of course, he doesn't count. He knows he's attractive, just as much as Billy does. Me, telling him he's cute and everything wouldn't change the fact. He already knows it.) Moments like this, I wish I had a jar I could bottle these memories up and store them away, have a look back upon them some day with a smile on my face. I've never felt so alive, so wanted, needed and loved... not until I met Billy.  He made me feel as if I was on cloud nine and he made me feel as if  I could do anything - everything -  and I wasn't just some girl, some hookup, to him. I was special. Sure, hiding and keeping secrets wasn't the greatest feeling in the world, I'll have to have a talk with him about it, about the way I felt, but as of right now, I wanted to touch him the way he was touching me. I wanted to make him feel the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, the ones I was feeling right now. The ones I always feel when he presses his lips against mine or when he just touches me, in general. Hell, even when he smiles in my direction, holds my hand with his much larger one and or laughs at a not so funny joke I tell. I wanted to make his heart skip a beat, as he did with me. I wanted to make him feel as special as he makes me. Before I could register what I am about to say, those three little words leave my lips before I could put a stop to them.  "I love you."  I couldn't stop the sentence, even if I tried.  Billy said nothing. He hums in reply, but no words leave his mouth. He continues to move his fingers back and forth, curling and scissoring his digits deep inside me. I groan quietly, leaning my head back against the shower tile wall, holding myself up the best I could from the position I was in. "There's a good girl," is all he says. He either doesn't acknowledge what I said or he chose to ignore it. My heart aches at the second option but the feeling goes away rather fast as he's sinking to his knees and spreading my legs far apart, his head guiding up to face my cunt and before I know it, his tongue - his mouth - everything is inside and I feel as if I'm on fire.   "Oh... Oh, Billy..." I mewl,  slowly my eyelids drift close on their own as I press my lower half into his  welcoming mouth, my breathing began to grow heavy as his tongue swirls against my cunt which hardens underneath him.  He grips his fingers into my thighs, more  than likely putting imprints of his nails into my skin by  how hard he pressed them down. I didn't mind a few bruises. The bruises were  a reminder this was all happening and not some form of my imagination.    Even from the position he was in, I could feel the outline of his lips curving upward and I didn't need to look down to see the famous Hargrove smirk sitting there across his face; I could feel him smiling in between my thighs.    He, to my disappointment, pulls away, but he doesn't stay far back for too long. The cheeky little shit only wanted to lock eyes with me, shoot me a wink before diving back down in between my legs, eating me out as if he was starving. Saliva dripped down his chin and I could feel it sliding off of my thighs, too.  His tongue was everywhere, going from my pussy to the inside of my thighs to my clit back and all over again. He was devouring me, eating me out as if we were running out of time which was far from the truth.   I didn't mind it one bit. Wasn't complaining in the slightest.  My only  issue was how close I was getting to an orgasm. The signs were all there, slowly building up. My heart was pounding faster than before, my legs were shaking and my knees began to buckle. It was getting harder to keep upward.  My eyelids  could barely keep open, the familiar fluttery feeling grew bigger and stronger in my stomach. Billy, probably knowing I was close to my peak, pulled away and before he stands up, he pushes his shorts down, letting them hang by his feet. "Next time, princess, I want to see that mouth of yours stuffed with my cock; see you gagging for it, all around me. As of right now, I just want to fuck you and leave you  breathless, now bend over and let me see that pretty pussy of yours, baby. 'm gonna wreck it, have you feeling me for days, have you feeling this cock in your stomach. That's what you want, isn't it? To be fucked like I hate you?"    Before I could reply, he's taking me by the wrist and bending me forward, laying my body against one of the shelves in the closet as he rubs my opening with the head of his cock, sending a shiver to run through my body, goosebumps prickling my skin as I breathe through my nose, closing my eyes. I wait for him, wait for the stretch and the opening of his cock but it doesn't come as quickly as I would have liked.  "I don't, by the way. Hate you." He said, leaning forward whereas his back touches my own, "I'll fuck you like I do but I don't. The feeling is mutual." He said and before I could reply - before I could ask what he meant - he's pushing forward, pressing his cock deep inside me, sinking into me with a growl.   "You're so fucking tight, always so fucking tight." He grunts, hissing through his teeth as he rocks his hips back and forth, his cock going deeper inside me, inch by inch, I feel him. He's all I could feel.  He's all I want to feel.  "Please..... please, Billy." My words are crumbling together, my body was breaking apart.  "Tell me," He purred,  his breath lightly  fanning against my ear as he spoke,  his voice was low and irresistible, it made every part of me shake as he spoke. "Tell me what you want. You have to speak up in order to get what you want, love.... So, tell me." "Just you, you, you, you." I'm begging now. I can feel myself getting closer and closer. I'm holding onto the shelf so tightly because I'm afraid I'm going to fall over.   The feeling is growing, the bubbling sensation is getting larger and I can feel myself getting ready to burst.  "Please, Billy, fuck me like you hate me. Fuck me like I'm some whore on the street. Fuck me-" My words are cut off by the way he pulls out only to slam back into me. Him, doing this  - the sudden force and movement - is what makes me come undone. I knew I wasn't going to last long.  Luckily, neither does he. "Oh, fuck. Already came, did you? Such a good girl. Fuck~ you're such a good girl for me. 'm gonna cum too, fuck, I'm so close, (Y/N)." His words, much like mine were, slur together, his thrusts become sloppy and messy. And before I know it, he's cumming with a cry of my name, filling me up as he does so.  "Shit...." He groans, pulling back slowly as he then pulls me up with him, pulling me around to face him as he kisses me suddenly,  the taste of myself still strong on his tongue. It shouldn't be a turn on but it was. However, I was too exhausted for a round two any time soon.  I kiss him back, smiling against his lips.  We stay in this position for a few seconds, saying nothing because the kiss says what all that I needed to hear. He loved me too.  Pulling back, Billy smiles and moves a few pieces of hair out from my face, leaning forward, he captures my forehead with his lips, kissing it with so much softness and affection, I feel all warm and tingly on the inside.  This is the Billy nobody but me got to see. This is the Billy I was in love with.  Not the one he portrayed for everyone in town to see. He didn't have to play pretend, to put on a show, I loved him for who he was. Even the fake persona he wore. I knew it wasn't him, not at all.  "I love you."  Something flashes across his face the moment I say those three words, there's a certain  look in his eyes I can't make out but he grins nonetheless and pulls me closer to him, hand finding their way to my cheeks as he  moves to kiss me the way he had done before. "And I love you."  Of course, I should have known he was lying.  It was Billy Hargrove, after all.  He didn't date.  Didn't fall in love.  All he cared about was the person that looked back at him in the reflection of his mirror and getting into girl's pants, no matter who it was.  More importantly, he didn't fall in love with me.  It was all a lie, all a trick, and I was nothing more than a puppet on strings for him to toy around with.  I didn't know this until the next day. If I had known, I wouldn't have given myself up to him so easily. 

I was -  I still am - a fool for falling for his little white lies.  I should have known.  All the red flags were there but..... I guess I was just color blind.  I just wanted to be loved. And I thought he loved me..... I really did. I guess I was just another girl to put on the top of his list. 

[skaylanphear]

Hi there! Do you have any advice on improving traction towards a fanwork/fic? I love writing—and it's not for notoriety by any means—but having validation and feedback also feels nice (I hope that's not conceited). What would you recommend to someone without a large audience/follower base? I do "advertise" on tumblr when my work is written/updated on AO3. How did your journey start? Thank you!

This is an interesting question and I doubt most people are going to like the answers, but here we go:

So, first and foremost, you need to be realistic about why you're creating in the first place. If you're doing work in a fandom that is older, where content has stopped coming out, or that is simply smaller, you're not going to get much engagement, period. There will, of course, be activity in these fandoms, but it will be far less and the people involved—while they may view your work—will be less likely to comment/spread it around simply because there's not much going on. So if you're creating in that sort of environment (which can be a really good environment if you're looking for something chill with no pressure), then you have to be prepared for low engagement, even if the people you do meet and who are willing to talk about your work are more regularly in your sphere. You can probably make better/closer friends in these sorts of fandoms, if you're willing to try.

But, on the other end of this, if you're coming into a huge fandom late, it's also going to be harder to wade through the massive following to get your stuff out there. For example, in both the Miraculous and Sk8 fandom, I started work pretty early on, when the shows were still gaining traction, and so my "name" as a creator gained traction parallel to that growth, as opposed to when I started writing in the Voltron fandom. With Voltron, I came in super late and so what few fics I had that did gain traction took a lot longer to get there because people already had their fav content creators in the fandom, etc. It's not impossible to get popular in this situation—far from it—but it does take longer.

You'll also benefit from having finished works early on in a fandom's lifespan, at least with writing. This is because there's less competition for views and so more people will be filtered to your work, initially. This means that you have a better chance of getting those comments and kudos. Having a finished work increases this engagement because people look for finished works before works in progress. Generally, the length of a fic doesn't matter much for popularity, so long as it's DONE. When I was writing in the ML fandom, quite a few of my earlier fics were shorter, and they compete in popularity with my longer fics, because people care more about having a finished story, not a long story. That's why when it came to Only Practice Makes Perfect in the Sk8 fandom, I worked hard to get that shit done, because it was the most popular story I had in the fandom and I decided—like an idiot—to make it a long fic. Which, yeah, means people probably love it/remember it more in the long run, but if I hadn't finished it in 2 to 3 months, I'd have lost considerable traction as far as making a name within the fandom.

This leads into one of the most important points, if not THE MOST IMPORTANT point in gaining an audience—consistency. If you do want to be a successful creator, you Have To Be Consistent. This is the most difficult hurdle for all creators, and it is oftentimes impossible to make happen. If you want to aim for professionalism, which a lot of fandom creators don't care about (which is fine), then consistency is how you get there. Nobody wants to read a fic or follow an artist who doesn't stick to creating what they start (RIP all my unfinished works and the people who left me as a result, LOL). Using my most recent works as an example, I very, very, very consistently updated Only Practice Makes Perfect multiple times a week. To the point where people got comfortable expecting it, which is the key variable here. When people become comfortable that you will regularly create content, they not only stick around, but will be more interactive with you and your work. Nobody likes the disappointment of getting involved with a work only for that work to rarely get updates. Most people don't have the attention span to care. I'll admit, if I read a fic that's not finished and the writer takes one week to update, then one week, then THREE weeks, I probably will, like, forget about it. That's just life.

The best thing you can do is schedule. And again, this is the HARDEST thing to do, because it holds the creator to a deadline. Most people who create in fandoms don't want that kind of pressure—and that's fine. I go back and forth on when I have scheduled releases and when I don't, depending on what I'm aiming to do. But if you to retain your audience, telling them that you will update a work regularly on such and such a day and such and such a time, it creates something for them to remember. If they're invested in your work, they will think, "oh, it's Friday, that means such and such is coming out with something new." But, with that in mind, you also have to commit to a schedule that people will remain invested in. Which basically means you can't put things out more than a week away from each other, unless you're really, really famous, lol. If I told people I was going to go on a two week update schedule, I would lose most of my audience. But a week is long enough for people to both still remember and anticipate. That's just how the scheduling of the world works. And if you're an artist that's working on a big project, then you have to share progress, or pieces of what you're doing on a regular basis. That's what generates "buzz" and keeps you relevant. And, yeah, that's a really hard schedule to commit to, because it's a lot of work. BUT this consistency is where you see people being successful. Popular youtubers may not have gained their popularity by being consistent, but most sure do retain it that way. And again, there are outlying exceptions, but they generally ARE exceptions.

Speaking of hard work, here's probably the second hardest thing to accomplish—you have to be prolific. Especially as a writer. You have to write A LOT if you want to gain an audience. And yeah, that means you have to work, a lot. I love my work, so I enjoy that "grind," and I also have developed a lot of strategies to work around writer's block and every other obstacle that tends to catch people up. I work in a very professional manner—I do outlines, and drafts, and plan. I do a lot of stuff that people who do this kind of thing for fun can't be bothered with (and that's fine), but that's because I find it to be what works best in creating an efficient environment. I'm also very, very NOT lazy, lol. I was raised in an environment where you have to work for everything that you want. My parents didn't buy me my first computer, or snowboard, or what have you. We were tight on money and if I wanted something, they couldn't help me—I had to get that shit on my own. And I also grew up on a farm, where hard work was a staple of how you did things. You did things the right way, even if it was the hard way. You can't cut corners and it's the same with this. If you want it, you have to actually do the work, that's it. Some people get lucky with popularity, most don't. Most famous actors didn't become well-known off their first efforts, they had to keep trying and keep working and then they have to continue to do that to stay relevant. So if that doesn't sound great to you, then you might want to not focus on your audience and just create because you enjoy it, lol. Sometimes that's what I do too, when I don't wanna deal with the pressure.

Moving on, here's another point that nobody is going to like. Simply put, you also have to be good at what you do. I think some people don't realize that I've been writing fic for over fifteen years. I currently have nearly 2 millions words worth of fics on AO3 and that doesn't include a majority of the stuff I've ever written. I practice A LOT. I write every day. And I'll tell ya, when I started out in middle school, my stuff was not good. But I worked hard, I ignored the hate, and I kept going. That is the only way you will ever get better at anything. There's no quick way to become a better writer, or artist. And a vast majority of people are only going to pay attention to your stuff if it's quality work. Getting to that point is a process, on top of then creating stuff that fits into popular molds. Not only am I good at what I do (and I don't care how arrogant that sounds—I've worked my ass off), but when it comes to fandoms, I rarely write "rare pairs" and "crack ships." Generally, if it's popular, that's where I am. That makes a big difference and I honestly don't have sympathy for people who write rare pairs and such and then complain about lack of engagement. You knew what you were getting into (it's mostly the Miraculous fandom that gave me this bitterness). If you're not writing what people WANT to read, then your audience is simply going to be smaller. And that audience doesn't owe you their attention, no matter how frustrating it is or how good your work is. I could be the best writer in the world, but if I'm writing RekixCherry fic, I have nobody to blame but myself when nobody reads it. BUT if that's your passion, and writing a certain unpopular thing makes you happy, then, again, you need to not be concerned with traction and your audience.

The last point I'll make is that it matters HOW you present yourself online. A good chunk of the well-known creators in any fandom are, simply put, older people. And those that aren't, and are able to connect with those older creators, have generally created a bubble around themselves of maturity and, like, of being nice, lol. A lot of creators are skittish these days, and if you're an asshole (anti) or fight a lot over stupid shit, you may get a bigger audience, but you will isolate yourself from other creators. And this is important because oftentimes it is your exposure to other creators that will get your work circulating. The reason I got popular in the ML fandom? I wrote a short angst fic and a really popular artist shared it/talked about it and the rest was history. But if I'd had a habit of being an asshole, probably wouldn't have happened. And, granted, I'm not saying don't voice your opinions, but if you're loud all the time, it does turn people off. Especially creators because they are oftentimes the ones being attacked. They don't want to pull more of that negative bullshit into their lives. I'll admit, when I was in the ML fandom, I was down for a fight, but then that's what people came to expect, and it probably did turn others off, and then when I didn't fight, or didn't think the way my audience thought I should, it, again, turned people off. It's really not worth it unless being that type of person IS your platform.

So, that's all the advice I can give, I suppose. And even if you do all this stuff, that still doesn't mean you're going to be popular. At the end of the day, the thing that I stick to is this—I do what I want, I love what I do, and I work hard. If I'm in a position to worry about all that other stuff, then sure, I do, but otherwise… There's no easy way to become popular and, quite frankly, it's better to just "live" working hard and being a decent person than it is to focus on all this bullshit. I've created a working environment where I function within these "points" quite naturally, so it's not something I think about (except for schedules, lol). Sometimes I get popular in fandoms, sometimes I don't. At the end of the day, it comes down to how much work you're willing to do, because you will always be giving more than you are getting back, so you have to at least enjoy what you're doing.

Seriously, just do it because you love it. And if the pressure of everything above is something you don't love (I like a good, high pressure situation, lol), then don't do it that way—it's not worth the grief.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

The Baby Project | Julie Molina

Requested: Yes/No

hold on wait because I’ve got something here— julie x fem reader— and like you know how school pairs you up with people for the whole ‘take care of a baby project’ or whatever it’s called— that with Julie molina and like she and reader develop feelings— oh yeah

A/N: This was kinda hard, not gonna lie! Thanks @calamitykaty​ for sharing your ‘experience’ with baby projects in high school lol. Love you! 

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Julie Molina

Song(s) used: Heaven cover by Boyce Avenue 

Warnings: Just a bunch of fluff! 

Words:  2,914

“Julie and y/n.” You perked up at the mention of your name, even more so at the mention of the name of your crush. 

Julie Molina. Los Feliz High’s rising star. She went from not singing a note for a year to opening for Panic! at the Disco at the Orpheum with her hologram band Julie and The Phantoms. You were aware of what she’d gone through with losing her mother and with it, her love for music. For years, you’ve admired her from afar, watching her blossom into this young rockstar that just belonged on the stage with those three cute boys by her side. You’d never even dared utter a word to her, even if your best friend, Amy told you to at least say hi. A star like Julie wouldn’t have the time to even talk to a ‘nobody’ like you, let alone go out on a date with one. 

So, when Mister Adams called out both your names for the baby project for your Child Development class, your insides heated up while your heart started beating faster. Especially when the Latina girl turned around to look at you and give you an acknowledging smile. The world seemed to stop all at once, and it made you wonder if you were even still alive at all. 

“You have the rest of the class to start getting to know your babies and partners and begin thinking of names together. You’re going to make a birth announcement for your child together and it will be the first assignment you’ll be graded on,” mister Adams’ voice droned on about the project, but your mind had already wandered back to Julie. 

She had her head propped up in her hand, her long, elegant fingers disappearing into the mop of curls that beautifully laid over her shoulders. You had always admired how healthy Julie’s locks looked. Her hair was so glossy and clearly taken care of. And her style. Her style was impeccable. Today, she was wearing your favorite outfit of hers. A baby blue, ditsy floral dress with a white T-shirt underneath it and a fuzzy bear coat thrown over it. Paired with her white doodled-on sneakers, it was the prettiest outfit you had ever seen. But your all-time-favorite thing of hers, looks-wise, was the little gap between her teeth. It made her look so innocent and perfectly imperfect. 

“Get to it!” mister Adams clapped his hands together, waking you up from your hazy daydream. Before you can properly register what’s happening, Julie had reached your desk already and taken a seat next to you with her gap-toothed smile plastered on her face. 

“Hi,” she greeted. 

Your hands started to shake as you stumbled over your next words, “Hey. I--I’m y/n.” 

A giggle erupts from Julie’s mouth as she placed her hand on top of yours. For a second, you swore you could feel a spark of electricity going from her hand to yours. Julie didn’t acknowledge it, so you must’ve imagined it, you thought. 

“I know,” she said as mister Adams came over and handed them their baby in the black carrier. “Thank you, mister A.” The forty-something man smiled down at the two of you before making his way to the next duo. 

Julie turned to you, “So, how shall we name this little rascal?” she asked. 

Her golden brown eyes bored into you, expectantly, awaiting a good answer from you. So, your brain slowly started to get into first gear, going back-and-forth on names you’ve always liked. 

Olivia, Clementine, Alexis, Charlie, Lara, Mason, Alex -- uhm… Olivia could be cute. Or Rose! No, not Rose, that’s Julie’s mom’s name. Uhm… 

Your eyes wandered from Julie’s face to her backpack she had put in front of her on the desk. The silver dahlia pin reflected in the artificial light of the classroom, shimmering and tugging at a thought in your brain. “Dahlia,” you blurted out, not even thinking about it twice. 

Julie’s eyes widened slightly before darting over to the little pin on her backpack. A small smile tugged at her lips as her index finger carefully caressed the metal. At first, you thought you’d said something wrong and had the urge to apologize profusely until she looked up and said, “I like that. Dahlias were my mom’s favorite flower.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You knew the flower had some sort of significance to Julie as  you saw pins on her jackets and backpacks all the time, and even noticed some in the background of her Instagram pictures. But you didn’t know the significance had something to do with her mother. 

“We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. My eyes just fell on your backpack and--” Julie’s hand reached for yours again, shutting you up with the beautiful sound of her laugh. 

“Dahlia is perfect, y/n.” 

Chills ran down your spine at the tone of her words. So warm. So comforting. Like a fluffy blanket was being wrapped around you. It melted away any insecurity and nerves and any other scrutinizing thoughts of self-doubt. 

You tore your gaze away from Julie’s before you’d drown in them indefinitely and grabbed a piece of paper from your notebook and a pencil. “So, I was thinking to maybe have a little dahlia as a card for the announcement?” you suggested as your hand skidded across the paper, sketching the outlines of the flower. 

Julie’s eyes widened at how quickly you could put a nearly perfect flower onto a piece of paper. For a moment, she just let you sketch out your ideas, admiring the passion and determination behind your actions. 

“Something like this?” you slid the piece of paper in front of Julie, who picked it up to look at it up close. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes darted across, taking in every single detail you’d managed to get out in such a short amount of time. The decorative letters that spelled out the baby’s name and the details in the flower itself. 

“Y/N,” Julie breathed out, her eyes finally meeting  yours again. “This is gorgeous! You are insanely talented!” she placed the sketch back on the table in front of you. A blush crept to your cheeks as you stared at the grey lines on the white surface.

“I--it’s not perfect,” you shrugged, scratching at the wood of the pencil. “And I’m not half as talented as you are.” You mumbled the words in hopes she wouldn’t even hear them but she definitely did. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the bell ringing. 

“Come over to my place after school?” she suggested as she grabbed her backpack and the mechanic doll in the carrier. “We can brainstorm some more over the baby announcement and arrange a schedule for who’s gonna take her home when and stuff?” You slowly nodded your head, your brain still going over the words that came out of her mouth. 

Julie Molina wanted to see you after school. Julie Molina. You. After school. 

“Okay, cool. See you tonight then. I’ll take Dahlia with me for the day?” 

“Uhm, yeah, sure. See you tonight, Molina.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as flirtily as it did. But it seemed to have some sort of an effect on the Latina girl in front of you as her cheeks tinted a scarlet red. 

Julie had messaged you on Instagram with the address and her number, which you immediately saved to your phone before heading down to the homey two-story house a few blocks away from your own. 

I’m here

You texted her as you stood on the driveway, your bike on the kickstand next to you. The nerves were surging through you as you looked around. Green plants and trees surrounded you as did all the pretty yellow and pink flowers. One of which you recognized: Black Eyed Susan. According to your grandma, they symbolised encouragement and motivation. Which was something your family needed, and Julie’s too after the loss of her mother. 

“Hey, y/n,” Julie greeted as she exited her house through the front door, shutting it behind her, “We’re gonna go to my mom’s studio ‘cause I’ve got band practice after.” She hooked her arm with yours while the other carried the baby doll’s carrier. 

She retreated her arm from yours and used it to pull one of the white doors open, revealing a spacious area filled with instruments, couches and three boys you recognized as the rest of Julie’s band. All three of them looked up from their spots on the couch and armchair with either a pen in their hand and a notebook on their lap or an instrument -- or part of the instrument in the blonde’s case -- in their hands. All looking like deer caught in headlights. 

“Why’s your band here?” you asked, your eyes darting from the musicians to your project partner. Julie opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “Wait, I heard rumors about them being ghosts, that’s not true is it?” 

A squeaky sound came from all four of them as they looked at each other for help on a good excuse until Julie placed Dahlia on the coffee table near the boys and turned to you, placing her hands on your shoulders. She said, “You have to promise not to tell anyone.” 

“I promise?” 

Julie sighed, dropping her hands from your shoulders and instead putting them into the pocket of her fuzzy coat. “Then yes, they are ghosts.” Your eyes scanned Julie’s face for any sign of a joke, but you couldn’t detect anything. 

“Weirdly not the strangest thing I have ever heard,” you shrugged as you placed your backpack on a chair near you and dug your notebook out of it. “I hashed out some details for our baby announcement during French class.” 

Confused, Julie glanced at the boys and back at the girl in front of her. “You’re not gonna run away and never come back?” she asked you, which made you stop in your tracks, your fingers between the pages of the book as you were trying to get it open. 

“My grandma is into very spiritual things. So ghost chats are quite familiar to me,” you explained and resumed your movements. 

The three boys got up from their spots, notebooks and instruments left on the cushions, and made their way towards you. 

“I’m Luke,” the brunette with the greenish hazel eyes introduced himself, smiling at you. 

Before you could chime in, the boy next to Luke piped up, raising his finger. “Reggie! Hi!” You couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm before your eyes landed on the blondie last in line, assuming he’d introduce himself too. 

“Alex,” he said with an awkward giggle. 

“It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m y/n,” you said just as the robotic sound of a cry sounded through the room, indicating Dahlia needed something. “Excuse me.” You pushed past the boys, as they stepped aside so you didn’t have to go through them. 

“She’s my partner for this baby project thing,” Julie explained to the boys. They shot each other a helpless look, wondering if the others are as lost as themselves. “It’s where you have to take care of a mechanic baby doll for a week.” 

Julie walked over to you as you cradled the doll in your arms, trying to get it to stop crying, and the boys followed suit. They were intrigued by this whole baby project ordeal. 

“Have you fed her yet?” you asked Julie when the baby wouldn’t stop crying. 

“Yes, I did. The second I came home,” she replied as she softly tugged at the doll’s shirt she’d put on her. It was an orange long sleeved shirt with a big yellow smiley printed on it. You knew Julie had a sweater similar to this, which is why Julie had chosen to put this one on. 

“Diaper check?” 

“Was doing that when you arrived.” 

The boys watched this interaction like a tennis match, their heads bobbing back and forth. To Alex, it seemed surreal a teacher would put two girls together for a project like this. If this were a thing back in his high school days, he would’ve never been paired with another boy. 

“Why else do babies cry?” you asked whilst racking your brain on possible ideas to make her stop crying. 

Luke sprung into action then and grabbed his six string from the stand behind them, putting the strap around his shoulder. He strummed the instrument a couple of times into a beautiful, familiar melody. 

Julie seemed to recognize it too, because no sooner, her voice floated through the shed. 

“Oh thinkin' about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free Now nothing can take you away from me We've been down that road before But that's over now You keep me comin' back for more”

Her eyes locked with yours as she sang, a soft smile plastered on her face while you stared back at her with an endeared expression resting on your features. You loved the sound of her voice and you loved the way it was able to calm you down in an instant. Which also seemed to be the case with the robotic baby in your arms whose cries had quieted down. 

Luke’s voice coming in didn’t stop Julie from looking at you either. 

“Baby you're all that I want When you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe We're in heaven And love is all that I need And I found it there in your heart Isn't too hard to see We're in heaven”

The crying had now completely stopped. A quiet calm resting over the entire studio space as you and Julie kept looking at each other. Of course the boys noticed this and couldn’t withhold the smile finding its way to their lips. 

“Is it me or do they look like a cute family?” Reggie whispered to his best friends. 

He wasn’t wrong. Though neither you and Julie would ever admit it, there was a definite spark between you, and it only grew as the week went on. 

You took turns taking Dahlia home and spent lunches and every other hour possible together with the mechanic doll that had become the vessel for your expression of your love for each other. It became such a routine that by Friday, the two of you dreaded turning Dahlia in. Neither of you wanted it to end. Neither of you knew what was going to happen if you didn’t have Dahlia to take care of together. 

Were you just going to go back to how it was with you admiring Julie from afar and her completely ignoring your existence? Or were you going to stay friends? 

Neither of you knew even though both of you had the same questions. 

“Just ask her out on Friday when you’ve turned Dahlia in, y/n,” Amy said as you sat in French together and she had noticed your sighs of desperation. You looked at her as if she’d just said something really controversial. “Y/N, there's chemistry between the two of you! Have you seen the way she looks at you? That is not how ‘just a project partner’ should look at you!” 

You let Amy’s words sink in your brain as you went on with the rest of your day after French class until the moment of goodbye came around. 

You and Julie handed Dahlia back to mister Adams, along with your entire report you had worked on until two am last night in Julie’s garage, the boys all but helping you out. 

The weight on your shoulders should’ve been lifted now that you’d reached the deadline and could actually hand something in. But it weighed down even harder. Mostly because you were anxious it was going to be the end of you hanging out with Julie. It didn’t have to happen, but you were scared it might. 

Everything you want is on the other side of fear. 

The old saying your grandma always muttered to herself haunted around in your brain as you and Julie made your way towards your desk in the back of the class. Neither of you said anything for a while until you both turned to each other and opened your mouths. 

“I wanna ask you--” / “Can I ask you--”

Your words mingled and lingered in the air as you both giggled at the simultaneousness of your thoughts. 

“You go first,” you said, offering Julie the floor. You couldn’t help but feel anxious yet curious about what she was going to say. 

“Can I ask you if maybe we could like, I don’t know… Study together later tonight?” 

Your eyebrow raised in surprise as did the corners of your mouth while a bright pink flushed your cheeks. “I kinda wanted to ask the same thing,” you admitted, which made Julie light up entirely. “So, yes, definitely.” 

You had definitely found yourself on the other side of fear. On the contrary. You had found yourself on cloud nine with flutters in your stomach and clammy hands from the nerves as the date grew closer and closer. 

Crazy how a stupid mechanical doll can bring two unlikely people together.     

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If your name is crossed out it means I couldn’t tag you, sorry! 

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist!

[rin-00]

The Argument - Kieu My x Fatou

How the hell did they get to this point? In the past couple of days Fatou and her have been out of sync. First, their schedules haven’t matched up so they couldn’t see each other as often as they needed to. Then, when they did see each other it seemed like the skater girl was withholding information from her. Kieu My could practically reach out and feel the invincible walls the other girl has put up around her. Walls that she thought didn’t apply to her since she was her girlfriend after all. Every “How are you’s” are either met with a shrug, a vague answer, or a lie. She thought they were past this but apparently not.

They have been lying down on Kieu My’s bed for the past hour, watching a documentary on Netflix about sea life. If anyone were to walk in the room right now they would probably assume they were two awkward friends instead of a couple that has been together for almost a year because of the literal physical distance between them. Usually when they watch movies together, or are even in the same room together, they always have to be in each other’s orbit. Even if it was just pinkies touching. There was never more than just a thumb’s sized distance between the two. But right now? Right now there is about a foot of space between her and Fatou. A foot that manages to feel like a mile. The other girl is staring blankly at the laptop screen and Kieu My can tell that her mind is somewhere else because she herself has been staring at Fatou’s side profile for about 20 minutes now and she has yet to notice. If this was a regular day, Fatou would have turned to her with a warm smile and a slight blush painting her cheeks and teased Kieu My about how she couldn’t keep her eyes off of her. Instead there’s no smile on the girl’s face. All Kieu My sees are furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw. She wants to ask what’s wrong. In fact she has been asking for the past couple of days but she sensed a slight irritation from Fatou the last time she asked and she didn’t want to push. But she’s worried that if she doesn’t push then the distance between them will grow bigger and bigger.

Reaching over, Kieu My paused the film and turned her whole body she would be facing the other girl, “We need to talk.”

She hears Fatou let out an irritated huff, “I know what you’re going to ask, Kieu My. And I promise you I’m fine.”

She had a feeling this was going to be a long night. In fact she was wondering when this moment would come. Her and Fatou have been in a relationship for a while now and they had yet to argue (aside from the time outside her apartment complex) and she knew it would come around eventually. Every couple argues. She read somewhere that it’s part of maintaining a healthy relationship and with her and Fatou having so many differences in how they deal with conflict, she knew that the moment would definitely come. But that doesn’t mean she’s looking forward to it.

“Ok. I’ll believe your lie for now and accept that you’re fine. But something is obviously bothering you. So, what is it?”

Fatou scratches the side of her head and scrunches her nose. How cute. No, wait, Kieu My thought, now is not that the time for her to find Fatou adorable. She needs to put her foot down and tell Fatou that keeping her out of the loop isn’t okay. She’ll tell her she looks adorable once they’ve made up because she has a feeling argument might bubble over to a fight. She also has her own thoughts and feelings she has repressed and pushed aside in order to make Fatou feel comfortable. The insecure nights spent awake wondering if she was the reason the other girl has been so distant. The angry rants to Zoe about how she deserves transparency. The gut wrenching feeling that came with the thought that maybe Fatou was going to end everything.

“Kieu My, please, I really don’t want to talk about it. Okay?” Fatou stands up and walks over to the other side of the room to pace back and forth. Her fingers nervously wringing together.

What felt like a mile of distance now feels like a whole block and Kieu My has to swallow the lump in her throat before speaking, “No. not okay. You have been so distant the past week and I gave you your space. I asked and when you shut me off I didn’t push because I wanted you to come to me. I wanted you to have the space you needed. But, it seems like you’re not making any effort to open up.”

“Maybe I don’t want to open up. Maybe this is something I can figure out myself.”

“Well,” Kieu My said while walking over to the opposite side of the room. The distance between them now expanding as well as her voice level rising. “maybe I can help. I want to help you, Fatou.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

A simple sentence but it managed to open up everything inside Kieu My, “I know you didn’t ask for my help! You didn’t ask for anything! You’ve just been pouting and getting pissed off and going back to being sad for the past couple of days! At the very least, you should be able to trust me enough to be transparent with me.”

“This is something I can handle on my own! I don’t need you to try and babysit me. I can handle being sad for a couple of days.”

“I’m not trying to babysit you, I want to help you. I can help fix whatever the problem is!”

“I don’t need you to fix anything! Why can’t you just be there next to me and let me feel what I need to feel. Sometimes people just need to feel down without a need for some type of solution!”

“What, so you’re planning on just ignoring what is very obviously bothering you until it washes away? You know that’s now how the world works.”

“I don’t need you to lecture me on how the world works, Kieu My. I don’t want you to fix anything. I don’t need you to know everything! I just need you to be next to me while I figure it out the way I need to figure it out!”

“Well, it sounds like you’re asking me to just sit aside and do nothing. If that’s the case, then fine. But at the very least I need you to be honest with me about what’s going on! Are you having second thoughts about us or something?”

“What?”

“Are you having second thoughts? Are you planning on breaking up with me? Because that’s what it feels like right now.”

“No...I’m...no..”

“Then whats the fucking problem? I’m your girlfriend! I deserve more than just shrugged shoulders and a snappy response when I ask you about your life.”

“It’s not a big deal...”

“Then tell me,” thanks to Kieu My’s long legs she only needed to take 5 steps before she’s right in front of the other girl. “Please.”

Fatou’s shoulders drop and with it the walls she had up, “I have to repeat the year.”

Kneeling down so the taller girl can look at her girlfriend in the eyes, Kieu My takes Fatou’s hands in hers and tightens her hold at the sight of the skater girl’s teary face, “What do you mean?”

“I tried everything. I took tutoring lessons, I went to therapy, I did the math exercises, I even spent extra hours after school doing extra credit but it still wasn’t enough. I’m not enough.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, I’m so embarrassed and ashamed of myself. This isn’t something you can fix, Kieu My. I fucked up. A Kieu My style studying session isn’t going to fix this.”

Opening up her arms, Kieu My takes hold of Fatou and immediately felt drops of tears hit her shoulder, “You didn’t fuck up. You did your best and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m sorry I was so distant,” Fatou presses a gentle kiss against Kieu My’s shoulder, “it’s just that when they told me that I have to repeat a year it’s like everything I did was for nothing. I started going back to bad habits like shutting you out. I shouldn’t have done that. I never want you to feel like I’m leaving because that’s one of the things I’m worried about.”

“You’re worried about me leaving?”

“I’m worried that when you’re off to college and I have to repeat a year that you will find someone better. Someone who doesn’t test your patience or is smarter.”

“Fatou..”, now sitting on the floor with Fatou in her lap, Kieu My took a moment to observe the girl. Find someone better? Than Fatou? Is that even possible? Kieu My has never been good with words. It was always Fatou who had the emotional intelligence in the relationship. She was the one who would leave notes with heartfelt words before leaving her house. She was the one who would randomly tell Kieu My why she loves her out of nowhere even in the middle of class. She was the one who knew what to say whenever she would have a fight with her parents. Hell, she was the one who managed to calm down Constantine and get through his thick head. Who else can do that? Not Kieu My. But she sure wishes she could, especially right at this moment. She wishes she can be as articulate as Fatou. She wishes she can find a way to say how much she means to her. How much it means to her whenever Fatou would just take a glance at her and immediately know what’s wrong and what would make her feel better. How much it means to her when Fatou would ask her about space or even something as mundane as her day working at the shop. How Fatou’s smile makes her heart stop. How Fatou’s voice makes life seem less chaotic. How she disliked the world a little less because they gave her the love of her life. But she can’t. So instead she tightens her hold on the smaller girl and kisses the top of her head.

“There’s nobody like you. What do you need from me, baby? What can I do to help you feel better?”

“I just need you to hold me right now.”

“Of course.”

A few moments of silence later Kieu My feels Fatou sit up right in order to look at her face to face, “I do trust you, you know. I trust you with all my heart. But, sometimes I feel like the only thing I do is lean on you. I can’t help but feel like I’m more than a burden than your girlfriend.”

“You’re not a burden. I want you to lean on me. I need you to. I need to feel you against me. I like knowing that you know I’m here for you the same way I know you’re there for me. I want you to feel loved, baby. Helping you is how I let you know that.”

“But, what if one day it’s too much? What if one day I end up messing everything up?”

“Fatou, I can never get enough of you. Like right now, you’re pressed up against me and you’re still not close enough.”

“I’m trying really hard to be the best I can be for you. And right now I feel like a failure.”

Kieu My sighs as her heart breaks at the other girl’s words. She leans forward to kiss Fatou on the lips before brushing away the tears on her cheeks.

“You’re amazing just the way you are right now.”

Feel free to leave your opinion in the comments as well as some fanfic ideas. ✨✨ this is very rough cuz I wrote it while waiting for my dog to poop.

[vixenpen]

Fuck A Fan (Bakugo x Camgirl reader pt. 1)

You had gotten the idea from one of your best friends in the cam industry.

“You sure this will work?”

“Trust me boo,” he had replied, “sometimes the best motivation for a man is a little friendly competition.”

Your bestie had insisted that a fuck a fan contest would be the perfect way to get CallMeKing to finally make good on his unfulfilled promise to see you.

Putting the finishing touches on your flyer, you finally posted the announcement to all social media. You knew CMK was still lurking. So he’d definitely see it. Hopefully, this little contest would be enough to spark his interest, if this failed, you were going to scream.

Because for the first time in your cam career, a man had you chasing him.

The audacity!

To be fair, he did say that he wanted to see you too, but had to keep a low profile due to his career. He promised as soon as worked dialed down you guys would meet up.

Well that had been over a year ago, and not only had you guys not met face to face; he also didn’t seem to check in on you as much anymore.

He still tipped and re-subbed to your page. He had even cash-apped you money for Christmas and your birthday.

But aside from that, there were no more late night, sexting sessions, no more random check ins, no more nude trading.

At first, you brushed it off.

He was apparently a very successful man. Successful men were busy. They couldn’t give you every second of their time. As a successful woman, you could relate to that.

Not to mention, you were a bad bitch and bad bitches did not pine over any man.

PERIODTTT.

Buuuut...when the man in question was fine as hell with boulders for biceps, a big dick, and long money, well...you’d like to think the City Girls, Meg the Stallion, and all the other bad bitches you looked up to would understand your thirst.

“Alright, King,” you sat back in the furry, white computer chair and glared at your laptop screen. “Ball is in your court now.”

“Mr. Ground Zero, can I get a picture too?”

A precocious looking blue haired kid asked. He stared up at Katsuki with wide, hopeful eyes.

Katsuki grimaced.

“Whatever kid, c’mon.”

He leaned down, attempting to keep a safe distance from the walking germ pool, while keeping in the lens of his camera phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks a lot, Mr. Ground Zero!”

The kid giddily ran back to his group of friends.

Kirishima slung his arm around Bakugo’s shoulder, weighing down on his slightly shorter friend.

“Wow, Bakubro, looks like those public relations training classes have really been working, huh?”

“Whatever, I just don’t need anymore shitty press with kids.”

“You still have energy for happy hour with Sero and Me tonight?”

Bakugo replied with a noncommittal shrug. He scrolled absentmindedly through his phone as he and Kirishima headed towards their agencies to call it a day.

He decided to check in on (cam name’s) IG page to see how she was doing.

A pang of longing tugged at him. He missed her. A lot. Sure, she was a cam girl, and being friendly and flirty was her job, but she always brightened his days. With crime picking up steadily over the past year, Bakugo could use her presence in his life now more than ever, unfortunately, nothing in his schedule would permit it.

He was researching a new threat that had been developing in the crime world. Apparently the new mob of villains seemed to have some connections to the crime world in America, and Bakugo found himself flying back and forth to the west for meetings and to make media rounds to help put the public at ease.

His sleep schedule was completely out of whack with all the stress he was under, so any spare moment he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. Which meant no time for his virtual boo thing. Though he did try to make it known he was thinking about her with bill money.

As he flipped through her newest posts, something caught his eyes.

Fuck a fan contest? Winner gets to make content with me at secure location!

What the fuck was this shit?

Whatever it was, he was certainly going to get to the bottom of it when he got home.

CMK: Hey, (cam name) what’s this all about?

Y/N: what does it look like? Fuck a fan contest

CMK: fuck u mean? You don’t do meet ups!

Y/N: 🤷🏾‍♀️ first time for everything.

Anger hummed beneath Bakugo’s skin. Since when did y/n start doing meet ups? She had always told him she didn’t trust her fans as far as she could throw them.

He had encouraged her to not be forthcoming with personal information and never feel like she had to meet up with randos online for money. He would take care of anything she needed before it came to that.

So what was the meaning of this? Had he not been taking good enough care of her? Keeping her bills paid? Her nails and hair done?

Y/N: u entering or what? 👀

CMK: hell no im not entering and neither is anyone else. Now take that shit down.

Y/n: (voice note) first the fuck of all, you don’t tell me what to do. Second the fuck of all, do you know how much money is in this? You ain’t stopping my bag boo. Period! 💅🏾

He was practically seething. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to like that?

Who the fuck did she think she was saying no to?!

His dick stirred in his pants as he re-listened to the voice note of her cursing him out.

CMK: how much does it take to win?

Y/N: just whoever has the most.

CMK tipped $150,000

CMK: now take it the fuck down

Y/N: nobody else has entered yet.

CMK: nobody else up here has the money I have.

Y/N: if you’re not meeting with me, I ain’t takin it down.

CMK: god fucking dammit y/n. Tonight. 9pm. Text me the addy. I’ll have my driver pick you up.

True to his word, CMK had his driver pick you up an hour and a half before the time he had mentioned.

Your knee bounced, causing the black mini dress hugging your shapely thighs to ride up. You pulled it down absentmindedly.

You could count on one hand how many times you had been flown out by one of your fans. It certainly wasn’t a weekly occurrence for you the way it was for other models.

Fear and excitement fluttered in your stomach.

You wondered what the driver thought of you. Heading to this rich and powerful man’s house in the middle of the night.

You had tried to dress up as if you were going to be taken on a fancy date. Your hair styled, silver chandelier earrings dripping from your lobes to match the long silver necklace that dipped between your pushed up cleavage.

If the driver gave two shits, you at least hoped he thought you were going to get a nice meal before getting dicked down.

The community where CMK lived was on the outskirts of town; hidden in a forest of natural and manicured foliage. One could go literal miles between each home before they saw the next one.

You pressed your forehead against the window to take in the flora and fauna, manicured lawns, and huge mansions. So. Many. Styles. Of mansions!

“Here we are ma’am.” the driver announced.

He drove you up a looping, stone drive way that led to a very modern home that reminded you a bit of abstract art what with its odd angles, jutting sides, and square architecture.

The driver stepped out and opened your door. Once you were faced with the massive stairs and wooden doors before you, the song: Pretty Woman blared in your mind. You certainly felt that way.

Before you could knock, the door swung open revealing a pair of red eyes that were devouring your body head to toe.

“Oh my god...”

“Wasn’t expecting to hear that before I even touched you, beautiful.” He chuckled. His lips quirked into the cocky half smirk you’d grown familiar with from his interviews.

Was this real? Call me king was Ground Zero?!

“C-call me king?” You managed to stutter out pitifully.

“I would prefer to call you by your real name.” He joked. “Come in, beautiful.” He grabbed your hand gently and pulled you through the door.

You couldn’t even appreciate the high ceilings, polished wood floors, and tasteful stone wash colored furniture as you followed Ground Zero through the door.

He took leggy strides into the airy kitchen taking out a couple of glasses from a cupboard. You could only gawk.

He looked good as hell in his short sleeved denim button up shirt and ripped black jeans. His physique flexed under the well tailored clothes showing off the broad chest and bulging biceps you’d seen in the Nudes. His spiky Blonde hair looked soft and a bit damp.

“You wanna drink, beautiful?”

“I don’t accept drinks from new people in new environments.”

He looked up to shoot you a half smile. The usual mischief was missing from his red eyes, replaced with genuine affection.

“Of course you don’t. My (cam name.)”

“F/N,” you replied.

“Bout damn time you gave me a real name. Mine is Bakugo, babe.”

He strolled over with a glass of water for himself.

“So, f/n,” his ruby colored eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he stepped right to your face. “Why don’t you have a seat? I promise the couch won’t bite.”

He brought a hand down to smack your round ass, making you jump.

“Can’t say the same for myself though.”

Licking your lips, you lowered yourself into the couch. Bakugo settled beside you so close the sides of your bodies touched. He draped an arm around your shoulder.

“I know you got a camsona and all, but damn, y/n, where’s my feisty little c/n? Huh? Lil Ms. Period!” His voice took on a lighter tone as he tried to imitate your twang.

The attempt earned him a giggle.

“Well excuse me, sir, but I wasn’t expecting the number two pro-hero in Japan to be my biggest fan.” You snapped back, playfully rolling your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m still wrapping my brain around it.”

“There’s that smart ass mouth I love so much.” He tucked your chin.

This close to him, you could feel his warm minty breath fanning against your lips. A familiar warmth was already growing between your legs.

Pulling away you asked: “Why me?”

“Hah?” His brows knit in confusion. “Fuck kinda question is that? What do you mean why you?”

“I mean, I’m a bad bitch or whatever, but I’m just...me and you’re...you.”

“Tch. You just answered your own damn question, dumb ass.” He tilted your face back towards him. You felt his other large hand roam the bare skin of your thigh and shivered.

“You’re a bad bitch. You don’t seem to forget that any other time, don’t fuckin’ forget it now, got that? Your confidence is what’s sexy about you.”

A smile tugged at your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

“You know, when you’re not being a fuckin’ asshole, you can be pretty damn charming when you wanna be.”

“And when you’re not being a defiant little brat, you can be real fucking cute.”

A moan slipped from your glossy lips as his hand crept steadily up your thigh

“Please,” you leaned closer to him, “you love my brattiness.”

He scoffed, amused.

“I’ll show you just how much I like it.”

Without warning, Bakugo scooped you up. His large, rough hands dug into the soft flesh of your round ass as he straddled you on his lap.

Your wet, bare pussy pressed into his bulge as he stole a greedy kiss. Your gasp quickly morphed into a moan as desire burned in your core and flooded your entire body.

His tongue overtook your mouth effortlessly.

“No panties, huh, brat? I can feel you leaking through my jeans.”

“I hate panties,” you managed between kisses. “And bras.”

That little confession just inspired more arousal in Bakugo. He deposited you on the long couch and let his hot tongue snake along every sensitive bit of exposed flesh he could find. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Damn, beautiful,” he managed between kisses, “can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

His bulge rubbed your aching clit deliciously.

You tugged his shirt up over his mess of blonde hair.

He grabbed the deep ‘V’ of your dress and ripped it open, drawing a gasp from you.

“Now we match.” He grinned

“You ass—“

“You’ll have a new outfit by tomorrow afternoon, now shut up.”

True to his word, Bakugo tasted every inch of you. He nibbled your ears making you shiver, licked your nipples making you hiss his name, and devoured your toes like blow pops.

Your body was trembling from sensory overload.

“God..” you moaned.

“You look like you want something, babe,” Bakugo smiled wickedly as he hovered above you. “What is it?”

“Eat me.”