#there are various other posts this applies to but the x reader post(s) are at the top of my mind

[bigwizardhat]

every time i see a post complaining about something not that serious, the replies are littered with people saying “this is not a big deal let people enjoy things uhgnnn” and i don’t know if they realize that you’re allowed to complain abt things that r annoying. someone saying “i don’t like this thing” is not a personal attack if you like the thing. just because you took it like a direct hit to your self-worth doesn’t mean the op wants you dead bc they said x reader fanfic is annoying

[tyler-t0t]

Crowns and Secrets

Established Wanda x Vision, cheating, sub!Wanda x dom!reader, reader w/ pen!s, no gendered pronouns, spanking, unprotected s3x, p in v, daddy kink, cream pie, implied impreg

Word count: 1.9k

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Wanda had never really loved Vision. To be honest, she doesn't know how she ended up dating the android, but they've been together for 3 months. She found herself sitting on his couch watching an old war documentary even though Wanda tried convincing him to watch a RomCom or an animal documentary. He claimed those programs were, "boring and overly staged," despite knowing they were Wanda's favorite.

Bored of the droning war documentary, Wanda pulls out her phone to scroll her various social media feeds. Upon opening one particular app, she sees that you've sent her several posts. Wanda shifts on Vision's couch to subtly turn her phone away from him, although he's more focused on the documentary than the woman sitting in his couch.

She taps the icon to open your app conversation to see a series of 7 rather lewd posts. Some are detailed fantasies while others are images of doms and subs in compromising positions. She subconsciously bites her bottom lip as she takes in the posts before her, feeling the all too familiar heat grow between her legs.

Just as Wanda was about to set her phone down, she feels her phone vibrate, alerting her to a new text message. Eager to talk to you, she wastes no time in opening up the new message, only to be met with 2 words: "come here" followed by a photo of a black metal crown on the foot of your bed.

The brunette sputters a little, knowing exactly what that crown meant. She stands and starts gathering her things. A simple, "I need to get home" all she says to the android as she strides out the door. Once inside her cozy SUV, Wanda's speeding off to your house, roughly 5 miles away. After parking in your driveway, she takes a moment to look herself over in the rear-view mirror.

She steps out of her car and smoothes out the crimson skirt she'd decided to wear, opting to leave her jacket in the car as well. When Wanda gets to the door of your home, she pauses, giving herself a moment to prepare for whatever you have planned. She pushes the door open to find the house in almost complete darkness, the only light coming from a candle set in the center of the entryway. On the table, beside the candle, is a note that reads, "as true as her beauty, the princess remains loyal to the crown."

You've always been a bit cinematic when it came to Wanda, but you knew how much she loved the sappy romance stuff, even amongst the filthiest of nights. You had built a simple wooden throne, even applying the upholstery yourself, shortly after your hookups with Wanda started, so you had a chair for your little witch to worship you on. That throne is where she found you, sat in the living room waiting for your little witch to come running at your call.

Wanda stood in the living room doorway like a deer in headlights as she took in your intimidating presence: dressed in black slacks and a black dress shirt with the top buttons left undone to reveal your heaving chest. Your hair is neatly done with your shimmering black crown, and your cold gaze is blown black with lust. You absolutely loved the particular skirt Wanda had worn because it hugged the swell of her full ass and thick thighs. Just the sight of her in that skirt had your cock jumping in your pants.

You calmly place your hand on your clothed erection and as you give it a long, heavy stroke, you tease her out of her trance: "you gonna stand there, little doe, or you gonna come do something about it?"

The bashful little brunette steps forward and sinks to her knees. She eyes your erection as she licks her lips before looking up at you through her lashes. She keeps her gaze steady with yours as her hands release the buckle of your belt. Her nimble fingers slip the button of your slacks open before she slowly slides her hands along your thighs with a mischievous grin. With a sudden surge of boldness, the young witch leans forward and takes the zipper in her teeth, slowly undoing your pants as she sits back up. The sight of her using her teeth has you releasing a deep groan as your cock twitches in anticipation.

With your slacks now out of her way, Wanda brings a ringed hand up to stroke your thick cock. After only a few strokes she sees a wet patch forming in the fabric of your boxers. Needing to taste you, she leans in without hesitation, and starts leaving open mouthed kisses along your clothed cock. The sensations leave you craving more.

"Enough teasing, Doll. Do it properly."

She looks up through her lashes once again, giving you an irresistible doe eyed look, as she gently removes your throbbing length from the confines of your boxers. At the release of pressure, you breathe an airy sigh that quickly distorts to a guttural moan as Wanda wraps her warm, lush lips around your cock. Having had many nights snuck off to your place, Wanda's become familiar with the way you love her tongue running along the slit of your cockhead. The way her mouth expertly works over every inch and ridge has your head thrown back in bliss, which only increases as she moans around your girth.

You gently weave your hand in her hair, gripping the base of her ponytail, and start guiding her head up and down your shaft. It doesn't take long before you're shoving your entire length down her throat, her throat fluttering as she chokes around you. Tears flow down her cheeks, but you gently cup her face and use your thumb to wipe away the tears. Finally, you allow your little witch to come up and breathe. You silently watch as she gasps for air, her own drool dripping over her large chest. As her breathing gains a rhythm once more, you lean back in your chair. She eagerly jumps to her feet, slipping her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt before you stop her.

She pauses, giving a curious look as she slowly pulls her hands away from her skirt. You smirk at her obedience and give your lap a quick pat. Catching on, she giggles and straddles your lap. As she lowers herself you slide your hands up her thighs, under her skirt, to find no panties. At your discovery, you chuckle. She'd normally be shy and flustered, but there's something different tonight. She doesn't feel the need to be reserved, so she let's her need take over and grinds her bare pussy along your length. At the friction, you both release a long moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me," you chuckle, grabbing at her soft hips and guiding her motions. Under the grasp of your strong hands, Wanda leans back while she grinds, allowing her hands to delicately trail up her torso, taking her shirt with them. She cups and squeezes at her large breasts as moans spill from her lips. She's putting a show on for you, and you enjoy every bit of it. As she rubs herself along your length, you decide to slip two fingers into her mouth, which she sloppily sucks on with vigor.

Your ringed hand is coated in her warm saliva and your cock is dripping, just keening to go where it belongs. With your hands both firmly on Wanda's hips, you lift her up as if she were nothing, allowing your cock to line up with her drenched enterance. As you bring her back down, your cock sinks into her wet sex. She whines as your girth splits her open, which quickly turns to a screamed out moan as your bulbos tip bumps her cervix. Once at the hilt you both pause, panting for air as you reground yourselves.

The brunette hardly has time to breathe before you're thrusting up into her, each vein on your cock dragging along her silk walls. Finally, she grips the back of your throne and starts bouncing on your cock. Each one of her downward thrusts met with an upward one of yours to drive you as deep as possible. The constant abuse at her cervix has Wanda quickly approaching her peak. As her whines get higher in pitch, you lean forward to kiss along her collar bone. Each contact of your lips sends shivers down her spine until, finally, you bite at her pulse point.

Her delicate fingers weave into your now messy locks, pulling your face against her hot flesh as her body convulses. Her back arches as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. With your head pressed against her neck, you have no choice but to continue your assault on the soft skin. Once she's again able to form words, she's chanting in your ear, begging you to cum for she can feel your cock violently throbbing inside her sensitive pussy.

The thought of finally getting to cum inside her makes you feral. She'd always made you pull out so neither of you get caught.

With the new allowance, your arms restrict around her midsection, effectively pinning her petite frame against your chest as your hips piston with new found fire. Your renewed vigor brings about a whole other round of screams from the overstimulated witch. With her pinned to your chest, you easily start a trail of hickies across her bare chest. Releasing her chest with a pop, you groan, "bout to cum, baby. Fuck you feel so good." At your words, Wanda clenches around you, drawing a long, deep moan from your chest.

Noticing how you reacted, she intentionally clenches down even harder, begging, "please please, Daddy fill me up. Need your cum, Daddyyy." Your hips falter a moment, shock hitting you like a wall. "What'd you call me, Darling?" You question with a dark tone. Embarrassed, the young witch shakes her head. Your hand comes down on her ass with a harsh slap. "Say it again. Fuck, say it again, Princess." Drunk off your new title, you slam her hips down on your hard cock at the same time your rigid teeth sink into the soft flesh of her collarbone.

That final thrust forces the tip of your cock to slip past her abused cervix. The new pressure on your cock sends you growling as you paint her insides white. The screamed out moan that rips from her chest is borderline inhuman as she crashes through the most powerful orgasm of her life. Her clamped walls force your hips to a standstill, milking every drop you have.

As you both come back to reality, Wanda slumps against your shoulder, her body still shuddering from the intense aftershocks and her breathing ragged. You smile and rub her back soothingly, muttering praise and compliments. Finally, Wanda's eyes meet yours, but your gaze quickly dart to the dark trail of marks you've left on her. "Well, fuck. Gonna have a hard time covering those up. I'm sorry, princess." She giggles and gently puts a finger to your lips. "I'm done hiding. Let him see, so he realizes he didn't treat me how I needed." Your expression softens, a loving smile spreading across your features. "Besides, I have a feeling there'll be bigger conciquences to our night," she adds as she gently guides your hand over her stomach.

[rosewaterandivy]

10. a kiss is not enough

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C.: 4.5K

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, cursing, sexual situations - SMUT & idolatry (my usual bullshit), real-talk with Nancy Wheeler, idiots still being idiots, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance.

A/N: Holy shit, I can't believe we've come to the end (or is it 👀) of this series! When I started this, I had no clue how many people would respond to Trouble and Steve's idiots-to-lovers story - but I'm so glad that they did! This series will always be near and dear to my heart, for a variety of reasons, but primarily for the people it brought into my life (here's lookin' at you, babe!). This isn't a goodbye from Trouble and Steve so much as a see you later - don't hate me too much! Poetry excerpt from John Keats. 18+ mature content (minors dni). Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated, please let me know what you thought; enjoy & thanks for reading! 💜

series masterlist | playlist - newly updated!

Trouble’s playlist from Steve: trouble will find me

Steve's playlist from Trouble: rebel without a clue

previous || epilogue

Now, May, Finals Week

“Just think about it, kid,” Hopper says on his way out your classroom door. He’d requested a meeting during your conference block, when normally he’d amble in under some pretense just to shoot the shit.

You nod, at a loss for words. It’s not like you needed yet another thing on your plate— waiting to hear back from admissions and not spilling to Steve or the gang was bad enough.

Yeah, you’d applied for grad school (even though grad students were the worst) and Hop had been contacted as a reference, which prompted his little visit today. Apparently, the district had approved a stipend and sabbatical for faculty furthering their education in graduate school.

“I’d like to recommend you,” Hop said matter of factly, sitting in a desk across from yours. “Maybe not for the sabbatical until you’re further along in the program, writing your thesis and whatnot.”

“I, uh–” you stumbled to find the words. “Cart, horse. I haven’t been accepted yet.”

He leveled you with a look, “Are you shittin’ me? Of course you’re getting in.”

You swallowed audibly and busied yourself emptying your desk for the summer, “Well, time will tell I suppose.”

“This isn’t—” Hopper paused in thought. “This isn’t about Harrington, is it?”

“Huh,” you nearly yelled, clutching the cardboard box for dear life. You had been so careful too.

He cracks a smile, “I saw the pair of you at graduation, you think you’re so slick.”

That brings a smile to your face, good ol’ Hop sussing out the goings on like he’d never left the force. 

“It’s nothing.” You assure him, “We haven’t— We’re professionals, okay?”

“I know,” he nods, voice lowering as if he could spook you. “I’m happy for you, really.”

A small smile breaks across your face, “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

Finals done and grades posted, you’d never been so happy to get home. Had plans to pour yourself onto the couch and not move for 72 hours. 

But life (and Steve) had other plans.

He was sorting through the mail, chucking envelopes into various piles on the countertop. The loft was quiet that afternoon— Eddie had a gig in Indy that evening and Robin was crashing at Vickie’s for the night. Steve hummed a tune to himself, the occasional slap of paper hitting the granite punctuating it.

“Oh hey,” Steve turns with a large envelope in hand, “This looks important.” Tosses it with freakish accuracy, the white paper landing with a thwack where your shorts had ridden up against your thigh. 

Distracted by whatever drama was unfolding on TV— something about a crew working on chartered private boats— you mindlessly slip your thumb beneath the lip of the envelope and tear it open. 

It’s only once you’ve pulled the papers from it that you glance to see what’s what. The university’s crest shines like a beacon, your thumb worrying over the topmost letter. Steve, the bastard, has stopped his mail sorting and turned toward you.

He leans lazily against the counter, a knowing smirk fixed on his lips. You scramble up from the couch with the papers, too nervous to see for yourself. “Here,” you say, thrusting the envelope and documents to his chest. “Can you—”

Pulling you to his chest with an arm, he brushes his lips against the crown of your head. “Sure, honey.” You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest— warm and familiar.

“You know,” he drawls, “The big envelope generally means something good, right?”

“I know,” muffled against his shirt.

He chuckles, hand coming up to cradle your head. Steve clears his throat, reads the opening of the letter in his best announcer voice. “Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that…”

The rest is drowned out by the rushing of blood in your ears, the tears pooling in your eyes breaking free to cascade down your cheeks. He squeezes you tight abandoning the acceptance letter and letting it flutter to the floor in favor of drawing you closer. Steve kisses you, licking your own tears into your mouth, your taste onto your tongue. And it’s so weirdly hot that your heart starts fluttering again, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

Because of course, just as things were going right something had to come and throw a wrench into things. 

Plans for lazing in the early summer forgotten, the next few days saw you coming and going from the university campus for orientation, meetings with faculty, so on and so forth. As you were leaving the grad student mixer, a professor peeled off from a group of faculty to flag you down with a call of your name.

You turn, not recognizing them from the English department. She’s an older woman, has maybe a few years on your mother, and is swathed in a lovely linen dress— the cool elegance of minimalist style.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Holland,” she says shaking your hand. “I’m on the admissions committee and was very impressed with your work on Dante Alighieri.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“And you studied Italian as an undergrad?”

“Certo.”

That brings a smile to her face. “Perfetto,” she says with a perfect Italian accent and waves over another faculty member. “I only ask because there’s a summer intensive in Italy beginning next week that I think you’d be perfect for.” 

Your mind reels. The new professor introduces himself and echoes Dr. Holland’s sentiments— a summer session of classes in Italy, in partnership with Università di Bologna, the oldest university in operation in the world. Scholarships that would cover the cost of tuition, travel, and accommodations for you to peruse.

What the fuck.

Vision swimming, you somehow come back to the conversation at hand. Dr. Holland presses a folder to your hand, “I know you were planning on taking the introductory grad school courses over the summer, but I hope you’ll consider joining us in Italy instead.”

You nod, gobsmacked and make your way to the car. Settling into the sweltering seat, you start the car and call Nancy. If anyone would know what to say in this situation, it would be her.

“That’s the thing,” you sigh, wine glass in hand as you slump on Nancy’s couch. “We’re not anything, haven’t discussed it. I mean, sure, we fuck like rabbits, but aside from that?”

She blows a raspberry and sips from her glass. “He’s in love with you, get over it.”

You jerk up, “Okay, maybe,” you allow. “But he hasn’t said anything.”

“And you won’t pony up to do it yourself?”

A scoff as you drain your glass. “I’m sorry, have you met me?”

Nancy laughs at that, loud and bright. “Unfortunately, yes!” She refills your glass before continuing, “Let’s be honest, you’re both hopeless when it comes to eachother.” She raises her brow before you can balk, “Full offense intended.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

She hums at that, head cocked to the side in thought. Her nail taps against the glass with a soft clink. A bite to her lips before she heaves a sigh, “Sometimes he just needs a push.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “I am absolutely not telling him he’s bullshit, if that’s what you’re after.”

Nancy, to her credit, winces uncomfortably at the memory. “No, no,” a shake of her head. “Absolutely not, you would never.” She sets her glass down carefully, giving you her full attention. “What I’m getting at is this: do you want to be something with Steve?”

She lets the question hang in the air between you. 

“Because if you don’t know Trouble, you should back away now.” A low warning tone. “You’re it for him, have been since he laid eyes on you, but you’re both too scared to do anything about it.”

You drain your glass to the dregs and hastily take your leave. At the sound of the door closing, Nancy grabs her phone and brings it to her ear, “Hey Harrington, I need a favor…”

Returning from a less than helpful hang session at Nancy’s, you find a post-it note left on your bedroom, door that reads ‘meet me at our spot on lover’s lake. - s.’

Prizing it from the wood grain, you make your way back to the kitchen to scavenge for something to eat, in an effort to soak up the remnants of wine in your system. Opening the fridge you spy another post-it stuck to the topmost shelf: ‘get your ass down here, i’ll feed you soon enough. - s.’

With a laugh, you let the fridge door fall shut and grab your keys.

_

He can see you now, just barley, even in the indigo dark. Wonders to himself, how are you even real? How is it that you’re mine? An explanation that won’t ever come. 

You slip into the cool water of Lover’s Lake like a dream, with nary a sound. Steve stumbles after you on the piles of clothing you’d left behind—bunched up denim shorts here, a threadbare tank-top over there, the silk of your thong musky and damp. 

Fisting his shirt to pull it up and over his head, it falls to the forest floor behind him, jeans shucked off and tossed elsewhere, boxers joining your lingerie by the shore. His patience is wearing thin as you wade further and further from him out into the lake. 

Little minx, he smiles and takes a breath before diving beneath the waves. Arms cutting through the placid water at a quick pace until he’s occupying the space between your bare legs, and coming up for air. 

One arm drags you near, lazily pressing you close, tight around the small of your back as the tide breaks around your waist, minute movements almost imperceptible— the slow roll of your hips against his.

Water shallow enough to tread and keep you buoyant. Steve kisses you slow and sweet, pulling you flush against his chest while you writhe under the water’s surface. Body slick and wanton and arching into his own. 

His dick jumps when you lift yourself to drape your arms around his shoulders. A sharp breath replaced with a shaky exhale as he brings his forehead to rest on yours, dark eyes taking in the exhilarated flush of your body. 

And Steve knows, under his skin and tucked into the cage of his ribs, near the beating of his anguished heart, that you’re the only thing left in this world worth worshipping. To keep you, and render you a flightless bird, to clip your wings, would be all for naught.

He has to let you go again, and so soon after you found him. From perihelion to aphelion before the moon’s full turning. The soft curve of your throat drawn taut as you glance upward, marvelling at the stars and planets in the northern sky. 

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Your voice is a husk, low and hoarse, in the dark. “Its loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness.” Your eyes, once fixed on the sea of stars above, shift to him once more.

Closer to the shoreline now, and unbeknownst to you, Steve had gently waded you both inshore, until he could draw you toward the dock. 

You let him walk you back until you’re flush against a mooring pole, wood rough against your moon-bathed skin. Body yielding to him as both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls you forward by the hips.

“S’okay, honey,” He mutters—right into your panting mouth with a sultry pull of his lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss from his lips that he laves and sucks to the column of your throat.

He ignores you, crawling his hands onto your hips to keep you from squirming. Works his thigh in between your legs for good measure. Once you’re settled, he moves one hand to your center a finger trailing up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto the spot that makes you keen, just behind your ear. You fist his hair in both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.

But Steve doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your neck and into your kiss-bitten mouth, he doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.

You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion lights a terrible match inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to a forest fire.

Calming breaths in and out. Steady head, steady heart. When you’re able to meet his gaze again, you take a moment to see him as he truly is: dappled in moonlight, forelock hanging in front of his eyes, his entire focus trained on you.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, scissoring them, pumping them in and out.

Steve sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive skin and lips, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching back into his hand, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.

You shake like a leaf in his arms, not knowing if it’s from the cool night air or due to the man before you. 

Instead of increasing his pace, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third. Your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean back with a whimper.

“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, so soft and low that your heart stills.

Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, his previous two fingers pushing inside gently. The third finger meets resistance as you tense up. “S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m…” 

Your head knocks back against the wooden pier. But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear.

You blink owlishly, trying desperately to weave your threads of thought together. A shake of your head to rattle them loose. A sweet smile up to Steve, a barely there kiss to his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy, breaths heaving from your chest. Steve commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you.

You gasp and moan, arching your chest into his and pulled as taut as a bow sting—back forming a crescent-shaped arc, a sliver of the moon radiant in the inky blue reflection of the water.

“C’mon, that’s it, honey. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”

With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked collar, bristles on his cheek and jaw tickling your sensitive skin.

Coming back to yourself, you shiver bodily. And Steve looks at you as if you hold infinities in the palms your hands. 

You reach for him reverently, desperate for his shape of beauty and noble nature. A dream realized, a wish granted, gentle and true. You feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination.

You whisper, "Missed you," eliciting a shudder from him as your palm grips him tenderly. 

Relishing in the temperature of his body, you sigh. Spreading the beaded precome at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, head falling to yours.

“Missed you more,” He hums, eyes heavy-lidded and lustful. 

Gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly and without haste, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could burst from your throat.

You whimper. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the gratifying sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re fearful to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.

Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, as water lapping against your thighs, holds onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.

You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you cry, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”

He moves in you, like a prayer.

A groan escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.

You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, lover… just a little more.”

With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his. 

The two of you feel rooted together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. Your body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away, your shaky legs held in his secure grasp.

The black slik of night gives way to the earth’s rotation, stars and moon bending to the will of gravity. Splashes in its silent, dark depths as you broach the shore. A little shaky on your feet, but he’s close behind, sultry and brilliant like the summer morning quickly approaching.

Whispers and murmurs tucked between fervent kisses as you dress. Fabric sticking to damp skin as his hands roam. Frenetic movements as he backs you up against the car, the coolness of it causing you to shiver. 

“You should do it,” he rasps against your lips. “The Italy thing, you always loved it there.”

“How did you–” you sputter.

You can’t see him roll his eyes, but you just know. “Nance, who else?” 

The warmth of Steve’s body burns against you, a hand threading through your hair half-convinced the moon is hiding there, hanging like a jewel in the night. And you’re a mess when you kiss him. Your breath is warm and so sweet, and the center of his chest squirms like something alive. 

In that moment, you love him but can’t tell him, not yet. You decide the sun that will kiss freckles to his face will do it for you.   

The song of summer sings out as you load your suitcase into Nancy’s car a few days later. The trunk slams closed and your back is pressed against his chest, his arm hanging casually around your collar. It is the end of May, the first bloom of summer balmy on your skin.

Steve had not taken the news of Nancy driving you to the airport well.

At all.

A sponged necklace of kisses to your throat as the light creeps in. Sheets kicked to the edge of the bed so you’re tangled up in him. Skin already glinting gold in the summer sun. Twisting in his hold, desperate to glance at the time. “Steve,” muffled against the heft of his shoulder, “I gotta go, Nance will be here soon.” 

The turn of his weight bearing down, trapping your body under his. A cruel circle of his hips has you shuddering. His breath ghosts along your skin, “Baby, baby please.” Nose trailing down from your sternum to the swell of your stomach. Pausing there for lips to lave kisses on the curves that trailed to your hips. 

Eyes dark and heady with promise, “Just a taste.” Lips and mouth delving lower now, fingers parting the cleave of your cunt with a squelch. He hooks them back into his mouth with a groan. “Mmm,” he slurs, drunk off your arousal. “You taste good, sweetheart,” His nose bumps against your clit, “Like honey.”

Breath stuttering in the cage of your ribs, you fist his hair in one hand and tug. Steve moans overtly, pupils blown wide while he’s face deep in pussy. “Steve,” Your voice trembles. He glances up, smoldering and glorious, drinking you up. “Ah—fuck,” before you’re overtaken again.

You’re desperate, and he can hear it in your voice. A quiver in your throat, you swallow thickly mouth falling open in a pant. His fingers work into you easily, dragging exquisitely along your channel—warm and wet, only growing more so with every thrust of his hand. You mewl, hips bucking up as he sucks your swollen clit. 

Legs thrown over his shoulders, as he cants your pelvis forward, arm heavy against your stomach to bully you in place. “Sweet girl,” He coos, lips ruddy and wet with your slick. “Doin’ so well for me.” You shiver in his hold, sunbeams hazy with orange glow, the refracting light makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then you feel something pulled taut in your belly. A chord stretching like a rubber band before it snaps. The wind up is excruciating, Steve’s litany of devotions falling in hushed murmurs from his lips. His fingers plunging up into the chasm between your legs, pulling away wetter each time.

He bends back down, tongue circling your clit at a dizzying pace. A third finger slides in impossibly, a keen igniting from your throat—high and whimpering. God, you’re so close. You babble, hands scrambling purchase against his dewy skin.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

“Oh my god,” you thrash on the bed, hair sticking to the sheen of your face, hanging on by a thread as his fingers drive into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Steve promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your lust-addled brain, the telltale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of your cunt— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time.

“Stevie,” you mewl, “Steve.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

You drily sob out something broken, a tiny echo of affirmation as he keeps fucking into you like he could break through. He’s really abused your pussy this morning, maybe gone too far, but every time you come like this, it’s like he’s seeing something holy. 

“Oh my god…!” It’s a small shout as you shatter, and it makes Steve’s spine light up as you rub your face further into the pillow.

“Praying to me, sweetheart?” but doesn’t stop those tiny, hard circles, doesn’t stop melting into your body, his dick pulsing as he ruts against the sheets. “You can keep doing that,” he urges, “I like that.”

So, you’re not surprised when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished breakfast, as predicted, in a terrible disarray, and Robin crosses herself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Eddie clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his ring-clad fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.”

As much as you tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t goodbye but instead see you soon, it didn’t stick. But the ache in your gut did—low and menacing, growling like an animal. 

Eddie and Robin were easy, promises to stay in touch and bring back the best candy. Your parents were less so, tight hugs and dried tears on cheeks. 

Steve, however, you needed to brace yourself for. Short of chaining yourself to Nancy’s car, you weren’t sure how you’d escape with your dignity intact. He was already kissing on you, soft and sweet, as Nancy slid into the driver’s seat while Eddie and Robin waved goodbye walking back inside.

You slip from his grasp in a flash, pulling him by the belt loops to knock hips. “Stevie, lover mine,” you sing, his palms cupping your ass as his hands slide into your back pockets.

Lover.

What a word.

You think about it every waking second—the way he stretches in the morning, how he sings in the shower, dances in the kitchen, smiles and beams at anyone who passes by—how good he is.

How you love him.

“Mm—” raspy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Feet walking you closer and closer and you’re pressed against him. Nosing along the column of his neck, nipping at the delicate skin there, watching as his throat bobs when he swallows. 

Hands free themselves from denim confines, a thumb caresses the small of your back. Steve pries your hand from his chest, and brings it to his mouth, placing a tender kiss against your palm. 

You hum as his lips brush your skin, observing as he meanders to the thin flesh of your wrist. Hazel eyes near golden in the morning sun as Steve looks to you, face open and fond. Lips featherlight when they kiss your thundering pulse.

Only then do you start to break. 

You thought you were prepared. But it steals the breath from your lungs, levelling you to ruin, a creeping sense of hopelessness in its wake. 

He’s quick to notice, crushing you to his chest and hand cradling your head. Soothing murmurs of “S’okay honey, we’ll be alright,” and the rasp of your name. Fingers brushing hair from your face with a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And it is hard to leave him, but you can do difficult things.

Forehead bent to yours, back warm in the sun’s decorous rays, a searing tear-laden kiss and you’re off. Turned back in your seat to see him recede in the distance until he’s a mere speck on the horizon as Nancy tugs you forward.

All the goodbyes had all been said, save one thing lodged in the depths of your throat. 

I love you. 

[donald4spiderman]

Sweating, And A Lesson On Self-Worth

masterlist

Summary: Spencer finds himself falling for his NAT (new agent training) defensive tactics coach.

Pairing: SR x Fem!Reader *described as petite to give the illusion of assumed vulnerability when IRL she’s a badass— no other specific physical details are mentioned*

Category: Fluff

TW: Mentions of body image, general CM talk, mentions of fighting/grappling/wrestling, small age gap (reader is 28 & reid is 22)

concept inspired by @sierraraeck’s fic “Bad Liar” about Morgan training Spencer. I love wrestling so I wanted to do one about a badass female combat coach/agent.

REBLOG!

-

When Spencer and the rest of the trainees are ushered into the fitness center on their second day at the academy, he almost shits himself. He’s well aware of the physical demands being in the FBI requires, and he’s been dreading the PFT (Physical Fitness Test) since he applied.

There are hundreds of men and women huddled in the middle of the room, anticipating the orientation, and Spencer feels his palms sweat before he’s even started working out. The majority of the trainees are football players, wrestling’s, and weight lifters— he can tell by their muscular build and general atmosphere of strength and confidence.

SSA Jesse Fallon introduces their defensive tactics coach for the next twenty weeks— a petite but athletic woman. She’s dressed in a gray t-shirt and flexible khaki pants— Spencer would be lying if he said she didn’t look gorgeous, even in the bland attire.

“I’m SSA and defensive tactics coach (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She introduces herself, giving a warm smile to the crowd. “I’ve been an SSA for five years and the head coach of this portion of the academy for two. This is my third official wave of trainees— and believe me— I won’t be going easy on any of you.”

Light laughter disperses through the crowd, and Spencer wears an uneasy look on his face.

“Today, I’ve prepped stations for each of you to cycle through for the next three hours. Agent Rivera is monitoring the weapon defense; Agent Glover is in charge of the takedowns; And I’ll be handling hand-to-hand combat and grappling. You’ll spend an hour at each station, run a mile at the end, and then you’re done for the day. Sound good?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Choruses through the crowd.

SSA (Y/N) clasps her hands together, “Alright, you know your groups. Split up!”

-

Spencer’s assigned to the takedown station first. Agent Glover’s criticisms are primarily nonconstructive, and Spencer struggles with apprehending and cuffing his more robust and much more muscular partner on the floor. He’s never trained this hard for anything in his life, physically, speaking. He’s half-dead within the first hour, and he dreads having to do this two more times.

His next stop is with Agent Rivera, who’s much kinder to Spencer than his prior. Reid is better at disarming his opponent, but his long limbs flail wildly due to his incoordination— he’s trying his best, but he sees the way everyone else giggles at him. It’s a blow to the chest that leaves him defeated more than any gunshot could.

The last hour is spent working at SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s station. She commands the attention of the entire group so naturally, despite being considered a rookie, she has an intimidating amount of knowledge.

“How many of you are wrestlers or judokas?” About sixty percent of the group raises their hand, and Spencer scans around for who might have the strength to kill him with one blow.

“Good,” She smiles. “This will come naturally to you, then. Now, a head-and-arm throw most likely won’t work in the field— so, sorry, judokas. However, double legs, body locks, and blast-doubles are constantly used to take down an unsub with minimal injury to the agent. Even someone as short as me can use leverage to grapple and control a much taller person.” (Y/N) scans the crowd of trainees for a moment before pointing directly at Spencer.

“You, come here.” She commands, and Spencer waddles nervously up next to her on the mat. “This is...”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing she’s asking for his name. “S-Spencer Reid.”

“Hi, Spencer.” She smiles. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot two.”

“Spencer has the advantage of almost a whole foot of height against me. But, I can use his higher center of gravity to tip him over more easily. We do this a lot in wrestling— being low to the ground and agile is important.”

(Y/N) firmly plants her hands on Spencer’s shoulder, moving him so that he’s turned to the side. “This move is called a modified blast double— it prioritizes attacking the ankles and knees rather than the knees and abdomen.”

She leans in closer to Spencer, “Don’t post your wrist out when you fall.” She whispers in his ear, sending chills down his spine. “Keep your neck tucked too.” Her breath is warm and minty, and Spencer almost forgets that he has 30 other people watching him.

“I’m going to simulate an active attack with Spencer. Doing this move in a wrestling match is much more controlled than against a rogue criminal playing by their own rules. They might have a melee or close-range weapon like a knife or hammer on them, so it’s important to make this move when the best opportunity strikes.”

“Spencer’s going to run at me and attempt to land a punch to my face.” She gives him a nod, and he chambers over to her.

Swiftly crouching lower to the ground, she launches herself towards him, gripping the back of his ankles and pushing her shoulder into his knees, and suddenly he’s flying back onto the mat. She follows through, straddling Spencer’s hips and covering his movements with an arm under his neck.

He’s out of breath as he watches the beautiful SSA leaning above him. His head is slightly sore from the impact, but overall he feels... invigorated.

“You never let your opponent fall onto the ground without covering them. Straddling your opponent allows you to keep them down while having full use of your fists.” She swings her leg off of Spencer, standing up. She reaches a hand out and quickly yanks him up.

“Find someone and drill that move. I’m coming around to help all of you.”

She gives Spencer a firm pat on his back, to which he blushes furiously, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth.

-

Spencer spent the rest of the hour getting slammed onto the mat over and over by various men and women. His entire shirt is soaked, and his breathing is so labored he thinks he’s going to faint. SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N) might have appeared at ease earlier in the day, but she wasn’t kidding when she promised she would work them to no end. Everyone was at the brink of death when they approached the last lap of their mile— Spencer at risk of passing out more than others.

The relief he feels after completing his tenth lap around the gym is euphoric. Trainees collapse onto the ground with exhaustion all around him.

“Great job today.” SSA (Y/N) compliments happily. “I appreciate all the effort you guys showed today. It better still be here in four months.” And with that, she excuses them, along with the agents monitoring each station.

Spencer’s one of the last agents to trickle out of the gym. His legs feel like jello when he walks, and his lungs burn.

He almost makes it past the threshold of the door before his name is called.

“Dr. Reid.” She beckons him over with a finger. “May I talk to you for a moment.”

Spencer nervously shuffles over. “Yes, SSA (Y/L/N)?”

“I applaud your effort at training today. I can tell you were working hard.” He blushes. “But I’ve been informed that the board is willing to wave all physical training requirements for your acceptance into the FBI.”

“Yeah... I-I uh figured they’d want me for my IQ only.” He jokes nervously, shrugging his shoulders. He knows it’s disrespectful not to look her in the eye, but she intimidates him too much.

She laughs, and it’s a sweet, joyful sound that Spencer can’t get enough of. She’s powerful and radiant— stealing attention from everyone else. “You’re charming, and your reputation precedes you.”

Charming? Since when has little Spencer Reid ever been charming? He smiles awkwardly, looking off to the side to hide his blush.

“You know, the forensics department wants their hands on the trainee with the chemistry doctorate, and the surveillance department wants the kid with eidetic memory, and word has it that you speak more than four languages, so everyone wants their fair share.”

“W-why are you telling me this?” Spencer asks, voice shy and barely above a whisper.

“Because,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, “You need to carry yourself with more confidence, Spencer. I saw you— surrounded by all those athletes— it made you feel out of place. I get it.”

“How d-do you get it?”

“I was 23 years old when I became an SSA, surrounded by people two decades older than me. I felt like the office secretary— constantly getting pushed around by people I was afraid to upset. But the thing is, Spencer, you need to demand respect from other people. I’m not saying you need to be arrogant or be a bully, but you are one of— if not the most promising agent trainee— and you need to realize your self-worth.”

“I’m smart, I-I know that. But I’m not strong or athletic by any means.” He sighs, gripping the duffle bag slung across his shoulder tightly.

“That’s alright. You’re not going to be Kyle Dake overnight. But you can’t beat yourself up about it.” (Y/N) chuckles lightly.

Spencer thinks for a moment, “T-thank you... for uh saying all those nice things about me.”

“They're true.” She nods.

“I think I’ll continue with the defensive tactics training. I could um use it.” Its partially true, but he’s most inclined to stick around because of the kind and beautiful SSA that’ll be training him.

“Yay! That’s great, Spencer.” She cheers, wrapping him in a hug that’s a little too friendly to be professional. He accepts despite being drenched in sweat.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around Spencer, and she pats him on the back twice before pulling away like a proud mentor would. He can’t decide if (Y/N) would be a better girlfriend or a better teacher. If she would, he’d prefer for her to be both. He’d give her all he had to offer if she’d allow him.

He doesn’t recognize the smile that plays on her lips, and it’s a foreign feeling for the aggressive and focused SSA. She hasn’t felt something like this in a while, especially not for a nerdy trainee named Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Hit the showers.” She teases. “You stink.”

Spencer nods furiously, “Y-yeah, of course. Thank you, again, SSA—“

“Just call me (Y/N).”

“T-thank you, (Y/N).” He smiles, scurrying out of the gym and into the hallway as giddy as ever.

(Y/N) knows she can’t pursue this— at least, not right now. She’ll give it a few years to let him settle in the FBI (his acceptance is inevitable) if she can be patient for that long. All she knows is that eventually, she wants the awkwardly adorable boy to be hers— and she wants to be his.

i’m so proud of this fic but sry i got carried away talking about wrestling i love it sm

[cotccotc]

SKZ + a ftm s/o !!

 ◌ ftm (female-to-male) refers to a transgender person who was assigned female at birth, but identifies as male. these people are awesome, lovely, brave, & valid !! (yes that’s part of the official definition !!!! look it up <3)

part of my eight as fate event !! ( requested by @lixsmullet​ ♡ )

genre/s: fluff, skz x ftm reader

warning/s: mentions of dysphoria, mentions of periods, one very brief implication of transphobia (NOT IN REFERENCE TO THE MEMBERS DW), use of various pet names, swearing, my dumb formatting and commentary uwu

wc: ~1.5k

a/n: i hope i did this req justice !!! i made sure to do a lot of research on topics that might come up in this situation so i hope everything is accurate, but also inclusive for multiple types of people within the ftm umbrella. the descriptions might not be too deep but pls know they were written with a lot of care. OH ALSO i included potential pet names they might use !! i really really hope y’all enjoy this :) lmk what u think !!

◌ CHAN

chan’s known for putting other people’s needs before his own, and this is no exception.

he’d be super giving !!! would buy you “world’s best boyfriend” mugs and shit !!! it’s cringe but you love him so it’s fine !!!

more on top of your doctors appointments or meds than you are tbh

boy oh boy… if you take/decide to start taking testosterone……

LOOK OUT HERE COMES THE T POLICE KJDF

he just wants to do everything he can to help you !!!!! whether it means literally helping you stay on top of things and being your at-home (emotional) therapist, or giving you space.

i feel like he’s very good at detecting how a person feels based on their face or body language, so he’d always be on the lookout in case you might be feeling off or dysphoric.

and, as much as it might pain him, he’d give you as much time/space as you need. once again, he has your best interest in mind 24/7 !!! he just loves you so much, you know? 🥺

potential pet names (as long as you’re ok with them !! that goes for each member.): babyboy (we saw this one coming), foxy/sexy (mostly sarcastic but also… True), sunshine

◌ MINHO

a thing that i personally love to imagine: minho introducing you to people as his boyfriend

if anybody ever gives either of you a questioning look afterward (either intentionally or not) he wouldn’t waver at all !!! he’d just stand there and keep smiling. because you’re his boyfriend, duh

constantly reminds you how strong you are !! how super tough and cool you are !!! because it’s true !!!!!!!

i feel like i always make him sound like the ceo of Boyfriend Bootcamp in my reactions but i MEAN???

for example, if you’re ever feeling down (for whatever reason. whether it applies to you being trans or not) he’d be like “MAN UP !!! YOU’RE A WARRIOR !!!! ……. a cute one <3333 bUT A STRONG ONE !!!!!!”

in general, i definitely see him as the type of person who’ll just grab your hand or hold you a little closer in situations where he thinks you might feel uncomfortable, and even if he doesn’t directly acknowledge it, you know there’s a lot of love and care behind the gesture.

also… you’re sad? here, hold a cat.

potential pet names: stud (as a joke.. but it stuck), anything that starts with “my” (like my boy, my baby, my love, etc.)

◌ CHANGBIN

ok listen

i’m not calling changbin lazy

HOWEVER

he will most definitely try and make you do “manly” things for him when he doesn’t feel like it- SJDJJ

imagine his raspy, tough, yet adorably whiny voice being all:

“BAAAABE…. BABYYYYYY….. come lift this fOR MEEEEEEEE”

ESPECIALLYYYY if you’re taller than him oh my Lord

BUT HE’D DENY IT AT ALL COSTS !!!

changbin, pointing to an object on a tall shelf: “BABE can you get this for me? you’re so strong you can do it <3333”

you: “short ass-”

changbin: “hEY”

ALSO if you menstruate, i personally believe that he would be very comforting to have around during that time !!!!! just chillin on the couch !!!!!! vibin !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

your very own personal heating pad <33 jksjfd

potential pet names: babe, bunny, hot stuff (sometimes used for moments of sarcasm !!! there are lots of those..)

◌ HYUNJIN

he’s very sweet and loving with you, which never changes despite anything you might be going through. like ,,,ever.

i can see him being especially sweet and helpful for someone who doesn’t want to or can’t surgically transition !!!!

would do everything he could to emphasize the fact that you’re his favorite boy !!!!

whether it’s through activities, pet names, playful jokes, etc., he always wants to remind you how manly and lovely you are !! lolll

i present to you a thought that just popped up in my head and Will Not Leave:

you might normally be the little spoon, but if you ever feel a bit off about your body or just don’t want to be held, THIS BOY WILL GET CURLED UP IN A LITTLE SPOON POSITION FOR YOU !! SO VERY FAST !!!

(is it also an excuse for him to be the little spoon? yeah maybe it is-)

potential pet names: hubby (regardless of whether or not you’re married sjdsdf), prince, things that start with “my”

◌ JISUNG

asks lots of questions !!!!!!! whenever he’s not sure how to proceed with something or has any general questions about being trans or how to support you, he’ll be completely transparent with you about it.

even though it makes him a lil embarrassed 🥺🥺

will overuse the terms “dude” and “bro” just to make you laugh… but you both know there’s a hidden underlayer of validation there

loves cheering you up when you’re not feeling your best !!!

also ,,,,,,Youtube Research Enthusiast

“hey y/n check this out! let’s try it :D” and it’s a two minute video about how to naturally lower your voice

and you go along with it because a.) he’s cute for suggesting it, b.) it could actually be useful, and c.) he’ll look cute stretching his neck for a few minutes and it would be a valuable use of your time to watch him do it <3 jsjdfh

oh also !!!! we know he’s just Like This anyways, but he will indeed take every chance he gets to kiss random parts of your body like your hands, shoulders, the tip of your nose, and anything else you’re comfy with :) he just likes 2 smooch, what can i say?

potential pet names: anything silly !! bubba, baby/babycakes, good lookin’, etc.

◌ FELIX

this is somewhat similar to what i’d suggested in my nonbinary coming out reaction, but i feel like he’d take a lot of care to make you feel more confident in yourself !!!

especially when it comes to your appearance !!!!! if you ever decide to try out a new hairstyle, different clothing, etc., he’d HYPE YOU UPPPPP omg

you: *exists*

felix: *silly smirk* “my handsome boy.. hehe” 🥺

bakes for u !!!!!!! will come over asap with freshly baked cookies if he even senses you might not be feeling your best !!!!!!!!!!!!!

we all know he’s a real cuddlebug, but since you’ve explained dysphoria to him (to the best of your ability), it’s very important to him that he doesn’t overstep with the physical affection

he might also suggest you use a code word or gesture to signify if it’s ok for him to get all close and cuddly with you !! he knows you have your off days, and the last thing he wants to do is emphasize your insecurities.

he loves you more than anything, and he just wants to see you smile :)

potential pet names: handsome, love, sweets (bc ya know,,, brownie boy things <3)

◌ SEUNGMIN

would regularly spend hours and hours doing research on trans rights, different forms of transitioning, other people’s perspectives (both in his position and yours), etc

honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if he posted some questions on a website like reddit or quora or something from time to time SJDK (but eventually he’d be much more comfortable asking you directly, especially since he knows not every person is the same)

he really just wants to make sure he understands how you feel to the best of his ability in order to best care for you !!!

VERY VERY diligent if he has to adjust to new pronouns. would practice that shit like it’s his JOB.

i think he’d just be very scared of screwing something up, which you might have to console him about from time to time.

you know he’s trying his best to a.) not make this about himself and b.) do everything in his power to support you

sorta similarly to changbin, i think he’d be nice to have around if you’re ever on your period !! overall, this boy would do his RESEARCH

potential pet names: baby, mister (for some playful sarcasm), bear (or baby bear, honey bear, etc.)

◌ JEONGIN

if you’re ever feeling dysphoric, depressed, anxious, or generally not the best, he will do WHATEVER IT TAKES to cheer you up.

you: :(

jeongin: “ok fine you have permission to poke my cheeks all day”

you: :D

jeongin: :D

is also very similar to changbin !!!!! he’ll very dramatically give up on a task that requires even the slightest bit of manliness just so you can do it for him…. because he’s laz- i mean thoughtful <33

ok picture something with me besties (and this is quite random so bear with me):

he buys you cologne. cute !! very sweet of him yes <3 …...but the Backstory-

he had No idea what kind to get, so he went to the store and tried on like 10 different kinds until he realized he could just swatch them on a piece of paper so now he’s covered in cologne and he buys the one he thought was his favorite but he comes home to realize it was the WRONG ONE so he has to go back to the store and test them all again until he finds the one

..all just so he could surprise you & make you feel more masculine :’)

anyways LONG STORY SHORT: innie best boy :D

potential pet names: bun (in reference to bread, of course. you must match.), handsome, sexy (BUT ONLY IF YOU SAY IT RIGHT BACK !!!!!! sexy loaf boyfriends aw <3)

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @cyberskz​, @seungminsaidsta, @somethingrandomworld, @ethan806 ( join my tag list !! )

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[alonelysimp]

Ты тоже красивый

Characters: Tartaglia x GN! Traveler! Reader

WC: 1683

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of violence, swearing

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, M/GN, fluff, Established relationship, Love confession, Lots of flirting

heavy simping, send help ;-; i cried way too many times writing this /pos

Also full disclaimer: no i no not know Russian, apologies if anything is mistranslated. the closest thing ik regionally would be dutch or my shitty half assed excuse for german qwq

Your foot stays firmly planted on his chest as you lean down and press the blade of your sword to his neck.

“You wanna kiss me so badly right now it makes you look stupid.”

“Shut up, tortellini.” His dumb smile probably reflected your own, a light blush dusting his cheeks at the intimate position. You could feel your rapid heartbeat in your chest, whether it be from the adrenaline of fighting or your proximity to him. Excitement sparkles in his eyes, almost as if he were asking for a rematch. His breath tickles you as your gaze traces the minor cuts and bruises on his face. His hands tug at the front of your shirt, lips ghosting across yours. “I hate you.”

“That’s not what you were saying an hour ago.” You scowl at him and push up from the floor, leaving him on his back. The sound of your sword sheathing echoes off the walls of the golden house.

“At least you didn’t destroy it this time. You can’t rely on your fatui money forever,” you mutter. The metal pieces of his coat clink against the floor, scrambling to go stand by you.

“Can we go again?” You glare up at him with the most annoyed, deadpan expression you can muster. He huffs, flicking your forehead.

“Hey, hey, watch the pretty face. I worked hard for this shit,” you hiss and cover your forehead with both your hands.

“I could say the same, жизнь моя. (zhizn moya ‘my life’)” He pauses after every syllable of the nickname, gesturing to the tiny marks on his face.

“Oh, shut up, you’re fine.” You turn to the door; his arms wrap around your waist from behind. He buries his face in your hair, lifting you off the ground slightly.

“You’re so mean to me~”

“Tartaglia, I feel like a cat getting picked up by a toddler. C’mon, let’s go home and get you fixed up, attention whore.” You blink as your eyes adjust to the daylight outside and grab his hand. He intertwines your fingers. The smirk on his face burns through the back of your head.

“Aww, so you really do care about me.”

“I hope you trip and fall on your face.” He pulls you closer beside him as you walk down the dirt path to your home, the midday sun shining down on the two of you from above. You only had to pull on his arm a few times to slow down on account of the difference in your strides.

As soon as you step inside, he releases your hand, opting to collapse on the bed.

“Dipshit—” you pull the supplies from the shelf, “up.” He doesn’t move, even when you nudge his shoulder, pretending to sleep. You sigh, summoning your sweetest voice and sitting down next to him. “Darling, can you please sit up for me? I need to take care of you~” His eyelashes flutter open just enough to peer at you. You grit your teeth, burying your face in his chest, embarrassed. “I hate you,” you mumble, muffled by the fabric of his coat. His fingers gently run through the hair at the bottom of your hairline and slowly work their way up before cupping your face and making you look up at him.

“Thank you for caring about me.” Your eyes narrow, heat pricking at your cheeks.

“I should’ve left you back at the golden house.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head and sits up, letting you lean against him still. The post-battle heat radiates off him but the smell of sweat is beginning to get to you.

“So are you just gonna lay there or..? I know how comfortable I am, but I was under the impression you were gonna help.” He laughs when you push yourself away quickly and set the supplies down on the nightstand. You begin to unclasp his coat, fumbling with them slightly before getting it open. You punch him lightly when he opens his mouth, knowing full well what he was about to say. “So mean~” He pulls you into his lap while you work, dabbing the soaked cloth at the various scrapes.

“Was I too hard on you?” you ask him softly. He laughs, leaning back and resting on his hands.

“It’s not an easy task to defeat me, ангел (‘angel’). I’m proud you were even able to land a hit.”

“You won’t fight me using your delusion. What if I go overboard and hurt you?” Your fingers dance across his skin, flitting over his muscles.

“Is it bad that I want to make sure I don’t kill my beautiful ангел (‘angel’)? If you don’t want me to hold back, you better not either.” He giggles, pressing his lips to your forehead and smiling “Wouldn’t it be fun?” The soft linen sheets brush against your skin as you shuffle to face his back, taking care of any wounds, regardless of how slight they may be.

“I’d have to patch your weak ass up after, though.”

“I wouldn’t mind watching you turn beet red undressing me.” You choke, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. The alcoholic smell from the cloth quickly deters you from keeping your hand there, but it doesn’t stop the mindless panic you’ve been thrown in. At least he wasn’t watching you burn up, you’d never hear the end of it.

“S-shut…” you stutter out, failing at a desperate attempt to regain your composure. He laughs and turns to take the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Hmm, I didn’t expect such a rare treat today.” He sets the things back on the nightstand. “Is this your way of apologizing after being so mean to me earlier?”

“Not to your crusty dusty ass,” you mumble, not making eye contact with him. “Go take a shower, you reek.” The palms of your hands press against his chest, more in a gentle urge than a demand. He chuckles, sighing, and presses a kiss to your forehead before standing up to head to the bathroom.

You take the opportunity to stand up and put away the antiseptics and clean the cloth. The soft white noise from the shower fills the house as you hang the towel up to dry. He steps out a few minutes later though, you wonder how he always manages to take such short showers. Yours takes a few minutes longer, and you slip into a clean set of your usual clothes after.

“I have to go do guild stuff, you coming?” You stand by the door, messing with your hair. He glances up his food, a chicken mushroom skewer leftover from breakfast. He hums, tossing the bamboo skewer in the trash.

“Of course ангел, (‘angel’)” he says cheerfully, moving to stand by you. He takes your hands in his, fixing your part line himself. Your arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close in a hug. His lively heartbeat drums against your ear as the scent of sandalwood floods your nose. His fingers run through the back of your hair with one arm around your waist, pressing you closer.

“Hey, darling?” He hums, waiting for you to continue while stroking your hair. “I like you.” You look up at him. He melts, the dumb smile on his face making it quite evident. He buries his face in your hair, mumbling out a “м-милая. (m-milaya ‘[you’re] c-cute’)” You manage to pry him off you, taking him by the hand as you lead him to the harbor.

The commissions you received were nothing out of the ordinary, just little deliveries around Liyue and a few hilichurl camps to clear. You sighed, plopping on the edge of the cliff. The grass rustles as Childe sits next to you, leaning back to watch the sunset.

“I have to admit,” he breathes, “the sunset in Liyue is unlike any other I’ve seen.” The fiery sky matches his hair, a sight you could never see from such a city like Snezhnaya. Your breath hitches when you turn to glance at him. He looks… stunning. The way his hair glitters in the light, cerulean eyes shimmering. How in Teyvat did I manage to land someone like him? He looks over at you, concern shadowing his eyes as he brushes his thumb across your cheek. “What’s wrong котёнок? (kotonok ‘kitten’)” You reach up to your face, fingers coming away wet. You laugh softly and wipe them away.

“Nothing, just thinking about how lucky you are for having such an amazing partner.” He pauses, realization flashing on his face after a few seconds. He huffs, pouting, and pokes at your side.

“Hey! Stop making me think I messed up somehow.” You push his chest lightly, turning away. He huffs, breath tickling the back of your neck as he pulls you into his lap and nuzzles your hair.

“...You’re beautiful.” The waves crash against the cliffside as you stare into the sunset. He pauses, resting his chin on your shoulder. The salty Liyuean breeze ruffles his hair and tickles your cheek as the sun dips below the horizon.

“What do you mean?” His hands shift against your waist, holding you ever so slightly tighter. Your brows furrow together slightly, chewing your bottom lip as you pause to think. You sigh, the hesitant silence lasting between you for a short while.

“Do you know how much you mean to me? You’re incredible. Everything I hope to be and more. I can’t stop thinking about you and it messes with me so badly. I can’t get enough of you, your smile, your touch, your voice. You make me feel ways I never knew I could and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m so... mad, how irreplaceable you are, how much you’ve become in just a year but I love it and—” Your breath catches in your throat, tears beginning to well up. He takes your hands in his rubbing them with his thumbs. He presses a chaste kiss to the back of your neck.

“Ты тоже красивый. (ty tozhe krasivyy)”

omg thank y'all for the support I'll try to post more consistently (｡ŏ‿ŏ)

[lizbotw]

SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL: INTRODUCTON

YOU’VE ENTERED THE FOREST: CHOOSE A PATH (MASTERLIST)

pairing: various (bakugou, iida, jirou, kaminari, midoriya, todoroki) x reader

summary: You go adventuring in the woods with your friends as part of the Halloween spirit, but things don’t exactly go as planned.

a/n: this is the intro post to my collab with kristy! since it’s a choose your own adventure story, check out the masterlist here for additional details and for links to the other routes ♡ i hope you all enjoy and feedback is very much appreciated!

word count: 4.1k

Go exploring in the forest for the hell of it. It’ll be fun, they said. Halloween isn’t complete without late night adventures, they’d said. We’ll only be gone for a few hours. Mr. Aizawa wouldn’t mind.

Well, you know what? They had lied. And by they, you meant Kaminari because of course he had been the mastermind behind this grand idea. He was wrong about all of it and especially that last point because in your heart of hearts, as much as you wanted to believe you were all magically given permission to go perusing on your own, you knew that a detention notice awaited all of you when you got back. Not that anyone seemed to care.

Leaves crunching underfoot, jackets and sweaters wrapped snugly around you, Kaminari’s victims—ahem, your friends that he had roped into this scheme—trudged behind him as he jabbered on about the positives of this bonding experience.

“Do you think we’ll actually find anything?” Midoriya piped up after Kaminari’s latest spiel about this forest being infamous for the random skulls travelers always swore they spotted conveniently resting at the bases of trees or perched upon its branches. There was a barely noticeable tremble in his voice at the prospect.

You heard a scoff. “Slim chance,” Bakugou sneered from next to you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hands had been stuffed into his pockets the entire time, kicking stray rocks in his path at every opportunity. “Who the hell would believe that anyway?”

As much as you wanted to scold him for ruining the Halloween spirit, you had to agree. What were the chances of you finding anything noteworthy during this expedition? There was a reason no one could ever produce actual pictures or evidence of the horrors they had supposedly witnessed.

Kaminari was apt at ignoring skeptics though—maybe a little too good at it—and Midoriya’s interest seemed to have lit a fire in him as he whirled around to face the group now, walking backwards. His expression said it all—Finally, someone believes me! “Duh, we have to carry something back to show the others. They’re totally missing out!”

“I don’t think a skeleton is an appropriate thing to bring back to our classmates. Perhaps they’d enjoy something educational, like a sample of leaves from the different trees or-”

“No one cares, four-eyes.” You’d lost count how many times Bakugou had interrupted Iida at this point. And each and every time it had resulted in an argument—including now. That would be entertaining and all if not for the fact that you were pretty sure your right ear was going deaf from being next to them.

You tuned out the biting remarks (Bakugou) and the gasps of surprise at the vulgarity (Iida), as had become routine to you at this point. What was that saying about groups tearing each other apart during horror movies before anyone even gets killed off? Or maybe you had just made that saying up yourself… hmm… well whatever it was, it definitely applied right now.

“This is stupid,” Jirou mumbled from your other side and you almost groaned. How did you end up sandwiched between the resident pessimists of the group again?

Maybe it was the combination of Bakugou and Jirou that was starting to make you skeptical, or maybe it was the fact that you had been walking for who knows how long and your legs were tired, or the fact that you were hungry and thirsty, or that there was no reception out here, or—or maybe it was just all of it. You wrinkled your nose the more you thought about it. Maybe everyone was right, there really was nothing out here. You suddenly wanted to go home, sick of the whistling wind, the towering trees, and the flits of rapidly fading sunlight that shone through the leaves.

“Kaminari, maybe we should turn back.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Jirou threw her hands up in exasperation. “Why did any of us agree to this anyway?”

“Just for the record, I’m only here to make sure none of you do anything irrational.” That was true. The only reason Iida of all people ended up on this expedition was because he’d heard Kaminari advertising the idea a little too loudly and realized there was no way to talk him out of it. So here he was, playing babysitter.

“Yeah? Well, just for the record, I don’t need you to watch me.” And Bakugou was back to stirring up trouble, just when the latest argument had started to die down and the ringing in your ear had stopped.

You almost felt bad for Kaminari being at the receiving end of everyone’s frustration until you saw that his grin was no where close to faltering and in fact he seemed to take the challenge head on. You admired his drive but you were wondering for the umpteenth time why he didn’t just bring Kirishima, Mina, or Sero on the expedition too—they wouldn't be complaining… much. (Probably because those three were so into Halloween it was insane. Tough chance of getting them away from the yearly Halloween festival planning. They didn’t want to miss anything.)

He clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his finger at the others. If anything, you were impressed how he was able to navigate the forest walking backwards while continuing his chiding. On second thought… your eyes darted up ahead to a rapidly approaching object. Wait, was that—

“You guys seriously have to lighten uHHH-AH.” A crash echoed through the trees as Kaminari tripped over a well-placed log, his back hitting the ground and knocking the air out of him. In the distance you saw a few birds fly out of the trees in surprise at the noise, beating wings black against the afternoon sky.

“You really should’ve been watching where you were going,” Todoroki spoke up from the back of the group after a moment of shocked silence from everyone—even Bakugou had shut up.

“Are… are you okay?” Midoriya was the first to check up on him, walking forward and crouching down next to his friend, craning his neck to examine him closer.

Kaminari sat up, rubbing his head. “Yeah, never been better.”

“We should all be more careful. We don’t have a first aid kit to use if something goes wrong.” Please, Iida, it’s not that serious—but also, good point. In the middle of the woods with no first aid kit—way to make this seem way more scary than it actually is.

“Guys, quit worrying—”

“I wasn’t worrying,” both Bakugou and Jirou cut in.

“—I’m fine, see?” He stood up, rustling the leaves at his feet further. He did seem fine, although you were sure he would start complaining later. “I’m tough!”

Kaminari admitting that everything was alright opened the floodgates for the concern from the others to morph back into claims of how you should definitely not be in this forest at all, now paired with chastising him for not being more observant.

“I’m turning back. And you’re coming with me so we don’t get lost.” Jirou took a hold of your arm to pull you after her. “You're the only rational one around here.”

“Wait, but I-”

“I uh… I don’t think it's a good idea for us to split up.” Midoriya’s attempt at stopping Jirou didn’t exactly work as intended.

“Then we should all go.”

“That’s not really what I-”

“It’s probably for the best,” Todoroki said. He shrugged when you looked at him in surprise; he had been fairly neutral about the ordeal up until that point. “Kaminari,” he turned to look at the blond now, “We should get your head checked out too, to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I didn't hit my head,” Kaminari whined, “Seriously guys, you worry way too much.” He shifted his weight to his other foot, crossing his arms as he took a second to think. “...but fine, if you really want to go back, we’ll go. Not just because I fell though.”

“Finally,” Jirou breathed out. You felt her grip on your arm tighten for a second and then she released it.

“So… which way?” Midoriya prompted, eyes scanning the trees that were starting to look a little too similar now that you thought about it.

Everyone turned expectantly to Kaminari, although it seemed that the same idea was already budding in their minds as well.

He blinked at the sudden attention and then a sheepish smile overtook his features and he rubbed the back of his head, averting his gaze. “Well…”

“We’re lost,” Bakugou deadpanned. It wasn’t a question.

Kaminari tried to skirt around the issue, making up half-excuses and telling all of you not to worry, fumbling with his words. He wasn't very convincing. Realizing it was a lost cause a minute into the act, he gave up with a deep sigh. “Okay, yeah, we’re lost. We have been… for a while.” He mumbled that last part.

“We what?”

Kaminari held his hands up in defense. “Woah, woah, Bakugou, calm down. I'm sure I can get us out of here, no sweat.”

“I knew we passed that tree before. We’ve been walking in circles this entire time.” You looked over to see who had said that and found Todoroki, hand on his chin, staring contemplatively at a large tree with a spiral carved into its trunk. Now that you thought about it, it did look familiar.

The quiet that had followed ever since Kaminari fell was slowly falling apart, being replaced with loud, frantic discussions about what the fuck were you going to do. The bordering desperation in some of their voices wasn’t well hidden—it didn’t help ease anyone’s nerves that none of you had told a single soul where you were headed off to, hoping that no one would notice your absence at all. You were starting to realize just how many bad decisions everyone here had made up until this point. Note to self: maybe don’t get mad at horror movies portagonists for acting stupid once you get back to your dorm and flip on a new show to watch (now you were thinking about your dorm and how cozy you could have been in it right now, safe and sound with all of your friends for an impromptu movie night).

You shook your head. No time to think about what you could’ve been doing. Someone around here had to do something about this chaos because it seemed like everyone was seconds away from being at each other’s throats and you're pretty sure that's exactly what happens before things go horribly wrong in horror movies.

You cleared your throat, clapping your hands together. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air before opening your mouth and— “Shut up!” The echo of your shout had even more birds in the distance fleeing from their trees (oops?).

Everyone fell quiet, all looking at you now and their pinning stares were not happy. “Um…” You hadn’t actually thought of what to say once you got their attention. What could any of you do? “We need a plan.”

“No, duh.” Bakugou rolled his eyes.

You fixed him with a glare. “I said shut up. Anyway, we’re not going to get anything done at this rate if we all keep panicking.”

“You’re right,” Iida spoke up, “We all need to remain calm. Let’s discuss this properly.”

Looks like your plan to instill some order among the group hadn’t been a complete bust because everyone was nodding in agreement now. Maybe this could work and you all would be safely back at U.A. within a few hours.

That had been until the downpour had started, rain splattering through the trees and soaking into the fabric of your shirt.

A drop of water came from above, landing on your arm and chilling to your core. Then there was another and another, cold and unrelenting. No one had noticed the gray clouds heavy with moisture rolling in and it was like it all came down at once, stunning you all in place before you realized you were getting absolutely soaked.

It was a blur what happened after that, but let’s just say that the sense of order from before didn't last long. Those who had hoods on their jackets pulled them up, and anyone who didn’t held their hands up to shield themselves, or pulled their jackets up and over their heads by the collar. In a frenzy to find shelter, you all took off, feet thumping against the ground, yelling about your horrible luck so far. It was as if the forest had decided that you had been standing around too long talking and that it was time to get a move on.

The canopy of trees darkened the area, and you had to focus on the forest floor to prevent yourself from tripping several times. It was a miracle you all were able to stick together considering that it felt like you ran off in a seemingly random direction. The search for cover was suspiciously short though when Kaminari spotted a cabin in the distance. No one thought to question it much and before you knew it, you had shoved open the unlocked door and collapsed inside. The sound of the rain against the roof was deafening, but once the door was shut the clatter wasn’t as bad.

After everyone had caught their breaths and settled in, they’d gone back to arguing, mostly because no one was expecting to get drenched like that. Cute outfits? Ruined. Kaminari was going to be put on the chopping block for that one.

“It doesn’t make sense for us to be stuck here. Can’t we just use our quirks to find our way out?” you asked. The solution seemed obvious to you and you folded your arms against your chest, trying to keep warm.

Todoroki stood near one of the small windows, dusty from years of disuse, and swiped a hand over the glass to clean it. “I don’t think we should go out just yet. There’s low visibility with all this rain so there’s a high chance we might lose track of each other.”

Grumbles of agreement at that brought you to where you were now, sitting ducks in an ominous building in the woods with some of your best friends. This was starting to seem like some over done, predictable horror movie plot more and more.

“Can you help me carry those?”

You snapped out of your stupor, eyes drawn to the fire blazing in the mantle, and then up at the person who had spoken. Jirou.

She was pointing at a stack of logs near the door that Todoroki was crouched in front of, running his hands over the wooden pieces. You wondered how long you had been sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall for, acutely aware of the ache in your back and the stiffness in your legs now. This was boring.

“Well?” Your eyes snapped back to Jirou, her head tilted expectantly.

You cracked a smile, rising to your feet. “What? Are they too heavy for you?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed your arm lightly in retaliation before walking over to the stack. You followed in her wake.

Up close now, you could see that Todoroki was using his quirk to dry off the wood, the dripping droplets that splattered onto the wooden floor slowly dissipating away under his touch.

Strangely enough, aside from a light coating of dust, the cabin seemed ready to live in (or, er, crash in… for now, until you got back to U.A. and could forget this ever happened) and a small pile of logs had been situated next to an empty fireplace. Todoroki had thrown the wood in and lit it up no problem, casting light over the tiny room and providing some much needed warmth, but there wasn’t enough to keep the flame burning long.

The rain had eased up not long ago and with that Iida had decided to venture out to find more kindling. It didn’t take him long to skirt around the area to find branches and fallen logs that could be lugged back to the cabin with his super speed, and currently he was still out there gathering extra pieces that you’d surely need through the night. Despite the rain no longer pouring down, the sky had darkened significantly and it was decided that it was probably best if none of you went very far out there; same reason as the rain—low visibility. (You’d already been stuck here for a few hours so a few more until sunlight breached the horizon didn’t seem too bad… right?)

Normally wet kindling wasn’t ideal and would be a recipe for disaster once the flames caught ahold of it and the room filled with smoke from the combination, but luckily for you, Todoroki was perfect for survival expeditions. The plan was that he would simply dry off the wood with light heat from his hands, similar to how he had dried off most of your clothes earlier on to prevent anyone from getting sick from the cold.

While Iida went looking for large enough logs outside, Todoroki worked diligently to dry them off, sitting expectantly by the door for the next bundle. Then, one of the others would lug the wood either to rest next to the fireplace for when you needed it, or throw it into the flame when it started to die down. There weren’t exactly perfect pieces of wood laying around the forest, so many of them burned out quickly if they were too small and had to be replaced frequently.

You noticed the flickering light of the current flame starting to die down. Todoroki noticed your footsteps behind him and looked back at you before standing and moving so that you and Jirou could grab either end of a large log, slowly walk it over to the flame and then swing your arms for momentum a bit before throwing it in. You repeated the process with a few more smaller pieces and within no time the flame was back to its healthy, roaring self. The glow it cast would be cozy if the situation was any one but this.

Wiping your brow from the exertion, you had your other hand on your hip as you stared into the fire and admired your work. Jirou lingered a second by your side doing the same before walking off to go slump down in a seat somewhere, and you felt eyes on the back of your head once she left. You spared a glance over your shoulder to find Todoroki still standing in the same spot as before with his arms crossed watching you.

“How long do you think these will last us?” you asked to break the tension, referring to the slowly growing pile of wood.

Todoroki’s eyes shifted away from you and to the pile on the floor. “That should be good. I’ll tell Iida we should be set for the night when he comes back.”

You nodded and looked down. Not able to think of anything else to say, you padded back over to the corner you had been sitting in before and slotted yourself against the wall as had become familiar at this point, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. Maybe if you ignored the situation it would all pass faster.

“This is just plain depressing.” You pried one eye open in exasperation at the interruption—come on, you had just gotten in the “zone” (oh well, not like you had a time limit on doing that anyway). Kaminari was standing right in front of the fireplace at the head of the room, addressing all of you. He was back to giving you that disapproving shake of his head, the same kind he gave when he thought you guys were being boring. Uh oh… where’s this going to go? It was great and all that someone wasn’t feeling down in the dumps over this whole thing, but with it being Kaminari you weren’t sure how high the scale of how great it was actually went.

Bakugou’s eyes were following Kaminari’s movements now, waiting to see what dumb idea he had probably come up with this time—preiovusly, Bakugou had been staring out of the window at the full moon, elbow resting on the window sill and head in his palm (it was nice to see him calm and peaceful like that for a change). Even Midoirya, who had been alternating between sit-ups, push-ups, and planks in the the opposite corner of the room (where he got the energy for all of that right now was beyond you), had sat up to focus on Kaminari, his knees bent and his arms looped around his knees.

“You guys seriously need to lighten up,” Kaminari continued, dismissively gesturing with his hands as if to ward off the negativity all of you were emitting right now.

You saw Jirou quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah? And how should we do that? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re stranded here.”

“Well, yeah, I know that, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun.” He could tell he was already losing everyone’s attention as you diverted your gazes, each wanting to go back to being solemn on your own. “Why don’t we play a game?” he tried as a last ditch effort.

You let out a huff through your nose. “And that game would be…?”

“Truth or dare! Obviously.”

“Right,” you breathed out to yourself, rolling your eyes, although you couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Bless your heart, Midoriya.

“Awesome! See, at least someone around here knows how to enjoy themselves.” Kaminari planted his hands on his hips and the light of the fireplace behind him illuminated his outline. “Okay, the rest of you sticks in the mud have to play too. Form a circle in the middle of the room. Chop chop now. You have to admit it beats sitting around like this.”

You looked over to your side when you heard Jirou sigh and then the creak of the floorboards when she got up. “I guess.”

Midoriya had already gotten up from his spot and had lowered himself down to sit near the center. Jirou followed suit.

“Whatever.” Bakugou cast the window one last look before he moved towards the forming circle.

Just as Todoroki stepped forward as well, the door swung open with a creak, and Iida stepped inside, dropping the wooden bundles in his arms to the floor. Just as he moved to go back outside to no doubt collect more, not even sparing a glance further into the room, Todoroki stopped him, reaching out a hand to grasp his arm. “We have enough, Iida. I think we’ll be fine tonight.”

He nodded. “Sounds good then. I guess all that’s left to do now is wait this whole thing out,” Iida said. His gaze flickered from Todoroki’s face to the wood pile near the fireplace in order to see if there really was enough and that was when he noticed the circle forming in the center of the room. “…what’s going on?”

“We’re playing truth or dare!” Kaminari declared from the head of the circle where he’d sat down.

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” Todoroki said.

“Nonsense. I think it’ll be good to lift our spirits. Excellent idea, Kaminari.” Kaminari was absolutely beaming at the praise from Iida.

Iida stepped further into the room and leaned forward to shake his head out from side to side, water droplets flying from his hair—they’d probably dripped down from the towering trees onto him as he moved around outside, even after the storm.

As Todoroki and Iida choose their spots in the circle, you did as well, rising from your place against the wall, stretching, and then situating yourself among the others.

Once everyone was done squirming in their seats and getting comfortable, Kaminari clapped his hands together and leaned forward as if he had a secret to tell you all. A mischievous, almost dangerous glint was in his eye and the fireplace cast shadows over his face. “Let’s play.”

Catching the shine of the full moon in the far edge of the room in your peripheral, you shivered. You had a feeling the night was about to go from humbling to downright horrifying in true Halloween fashion.

TRUTH OR DARE: WHAT WILL YOU CHOOSE?

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 4: The Interviews

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 8.1K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2, 3

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Very little was said throughout the rest of hearing the other tribute’s scores, and as soon as that was finished you were hurried into a car to the studio to begin getting ready. You were pleased to discover that each tribute was granted their own dressing room and you didn’t have to share with your district mate. You wondered if this theatre was uniquely built for The Hunger Games given the twenty-four individual dressing rooms. As you were ushered into the make up chair and had a black cape draped around your neck, you thought about all the other female tributes from district four that could have been seated in this very room before you. You wondered how many of them had lived beyond the next week.

Before you could fall into a depressive spiral you were yanked back into reality by the team as they began to work on styling your hair with an array of wands, brushes and sprays. From the corner of your eye you could spot a rack of dresses two of the stylists were arguing over, but you couldn’t turn your head to properly look at the options with the way your hair was being pulled.

Unlike the chariot ride, where your hair had been pulled into a partial up-do and styled with various decorative clips, extensions, and a tiara, your stylists were discussing with each other how best to show off your “natural beauty”. Their reasoning seemed to be that in the arena you would not be wearing make up, so they wanted to create a look that could somehow capture your beauty and still transition from the stage into the games.

They had chosen to leave your hair down and loose, the treatment from a few days ago still feeling soft and looking healthy. They had elected to tame your natural wave into a smoother style, running a straightener through your hair before going back over it once more to apply a very soft curl towards the ends. With the hair finished the team quickly moved on to make up as the two stylists, who had previously been arguing by the clothes rack hurried over with the dress they had decided on.

“Isn’t it perfect!” Garnet sighed, holding up the white gown that seemed more fitting of a bride than a teenager, but you couldn’t help admitting that the dress was indeed very beautiful. Made of lace with a pattern of flowers and vines crawling across the fabric, the dress was adorned with shimmering crystals that resembled snowflakes throughout the fabric. Although you didn’t understand how it was supposed to fit a “natural beauty” aesthetic. You didn’t bother questioning it, the logic from Capitol people was something you had far given up on trying to understand.

Ruby and Quartz chimed their agreement as the rest of the team all chorused their approval whilst hurrying to start picking out matching accessories and select coordinating colors for your makeup. The fact no one had bothered to ask for your opinion wasn’t lost on you, but it’s not like you could see anything else on that clothing rack, or anywhere else around the room, worth arguing to wear instead. You were forced to shut your eyes so the artist could begin applying your eye shadow and in the resulting darkness you imagined yourself walking out on to the stage in the casual attire you were still dressed in, no make up, and damp hair still not properly dried from your earlier shower. You smiled to yourself at the imagined scandalized reaction from the audience, pretend Caesar sputtering as he somehow tried to carry on with his interview, and imaginary Finnick watching backstage with his head in his hands. If only you were allowed not to care about all of the showmanship of these stupid games. You dress up, smile and wave, and still get slaughtered anyway, so what good did playing along with their little show do?

'Sponsors!' Imaginary Finnick answered your own thoughts, although this time his voice in your head was an echo of a real memory.

From what time you had spent strategizing with him, the most important thing he had reiterated was always the importance of sponsorships, and the repetition of how he acquired his stupid trident. Easy for him to say when he had his carved face and had nearly been six foot back when he was fourteen. But Finnick had also been quick to rebut your snark with his reports and clips on how well received your chariot appearance had been in the Capitol. With training and the nightmare of dealing with Hoseok keeping you otherwise occupied, you hadn’t had any time to monitor the reactions of the people who were supposedly going to be betting on you. According to Finnick over the last few days, you were by far the most popular female tribute. As he walked you to the dressing room before, he told you that your surprisingly high Tribute score had done even more wonders for your odds, and all you really had to do now was show up on stage and look pretty. If everything worked out, you may actually have a shot of surviving this thing.

Was it fair that your only chance of survival in these games depended on outside interference?

No.

Did you care when a fair game would mean a guaranteed death?

Also no.

So you passively sat in the chair and allowed the team to work, until they told you it was time to stand up and change into the dress. You were lead to a privacy screen in the back corner of the room, and told to put the dress on as far as you could before you required help. You wondered how hard putting on a dress could be, but as you stepped into the lace and put your arms into the sleeves you realized the garment had a corset in the bodice, and you would need someone to pull the threads. You took a moment to enjoy the last few easy inhales and exhales you would enjoy for the next hour before calling on someone to assist. One of the triplets – you weren’t capable of telling them apart on their own – had you brace yourself against the wall as they set to work tightening the ribbons around your torso.

When she was done you fidgeted, trying to adjust to your newly restricted range of motion. Thankfully the corset was only under the bust so it wasn’t pressing upon your chest as badly as you were expecting. You uncomfortably stepped out from the privacy screen and ignored the staff reaction to your dress. You had already seen them fawn over you before, during the chariot parade, and you couldn’t care less how pretty they thought you were. Instead you looked around before spotting the pair of shoes that went with the dress; glittery silver pumps, with a modest heel so you could easily walk on stage. They were next to a full length mirror, so you walked over and slipped them on, before taking a step back to assess your appearance.

Oh.

The dress had appeared as merely a nice piece of fabric on the hanger, but actually being worn, it truly was stunning. The garment looked like a whimsical winter garden, the various jewels glimmering like snowflakes on the lace patterned white leaves and flowers that crawled across the fabric. The bottom part of the gown was long and flowed to the floor, with extra fabric underneath to create more volume. The corset cinched your waistline in tightly before ending just below your bust, pushing your breasts up, in the sweetheart-neckline bodice. The dress had below-the-shoulder sleeves that were sheer, with snow embellishments ending at your wrists. Your makeup was flattering; a neutral lip with a little gloss, and a focus on the eyes. Shimmery pearls and purples were used to create a smoky eye and crystal gems had been placed on the outer corners. You looked like an ice princess.

A knock at the door broke up your self assessment, before Finnick walked into the room.

“Show’s starting now, District 1 will be on in five, you’ll be up in about another fifteen minutes.”

Finnick stopped to take in your appearance, nodding his approval to the team, before coming over to stand before you.

“You look wonderful,” he spoke softly, reaching to pick up one of your hands and hold it both of his. He gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” you whispered, with a mild squeeze back.

“The Capitol already adores you after your chariot ride, so tonight just seeing you again, looking this beautiful will be all they need. You’ve done the hardest part with your tribute score, so just try to relax as much as possible.”

“Easier said that done,” you replied with a shaky laugh.

“I know that all too well,” Finnick conceded with a lop sided smile.

You envied him and his natural charm. But you supposed you had to have some of your own to have caught the Capitol’s attention, not to mention Hoseok’s too. You hadn’t been trying for either of those, so perhaps that was your best tactic to use with Caesar.

“How’s Namjoon?” You asked, your district-mate hadn’t said a word to you since the scores were read back in the living quarters.

“Calm.” Finnick replied honestly.

“Can’t even tell you what his plans are ‘cause he barely even tells me anything. Makes it hard to try and strategize, but if he doesn’t want the free help then I’m not going to force it.”

“But I thought you guys spent heaps of time together?” you frowned. If Finnick wasn’t helping you much, and Namjoon didn’t want his help, then what had he been doing? You guessed he had work to do with trying to gather sponsorships or trying to extract information out of the other mentors.

“Hardly. What little time you may have felt that we spent together is more than twice the time I’ve spent with him.” Finnick dismissed with a shrug.

“For the record, you’re my favorite between you, and I’m not just saying that based on your scores tonight. You’re humble and you listen. Arrogance doesn’t go far in games like these.”

“It did for you.”

Finnick huffed out a laugh.

“Keep that wit with you on stage and you’ll be swimming in sponsors. But to be clear, my arrogance was tactical, and I took outside help when it was offered.”

You nodded, not really knowing what more to say.

Finnick stepped past you to turn on a TV in the top corner of your dressing room. Krystal appeared on the screen, wearing a silk red dress and matching lipstick, laughing at something Caesar had just said. From the looks of it, her interview was nearly finished.

“Interviews are usually three minutes each, so not that long. There’s twenty-four of you and they have to keep the show under two hours,” Finnick explained as Caesar bid Krystal farewell.

Yoongi was quickly announced and stepped up on to the stage, to a round of applause from the audience.

“It’s worth paying attention because Caesar can be very tricky. He’s a showman and he needs to extract interesting information and reactions for ratings. Sometimes a tribute will accidentally let too much of their game-plan slip, and you can take advantage of that in the arena. Some of them crumble and you can pick out the easy targets, others become too hot headed so keep an eye open on people to avoid too.”

Finnick explained, as you simultaneously listened to Yoongi explaining how he volunteered upon hearing his sister’s name being drawn. Much like you had already suspected, his goal was to ensure that Krystal is the one to survive. You wondered how Hoseok, Athena, and Namjoon felt.

Once your supposed final six broke down there would already be a team of two. Knowing Hoseok he’d have to have some plan in place, especially given he was goading Yoongi over Krystal earlier. You didn’t like how his plan had involved you in it, immediately making you a threat to the alliance the same way Yoongi and Krystal were. But at least you had a friendship with Krystal. Maybe that’s what Hoseok was banking on. A team up of the two teams, to take out the outliers of Namjoon and Athena, then a fight between the duos. Hoseok could easily take Yoongi, but if this was his plan, he was giving you far too much credit against Krystal, who had kicked your ass most of the time in spar training. But he had been watching you and had to have known that too. Maybe he was planning to take her out another way? Maybe Krystal’s entire reason for being kind to you was to bring you into a team of three with her brother for their added protection, which also gave you a better shot of surviving against the likes of Hoseok and Namjoon in a final showdown. Or perhaps you would all be taken out by some rogue from an outsider district. You had seen a couple of pretty respectable scores of 7s and 8s.

“I’m going to go make sure Namjoon is ready, I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded in recognition at Finnicks words, whilst keeping your glazed over eyes in the direction of the TV. You weren’t actually paying attention to Caesar starting to wrap up Yoongi’s interview, too busy lost in your thoughts of how impossible this whole game was. Having strategies for the arena almost felt entirely pointless given how many things had to go right in order for them to work out vs the millions of ways something could go wrong. Alliances stab each other in the back, other districts are underestimated, the Capitol always throws out insane and deadly traps. Hoseok had to be insane to think he could somehow plan for all of these factors. But perhaps insanity would be the biggest advantage in the arena.

Finnick’s knuckles wrapping against the door broke your reverie and you turned to face the sight of him and Namjoon in your doorway.

“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered, walking out to join them and following along as Finnick started on a path through the corridors.

“That’s the spirit,” Namjoon sarcastically cheered at your monotone, clapping his hand over your shoulder to give it a shake.

You immediately swatted his hand away with an annoyed twitch of your nose. Finnick sighed, not even turning around as he continued to lead you, but you could see him pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He didn’t have time to stop and scold, as you could see you were approaching the backstage area. Several Capitol workers were busily rushing around each other, clasping clip boards, coffees, headsets, camera equipment, and a range of other items. A woman dressed in black impatiently waved her hand in Finnick’s direction with a frown. You weren’t sure if he was late or if she just hated her job.

You quickly found it was a combination of the two when she immediately scolded Finnick for showing up ‘one minute’ late as per the official schedule, before launching into snapped instructions on where you and Namjoon were to stand, how you would be called on stage, and where to go after. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Namjoon, just nodding docilely as additional staff hovered around you both; clipping on a tiny microphone, putting a small listening piece into your ear and applying last second touch ups to your hair and makeup. From here you were then escorted into a waiting section, at a wing on the side of the stage.

You swallowed a lump in your throat at the feeling of claustrophobia that the wing created. You were surrounded by large black curtains that hid you from sight and created a backdrop behind the constructed stage pieces. At the very end you could faintly see a tiny part of the stage, and a crop of short blonde hair you recognized as belonging to Athena. A few feet in front of you, behind a section marked off with red tape on floor, were the tributes from District 3 and their mentor, and at the corner of the curtain waiting with his own mentor and a stagehand, was Hoseok.

You vaguely recognized his mentor from a Hunger Games a few years ago. You didn’t recall her name, but from the sharp teeth you could see, you remembered her as the victor who had literally ripped a tribute’s throat out. You swallowed thickly thinking about Hoseok’s earlier bloodthirsty threats against your own alliance.

He was peering out from behind the curtain, watching his district mate with a bored expression, the angle giving you a view of his sharp side profile. He was dressed in a suit; fitted black pants, a white shirt with a thin black tie, topped off with a black jacket that was covered in black sequins. His outfit was completed by a pair of bronze boots, which complimented the shade of his russet hair that was styled in loose curls that framed his forehead.

His head turned at the sound of your heels on the floor, piercing brown eyes making contact with your own. You instantly froze, as if his eyes somehow were capable of inducing paralysis. He was eerily stunning, handsome beyond belief, but there was something more about him that sent shivers of fear down your spine. Memories from merely a few hours ago of him trapping you in the hallway, isolating you from the others, and forcing you into a kiss came to mind. You hated yourself for how weak you had felt, not even capable of pushing him away, again you still weren’t even sure that you wanted it to stop. Even now you could still feel the lingering tingle upon your lips, like a remaining taste of electricity that he had sparked. That same electricity was hovering in the air as the two of you stared at one another. But did you actually want him? Were you actually attracted to him, or was your fear of the games causing you to project these feelings?

“Two! You’re on!”

The stagehand’s instructions caused Hoseok to break the eye contact, nodding to the staff before turning to walk out. But not before he could look back at you once more, leaving you with a final wink. You shuddered uncomfortably, suddenly feeling cold and raising your arms to cross over your chest. You glanced up between Finnick and Namjoon, the latter watching you with a look of amusement whilst Finnick was staring out at the stage with a concerned frown. You knew he didn’t like Hoseok from the details you had already told him, so you could assume that little display didn’t help with his impression.

It was clear very early that the Capitol had taken a liking to the District 2 male. Hoseok walked out to loud applause, cheers, and a few whistles. He took it all in his stride, waving to the people, and smiling in a way that flashed his dimples and almost made his mouth look like it was in the shape of a heart. He charmed Caesar and answered his questions about his home life in two confidently (“We work hard to provide The Capitol with the finest weapons and masonry we can provide, in return the Capitol provides us with everything we need”), along with providing some details of his family life (“what can I say, I’m a momma’s boy at heart”). His mentor watched on stoically by the wings, the barest hint of a nod every now and then being her only reaction. You could tell Finnick was trying to get a read off of her, but she wasn’t giving anything away. Meanwhile the mentor for Three was doing all they could to try and reassure their tributes they weren’t going to die on stage.

“What are your expectations?”

Caesar’s question brings your focus back to their interview and you pay extra attention for this answer, given Hoseok has always been extremely vague with his actual game plan besides ‘kill everyone except you’.

“You know, it’s funny Caesar, the thing about these games is you can never truly expect anything. I spent eighteen years of my life training myself for this moment to come. I’ve studied all the arenas, prepared as much as I could for wherever we may end up, but nothing could prepare me for who was going into that arena with me. I showed up to the chariot ride and training, expecting to meet people who I would just see as targets to kill. Instead I’m now going into the arena with the love of my life.”

Oh no.

You feel your stomach drop as you instantly realize Hoseok is about to talk about you.

“Three days is an awfully short time period to fall in love with someone, don’t you think?”

“It took much less time than three days, Caesar. I was in love the second I saw her.”

Shit.

“So what was it about these games that made you realize your dormant feelings for Athena?”

Hoseok balks at Caesar’s assumption, his eyebrows raising, before he quickly moves to smooth his expression over with a laugh

“No, my feelings are for YN.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“Mother fucker,” Finnick curses beside you. N

amjoon merely looks amused, whilst you also notice Hoseok’s mentor has now turned her attention from the stage to you. You feel even further unnerved from the fact she doesn’t seem remotely surprised by his words. She is far from an expressive woman, but you somehow get the feeling from her as she assesses your appearance, that it’s out of interest to know who her tribute has been talking about the last few days.

Meanwhile you wish that the floor would somehow open up and swallow you whole. Away from Hoseok’s advances, all the unwanted attention it resulted in and away an imminent painful death.

“But this is The Hunger Games, surely you know only one of you will come out alive?”

“I’m faced with an impossible task, but I’ve never felt more certain of anything in my life. Maybe we will both die in that arena, and that will be our way to live together in eternity in the next life. However, I do have one idea, and it’s a crazy long shot, but for her I have to to try.”

“Well I am just dying to know what that one idea is, but I have a feeling if I asked you wouldn’t tell me anyway!” Caesar exclaims with his trademark uproarious laugh at the end.

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok shrugs and shoots him a grin.

Caesar’s laugh continues and the audience joins in before the host bids him farewell and Hoseok leaves the stage.

You’re still lost in your desire to no longer even exist anymore that you barely register anything that has happened. You vaguely hear Hoseok’s concept of a long shot plan but it seems so unrealistic that it’s not even worth considering what it might even be. It’s not like you were planning on going along with it anyway, especially not after how he had just thrown you to the wolves in his interview.

You realize that Finnick is talking to you again, he’s trying to process Hoseok’s interview just as much as you are and has quickly taken to offering advice now. “This may not actually be too bad, maybe we can work this to our advantage. Hoseok is the top betting favorite, so potentially this can boost your odds too” … “Caesar loves gossip so the more time he spends talking about Hoseok in your interview, the less time he’s trying to extract things that could make you slip up” … “talk about your loved ones back in four” You’re not sure if you’re capable of processing his advice but you nod along anyway.

Namjoon continues to say nothing, but you don’t like the expression on his face. He has a smug air about him, similar to the one back in the apartment when his scores were read. You have an eerie feeling from him and you don’t like it.

The time district three takes for their interviews passes in what feels like seconds. Before you know it you have the stage hand waving you on stage and Finnick whispering a rushed “good luck” as you’re ushered out.

The first thing you realize is that you can barely see the audience, the bright lights being directed upon the stage are nearly blinding and you can’t see much from behind them besides a warped blur. The next thing you realize is that although you cannot see the audience, you can definitely hear them. You are met with a loud reception of applause and cheers as you make your way over to the directed couch. You attempt to take it in your stride, smiling and waving before you dip to a curtsy as you take your seat.

“Isn’t she lovely folks!”

You turn your painted on smile to Caesar, who is even more green in person. His hair is shockingly vibrant, his emerald suit reflective in the stage lights and you can see the sparkling details of his matching contacts.

“Now YN,” Caesar immediately launches into business and you mentally begin a countdown clock of the 180 seconds that you will be forced to remain in his presence. “I simply must say that you are gorgeous on camera, but even more stunning in person! I almost can’t even believe you’re a real person and not some divine creature!”

You respond with an awkward shrug and humbly averting your eyes to the floor, your hair flows down over your shoulder at the movement. The audience cheers again and whistles their approval at Caesar’s assessment of your appearance.

‘Shallow cunts.’ You remember Finnick’s words from the train, and you huff a small laugh to yourself in agreement. You allow this to bring a more natural smile to your face as you raise your eyes to meet Caesar’s once more.

“Oh Caesar, you really are too much. I assure you that much of this is the work of my talented stylists and make up artists.”

“Now, now don’t be so modest. Surely your beauty must still exist without these glamorous outfits for you to have District 2 so enamored with you!”

You have to mentally restrain yourself from scowling at the mention of Hoseok and his interview. Instead you settle for attempting to coolly rebuff him.

“I’m flattered, but really I don’t even know him.”

Caesar isn’t deterred and continues with his angle.

“But yet Hoseok still fell in love with you. And who could blame him folks I mean look at her everybody isn’t she gorgeous!”

At this the crowd launches into another round of applause. You attempt to appear bashful, yet flattered. You pretend to hide behind one hand whilst waving to the audience with the other.

“Now come on YN, tell us what you really think of Hoseok,” Caesar begins to press and you find yourself becoming increasingly frustrated with how he’s making your interview about another competitor. As if you are only in these games to exist as a romantic interest for a man.

“I don’t.” You reply bluntly, and if you weren’t in a fight for your life that relied upon being likeable you would have folded your arms and left it at exactly that. But instead your force yourself to continue on.

“At least not in an emotional sense. These games are so intense, from the parade, to the three days of training, the assessment, and now this interview, and that’s before we even step inside the arena. I barely have time to breathe, let alone develop a romantic connection.”

You hope this is enough to get him off your back.

“She’s really not going to give us anything!”

You’re confused for a moment before you realize that Caesar thinks you’re lying.

“I swear, it’s the truth,” you try to implore, looking at Caesar in the eyes before trying to see into the audience as if begging them all to believe you.

“The only man I love is back home in four, my father. I can’t allow myself to get distracted by anyone when I need to win to see him again. My mother died a few years ago and I’m an only child. All we have left in this world is each other.”

You have to stop and take a deep breath as by the end your throat is starting to choke up. You’ve barely allowed any thoughts of home to enter your mind, as you know it will only lead to you becoming upset and you have to remain focused for any chance of survival.

Sensing your distress Caesar finally starts to change the topic.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry about your mother,” he coos and you hear similar hushed “awes” from the crowd.

You refrain from snapping that they’re clearly not sorry about the loss of life to prevent the annual slaughter of twenty teenagers. Instead you settle for a demure “thank you”.

The remainder of your interview is spent talking about your parents, your home, your work on the boat and ends on a final note of your skills with a knife. By the end you are exhausted; emotionally spent from the topic of your parents and feeling like Caesar had somehow drained the energy out of you through his exuberant and overbearing presence.

After your final courtesy to Caesar and the audience, you are directed to an exit on the opposite end of the stage from which you came. You don’t stick around to watch Namjoon from the side, all you want is to be by yourself and you figure that your dressing room is probably the best place for that. Following signs that are up on the walls of the hallway, you easily navigate yourself back to your room. Though you pass some of the other tributes who are approaching the stage for their interviews, you are relieved you don’t see anyone you really recognize.

Entering your room, you head straight for the chair you had been sitting in before, noticing that the TV had been left on from before. The camera was focused on Namjoon who sat comfortably on the lounge, and gave the impression that he was totally at ease.

“…doesn’t know what he’s talking about when it comes to Y/N.” you catch him mention your name and frown.

“He thinks he’s fallen in love with her at first sight just because she’s beautiful, which of course she is, I mean come on Caesar we all have eyes.”

He pauses to look to the audience with his arms outstretched, as if he’s stating the obvious, and they respond with a laugh. Caesar cackles along, clearly please to have a guest that is hamming it up for the cameras.

“But she’s my teammate. We’ll work together in the career pack as long as we can but when that inevitably reaches the end I’ll be the one protecting her, not him. He’s known her for less than a week, we grew up together.”

What?

“Why Namjoon, is there a bit of a love triangle going on here!”

“There just might be”

Whatever relief you were hoping to find upon your interview being over and finally having some time alone was absolute gone. For the second time in less than half an hour, you feel as if your stomach is made of lead and plummeting to the floor.

“Tell us more! You simply have to tell us more! When did you first realize your true feelings for our darling YN?”

He doesn’t!

“There was no moment, no instant spark, because that’s not how love really works. Love is the familiar, the regular presence and comfort she brings just from knowing she’s in my life. Her name was never meant to have been called at the reaping and I wish when I volunteered it could have been in her pla-”

“What a load of bullshit!” Your cry at the television, cutting off the sound of Namjoon’s lies, as you threw the remote at the screen.

Perhaps the Capitol had experienced tribute outbreaks in the past because it merely bounced off the surface, however it thankfully turned off the stream. You bunched the skirt of your dress in your hands, preparing to storm out onto the stage and call out Namjoon’s bluff yourself. You turned towards the exit of the room, only to swirl into a hard surface. You grunted at the impact of hitting a muscular body, the toned figure made you think it was a Capitol security guard coming to investigate your TV tantrum, but a familiar drawl suddenly caused your blood to run cold.

“What’s the rush, darling?”

Even in all his terror, Jung Hoseok truly was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. The television cameras failed to do him justice. They didn’t capture the warmth to his skin, the softness of his hair, nor the addictive scent you were being forced to inhale from his sudden presence.

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice was unintentionally soft as a whisper, almost as if you were praying he wasn’t really in the room. But your hands on his chest from where you had collided reminded you he very much was real, as you tried to push yourself away. He only hummed in contentment upon feeling your touch on his body, locking his hands upon your wrists to keep them there. Hoseok’s long fingers were like iron chains, grasping so tightly you couldn’t even think to try and push past him.

“Get out, or I’ll scream,” you hiss, trying to sound threatening, but the instinctual fear that Hoseok’s presence set off only caused your breath to shake and your words to sound pleading.

The corner of Hoseok’s lip raised upwards into a cruel curl as he stepped forward, you instantly took a matching step back. But this only continued until your back collided with the wall, his body pushed against yours and your wrists held tightly in his clutches.

“I thought you were going to scream?” he taunts, cocking his head to the side, his eyes seeming to sparkle with glee as he mocked you. You were trembling, you had wanted to scream, but the second he started to advance upon you all of your thoughts had instantly turned into flight mode, foolishly backing away until there was no space left to go. Oh god, you truly were dead once you stepped into that arena tomorrow. Over his shoulder you could see the door shut on the other end of the room, with no way for anyone to see him inside of your room. How had he even managed to get inside without being noticed?

“HEL-”

Before you could even get a word out, his forearm was pressed against your windpipe, cutting off your cry. Your already panicked eyes blew wide open in fear, unable to move or breathe.

“Shhhh,” he coos, leaning in so his lips were ever so slightly hovering over yours as you tried to push him off – your lungs starting to burn from the lack of oxygen.

“You know I promised not to hurt you love, but if you’re going to be that fucking stupid then you leave me no choice.”

Restricted between his body and the wall, it was all you could do to vainly scratch your nails against his grip on your wrists, desperately trying to get him to release his hold. But all Hoseok did in return was gently brush his lips to yours, in a move that contradicted his violent chokehold, before pulling back to watch you struggle.

“C-a-nt … br-eee…” with no air, you barely made a sound, eyes watering in pain. You try to kick, but Hoseok’s body is too close, his hips and thighs pressing against yours making it impossible to move.

Finally, his pressure relaxes, although his arm still remains resting upon your throat.

You inhale a choked gasp before letting out a broken cough. You weren’t sure how long he had cut off your airway, every second burning in agony had felt like a minute, and the impact left you struggling to regain your breath even after he had backed off. Meanwhile Hoseok released his hold on your hands to snake his arm behind your waist and pat against your back, as you continued to splutter trying to suck in air with tears streaking down your face.

“You’re insane,” you wheeze, voice raspy and barely audible, but Hoseok’s quirked lip breaking into a wicked smile showed you that he had heard.

“Only because you drive me crazy,” he grins, moving his arm away from your throat to catch a tear rolling down your cheek with his thumb.

Your head was spinning and your vision was filled the kind of black spots you would get if you stood up too fast. Your throat was sore and your lungs still burned as you tried to regain your breathing. Too weak to fight back, it was all you could do to try and lean as far away from him as you could, turning your face to the side. But Hoseok wasn’t having any of that, tightening his hold on your waist.

A choked whimper escaped from your lips, the sound similar to that of an injured animal. You were frightened by the ease he had overpowered you, contrasted by his sickening affection. With his arm holding you around the waist, he gently rubbed his palm up and down against your back. His other hand came to rest on the side of your head, tenderly running his fingers through your hair, as if soothing a child woken up by a nightmare.

“I hate you.”

Your voice was a strained whisper, as your eyes deliberately focused on the ground to avoid his burning stare.

Hoseok merely hums in recognition, content to remain in this position for as long as possible – trying to ingrain everything into his memory. The softness of your hair was like liquid silk passing though his fingertips. Despite the thickness of the bodice, he could still feel the warmth of your body beneath his palm through your dress. As he looked down, he had a direct view of your exposed cleavage pressing against his chest, watching the swell of your breasts heave with every breath.

‘Soft, soft, soft’ his mind repeats over every little detail. From your hair, to your skin, to your breasts and your scent, everything about you was so delicate and enticing. He almost felt bad for how roughly he had handled you, except that doing so had resulted in you becoming so pliant in his arms. ‘a necessary evil’

“Good,” was his eventual reply.

“I hate you,” You repeat again, raising your chin to glare at him for dismissing your anger so flippantly.

He only smiled at you fondly in return.

“I love you.”

It was somehow like he had knocked the winds from your lungs all over again. In his interview it was possibly an insane strategy, but seeing the burning intensity in his eyes as he stared at you like you were the only thing in the universe, made you truly realize that this was what he actually believed.

“That’s impossible, we’ve known each other for three days,” you hiss back. “And you don’t hurt someone you love!” 

Hoseok closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slowly.

“Oh but darling, you hurt the ones you love the most”

As if to emphasize his words, his hands in your hair tighten into a painful grasp, causing you to whimper. You reach both of your hands up to hold onto his grip, trying to get him to release. In turn, he does, but only ever so slightly, just so he can enjoy the feeling of your hands touching him.

He leans further in to press his lips to the shell of your ear, the tickling feeling of his breath causing you to shiver.

“I love you so much it causes me far more pain than whatever you’re feeling now. I looked at you for one moment and you were like an insidious vine that crawled inside of my veins to wrap around my heart. So now it belongs to you, beats for you, burns for you and craves only you.”

“Please, I didn’t do anythi-”

You tried to beg, but he immediately cut you off.

“That doesn’t matter.” He snaps and you flinch.

“The instant I saw you it was like every tie that once bound me to this earth was cut, and then every thread was tied to you. In just a second you become my oxygen, my gravity, my entire reason for being.

Every night since the moment I saw you, I have dreamed of you. I dreamed of kissing you senseless at the chariots, like how I wanted to do the moment we met. I dreamed of you during training, that it was my bed you came back to at night. When I saw you in this dress I instantly knew that tonight I will dream of making you my wife. And I have a plan that will make that dream a reality.”

Finally, he released his hold on your body, stepping back to watch as you slump against the wall and slowly fall to sit upon the ground in a combination of exhaustion and horror. Your eyes were wide in a shell shocked daze.

Slowly, he steps backwards towards the door, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. But you don’t even notice. You’re no longer even looking at him anymore, just staring emptily at the room, but not seeing anything inside

“If you try to run from me tomorrow, I will find you. I will hunt you down and drag you back to me, where you belong.”

For a brief moment you regain a sense of clarity to ask him the question that has been burning in your mind ever since he started his insane proclamations.

“What happens when we’re the last two? Who dies?”

Stepping out of the room, his answer offers you no sense of closure before he shuts the door behind him…

“You leave that for me to deal with. All you need to know is that you will leave these games by my side, or not at all.”

 ***

 After Hoseok had left you in your dressing room, you had immediately scrambled to your feet to lock the door behind him. From there you rushed to strip out of your dress and back into your lounge clothes. Grabbing wipes from the counter, you angrily scrubbed off all the make up from your face. You weren’t sure if you had to go back out on stage at the end with all the other tributes, frankly you didn’t care.

“Hello?”

You’re startled by a knock at the door.

“It’s Finnick, can I come in for a moment?”

You suppose he’s only asking to be polite, given he very likely has access to any room you’re in as a mentor. With a huff you storm over to the door, unlocking it and wrenching it open.

“Did you tell him to say that about me?” You snap, referring to Namjoon and his earlier interview. Finnick hurriedly enters the room and pulls the door shut behind him.

“Is this part of your little fucked up plan for the tribute with the better prospects to actually win, by using me to try and humanize that bastard?” You continue to yell.

“No!” Finnick replies, vigorously shaking his head.

“Then what the fuck was that?” Your pent up frustration and anger comes out in a harsh shove, causing Finnick to stumble backwards, though he quickly regains his balance.

“I only told him to show that he cared about you as a teammate” Finnick sighs, holding his hands up in a surrender gesture, whilst emphasizing the word ‘teammate’ slowly. “I swear I never told him anything about acting like he had romantic feelings.”

You immediately feel bad for pushing him.

“Whatever rage you feel at me, and especially at him, save it. Save it and use it tomorrow the first thing you wake up because that is what you’re going to need to become a killer.”

“Can I kill him tomorrow?”

The question slips out before you can think it might be a bad idea to confess to your mutual mentor that wish to kill your district partner.

“If you think you can, that is the game after all,” Finnick shrugs with a lopsided grin.

You’re too stressed to properly laugh, but you let out an amused hum at his quip. You’re grateful for Finnick’s good nature towards you.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” you apologize.

“It’s fine,” Finnick quickly shrugs it off.

His relaxed demeanor quickly tenses though, before he turns back to the door to make sure it’s locked behind him. You mentally kick yourself for not doing that earlier.

“Listen, I’m here because I wanted to tell you that it appears the president has taken a liking to you.”

You blanch.

From all the ridiculous shit you have heard today, the president joining your little fan club is the least thing you expected.

“President Snow? But why?”

“I’m not one hundred percent certain, but if you remember when we first met on the train I told you that the Capitol loves beautiful things. I wanted to at least warn you.”

You nod to show you remember the conversation, but you’re still confused as to how this involves the president.

“But isn’t this a good thing? Maybe I might even be able to survive if the president wants me to. All those ‘natural disasters’ that game makers can cause and all”

“Yes, it’s very likely you won’t be impacted by that in the game. I especially wanted to tell you that alone, because I feel Namjoon would be too short sighted and threatened by any idea of favoritism, to see the long term benefits of keeping a protected tribute in his alliance.”

You nod again.

“Is that all?”

“No.”

Finnick pauses.

His intended break slowly extends into an uncomfortable silence. You want to ask him what he’s trying to say but you can tell he’s struggling to find the words, so you remain quiet and let him think.

“If you win, you don’t just survive the games and retire in peace in the victor’s village.” He eventually begins. “You have to keep coming back; for the victor’s parade, as a mentor, for visits to the Capitol for all your adoring fans”

“I… I could do that,” you respond, but the pained look in Finnick’s eyes tells you that there is more.

“But you don’t deserve to have to.”

It’s a strange moment to watch your mentor, the person you trust to be strong, the survivor of these games, appearing vulnerable before your eyes. The six foot one man in front of you is suddenly just another teenager, around the same age as you.

“As a tribute, what I wish more than anything my mentor had warned me about, wasn’t what was inside of the arena, but what awaited outside. I can forgive you for being preoccupied and not noticing but I haven’t been spending any of these nights in my own bed since we’ve been here and that’s not by my own choice”

“Why?” you whisper, although a sickening sensation in your gut tells you, you can imagine the reason why.

“The Capitol loves beautiful things.”

You don’t know what to say. There’s nothing you ever could say to express your sympathy for his situation. You’re torn between wishing to offer comfort that you cannot, and a newly awakened fear that this could be what awaits you should you somehow make it out alive.

“I wish I could say that you are too young to hear this, but I needed to hear it at fourteen, and I have spent every day since winning those games regretting the fact that I did. There are fates in life that are much worse than death. By all means fight to protect yourself in that arena, no child or barely legal adult deserves a painful death, but if an opportunity presents itself to go in peace, seize it, or else you will spend every waking moment of your life outside in regret.”

[httphopewrld]

hot summer (sneak peek pt.2)!!!

He was a boy across the street—no—an attractive boy across the street who happened to be a tattoo artist. You didn’t want to do anything about it, but your friends encouraged you to either stop sulking or make a move. And you chose the latter. 

Pairing: tattoo artist/neighbourjungkook! x female reader

Genre: fluff and smuuuuuut

Rating: 18+ because there’s some smuuuuuutttt (it’s the most detailed I’ve ever written, soooo proceed with caution) and swearing

Warnings: smut, soft sex, dom!/sub!jungkook, dom!/sub!femreader, penetrative sex without protection (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), bullet vibrator, oral fem receiving, creampie, fingering, making out, and swearing. There are mentions of domestic violence, but it is not detailed. It is in the perspective of the reader, who is witnessing this from a distance.

Word Count: 9,000-10,000 (each because there will be 2 parts)

A/N: Uni has been a lot, so I will be post the full part 1 on Monday. Thank you so much for waiting, and for all the support and love I’ve gotten from the previous sneak peek! Here’s a little more to keep you on your toes ;)

Also, if you’d like to be on this fic’s (and future ones) taglist, comment your username, and I’ll update this fic and have your username in future fics too! 

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You looked across the traffic, into the apartment building across from yours. A boy sat back into his chair, holding a book in his hands. He began to read, of course, in a simple manner. His eyes scanned the pages, imagining the words written in his mind.

He was man, most likely, in his early twenties, but referring to him as a “man” felt odd. 

You were fascinated by him. He was good looking, even from kilometres away. If you leaned against your balcony’s rails, you could see his dark wavy brown hair, his slightly sun-kissed skin, and his all-black clothing ensemble. He wore no shirt, probably from the heat or being in the comfort of his own home. 

You stepped away from the railing and back into your apartment, drawing back the curtain and turning your back to the balcony.

How long have you been gawking at this stranger? Had he glanced up from his book and saw you standing there? 

You drew all your curtains closed, paranoid, and embarrassed. 

People crowded the city’s streets. 

The sun was out, which meant everyone became runners, joggers, and walkers. People, families, and friends came out from their hideaways and into the sunshine. You, on the other hand, sat safely on your balcony. 

Crowds made you nervous. You liked meeting people, but the thought of pushing through a dense mass of strangers made you shudder. 

So, you watched people push and brush pass each other from ten floors up, sipping at your iced tea. 

You gazed at the apartment from the other night.

It was empty. 

You could see simplistic black and white art and photographs decorating the walls and modern furniture. His bedroom is to the left, with a gaping window that allowed anyone to look in. The same applied to the rest of the apartment: big windows and no curtains. 

You sipped your iced tea. 

You could imagine this man’s wardrobe. Minimalistic shades, and maybe some pops of colour. Chunky black sneakers and dark accessories. He must’ve been an artist of some sort. 

Your phone rang. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” Your friend, and roommate, Ashly, chimed on the other end. “Are you busy at the moment?”

“Not at all,” you replied, setting down your drink, “what’s up?”

“I was thinking of having a get-together. There’d be wine, snacks, and music. It’d be small, maybe five people, including ourselves?” 

“You want me at your party?”

“Well, it isn’t a party—just a few girls and gossip.” 

You pondered for a moment. “Where is it?”

“The get-together?”

“Yes,”

“It’d be at our place in two weeks.” Ashly sighed. “Is that enough time, mom?”

You chuckled. “Yes, my child.”

“Awesome! We can plan when I come back from work.” 

“Okay, see you soon.”

“See ya!”

“Bye.” You hung up and looked back at the apartment. 

The boy had come back. He wore a back cap, which he quickly took off and ruffled his hair, and, like a few days ago, adorned a full black ensemble. Despite the warm weather, he had worn a black leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. 

You watched him shuck off his jacket and toss it on the couch, and head to his bedroom. 

He, with a lack of better words, flopped onto his bed and appeared to take a nap. 

You chuckled to yourself—definitely a boy. 

.

.

It had been a week since you looked back at the apartment. 

You had just come back from work, and Ashly usually arrives back home an hour later. 

The apartment you shared with Ashly was a carbon-copy of an IKEA display. You joked about it before, saying, “if someone were to flip through a 2019 IKEA catalogue, randomly choose a page, you’d probably think our place looked the same—or you’d find one of our pieces of furniture.” 

It wasn’t a bad thing. IKEA was a popular place to shop at, and it was excellent quality. 

Your furniture was various shades of white, navy blue, grey, silver, and light brown. The colour palette continued to your cutlery, kitchen items, and your bedrooms.

The place was cozy and didn’t leave room (pun intended) for a frivolous lifestyle. 

The boy’s apartment was similar yet different. There was a sense of minimalism, like yours, but the furniture was dark—almost raven black. 

As remarked before, there were black and white photographs and inky modern furniture. There were no colours in his home, just assorted shades. 

His front door opened, and two bodies tumbled inside—his and a female. 

Their bodies entangled with one and other and gripping each other’s clothes. The female’s clothes were the first to come off, exposing her bra and lack of underwear. The boy seemed pleased because he smirked before attaching his lips to her vagina. 

You were shocked, scared, and worried all at once. You wanted to look away but found a curiosity within. 

This man—boy—didn’t appear to have any desire to shut the world out. 

You watched as this boy perform oral sex to this female—in the right way because the girl appeared to be moaning a lot—and you couldn’t look away. 

It was like watching live porn, in a weird and public sense. It was, slightly, pleasurable too. 

They took off their clothes shortly after the girl seemed to orgasm and engaged in penetrative sex. He took her from behind, against his couch. You, and whoever else stumbled upon this erotic scene, had a perfect view of their naked sides. 

“Oh, my lord,” you gasped. 

You felt the familiar tingle in your lower region. 

Realizing this, you cursed under your breath and closed your curtains. 

“What the fuck,” you exhaled, leaning forward on the dining table. 

“I just watched my neighbour have sex,” you muttered, “and enjoyed it.”

You paced the room as if giving a lecture to a child. 

“You were turned on by your neighbour having sex!” You shouted at yourself. “What the hell?! Were you fantasying? Him?! What the fuck, Y/N? Might as well be Joe Goldberg, and whip out your—”

“Y/N?”

You stopped in your tracks and turned to your front door. Ashly stood in shock. 

“Are you alright?” Her Australian accent was thick with concern. 

You smiled, “Never better.” 

She let out a pulse of nervous laughter before tossing her keys in the small dish on the kitchen counter. 

“What were you saying about Joe Goldberg? The guy from You? And why are the curtains closed?” Ashly leaned her hand against the counter, and her other on her hip. She resembled a mother about to lecture their kid about a text from a stranger. 

You chuckled.  “Nothing of importance—anyways, how was your day, Ash?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, Y/N. You’re not escaping this one.” She walked up to you and firmly placed both her hands on her hips. “What is all this that about?”

“Look who’s the mother now,” you muttered, making Ashly raise her eyebrow. 

You inhaled a lungful of air. “The boy in the apartment across from us is having sex right now, and they’re bare-ass naked in front of their big-ass windows. I had to close the curtains because I felt like I was intruding on their sexual activity, and it was just weird that they didn’t close their own—but I feel like that boy doesn’t own any curtains—so I just closed our curtains.” You said in one breath.

Ashly’s eyes widened with shock, “What?” She walked past you and threw open the curtains. 

“Ash, don’t just rip them wide open!” You rushed over and closed the curtains. 

She glared at you before cracking the drapes a bit to take a look. “Oh, my God.” She gasped. “They are having sex.”

“Still?” You crouched down and peered through the break. 

“Oh yeah,” she nodded, “and harder than ever.” 

You both watched, only for a few seconds before closing the curtains again, the boy drill into the girl. The boy faced the windows, leaving everyone to see his face and the top of the girl’s head as she tilted it back with pleasure. 

“Well, he seems very good at what he’s doing,” Ashly commented, walking away as you closed the drapes. 

“Ash!” You said in a loud whisper as if the boy across the street could hear.  

“I’m just saying, the girl seems like she’s having the best time of her life, being pounded by that dude!” She defended.

“Jesus Christ, Ash, shut up!” 

“I’m not wrong,” she shrugged. 

You looked at her sheepishly, and you both burst with laugher. 

Both of you spent dinner recapping your days: Ashly was currently dealing with an HR (Human Resources) problem in her company—she couldn’t go into details because of confidentiality, but it had to do with a problematic employee who was spouting racist nonsense online, which could affect the company’s image; and was immorally wrong because racism and any discrimination based on sexuality, race, religion, and so on, cannot be tolerated. 

Your day and work-life were conversely dull. 

You managed finances and taxes for your corporation, and the only exciting event to date was the incorrect money evaluation from a co-worker, which lead the company to believe there was wiggle-room for spending; when in reality, they were spending too much.

You pushed the pasta around in your plate while looking at the covered windows. You watched the curtains sway in the wind. Ashly had opened the windows a few minutes ago to let the hot air out of the apartment. 

It was the hottest summer since you moved to the city five years ago, including the weather and the recently noticed neighbour across the street. 

You continued to think about him and the way he had sex with that girl. It was romantic, yet aggressive and needy. 

Fuck. You cursed. 

“Hello?” Ashly waved a hand in front of your face. “I know that HR can be boring to listen to, but please try to look interested.” 

You chuckled, “Sorry, Ash. I just zoned out a bit.”

“Oh, I know,” she replied, “but thank you for the apology.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m ready to watch some Netflix.” She looked at her watch, “And as it is almost eight o’clock, I think I’ll only be able to last for a ripe two hours until my old body starts to shut down.”

You laughed, taking both of your empty plates and cutlery to the kitchen. Ashly joined you, bringing the drained wine glasses. 

“Care to join me?” She asked while you loaded the dishes. 

“It’d be the highest honour, m’lady.” 

⋅. ✯ .⋅

Reminder:

if you would like to be on my taglist for “Hot Summer” and my future fics, please comment something like:

(ex.)

Hello! I would like to be in your taglist. My username is _____. Thank you!

Thank you!

- Mae (httphopewrld)

[kyoonqs]

iluso amor ; third part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 9.2 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21​ @mangobaek​ @suhotly​ @pororodks​ @bbhbae​ @blahblahblah-boo @leewalberg​ @byunsbobobu​ @endzii23​ @taeilpathic​

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know!

↬ masterlist.

When Cora left the trailer in that afternoon, she bumped into a young woman with shiny golden skin, dark hair, and a very pretty, contagious rectangular smile. She recognized her as Talia, she was a member of the group that performed acrobatic skills using various elements from ribbons to hoops and balls. From the moment she saw her, Cora could read how transparent she was and dared to say that she was surely the sweetest young woman in the whole circus.

The girl introduced herself and without losing her smile she brushed her hair behind her shoulders. Cora returned the greeting with a cordial smile of her own, as she caught sight of  another woman approaching. The woman, dressed in black baggy pants and an oversized shirt came up and introduced herself as Ramona. Cora instantly recognized her as one of the women who had entered the arena on the back of one of the horses. Her casual clothes made Cora feel overdressed. She'd wanted to look good on her first day at the box office; for this she had put on an ivory silk blouse with black leggings instead of the jeans and the outlet shirt that Baekhyun had insisted on buying her in a shop window they had passed before settling in Fraga.

“Cora is Baekhyun's girlfriend, she joined us in Monzón.” Said Talia, who seemed increasingly happy with the news.

“I already heard the news. How lucky you are. Man doesn’t have a single particle of waste in his body.” Ramona replied.

Cora opened her mouth to tell them that she was just showing up for work, that she was definitely not his girlfriend but she snapped it shut when Ramona interrupted her with: “Algeria is going to have a fit when she gets back.”

“Actually... I applied for this job because of the vacancy, I didn't know Baekhyun before and I don't think he's interested in me either.” Cora felt embarrassed. She didn't want these girls to get a bad impression of either her or Baekhyun in the first conversation.

“Vacancy? The positions were filled by the time flyers were posted and besides we only needed male performers. Are you sure he has no interest in you?” Talia looked in bewilderment to Ramona, who only shrugged her shoulders with an apology that she had to leave.

Cora was going to investigate a little more, considering the girl's words had given her a lot to think about but she was in a hurry to get to the box office in time.

“I guess I’d better go. It was nice meeting you.” She waved goodbye and headed toward the locker trailer, mentally correcting herself that the place was to be called “The Red Wagon” shortly before. Baekhyun had told her the circus lockers were always called that, no matter the color.

Despite its name, the locker was pale in color. Dotted with a handful of colored stars, it showcased a hanging blackboard with prices according to age and number of family members.

In contrast to the cheerful exterior, the interior was dull and cluttered. A battered steel desk sat in front of a small sofa piled high with stacks of newspapers. There were mismatched chairs, an old filing cabinet, and a radio. Baekhyun was sitting behind the desk, with a calculator in one hand and a clipboard in the other. A single glance at his stormy face told Cora that Baekhyun hadn't had a good day so far.

Baekhyun stood up and gestured for her to follow him, leading her to the window at the side of the trailer to explain the procedure in a soft voice. It was very simple and Cora learned it immediately.

“I'll check every penny and make sure you don't lose sight of the fundraiser for a minute. The circus is on the brink of ruin, we cannot afford to lose money.”

“Of course I won't. I’m not stupid.” She held her breath, feeling that he would deny it, but Baekhyun concentrated on unlocking the hinge on the window. He accompanied her while she dispatched the first clients to make sure she was doing it right, and when he saw that she had no problems, he announced he was leaving.

“Are you going to the caravan?” she asked.

“I'll go when I have to get dressed. Why?”

“I left it somewhat scrambled.” She had to get back to the trailer before he saw the mess. When she started cleaning, she should have saved the cabinets for last, but wanting to scrub thoroughly, she had emptied the shelves to clean them first. The cabinets were clean now, but she hadn't had the time to put everything back and as a result, there wasn't a single surface in the trailer that wasn't occupied by something: clothing, tools, or an alarming pile of whips.

“I swear I’ll pick up everything as soon as I finish here, don’t worry if things are out of place.” Cora said hastily. 

Baekhyun simply nodded, leaving her alone. 

The next few hours passed without incident. Cora liked chatting with people looking to buy tickets and many of the circus employees made excuses to stop by and satisfy their curiosity about her –she guessed they were curious after the information Talia had given her, that they had all assumed she was there for other reasons, very dissociated from work–. 

She recognized some of the men tending the stalls: clowns and several members of a group that performed equestrian numbers. She couldn’t shake the feeling that some of the girls were hiding their jealousy over the rumor floating around that she had managed to “catch” Byun Baekhyun. She appreciated the covert gesture. It gave her a glimmer of hope. Maybe things would work out after all.

Only after the second performance had begun was Cora able to leave the box office to watch Baekhyun perform. She hoped that watching the show again would dilute the shock she'd experienced the night before but she found his performance even more impressive. Where had he learned to do these things?

It wasn’t until the performance ended that Cora recalled the re-ordering she had yet to take care of back at the caravan. She rushed back to the living accommodations and was preparing to open the door when Talia called out to her.

“Come on Cora, I want to show you something.” She closed the trailer door quickly, before Talia could see the mess inside. The young woman took her arm and led her through the line of caravans. To the left she could see the emcee talking to Baekhyun as the workers stacked bleachers.

They rounded the last caravan, and Cora gasped in surprise to see many of the performers, still in performance clothing, around a folding table with a rectangular cake on top. Laia, the girl she had met before, was near the cake, along with Ramona, Fionn –if she remembered her name correctly– and her group of aerialists, various clowns and many other employees she had encountered.

Grinning widely, the emcee pushed Baekhyun forward and Talia raised her hands like a conductor. “Attention everyone, let’s all welcome Cora!” She was speechless.  These people hardly knew her but here they were, extending a friendly hand to her. After spending months away from her family –not to complain of the wonderful travels– she took pleasure in the intimacy of this moment. At this impromptu gathering of future friends, she felt as if her family were welcoming her at the airport, with bright smiles and cheeks numb with happiness. Cora weighed the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes.

“Thank you. The cake looks delicious. I bet everyone wants a slice.” Cora glanced at Baekhyun, who had a lopsided smile on his face, surely trying to hide it. Even if they had only spent the last 24 hours together, she was beginning to grow familiar with his expressions. 

Cheeks burning –somewhat embarrassed– Cora walked up to the folding table, grabbed a knife, and began to slice the cake into neat squares. Someone ordered one of the men to turn the radio dial to a happy station. After all, what was a celebration without dance? 

When Cora had distributed the last of her cake, she watched as a tall boy with dark hair and round, shiny eyes like coins approached Talia. He looked hesitant but still held out his hand and she took it kindly. Guiding her to the center of an improvised dance floor, he then took her by the hips. Both of them mirrored a smile that could only have one explanation and Cora imagined how nice it would be nice to have company like that. In that moment, she thought of how Baekhyun had stroked her cheek the night before and turned to look for him, feeling disappointed when she found no sign of him.

For the next several hours, while the circus was being dismantled for the next town, Cora set about putting everything back into the cabinets. She was filled with a sense of despair that left her hardly able to stand upright but she kept working nonetheless.

The leggings she was wearing were completely dirty and the blouse was sticking to her skin but she didn't care. The little impromptu party and cake had been a small blessing to her but the fact that Baekhyun left the place sooner than she would have thought possible gave her the impression that all the hope she was gathering would only bring her a headache in the future. And she hoped it was just like that.

When Baekhyun entered the caravan shortly after midnight it still looked as messy as when Cora had first arrived. In the morning he’d found out that the circus was supposed to pay more taxes than expected. Afterwards he’d found out his boss would be back soon and with it the idea of receiving more tasks than he already had didn’t sit well and finally... he hadn't been able to get Cora out of his head. And it frightened him to such an extent that he had transformed the unfamiliar feeling into anger.

Although Cora had cleaned and organized the cupboards, she hadn't had the time or energy to do anything else. He rested his hands on his hips and examined the dirty furniture, the dusty tabletop, and the remnants of the cake the artists had insisted she take.

“I thought you were going to clean this up but I see that it’s still just as dirty.”

“The closets are clean. And I washed everything in the sink.” She said through clenched teeth, indifferently.

“Who cares about closets? Don't you know how to do anything right? You don't know anything about real life, do you, Cora? You're here for work, not to get thrown from one place to another for free. From now on, try to think of others, not just yourself.”

Cora's eyes stung as she tried not to cry. Without thinking, she picked up the cake with one hand and tossed it at him. He spread his hands automatically to stop her from throwing it at him, but it wasn't fast enough. The cake hit him on the shoulder and fell apart into a thousand pieces. She watched as the mess, bits of cake and icing flew everywhere. A sticky white substance splattered on Baekhyun's hair, eyebrows, and even eyelashes. Chunks of chocolate that had stuck to his jaw fell onto the shoulder of his shirt. Cora's nonchalance disappeared when she saw him turn red. He was going to kill her. He tried to wipe his eyes as he moved toward her. Cora got out of his way and, taking advantage of Baekhyun's temporary blindness, ran out the door.

She looked around frantically, searching for a safe place to hide. The circus had been dismantled. The smaller tents were closed and most of the trucks had left. She tripped over a bush and ended up taking refuge in a narrow space between two vans. Her heart beat hard against her ribs. What had she done? Had she completely lost her sanity? What if the emcee's introduction wasn't just about a lack of rationality and psychological logic? Could it be that the man's attractiveness had robbed her of her sanity so much that her heart already belonged to him? Was she going to go crazy because of love?

She hated arguing, irrespective of the person and the reason they might have, Cora had never been one to lose her temper so easily. She knew how to listen carefully. She thought before giving an answer and only if it suited her did she open her mouth. But at that moment she had acted with her heart. 

Cora hugged herself, repeating that she was a fool for having too white a heart, for allowing herself to give so many opportunities to people who had rejected her in the first instance, and above all for believing that she had the ability to make a difference in their lives.

She winced at the sound of a man's voice and slid deeper into the shadows, crashing into something solid and human. An alarm went off in her head. She turned around, unable to bear it any longer. Turning, she found a warm fortress behind her and knew she had found a sanctuary. Then she felt something rough under her cheek. The events, the fear, the exhaustion and all the –distressing– changes in her life over the past two days overwhelmed her and she burst into tears.

Baekhyun's hand was surprisingly soft as he took her chin, forcing her to face him. Cora looked up at him. Still stained with cake and icing sugar, he looked fierce and magnificent. She realized that she feared Baekhyun in another way, one that she did not fully understand, she only knew that it was something that went beyond physical threat. It was more than that. Somehow she felt that he could damage her soul.

Cora had reached the limits of her endurance. There had been too many changes, too many conflicts, and she didn't feel like fighting anymore. 

“I suppose now you want to threaten me with something horrible.”

“Don't you think you deserve it? Only children throw things, not adults.”

“You’re right, of course.” She brushed her hair away from her face with a shaking hand.

“What is this about? Humiliation? I've had enough for tonight. Limits? I've had enough too. Pressure? No, that won’t work, I'm too numb to feel it” she paused, hesitating. “I'm afraid you'll have to resort to something else.”

As he looked at her, she seemed so unhappy that something went soft inside Baekhyun. He brought his lips to hers, brushing against them but then he remembered that he shouldn't, so he turned away again. The sugar that hadn’t been cleaned with his sleeve had mixed with the salty liquid of her tears.

He knew that Cora was afraid of him –he had made sure of it– and yet he still couldn't believe that she had had the courage to throw the cake at him. He felt her tremble under his hands. Cora had shown her claws tonight but her eyes showed only despair. Did she know that her face reflected every one of her feelings? He wondered how many things had happened. Who was responsible for making her want to flee each time. 

As he watched her, he had to restrain the sudden urge to pick her up and carry her back to the trailer, where he would lay her on the bed and find the answers to all the questions he was beginning to ask. What would her hair look like down and spread out on the pillow? He wanted to see her naked on the wrinkled sheets, to see the paleness of her skin against his, he wanted to soak up her essence and feel her touch.

The day before, he had told himself that she wasn’t the type of woman he would sleep with, much less be in a relationship with, but he also knew it was a matter of time. He couldn't touch her until he was sure she understood how things would be between them. And by then, there was a good chance that Cora would grab her suitcase and run away.

He took her by the arm and led her to the trailer. For a moment, she resisted and then she followed resignedly. 

“I'm really starting to hate you,” she said weakly, her words almost inaudible. Baekhyun was surprised to find those very words hurt him, especially when that was what he wanted from her. Cora wasn’t cut out for such a hard life and he had no desire to prolong this indefinitely. It was the best he could do.

“Maybe it's for the best.”

“I've never met anyone so cold and cynical.”  “Cold, Baekhyun. You're so cold.” He'd heard a lot of women say that before her. Kindhearted women. Competent and intelligent women who had deserved more than a man whose feelings were long gone before meeting them. When he was young, he had thought that a family could heal that wounded and lonely part of him. But while seeking a lasting relationship, he had hurt those kind-hearted women and proved to himself that he had no feelings to love any of them, even if he had intended to.

They reached the caravan. He passed Cora at the door and stepped inside.

“I'm going to take a shower. I'll help you clean up when I get out.” She stopped him before he reached the bathroom.

“Couldn't you have been a little more pleasant… Or at least try to enjoy my welcome party for one more hour?”

“I am what I am. I’m not pretending. I never do that. Don't get romantic ideas about me. It would just be a waste of time. I have learned to live by my rules. I try to be as honest and as fair as possible. For this reason I overlooked the fact that you threw cake at me but don’t confuse justice with feelings.”

Baekhyun entered the bathroom and closed the door. Squeezing his eyelids shut, he tried to put the play of emotions he had seen crossing Cora's face out of his mind. He had seen it all: caution, innocence, hope, and love, the last one terrifying, the prospect that he might not be as bad as he seemed.

↬ author’s note: next chapters will start to get spicier, as always, hope you enjoy it! as you know, any feedback is welcome ♡ and again: thank you and i love you a lots, Oliv.

[ewgoals]

Face The Truth

Plot: The reader has Bipolar Disorder and takes pills to keep her in check but one day she decides to stop taking the pills and Harry notices the change in the woman he loves very much.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of s*x and suicide attempt.

Y/N was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder when she was 17, the young girl didn't understand it at all. What happened? Why did she get this and none of her siblings did? She knew something was wrong when she felt like she couldn't control small things. There were moments when she had an obscene amount of energy like she could run thousands of miles without getting tired. There were also some days where she felt like she could sleep all day like it wouldn't matter how long she slept she was beyond exhausted. When Y/N finally got the answers that made everything make more sense, she was able to finally get herself on a steady regimen of various pills. The longer she took them the better she began to feel and after a few months, she began to feel like herself again. Y/N began finally going after the career she always wanted since she was a little girl and that was a lawyer, she began applying herself to her school work more and actually managed to reverse the damage her illness caused in the beginning.

Y/N was now 23, she finally had true control of her life that was until her friend talked her into going to an audition. Y/N couldn't believe she actually got the role of a lifetime in the DC movie Batgirl, this was beyond shocking to her but she still managed to keep her composure knowing that shocking or stressful situations could trigger a manic episode. Y/N kept her so-called dirty secret to herself, never wanting to tell anyone around for fear of being judged or better yet losing her job. She didn't think that it was going to affect her work relationship, so she didn't reveal it. Y/N managed to keep her secret to herself through all of the filming as well as post-production. Y/ N didn't think her life could take a turn anymore that was until she met him.

Y/N was at the premiere of Batgirl when they actually met Y/N and didn't really know who Harry Styles was. She heard about him through High School but she was more into old 80's rock and Black Veil Brides, she was more interested in his fashion-loving how he managed to bring in old fashion from previous decades and somehow make it his own. Y/N and Harry got along pretty quickly bonding over various bands they listened too and how their views of the world blended well together effortlessly. They exchanged numbers and went on with the day, Y/N didn't think much of it but she kept the number close.

Y/N without even noticing began talking to Harry almost every day, if it wasn't through texts or calls it was facetime. Y/N didn't want to admit that slowly feelings were developing but she didn't want to get herself worked up by nothing. The woman kept her feelings close to her until Harry showed up one day at her apartment, she didn't know that he was going to show or even be in New York. Harry looked nervous as he paced for a minute, this caused the woman to get very anxious before the brown-haired man said "Listen, I've been debating saying anything because well who knows if these feelings are even shared" Y/N was watching the man confused as she smiled "Okay Harry take a deep breath, now try and tell me what you need to say" Harry listened to the calming voice of the woman and nodded.

"I think this could be the beginning of something great, I feel like I could truly learn new things from you. I mean I can see us being together, I was sitting at the piano writing a song and it was coming together beautifully and while I was sitting there it hit me. The reason it was coming together was because all I thought about was you" Y/N was shocked but she managed to keep her smile contained for the most part as Harry continued "I was trying to not ruin this because our friendship is one of the purest things I have right now" Y/N just shook her head and smiled before she finally stopped the man from rambling by kissing him softly. Harry instantly relaxed as he finally slid his hand up and cupped her face slowly melting into the kiss, Y/N pulled away slowly as she whispered "I feel the same way... I was too scared to admit that to you because I wanted this to remain how we are. You keep me on the edge of my seat with your opinion about small things." Harry smiled as he just kissed the woman again.

Y/N and Harry have been together for almost a year now, Y/N doesn't know how she managed to keep her illness hidden from Harry but she did. Y/N was currently touring with Harry due to the fact she took a few weeks off from the movie she was working on without even remembering Y/N forgot her medication at home, at first it wasn't really a big deal but then the mania started to really take over. Y/N was staying up to all hours of the night never really feeling tired, she would often just lay in bed with Harry until he fell asleep then she would leave and begin doing random things around the hotel. One night she reorganized her and Harry's bags making sure everything fit properly and was sorted to the way she liked it, Harry would often find her up walking around or doing some random thing. Y/N was enjoying the mania.

Y/N rolled off of Harry, laying down next to the man keep herself wrapped up in the sheet stretching her back out as Harry said "I know that I should be enjoying the fact that you can't get enough of me" He joked but quickly continued with "but you've been up for days I don't think I've seen you sleep" Y/N shook her head "No, I'm just fine. I swear. I think I'm just not used to the different time zones every night. It's probably just jet lag or something" Y/N knew exactly what it was but she didn't want to admit that to him. He would leave her. She knew that "are you doing meth" Y/N gasped but shaking her head as quickly as she could "No, I would never. I've just been a little preoccupied that's all." Harry just nodded before he wrapped his arms around her body as he pulled her close into his chest "Just sleep please" Y/N nodded as she buried her face into his chest for the first time in a few weeks the woman managed to finally let herself relax. This was the first day of a long month.

Y/N fell asleep keeping Harry close as possible, Harry managed to get himself out of bed at a reasonable time when he looked over he saw Y/N still asleep. Part of him worried because the girl fell asleep around 10 pm and it was now going at 10 am. Harry decided to just let the woman he cared for to relax a little bit more feeling like she needed it especially since she hasn't been sleeping at all. Harry came back to the hotel room after the show which put the time around 12 am Y/N was still sleeping "Hey, Y/N what's going on?" Y/N heard the familiar voice which caused her to finally open her eyes as she said "Nothing just tired don't worry" Harry looked around the hotel room as he raised an eyebrow "Who all came in here?" Y/N just shrugged "I think a few members of the band. They had some drinks and tried to wake me up" Harry wasn't going to lie to himself, Y/N was in a bad position and he couldn't wrap his head around what it was.

It had been a week and no matter what Harry tired he couldn't manage to get Y/N out of bed unless they had to leave the hotel room to go to the next, Y/N hadn't been eating and she really only got out of bed to use the restroom other than that her personal hygiene and just the will to do anything was completely gone, Harry truly felt like he saw the woman he fell in love with completely begin to wither away. She had begun to lose weight, her hair was oily and no matter how much she slept she couldn't make the tiredness go away. Harry truly felt powerless, he decided that it was time to force the woman out of bed at least for a shower. When Harry returned from his show that night he finally worked up enough courage to say "Y/N get out of bed. You need to take a shower, maybe that will help you feel a little better" Y/N pulled the blanket over her head for she said "Leave me alone Harry" Harry shook his head before pulling the blanket away from the woman "Get up now. I'm not taking no for an answer" Y/N didn't know what happened but she began to cry "I can't Harry. I just can't"

Harry's eyes widened a little when he saw the woman crying, he walked over to where she was still laying down as he crouched down "Hey.. what do you mean?" Y/N just closed her eyes trying to make sure that her voice didn't completely give out on her "Please don't leave. I know I'm this huge bother.... I know that I'm holding you back.. I know that you could do so much better than me but please don't leave" Harry shook his head before putting his hand on the woman's cheek trying to wipe a few of the tears as he said "I would never. Y/N I love you" That was the first time in their one year relationship where either of them said those three words. Y/N looked at the man as she shook her head trying to hold back her few tears "no you don't Harry I've been lying for a whole year" Harry raised an eyebrow horrible thoughts were running through the man's head as Y/N finally kept speaking "I'm Bipolar... I stopped taking my meds so that you wouldn't see them" Harry eyes widened before he shook his head "Y/N, you can't do that my love. I promise you that your mental health is never going to change my feelings about you. if anything this makes me love you more because of how strong you are. God I thought you were strong before but this just changes how strong I think you are now"

Y/N finally sat up for the first time in what felt like years to her boyfriend, the woman ran her hand through her hair as she closed her eyes for a moment as she spoke “I need a shower” Harry chuckled a little as the woman smiled “I don’t want to say you do because that’s rude but i think that you should” Y/N laughed which caused Harry to smiled wide, it was the first time in what felt like forever as Y/N opened her eyes once more Harry was met with those beautiful Y/E/C that he fell so in love with “I love you too” was the words that slipped out of Y/N mouth. Harry smiled before he leaned up and kissed the woman’s forehead. Y/N rested her eyes as he kissed her forehead before she finally stood which caused Harry to stand as well “I’m going to go take a shower” Y/N said as Harry nodded, the woman left Harry in the hotel as she turned on the shower.

Y/N was sitting on the closed toilet as she looked around, she felt like Harry was lying and that he was going to wait until he felt that she was so called back to normal and leave her. Y/N looked around the bathroom as she began thinking “I know that I am holding him back. I know that he is better off without me I know that he deserves more” these thoughts kept going through her head as she quickly grabbed her make up bag and began searching through thee large bag and finding her pair of scissors that she hid just in case she needed to cut the tag off of something or need of an emergency haircut. The woman quickly dug the scissors into her forearm before she registered the man to herself and let out a scream she dug the scissors into both of her arms. Y/N dropped the scissors as she fell onto the floor gasping for a moment before the door finally opened. Y/N gasped as Harry walked in dropping the bag that he carried into the bathroom

Harry dropped to his knees quickly grabbing at the woman’s wrist applying pressure “Y/N what happened? What did you do?” the woman just shook her head trying to remove herself from Harry’s but his grip was too strong “stop it love” the man quickly grabbed his phone as he called 911 Y/N started crying., Harry hung up the phone gripping onto her arms tightly not letting go like the 911 operator told him too. It didn’t take long for the paramedics to arrive at the hotel , Y/N tried closing her eyes as Harry shook his head “No, you look at me. You keep right here Y/N” Y/N opened her eyes as she looked at Harry “Please stop. Please” The paramedics quickly removed Harry from the woman and began working on her, deciding to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible. Harry followed into the ambulance as he kept looking at her hands “Please don’t die”

72 hours have officially passed and even though Harry couldn’t see the woman he still stayed at the hospital, Y/N was placed back on her medication and kept under a very watchful eye. Harry was finally able to see the woman and Y/N smiled when she saw the curly haired man who looked tired and still in the same clothes “Harry” was all she whispered as Harry almost ran towards the woman he loved as he grabbed her hand “Y/N, Why?” Y/N knew she would have to talk about this sooner or later “I wasn’t thinking clearly the depression got the best of me. I’m sorry i put you through that and I can’t say that it won’t happen again because it might,even with the mood stabilizers.”

Y/N took a breath as she fought back the tears once more “One small thing could ruin years of work. I know that what I did was so stupid and I can’t take it back but all I can promise is that I will make sure that you never have to literally save my life again. I promise that if i am feeling down with my disorder I’ll open up and tell you. I won’t keep it bottled up inside of me. I will allow you to try and understand it for the better.” Harry nodded as he kissed the woman’s hand “I’ve never been so scared. I thought I lost you” Y/N felt horrible guit as she quickly hugged the man pulling him as close as she could given her serious injuries “I’m sorry I put you through this pain, If you need time I understand but I need you to know that you will always have my heart with you”

Harry shook his head as he said “No, I just need you to remember I love you. I want you and I want to help you.” Harry pulled away for a moment as he kissed the side of her head “ I canceled the last few shows, We are going back to your apartment and we are going to work through this and we are going to make sure that you feel better” Y/N smiled as he kissed him softly as she ran her hand through his hair “I love you so much Harry”

A/N: I know that you are feeling some type away because of this, I know this was hard to read and I need you to understand that I have been through this and I’ve felt this pain and I know that it’s difficult to think about. If you are like me and you struggle with Bipolar disorder please understand you aren’t alone and you have me if you need. If you want part two let me know because I have many more ideas for this also Requests are open for Harry Styles Imagines if you have any plot you want to be written. Oh! Not my gif!

[sunfloweradore]

i’m leaving this blog

hi! this post is a bit long but at the end you’ll find prompts and requests that you are free to use if you’re a writing blog :).

hi there!! if you’re reading this, i hope you’re doing well and staying safe. i just wanted to say that i’m leaving this blog and i’m not sure if i’ll ever come back. the years i’ve spent being a harrie have been great and it’s been a crazy amount of time! pretty much since the x factor! however, for a long time it’s also felt like i’ve been forcing myself to be a fan of harry’s. i’ve put so much energy into being a fan of his that it hasn’t been fun for me in a while and neither has writing fanfiction, which is what this blog is mainly for. it’s felt very difficult to sit down and write a fantasy about somebody who i might not even like anymore and in hindsight it seems a little dumb, but i did stress over writing all the time. this isn’t really about anybody i’ve interacted with on tumblr because you’re all lovely but sometimes it feels as though harries don’t treat him like he’s a human being and instead like he’s a god. me, included. even though i know we joke about harry being the only man we’d let degrade us or destroy our lives or whatever, he is still a person at the end of the day! it took me a very long time to realize that and thinking of him as otherworldly or completely perfect was my way of thinking for a while and i think it was pretty damaging. the fact that so many people would literally die for him is sad because unfortunately, none of us are going to be on his “level”, so to speak. we don’t know him personally and chances are we aren’t ever going to. ahhhh please don’t be mad at me for saying this, it’s just something i’ve realized i need to change about myself and i think it’s something we should all consider about everyone we are fans of. 

anyway, the time and energy i’ve spent on something so ridiculous is exponential and i really feel like it’s time to put it in the past. i’m dedicating this year to self-growth and part of that is learning how to be my own person. feeling like i have to be interested in something or someone in order to be normal has been a common theme in my life and harry has been that someone for as long as i can remember. this isn’t his fault of course but i’m getting older and i don’t want to think of this time in my life as the era that i was obsessed with harry styles. instead, i want to form memories and real life experiences instead of using fanfiction as a way to cope with all of the things that i can’t handle in my life. it worked for a while but at this point i’ve been reading it and writing it for so long that it feels like i’m living inside my head, like i’ve become dependent on it (obviously this is very bad lolol). so, long story short, i will be leaving this blog because it just isn’t good for me anymore. thank you to everyone who has requested things for me to write and anyone who has interacted with my writing. sorry i couldn’t get through them :(. i’d also like to thank everyone i met through this blog because you’re all such amazing people and you deserve the world. i will leave my writing up but the sentiment still applies- i’ve worked very hard on everything i’ve written so please don’t repost any of it without crediting me, thank you.

below are requests i couldn’t get to and prompts(?)/works that i never got to finish. feel free to use them if you want and tag me in them bc i’d love to see how you write them :)

1. paperboy harry!

i think the direction i wanted this to go in was kind of like a 40′s au? or just a long long time ago. not sure why i had this started seeing as i already have harry as a paperboy in a story of mine but go off ig

2. vampire harry!

i had a specific plot i wanted where harry was in a car wreck because of a vampire who ended up biting him in like an alleyway. reader saves him and is a vampire herself! she nurses him back to health n teaches him how to be a vamp with various shenanigans along the way

3. hospital au?

this one i’m not too sure about but if you’ve seen the red band society you’d sort of know the direction i was going with this. there’s kind of an in-between for people in the hospital who are fighting death or going into surgery and in that in-between is a boy who has been in a coma for a long time. i pictured this as being angsty and for harry to be the boy who guides people in certain directions but he ends up falling for the reader while she’s there

4. ghost au!

self explanatory but i pictured harry as the ghost who kind of just wants a friend lol

5. tea au?

this would probably be pretty short, i just thought it was cute! reader has different kinds of tea all the time and it’s a surprise each time he kisses her 

6. strawberry farm au?

reader has a strawberry farm LMAO maybe harry buys them from her or it’s another vampire au, who knows!

7. threesome

most likely has been done b4 but a threesome w 2 guys and the reader where the guy is inside harry while he is inside the reader

8. chocolate by the 1975

a fic based on that song! it would probably be from harry’s pov 

9. space au?

hmm i think i probably saw something that inspired this but all it says is “harry sends letters to space” so i’m assuming it’s an au where he just decided to send letters to space out of boredom or something and mayhaps alien reader finds one?

10. assassin au!

harry is an assassin and in my draft it’s super vague? and almost seems like he’s stalking the reader? it could go in any direction really but i’m assuming the reader is dating him and doesn’t know he’s an assassin

11. chapstick

very similar to the tea one! just w the reader wearing diff chapsticks all the time

12. shower

this is inspired by something i read on wattpad a long time ago and i’ve tried finding it but i think it might’ve been deleted. the reader flicks da bean all the time in the shower and is really loud about it, harry is distracted and confronts her

13. dang ANOTHER threesome

but this time harry is on a date with a girl and they’re at a bar- the girl is looking around, sees the reader and thinks she’s gorg and they end up having a threesome

14. photography au!

harry is a photographer who somehow ends up taking pictures of the reader. in my draft the reader asks him to delete the ones that are ugly but he keeps them all hehe

15. scrapbook au

similar to the last one, harry takes pictures of the reader a lot but it’s not bc he’s a photographer, he just thinks she’s pretty n wants to scrapbook. twist is that he has TWO scrapbooks- one of innocent pics and one that’s lustier (consensual ofc)

16. habits of my heart by jaymes young

self explanatory, angsty

17. roommate au?

this is for some reason also an assassin au? but they’re roommates and reader doesn’t know what he does. they’re bffs, mutual pining

18. don’t forget about me by clove

wow another song fic, big surprise

19. puppyy

harry gets a puppy who hates him :( but the puppy loves the reader!

20. mall au

lol this one is kind of dumb idk why i thought of it but harry is one of those kiosk people at the mall who sells perfume! dunno!

21. condoms

reader works at gas station, harry buys huge condoms

22. poetry

either person reads erotic poetry while touching the other

23. magic au

one of them makes a love potion, kind of dark? like making the other fall in love with them idk it could be an accident though

24. private chef

the reader is a private chef! that’s all i’ve got!

25. message board

this is inspired by..... the sims lmaooo you can pin messages to the message board in your apartment building and i thought it’d be cute if the reader and harry lived in the same building and he leaves notes on the board and she doesn’t know they’re for her! she always thinks they’re cute though

26. raisin theory

inspired by new girl! specifically a comment i saw in like a compilation? video of new girl on yt

i thought it’d be cute for harry to be that person

[peachyteabuck]

under cover of darkness

summary: a 24-hour convenience store, the night shift, and the man who gets you through day. 

a commission for @lovelycarose​

pairing: eliot spencer x reader

words: 5510

trigger warnings: mentions of a break-in with canon-level violence, fluff, mentions of an unspecified chronic pain disorder

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are some good things about the night shift. It’s easier to balance classes and your precarious mental health, plus the pay wasn’t terrible – a few extra bucks per hour were thrown your way after eleven and before five.

So you kept with it, one earbud in so you could listen to music while the hours ticked by at a pace so slow it felt like some supervillain had not only completely frozen time – but was also determined to thaw is at room temperature.

That was another thing about the night shift – the customers. It was mostly regulars, or tourists who forgot something at home but didn’t want to spend airport prices for a travel sized container of deodorant. None of them really stick out, none interesting enough to stick in your brain for long as you mindlessly pack their various items into white plastic bags.

That is, until he starts coming in. Tall and impossible big – it’s hard not to marvel at him as if he was a breathtaking skyscraper, like you had never seen something so magnificent. His flowing dark brown hair, his tight jeans…it’s all nearly too much for eleven-at-night-you. (Also for “I haven’t had sex in so long and I think I’ve eroded the ridges on my vibrator from using it so often and holy shit I would do anything to have that man under/above me” you, a you only made stronger and more desperate by how late it was and tired you were.)

He walks around with the confidence not often seen in newcomers, your eye used to college students too drunk to stand up perfectly straight. You’re used to people stumbling around with eyes-half closed, rubbing their temples as the bright white lights feel like cheese graters shaped like ice picks against their already hurting brains. You’re used to watching them stumble around, using some Neolithic instinct to find the cool fridges where they’ll rest their faces against the glass for an oddly long amount of time before opening it up to grab as many Gatorades as they could hold before attempting to grab one or two (or five) frozen pizzas, never able to access the higher order thinking necessary to understand that maybe grabbing one of the baskets by the entrance is important.

Or, on the other end of the spectrum you’ve come to know as normal: soccer moms searching for alcohol for their husband’s post-game barbecue. Moms with large dark circles under their eyes who probably read (and watched) the Fifty Shades movie unironically but still feels weird when their husbands suggest having sex in any position besides missionary with the lights off. Moms who went to college just to meet some mediocre-looking frat boy who votes Republican just because his father did and thinks thirty seconds of oral is enough foreplay.

They don’t spend as much time in the store as the drunk/high students, but it’s still just as entertaining watching them grab the food and drink – but not before lingering in the makeup aisle, staring at bold shades of red and waterproof mascara and the bright hair dye whose advertisements have terribly applied photoshop.

No matter the type – no matter the customer – they were nothing like the man who stood on the other side of the store, staring intently at your soft drink selection. None of them were beefy men with crumpled grocery lists, permanently furrowed brows, and the most beautiful five o’clock shadow you’ve ever seen. None of them wear thick black work boots that make not a single sound as they walk around the store, none of them wear jeans that are so criminally tight around a perfect ass.

Not even a perfect ass – the perfect ass. It’s symmetrical, looking as if it was drawn by a pin-up artist in the 50’s whose specialty involves drawing super buff men in poses meant for petite, slender women with perfect curves. As he walks you half expect sparks to form on his backside as if you were in some kind of Anime, or for each individual cheek to bounce up and down on their own asynchronous accord. Normally you’d be terrified of being caught staring – of him turning around and catching your eye and mocking someone like you for having the nerve to be attracted to him.

But that doesn’t happen, because for once in your life the universe is kind to you. For once in your life you’re allowed to listen to music and stare dreamily at the hot guy who checks the ingredients on every snack dip option you have available before choosing three different ones with a small, disappointed huff.

You watch him with that same silent intensity as he fills the bright red carrier he grabbed without a sound when he first strutted in, the packaging of the items crinkling being the only way to track his location when he steps out of your eyeline. If your boss wasn’t the one on security cameras you’d be angling all of them to follow him around the store, your eyes hungry for another look at him at whatever angle and whichever quality you could get. You feel like a fangirl obsessed with some boyband, your heart rate determined by the amount of the mountain of a man you can see between displays of holiday-themed candy and cheap make up.

You’re not sure how long it is before he’s approaching your counter (time appears to have lost all meaning the second he stepped into the store), but whether it had been five minutes or five years, he still takes your breath away. As he steps closer you realize he’s fucking massive – something your grandmother (a wonderful woman, but one lacking when social situations called for, among other things, any kind of brain-to-mouth filter) would call a “shit brickhouse.” He doesn’t even need one of the baskets as he prowls the aisles – scanning every item like a lion watches the Sahara through tall grass. It’s hard to look away, to go back to the book you’ve been trying to read the same page from since long before the little automated bell above the door had announced the man’s arrival – but the only distraction before had been the tiny, exhausted voice in the back of your mind that was shaming at you for not sleeping before the night’s shift.

Now, though, the voice has quieted to allow your tired eyes to follow him, pupils tracing along every inch of him.

The man checks out without a word; shaking his head when you ask if he has a rewards card and paying in cash. When you give him $7.26 in change, your hands touch for a brief moment and you nearly stop breathing – lungs suddenly void of their capacity to hold air as sparks fly from his callous fingertips to the bottom of your spine. He pulls away, eventually, because he has to – depositing the totality of the meager amount of money you’d just handed him into the donation box plastered with facts about victims of domestic violence right next to your register.

The box is made of an opaque deep purple plastic, the coins making a loud clink sound as they crash into the near-empty container. The man stares at it for a moment, swallowing an apparent lump in his throat as his eyes go blank for a fraction of a second before he digs into his pockets and fishes out a thick wad of perfectly folded five dollar bills before stuffing them into the hastily cut slot at the top.

Neither of you say anything as he does so, you too stunned by his generosity and him too occupied with making sure he had no more money hidden in his pockets to try and muster some vague capacity for speech. Still, as he turns and leaves, you cough to clear your throat and call out a loud and slightly hoarse “thank you!” to which he just turns and gives you a small smile in return.

The moment between the pair of you is fleeting but still makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest, swelling until your lungs feel tight against your ribs as you struggle to breathe. Fuck, you think. You haven’t felt like this since middle school when Jamie told you that your Katniss braid was adorable and you followed him around for two weeks until he agreed to take you on a “date” during lunch. You don’t even know this man’s name and you’re fawning over him as if you have another girlhood crush.

God, you need to learn his name.

Luckily, you find out the next time that his name is Eliot, even though the name embroidered in red above the right pocket of his dirtied coveralls says “Evan” in a fancy looped script (whatever, you don’t question it. You regularly wore your roommate’s sweatshirt from her alma mater even though you didn’t attend the university – must be the same thing, right?). That time all he buys is hair ties and chapstick – lots of hair ties and chapstick, just another thing you don’t question – but stays to talk with you about the Robert Frost poem you were annotating.

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening?” he reads aloud, smiling a little as he does so. “Is that for class, or…”

“It’s for class, but I’m liking it a lot more than the other obligatory readings for my degree,” you tell him a small laugh. “Do you enjoy poetry?”

Eliot shrugs as he grabs the full bags. “Oh, ya know. Just the occasional piece. You have a good day now.”

You smile as he walks toward the exit, butterflies pounding in your stomach once more. “You too!”

God, you think as he disappears from eyeshot. You’ve got it bad, girl.

He comes in again, irregular in each way except for the fact he arrives. Sometimes he’s clean cut, standing straight as he takes his sweet time wandering the store – as if he has nowhere to be, no need to rush around.

On those days, he buys a lot of things. Duct tape, orange soda, hair ties, sour candy in all shapes and colors. He makes conversation, asking about the book you’re reading or what you’re listening to, asking about your classes when you wear a jacket embroidered with your university’s logo on the front. On those days, he waits a little – even when all his items are bagged and there’s no real reason for him to stay – picking up on anything that would give him another thread of conversation to pull at.

“Something new?” he asks when you dogear one of the first few pages of a poetry book your friend had lent you.

“Yup!” you perk up just at the sight of him, cheery now more than you had been the entirety of the day now that he’s arrived. “Told a friend of mine about the assignment I was working on the last time you were here, and she shoved this anthology into my hands.”

You like those days – you look forward to them each time you step through the large door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in large white letters that stand out against the incredibly depressing brown that’s been peeling since the day you interviewed here, spots covered sparsely by the maintenance guy who you’ve never seen. Those days are good, fun – they make you smile hours after he leaves and occupy your thoughts until you go to bed, sometimes even making it into the margins of your notebook when you’re zoning out in class.

Sometimes, though, he comes in nearly limping – at least one eye blackened and dark navy baseball cap pulled as far down his forehead as he can.

It scared you the first time, watching as he grunted with each step, every item he grabs from the shelves seeming like it pained him, his face scrunching into a wince each time he raises an arm above his ribs. You checked his items (bandages, ice packs, gauze, antifungal cream, a few first aid kits) with bated breath, terrified of making his mood worse.

It isn’t until you tell him the total, until you finally look up from your hands – that you finally look him in the eyes. They’re always warm like plate of freshly baked macaroni and cheese (and always make you feel just as gooey), but now appear to be clouded with a type of pain you can’t pin down. He doesn’t say much – or anything – as you bag his items, placing them gingerly into the paper bag as if it was an extension of him.

You try to keep a happy face throughout the entire ordeal, not wanting to push him in case what happened was particularly bad. Eliot gives you a similarly small, but earnest one in return – even if he barely hides the wince in his side as he does so.

But that was the first time things seemed a little off – your first time, specifically – and the others get easier as time passes.

At first, “easier” meant a return to days similar to the good ones – telling him things about your day as you ring up all his first-aid related items. He doesn’t respond with as much enthusiasm, doesn’t have the same witty banter – but gives you a small smile that you recognize nonetheless. But then, as the weeks bleed into months, you learn how to handle both the terrible days, the bad days, and the good days all the same.

It’s on one of the good days that he buys tampons, a piece of every kind of chocolate item you sell, and enough Acetaminophen to knock out a horse.

“Your girlfriend is very lucky,” you tell him, blushing as you bag the items. For a minute you think you’ve embarrassed him, crossed some line as a sickening silence grows between you two like mold on two-week old leftovers in a fridge that was turned off. It’s just as disgusting, too, which is why you’re so happy that he still gives you a small smile when you dare look up from where your scanner’s red line centers on the barcode of one of the tampon boxes.

“Nah, just,” Eliot’s plump lips look so kissable it makes your heart pick up. “A roommate, uh. She needs this. Her boyfriend is doing some game night thing and couldn’t pick it up. So I, uh. I got drafted.”

You give a little snort as you grab the receipt, smiling wide as you place it in the bag. “Well, your roommate is very lucky to have you.”

Eliot laughs as he grabs his stuff, cheeks heating up as he blushes. “Can I kidnap you for a little while so you can come remind her of that?”

In a rare moment of confidence, you lean forward and grin. “Is it kidnapping if I want it?”

The blush rages as he sputters a response, eyes downcast as he turns to leave. You get no witty response back, but the way he turns to wink at you as the automatic doors part is enough of a rebuttal for you to feel satisfied with your quip.

No matter what kind of mood Eliot is in, you look forward to his visits, watching and talking with him. Each evening you get ready for work you wondered if he would come in that night, if you would be able to tell him about the dumb thing this guy in one of your seminars said, or how you won an argument during bar crawl over the weekend using some of the random things he had taught you during the very conversations you now wish to have with him. It’s nice, the nicest thing you have in a long time – and somehow that doesn’t scare you, and somehow that makes you feel even better each time you see him.

But then “The Day” happens, and it changes everything.

The evening of “The Day” you woke up from your pre-work nap with this unexplainable feeling that something was going to go wrong. This feeling deep in the bottom of your stomach that you can’t quite place, one that makes the back of your knees sweat and where your ribs feel just a little tighter. Each and every sound – the cars that drive way too fast down your street, the creaking in your house, the dogs that bark obnoxiously – seem loudly, harsher than usual. When you sit up in bed when your alarm goes off it’s like you can feel the muscles in your back contract, feel the bones in your joints grind against each other. There’s some electricity in the air like when it’s right before a storm – only the sky is clear and your weather app doesn’t predict any rain until next week (and, even then, it’s only a drizzle).

At first you think it’s just a bad pain day; not bad enough to keep you home, or make you forget even the idea of doing anything besides groaning in pain in your bed and taking as many pain medications as your doctor says you’re able to. Still, it’s quite noticeable, and occupies your thoughts as you go through each part of your pre-work routine. Even as you shower, turn on your coffee pot, do the minimal make up required to make it look like you didn’t just roll out of bed or are some Victorian orphan plagued by tuberculosis and possibly a deep sadness embodied by the terrible weather that crashes outside their overcrowded London orphanage – you can’t seem to get rid of the proverbial dark cloud that settles itself between your brain and skull, clouding your thoughts and making your stomach hurt just a little.

It doesn’t get better when you get into work, either. There’s a tenseness in the air you can practically taste – electricity in the air that settles over your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straighter than the carefully constructed sales display of some B-list celebrity’s nail polish collection, the one you spent hours fussing over during one of your very rare day shifts. It somehow only gets worse when Eliot arrives, whistling some tune that normally would be wistful and happy, but given the context sounds like something straight from a horror movie trailer that invades your otherwise-sweet daydreams for weeks to come; one of those songs that everyone knows but no one knows the name of that sounds really creepy when played slowly over a clip of some old, beat-up doll being held by an adorable little blonde girl with black-out contacts in.

You don’t tell him to stop, but the tune does slow when he notices your tense state when he passes to get to the soft drink aisle. When he gives you a questioning look you just shrug, hoping he forgets (or finds it in himself not to ask) about it by the time he finds what he needs. Judging by the song, lack of list, and spring in his step – it’s a good day, one where he intends to meander around the store and grab whatever it is catches his attention. Today that appears to be anything with sugar, most notably soda in every color but orange.

At some point he finds his way closer to you – more specifically he finds his way to the chocolate aisle, which faces your register – and strikes up a conversation. It’s just small talk, and doesn’t do much to distract you from the twisting in your gut, but you appreciate his efforts nonetheless. The small talk just feels like a dead-end – a polite road to nowhere that feels pointless to engage in. Still, it’s Eliot, so you give half-hearted answers and ask half-hearted questions and hope he doesn’t press you too hard on your slightly-sour mood.

And, because it’s Eliot, he draws a few small laughs and a couple of tiny smiles and it’s…nice. It’s not the usual “Good Day,” but it’s not a bad one, either.

But then it happens. And it happens quick – all of it.

Three men, dressed head to toe in black, enter guns a blazing as if they own the place. They’re wearing masks over everywhere but their eyes, the thick, black material likely silencing their voices if they weren’t screaming at the top of their lungs.

They enter in an oddly-triangular formation – one you’d describe akin to the Charlie’s Angel’s post if you weren’t scared out of your fucking mind. One of them runs to the aisle where you keep cold medicine, the other ransacking the liquor aisle and shoving heavy glass bottles of your most expensive bottles of alcohol into the black duffel bag slung around his shoulder. The last one – the one you think is the leader – keeps his eye on you as he steps closer to where you are at the register.

It’s the scariest fucking thing to ever happen to you, and what occurs next happens too fast for you to describe.

You blink once and find that you’re staring down the barrel of a handgun that’s definitely loaded and definitely has the safety off. The end shakes just a little, as if the robber is nervous, and you wonder why he’s the one scared. Both of your hands are up in the air, elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle while sweat pools at your brow and your bottom lip trembles. It’s the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life, and if you had enough in your stomach you throw up, you totally would’ve.

But then – Eliot.

You’re screaming at him to stop, to get away and hide and what are you doing? They’ve got a gun! Get away! You could be hurt! Eliot!

But then you realize that, holy shit, he’s actually taking the guy down. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the face. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the gut. Holy shit, Eliot just disarmed that dude while punching him.

It’s only when the guy that targeted you is screaming in pain from a dislocated shoulder that the other two realize something’s up and come rushing towards the man that stands just in front of your register. You’d scream if you weren’t stunned – eyes not sure where to look as Eliot disarms them with the grace of a professional ballet dancer at the same fucking time. He’s fierce but controlled – not breaking any bones but definitely leaving some bruises as he knocks them to the ground and kicks their guns across the carpet.  

It’s then – when the inferior robbers are writhing in pain on the ground – that he grabs the leader by the collar of his black hoodie and pulls the teenager’s wincing face close to Eliot’s raging one.

“I will give you one warning,” he hisses, teeth bared like an angered wolf as he spits. “one warning to leave this place and never come back. If this,” his left hand raises to gesture to you in all your petrified glory. “Nice lady tells me that you have returned to so much as buy a single stick of gum, I will track you down and find you and make sure you pay for the damage you’ve done here today. You got that?”

The still-masked teenager immediately nods furiously, eyes wide with terror and legs already kicking at the ground to leave.

Eliot gives a small, faux smile, and shoves the kid back down onto the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. “Good, now get the Hell out of here and don’t come back.”

Without hesitation, the would-be robbers scatter as fast as their damaged legs can carry them, clutching their bags to their chests as they rush to their crappy getaway van.

If you weren’t scared shitless you’d admit you’re a little turned on at the feat, especially as Eliot flips his hair from his face as he watches them speed away.

Your boss appears a few seconds later, apparently one more to watch from his safe room in the back than to interfere. Thank Heavens Eliot was here, you think. Facing those three kids on your own – even if they were, indeed, kids – makes your blood pressure spike once more.

“Should I call the cops?” he asks, looking at the wreckage around the store. The only silent alarm is located under the counter where the register is and, given your petrified state, you weren’t one to trip it.

Eliot just sighs and shakes his head, kicking a broken bottle of whiskey that for sure was going to stain the carpet. “No, they can’t do much – those kids probably don’t have a record and I don’t think you’ll get much out of ‘em if they do find the bastards. They’re young, broke, and I don’t know how much priority your case will be given.”

Your boss sighs, rubbing his face. It’s not as if they stole more than a few hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, but being the victim of a robbery is still both tiring and rage-inducing – especially when someone like him has gone so long without incident.  “But, I, what am I supposed to do? I just-“

Eliot grabs his wallet from his back pocket, reaching into it to fish out a small, professional-looking business card that he hands to your boss. “Call the number there come sun rise and tell them Eliot referred you. They’ll help you out with whatever you need.”

The man who signs your paychecks furrows his brow and reads the block print allowed. “Leverage, Incorporated? They can help me replace what I lost?”

Eliot nods, placing a comforting hand on your boss’ shoulder. “Everything.”

Immediately the man nods and steps away to go out the back exit, leaving you and Eliot in the center of it all.

It’s then – just as you’re alone – where the sun’s just coming up and the large windows in the shop allow its warm light to bath the both of you in a beautiful soft orange. There are no other customers there, and with your boss preoccupied with calming himself down, it really does feel like it’s just you and Eliot – just the two of you with the whole world still asleep around you. It’s nice, perfect.

He’s the one to break the silence, voice gruff as he flashes you a small, shy grin. “So, uh…you want to go for coffee?”

Your heart rams in your chest even louder than when you were staring the possibility of a gunshot wound to the face, the poor organ exhausted as your brain screams at you to accept his generous offer. It takes what feels like an eternity to muster up the courage to do so, but before you can Eliot’s already speaking once more.

“Not that you, uh,” he clears his throat. “Not that you should feel, uh, pressured, or anything. I just mean like, hey, you worked all night and just went through a pretty rough event, and you’re probably tired, and probably pretty hungry as well, and a coffee place just opened up a street away that I’ve heard good things about. I’ve wanted to try it out, for a while actually, and I wanted to, uh, see if I’d have the honor of you joining me…”

“Eliot,” you laugh as you step closer, placing your hand on his face to guide his eyes to yours. “Don’t be stupid. I’d love to go with you,” he smiles and it warms every bit of you. “Just let me grab my bag and clock out, I’ll meet you outside in a moment.”

He sputters through an “okay, sure, yeah,” before you both turn to leave – him out the front doors and you behind the large one your boss had just been hidden behind. Your hands shake just a little as you insert the little card into the dinosaur of a machine, the loud noise and sputtering sound it makes now white noise as you grab your purse and rejoin him outside.

When you arrive at the coffee shop (aptly named “The Bean Spot”) you order a caramel latte with a cheese Danish, Eliot getting a simple black coffee with cream along with a walnut muffin. You wait for your breakfast in relative silence, neither you nor Eliot sure what to say after such an event. When the food and drink are handed over to you, you find a spot tucked in the back with an excellent view of the whole place.

The coffee shop is nearly empty since it’s still so early in the morning – the only patrons coming in, getting their coffee, and zipping off to the next part of their day. It’s nice to be the only inert thing, the movements of the people around you providing a nice cover as they zip past, locking you and Eliot in your own little world as the world stretches its arms and prepares for another day of hustle and bustle.

By contrast, you and Eliot are wide awake, laughing as you swap horrible roommate stories and whatever else comes to mind. He asks about your degree but has enough class not to ask you about your graduation year (a rare feature of conversations these days), talking to you about all the books you’ve read and professors you’ve liked.  

It’s odd – not bad, per say – but odd nonetheless, to be able to talk freely and openly and having him in front of you, within arm’s length as your knees barely touch under the small table. Seeing him in this space, a space more conducive to conversation and watching his hands as they pick at his blueberry scone and watching his mouth as the corners of his lips twist into a smile every so often and watching –

You blush at your own serial-killer-like thoughts, trying to suppress them with another sip of way too expensive but totally worth it coffee.

Eliot notices, because of course he does. “Hey, you alright?”

You nod, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. “Y-yeah, just-“

He smiles warmly, one hand moving to cradle your chin – to guide your downcast eyes to his. “It’s weird, seeing me in a new place, isn’t it?”

Once again, you nod. “It’s not that I don’t-“

“It’s okay,” his smile widens even as he now avoids your gaze, his hands moving to his lap as he fiddles with them. “It’s…I understand. Trust me, I get it.”

You exhale deeply, your shoulders falling a little. “I’ve thought a lot about this moment for, like, since you walked into the store for the first time…to have you here,” you gestured vaguely to the rest of the coffee shop, to the very few customers and baristas chatting about something you can’t hear and don’t care to pay attention to. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s not as if you’ve fallen short of expectations-“

Eliot gives a little chuckle, mumbling an “I sure hope so” with a glimmer in his eye that makes you want to jump on his lap and kiss him right there. Somehow, you find it in you to continue.

“It’s just super, super weird,” you tell him honestly. “And I don’t like it.”

The man in front of you leans forward, placing a hand over yours to calm you down.  

“How about we get out of here,” Eliot murmurs, voice warm and thick like the caramel drizzle over your latte. “I have an espresso machine at my place, and could make you homemade baked goods a million times better than whatever you bought, and we can continue this in a space where the baristas don’t misspell my name on overpriced coffee.”

He gestures to the cup labeled Elliott, wincing as he does so. It makes you laugh, and you nod in agreement. Together you down the coffee and throw the empty cups along with the wrapping for your pastry away. It’s natural – the way the two of you move – as if you’ve known each other for a millennia, as if whatever it is between you two that’s formed is already as strong and sturdy as an oak tree.

Eliot places one of his large hands on the small of your back as you exit the cafe, thumbing at the fabric of your sweater as you wait to cross the street. It’s comforting – just a flash of the fire that he started for you back at the store a mere hours earlier, heat warming your blood from your toes and up your spine. As he guides you to his apartment his hand finds yours, his fingers fitting neatly next to yours as he points out parts of the city you’ve never slowed down enough to see.

You may not have known Eliot for very long, but even within that short amount of time (and even shorter conversations) he had become a safe house for you, one that you could easily make a home.

And, unbeknownst to the other person, the both of you intended on doing just that.

[kiseki-no-scenarios]

I was so excited to write for this prompt, thank you dear anon!! This post runs a little longer than usual because of how many ideas I have for Akashi, but hopefully that isn’t a problem~ It’s always fun to find others that have your same biases! >o<

I purposely left some of the details regarding some portions of the relationship (wedding, marriage, etc.) vague so that in the future if I get a request for a more detailed version, I can expand on it there!

Rakuzan Manager!Reader x Akashi Seijuro Relationship Headcanons

Meeting You

Going off of my previous Rakuzan manager headcanon, I think that Akashi first meets you when you were applying for the position to be their new manager

After an incident in which you held your ground and were not afraid to speak your mind to Akashi, (for details click here)he was impressed by your attitude and gave you the official position

Akashi had an impressive aura, but did not choose to stand out in the group. He preferred to calmly observe and oversee a situation, stepping in and giving orders only when necessary

Although the two of you initially did not speak all that often, Akashi knew very well just how much effort you were putting into being their manager

He would often observe how you’d stay late to double check that everything had been completed, and how you didn’t shy away from daunting tasks

He was also pleased that you were taking more initiative in helping out the team by starting to collect statistics and data, observing the members closely during practice

The first time the two of you started interacting more was when you had approached him with some ideas for practice

“Akashi-kun, could you spare me a minute?”

“_____. What is it?”

“Something I’ve noticed…” Flipping through the pages on your clipboard, you circle a section before turning it around to Akashi. “It seems that Hayama-kun’s success rate is higher when he receives passes from his left, rather than his right. I was wondering if you had noticed this as well?”

Akashi’s eyebrows rose sightly as he looked at the numbers you had written down, explaining the observation in great detail. “I must admit, I had not.” Making a mental note to address that in their future practice, Akashi turned and gave you a soft smile. “Thank you, _____. Continue doing your best for our team.”

After that, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Akashi to seek you out when he had questions about the player’s conditions. He trusted your opinion and relied upon your observations

It didn’t occur to him that he viewed you as a potential romantic partner until one day he realized how he was more and more often staying late, waiting for you to finish up so he could make sure you got home safely

He also realized just how much he enjoyed you, as a person, as he listened to you chat to him about various different topics on your way home

It seems that I may have fallen for you, _____. Akashi thought to himself, a small smile playing on his lips as he quietly observed the way the streetlamp shone down on you as the sun continued to set.

The moment was just so perfect, and Akashi felt that the time had come to address the growing admiration he had for you.

Confession and Falling in Love

Akashi likely doesn’t change very much during the period after he realizes that he has a crush on you and before he confesses

He’s much like he was previously, but is more insistent and present to assist you whenever you need help, and it was a regular occurrence for the two of you to head home together

Akashi starts being more expressive around you, and his aura seems to be more relaxed when he speaks with you

You may not have realized it at first, but the other members of Rakuzan, who have seen the way Akashi was previously, definitely notice a difference

I don’t think any of them would make a comment since they might still be terrified of Akashi or what he would do

Akashi feels confident that you would respond positively to his confession, but he is in no rush so he waits for the perfect moment

That moment presents itself soon, following a practice match between Rakuzan and Yosen

The game was close but Rakuzan pulled through with a win in the end

The others had decided to get dinner together, but you had refused saying that you had some things to finish up before you could leave for the day

Akashi decided to stay behind with you, and he followed you to the classroom where you were starting to organize the notes you had collected during the match.

It was during this moment as he looked at the dedication you had that the strength of his feeling flared in his chest and he knew that now was the perfect time.

“_____.” Akashi said, grabbing your attention.

“Akashi-san? What is it?” You respond, your cheeks flushing instinctively from the intensity of his gaze.

“I have a very important question for you, _____.” You see Akashi’s hands reach out towards you, but you hesitate as you pull back slightly.

“Akashi-san, sorry, my hands are dirty and scratched at the moment.” You were embarrassed at the multiple paper cuts that dotted your fingers. Your fingers looked worn compared to Akashi’s fingers which while calloused, were free of marks and scratches.

“No matter. I love these hands of yours, _____.” Gently yet firmly gripping your hands, Akashi raised the palm of your hand up to his lips, turning his head slightly as he planted the lightest brush of his lips onto your palm. “These hands have always worked so hard for us, and I do not see them as anything besides beautiful.”

“Akashi-san…” You whisper, unable to move or tear your eyes from his gaze. “I…”

“Seijuro. Please, call me by my first name.” Akashi-now Seijuro-murmurs. He takes your hand in both of his, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “I would like to express my desire to court you, my _____.”

You couldn’t help but startle slightly, hearing him address you by our first name. “Seijuro…You really want me?”

“Of course. No one else would do.” Seijuro replies, and the smile that touches his lips brings nothing but warmth into your chest. In lieu of verbal acceptance, you quietly nod as Seijuro grins, kissing the back of your hand.

Dating

Akashi continues to be as gentlemanly as ever, and doesn’t change much except for the fact that he is more expressive towards you and wanting to make sure that the two of you always have time to spend together

It’s pretty easy for the Rakuzan members to realize that the two of you are dating, given the way Akashi looks at you and how the two of you now regularly arrive and leave practice hand in hand

There’s some gentle teasing here and there, but overall the members are excited for the both of you and think that the two of you really work as a great couple

In terms of PDA, I can’t see Akashi being overly touchy feely or affectionate but it’s easy to tell that the two of you are in a relationship by the aura that surrounds you

He always walks with you side by side in the hallway and will touch your hand while the two of you are talking

There’s probably some jealously from female members of the student council but Akashi pretty easily shuts that down

“I’ll come pick you up after class, _____.”

“Ah, thank you Akashi-san.” You reply, but Akashi presses a finger to your lips.

“Didn’t we agree that you’d call me by my first name?” Akashi states. “I don’t like repeating myself so often, _____.”

“Okay, S-Seijuro.” You’re embarrassed by the attention you were drawing to yourself, but it was worth it for the smile that Akashi gave you.

“Akashi-sama!”

Akashi lets out a quiet sigh as he removes his finger from your lips. “I wish we had more time together, my _____.”

“Akashi-sama!”

You shake your head. “I appreciate it, Seijuro, but you are busy. And it sounds like they are trying to summon you.”

“No matter. Ignore them for now, _____-“

“Seijuro-sama!”

The air suddenly grows cold around you as you watch Akashi whip his head around, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Watch your tone. I did not give you permission to address me by my given name.”

“B-But, Seijuro-sama, _____-san was calling you that, so I thought-“

“Only _____ is allowed to call me by name.” Akashi states, his voice cold and unfeeling. “It is reserved only for my lover. Know your place.”

When the girl finally backs off, Akashi turns back to you, returning to his previous state. “As I said, I will be waiting for your outside your classroom this afternoon.”

Proposal and Wedding

Akashi has always known that you were the woman that he’d make his wife, so like he was when he first asked you to be his girlfriend, he was in no rush to proposed to you

It was a given that it would happen, so he was waiting again for the perfect time

The two of you had been dating for several years at this point, and were now university students attending the same university and living together off campus

Akashi as planned had started taking business courses and political science in preparation to take over his family’s business, but was able to make time to still meet up with his old teammates and members of the GOM to play basketball

Originally you were struggling with choosing what you wanted to do, and Akashi had given you his full support to pursue whatever it was that would make you happy

Eventually, you decide to become a financial analyst-you had a lot of natural talent from your data collecting and analyst skills as Rakuzan’s former manager, and you decided that you also wanted to be able to support Akashi in his professional life

Akashi was worried that he may have been influencing your choice too much, but you genuinely enjoyed the coursework and having courses in common with your beloved

Akashi decides to start planning his proposal when the two of you are finishing up your studies in university-originally, he was wanting to wait until both of you had graduated but he realized that he didn’t want to wait any longer for you to officially take his last name

He asks Momoi to take you out to a jewelry store under the guise of a girl’s shopping date to see what your preference was towards rings

Momoi is more than happy to help, and stealthily sends him pictures of you looking at different gemstones, bands, and styles

Akashi ends up contacting the jewelry store and requests a custom-made ring to fit your tastes (and of course Momoi knows your size from a quick glance)

For the proposal itself, Akashi decides that something memorable for the two of you would fit you more than something grand and flashy

One day, he asks if you’d like to go for a drive to visit some of the places where the two of you had made memories during high school

It was a fun date, getting to eat at the restaurants you had often visited as a high-schooler, and seeing all the familiar sights and sounds

You were drifting off and slightly tired when Akashi pulls up to Rakuzan

“Seijuro? Why are we here?” You ask, rubbing your eyes as Akashi opens your door, escorting you out of your seat.

“I was missing our old high school.” Akashi replied, taking your hand as the two of you began to stroll around the grounds.

“Wow…nothing has changed.” You exclaim, looking up at the building and the immaculately trimmed grounds. “I feel like we were students here just yesterday…”

Akashi continues to quietly observe you as you walk around, taking in the nostalgic signs and scenes.

“Oh, and here’s where we would all hang out when we needed a break from practice! Let’s go sit down, Sei-“

You had turned around to get his attention, but all of the breath left your lungs when you saw Akashi sink down into a kneeling posture.

“Sei-Seijuro…” You whisper, tears already coming to your eyes at the sight in front of you.

“_____. I love you.” Akashi begins, his red eyes clear and sparkling as he gazes up at you. In his hands, he opens a small, velvet box, exposing a ring. “You have always been by my side. Your passion and dedication towards all that you do has always moved my heart since day one. Please, my _____. Become my wife and stand by my side, forever.”

You couldn’t hold back your cries of happiness as you leap towards him, hugging him tightly around his neck as you sobbed into his coat. “Yes, of course…yes!”

Wrapping his arms around your back tightly, Akashi buries his face into your hair as he continues to whisper how much he loves you.

And that night, only the moon serves witness to the tears that slip out of his beautiful red eyes.

Your engagement ring was beautifully designed, adorned with a single diamond that shined elegantly

Akashi knew that you didn’t always like to wear items with large gemstones, so he made sure to select a diamond that was known for its brilliance rather than its size

He never hesitates to bring your hand up to his lips and gently kiss your ring finger whenever the two of you are together, and how much it makes you blush from happiness

Regarding your wedding, the two of you decided to plan a private wedding for only you and close friends while having the wedding planner handle the bigger affair that was needed for someone of Akashi’s social standing

It touched your heart how much Akashi wanted you to have the type of wedding you dreamed of, and how much he participated in the planning

The two of you decide against a destination wedding for your private ceremony so that all of your friends would be able to attend

Your wedding takes place shortly after graduation, surrounded by your family and friends it’s a day you won’t forget

The two of you had prepared your own wedding vows and needless to say, you were glad Momoi had done your makeup with waterproof products because of how often you were tearing up during the event

Husband!Akashi

Again, I don’t think that Akashi will change all that much when he becomes your husband, he’ll be as loving and attentive as always

Everyone that works for him knows about his happy marriage and how much he cherishes you; his normally immaculate desk would be adorned with pictures from your wedding, honeymoon, etc.

And he was not shy to wear his wedding band no matter where he was at

Akashi has always been a very responsible person, and it’s important for him to be present in his marriage

So he makes it a point to never have to work overtime more than once a week, and always tries to make sure that the two of you eat lunch or dinner together

The two of you rarely fight since you’ve always been on the same page as each other, but in the rare occasions where you two have a disagreement, Akashi is always the one that seeks to apologize and clear the air between you too before it goes too far

Whenever Akashi needs to leave for business trips, he always travels with a picture of the two of you in his wallet and makes sure that he can maintain in contact with you, always being sure to call you before you settle in for bed

Honestly, the only thing that could make him happier right now is if the two of you started having a family together

Which fortunately for him, comes fairly soon~

“I’m home, _____.” Akashi calls as he locks the door behind him, slipping off his shoes and loosening his tie.

“Welcome home, Seijuro!” Making your way to the foyer, you smile brightly at your husband as you take his jacket. “How was work?”

“The usual. I’m happy to be home.” Tugging you in by the waist, Akashi plants a kiss against your willing lips. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. But, I have a surprise too.” You reply, pulling on his hand.

“Oh? What is it?”

“Close your yes.” Akashi obediently closes his eyes as he feels a envelope being pressed into his hand. “You can open them now.”

Sliding the letter out of the envelope, Akashi’s eyes skim across the words quickly before he stops, his eyes widening in shock.

“My love…is this…?”

“It is.” You nod, a giant smile stretching across your lips. “You’re going to be a father.”

Akashi can’t help the smile that lights up his entire face as he pulls you against him, hugging you tight. “Finally…We’re starting a family now, _____.” He slowly lowers himself down to his knees as his hands slide over your stomach, his voice full of wonder.

“Hello, little one.” He whispers quietly, pressing a kiss to your belly. “I already love you, so, so much.”

[madhyanas]

I pronounce it as Yin hhahahah but also um 👉🏼👈🏼 are u going to share your poly fic with the class

i feel inordinately validated w getting an anon ask (also sorry this took so long wow i’m a hoe)

alright see anon i have a love for poly reader fics there’s a whole oberyn x reader x ellaria thing i want to talk about too asjdhgfsjhdgf 

@pettyprocrastination and @concussed-to-pieces really beat the shit out of me with their writing. in a really good way like i adore their poly content. also @wickedlyemma is simultaneously the best and the worst because her tua fics are what got me in this hellhole to begin with mwah

but the one i mentioned on the post you’re talkin about is a diego x fem!reader x lila fic for the umbrella academy. man it lives in my mind rent FREE. holy fuck. ok listen right just humour me for a sec.

this is about 1k lmao it really got away from me

not really what you’d call Good Writing but it’s a blurb that’s vaguely coherent please enjoy

(spoilers for s2)

s2 is where the gang finally find out they’re not the only ones w abilities, right? like they don’t know about the whole ‘43′ but they have an inkling. so: an au where lila STAYS, and after all that shit w the commission, the family gets back to the present and the next hyperfixation is to try and find these other super-powered people. (none of that sparrow academy shit alright - ben’s still hangin around - let me have my self-indulgent au where these kids catch a fuckin break)

———

It’s been a few months. The family takes in Lila as one of their own, but it’s stilted. Like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong space, made to mesh and fit in an image it doesn’t belong to. Everyone’s got their own shit to deal with after the time jump and very little time to make the effort to trust her. Five doesn’t even bother, and Luther’s inclined to agree with him. But that’s okay. They’re like her, in that they’re not normal. They’re all so laughably not normal. It’s so funny she cries. 

But she has Diego. Which is all Lila really cares about at the end of the day. They’re working through things. Things she put him through. Things he needs to let go. Things they need to talk about. Little by little, they make it work. No more secrets, not with each other. They love each other too much for all that pain, all over again.

But that’s family politics and emotional healing aight back to the romance. Listen ok maybe Five does his freaky investigation shit, maybe he digs up whatever records he can find of unnatural births on October 1st, 1989. Maybe he finds one of these unnatural kids and tracks em down to a flower store downtown - closer than any of them could’ve imagined, practically in the Hargreeves’ backyard. The owner is kind, pleasant. Boring, in Five’s words. You don’t seem anything out of the ordinary.

But even with a modest little greenhouse out back, you’re still in the middle of the city. With smoke, fumes, pollution. How are the leaves that healthy? How are the flowers that vibrant? How is it, that in your shop, no plant ever really seems to die? The flourishing life your shop fosters is beautiful, but uncanny. 

And yeah, sick of being treated like a knife in the back waiting to happen, maybe Lila volunteers for recon. To get away for a while. Some part of her is desperate for a mark, itching to get back to what she’s good at. Especially since the last one went... awry. 

Since they won’t trust her to go it solo, Diego gets dragged along as a handler supervisor. Perhaps because he’s the only one they think she won’t harm. Idiots. She’d never, not her boy. Not after the Kennedy clusterfuck. So Diego goes along, and to her surprise he’s actually looking forward to it. He knows the urge to stick to a lead like your life depends on it. He’s been that person before. God, he still is.

A honeymoon, she croons in his ear, and he snorts. His hand sliding into hers brings a grin to her lips and a warmth to her cheeks.

Out of all of them, Lila’s the least recognisable. She’s learnt how to blend in, how to appear innocuous. How not to appear at all. So she slides into the florist’s with ease, just another customer. And maybe the little gardener is cute. You smile at Lila like she couldn’t do anything wrong. You see her as a person, rather than a ticking time bomb. Your face falls meekly as Lila tells you she’s buying flowers for her boyfriend. You look so pretty when you’re flustered, scarcely breathing as Lila traces the smear of soil on your cheek, tucks that errant lock behind your ear. Oh, if only you knew.

Debriefing takes longer and longer as the days go on. Lila tells Diego with giddy excitement how you hum while watering the succulents, smile at the blooming buds like you’re proud of them. How you listen to Lila like she’s the only thing that matters and how your laugh sounds like the first break of spring. And Diego might take some convincing, but he can’t help but feel somewhat enamoured with the gardener. The idea of you, at least.

Falling for your mark. It’s so cliché.

Even so, Lila gets to know you. So does Diego, living vicariously through surreptitious surveillance and Lila’s own love-struck recounts. 

Maybe they break protocol a little. Lila takes you out for coffee, learns your order. Learns that the care you attend to your plants with is applied to just about everything in your life. Including her. Maybe Diego begins to join you, discovering that all the hiding and sneaking around was pointless because the name ‘Diego’ doesn’t mean anything sinister to you. ‘Hargreeves’, though, they don’t mention. Not right now. You’re kind, not stupid, and if you do have the abilities they suspect, then any mention of the mythic family will send you running for the hills.

While Lila’s in the bathroom, Diego throws a light jab. Just to test the waters. Maybe you counter with something quick and cutting, raising a brow. And oh, how his heart flutters once he finds out you have thorns. Diego falls quicker than he realises, your sweet half-smile taking hold of his heart just like Lila’s sharp grin did, way back in ‘63. He decides, then and there, that Five doesn’t need to know about this. None of the others do.

Maybe they break protocol a lot, and show up at the flower shop one day, asking you to sit down. No more secrets, they remember. Not between them, and now, not with you. They tell you a story of cruel parents, superpowers and lonely children. Of death and rage and destruction. Of the apocalypse, which never happened yet apparently did, and how you died, a speck amongst billions. Of falling down a rabbit hole to the 60′s, and falling all the way back again. They tell you who they are, who they think you are, and why they showed up in the first place.

Five definitely doesn’t need to know about this.

It’s... a lot. You need time to process, and they understand. They don’t like it, but Diego’s not Sir Reginald and Lila’s not the Handler. So they leave you be, thinking that’s that. Their florist, yet another mistake made by The Umbrella Academy, left in the dust. You feel confused and betrayed and heartbroken for a long while. Radio silence.

Until things get better. 

You show up at their apartment one evening, weeks later, holding a potted un-sprouted bulb, panting at the doorstep like you ran all the way there. They let you in without a word. You set the flowerpot on the table and god, you talk more than they’ve ever heard from you in one sitting. It’s rambling, not all that eloquent. But they understand what you’re saying, eyes softening at your misguided panic.

And then — shyly, as if they could ever deny you anything — you ask if they want to see. (It takes Diego’s elbow in her side to get Lila’s mind out of the gutter.) You dip your fingers into the soil, frowning gently in concentration. There’s a familiar pins-and-needles sensation in your fingertips, flowing through your nerves and into the moist earth. Absently, you worry if it’ll even work. These two have a tendency to throw you off guard.

But lo and behold, the dormant bulb unfurls before their eyes in a matter of seconds, springing forth a fresh green shoot, and a moment later, a starburst of golden petals. 

A daffodil, bobbing lightly on their coffee table.

———

ugh yeah lmao this got long but that’s the fic idea, anon. thanks for askin :)

and NO the super-powered kids aren’t related - in my mind the hargreeves’ were adopted/raised together and are therefore siblings and THAT’S why they shouldn’t date each other - but diego, lila and reader have no familial connection. at all. i’m not here for any pseudo-incest shit in this fic pls and thank u.

aha look at me writing blurbs for tua fics when i have a wholeass! paz fic! published! and u n f i n i s h e d ! alsdhfgalshdfg now i want to do more someone come scream at me about ezra and oberyn and ellaria and paz and boba and din and any other character under the sun

listen y’all i have a lot of IDEAS for various fics and i also have Zero self control - please ask me about them!!!! fuck it man ask me about anything odds are i’ll fuckin write it!!!!!! i am a desperate hoe!!!! i have no self-respect!!!!

[inu-fiction]

PSA: Stuff You Maybe Didn’t Realize You Can Back Up To AO3, And How To Tag it

Tumblr seems to be in potential death throes or at least, incredibly volatile and unreliable lately, but we’ve done some pretty good and informative work on canon analysis and reference guides so I was looking for ways to back it up without losing it...and the solution became obvious to me: Archive of Our Own, aka AO3.  “What?” you might ask if you are less familiar with their TOS. “Isn’t that just a fanfic archive??” No! It’s a fanWORK archive. It is an archive for fanworks in general! “Fanwork” is a broad term that encompasses a lot of things, but it doesn’t just include fanfic and fanart, vids etc; it also includes “fannish” essays and articles that fall under what’s often called “meta” (from the word for “beyond” or “above”, referencing that it goes beyond the original exact text)! The defining factor of whether Archive of Our Own is the appropriate place to post it is not whether or not it’s a fictional expansion of canon (fanfic), though that is definitely included - no, it’s literally just “is this a work by a ‘fan’ intended for other ‘fannish’ folks/of ‘fannish’ interest?”  The articles we’ve written as a handy reference to the period-appropriate Japanese clothing worn by Inuyasha characters?  The analyses of characters? The delineations of concrete canon (the original work) vs common “fanon” (common misconceptions within the fandom)? Even the discussion of broader cultural, historical, and geographic context that applies to the series and many potential fanworks?  All of those are fannish nonfiction! Which means they absolutely can (and will) have a home on AO3, and I encourage anybody who is wanting to back up similar works of “fannish interest” - ranging from research they’ve done for a fic, to character analyses and headcanons - to use AO3 for it, because it’s a stable, smooth-running platform that is ad-free and unlike tumblr, is run by a nonprofit (The OTW) that itself is run by and for the benefit of, fellow fans.  Of course, that begs the question of how to tag your work if you do cross-post it, eh? So on that note, here’s a quick run-down of tags we’re finding useful and applicable, which I’ve figured out through a combination of trial and error and actually asking a tag wrangler (shoutout to @wrangletangle for their invaluable help!): First, the Very Broad: - “ Nonfiction ”. This helps separate it from fanfic on the archive, so people who aren’t looking for anything but fanfic are less likely to have to skim past it, whereas people looking for exactly that content are more likely to find it. - while “Meta” and “Essay” and even “Information” are all sometimes used for the kinds of nonfiction and analytical works we post, I’ve been told “ Meta Essay ” is the advisable specific tag for such works. This would apply to character analyses, reference guides to canon, and even reference guides to real-world things that are reflected in the canon (such as our articles on Japanese clothing as worn by the characters).  The other three tags are usable, and I’ve been using them as well to cover my bases, but they’ll also tend to bring up content such as “essay format” fanfic or fanfic with titles with those words in them - something that does not happen with “Meta Essay”.

- I’ve also found by poking around in suggested tags, that “ Fanwork Research & Reference Guides ” is consistently used (even by casual users) for: nonfiction fannish works relating to analyses of canon materials; analyses of and meta on fandom-specific or fanwork-specific tropes; information on or guides to writing real-world stuff that applies to or is reflected in specific fandoms' media (e.g. articles on period-appropriate culture-specific costuming and how to describe it); and expanded background materials for specific fans' fanworks (such as how a given AU's worldbuilding is supposed to be set up) that didn't fit within the narrative proper and is separated out as a reference for interested readers. Basically, if it's an original fan-made reference for something specific to one or more fanworks, or a research aid for writing certain things applicable to fanworks or fannish interests in general, then it can fall under that latter tag. 

- You should also mark it with any appropriate fandom(s) in the “Fandom” field. Just like you would for a fanfic, because of course, the work is specifically relevant to fans of X canon, right? If it discusses sensitive topics, or particular characters, etc., you should probably tag for those. E.g. “death” or “mental illness”, “Kagome Higurashi”, etc. 

Additionally, if you are backing it up from a Tumblr you may wish to add: - “ Archived From Tumblr “ and/or “ Cross-Posted From Tumblr ” to reference the original place of publication, for works originally posted to tumblr. (I advise this if only because someday, there might not be “tumblr” as we know it, and someone might be specifically looking for content that was originally on it, you never know) - “ Archived From [blog name] Blog ”; this marks it as an archived work from a specific blog. And yes, I recommend adding the word “blog” in there for clarity- Wrangletangle was actually delighted that I bothered to tag our first archived work with “Archived From Inu-Fiction Blog” because being EXTREMLY specific about things like that is super helpful to the tag wranglers on AO3, who have to decide how to categorize/”syn” (synonym) various new tags from alphabetized lists without context of the original posting right in front of them.  In other words, including the name AND the word “blog” in it, helps them categorize the tag on the back end without having to spend extra time googling what the heck “[Insert Name Here]” was originally. 

Overall, you should be as specific and clear as possible, but those tags/tag formats should prove useful in tagging it correctly should you choose to put fannish essays and articles up on AO3 :) Oh, and protip sidebar for those posting, especially works that are more than plain text: you can make archiving things quicker and easier for yourself, but remember to plan ahead for tumblr’s potential demise/disabling/service interruptions. The good news: You can literally copy and paste the ENTIRE text of a tumblr post from say, an “edit” window, on tumblr, straight into AO3′s Rich Text Format editor, and it will preserve pretty much all or almost all of the formatting - such as bold, italics, embedded links, etc! But the bad news: keep in mind that while AO3 allows for embedded images and it WILL transfer those embedded images with a quick copy-paste like that, AO3 itself doesn’t host the images for embedding; those are still external images. This means that whether or not they continue to load/display for users, depends entirely on whether the file is still on the original external server! As I quickly discovered, in the case of posts copied from the Edit window of a tumblr post, the images will still point to the copies of the images ON tumblr’s servers. What this means is that you should back up (save copies elsewhere of) any embedded images that you consider vital to such posts, in case you need to upload them elsewhere and fiddle with where the external image is being pulled from, later.  Personally, I’m doing that AND adding image descriptions underneath them, just to be on the safe side (and in fairness, this makes it more accessible to people who cannot view the images anyway, such as sight-impaired people who use screen readers or people who have images set to not automatically display on their browser, so it’s win-win)