#they're standing next to each other it's clearly meant to be

[cyanrendipity]

Kabumisu bus....

[tasteleeknow]

RASPBERRY PIE

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.

you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.

He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.

He was determined not to drown.

And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.

"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."

If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.

"For me?"

You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.

"I like pie," he says.

Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."

He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.

He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.

You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.

He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.

Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.

"Sweet?"

You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."

Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.

"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.

"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.

Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.

He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.

"You have a pretty view."

He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.

He follows.

"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.

Oh, he's fucked.

"You like it?"

You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"

"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.

A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."

It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.

"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.

"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."

"You're welcome."

Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.

He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.

Everything is fine.

He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.

Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.

He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.

But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.

He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.

—

It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.

You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.

You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.

You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.

Oh.

"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.

"Hello, again."

He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.

"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."

His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.

"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.

You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"

"Your friend. I know."

You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"

"Is it bad?" you question.

He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.

"I only made one."

His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"

"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'

"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.

You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.

"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"

He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.

God, he's pretty.

"You a witch?" he asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.

"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"

His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."

Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.

His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."

"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."

His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."

"Would you... would you like to come in?"

He nods.

You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.

He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.

Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.

"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."

"Why's that?"

His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.

"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"

"I'm good at baking."

"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."

You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.

Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.

"Are you always messy?" he asks.

You nod, chewing on your lip a little.

He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"

Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.

He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.

Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.

He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"

–

It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.

You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.

Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.

Then you lower yourself to your knees.

Oh, fuck.

Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.

Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"

He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"

You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.

Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.

He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.

You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."

It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.

It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –

Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."

You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"

His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.

"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"

Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.

He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.

"So bad," he answers.

You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.

"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.

Sweet siren.

"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."

You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.

Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.

You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.

Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.

You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.

"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.

You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.

His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.

It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.

The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.

Instead, he feels.

–

It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.

There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.

God you hope there's a next time.

His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.

"Minho?"

His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"

"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."

He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.

"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.

You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.

Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.

Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.

That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.

"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.

"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.

"Fill me," you gasp.

He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"

Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.

"Please."

He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Blood Sugar II

England Lionesses x Teen!Reader

Summary: You go on Bake Off

"This time, on the Great Stand Up To Cancer Bake Off, it's Lioness time. Four of the England Lionesses brave the tent in the name of charity to tackle three challenges in the hope of securing, not the Euros trophy, but the star baker apron. This week's celebrities are: Leah Williamson, England captain and defender, Alessia Russo, goal scorer for England, Keira Walsh, England's midfield maestro and y/n l/n, England's youngest star."

You stand in front of your countertop, drumming your fingers against the wood as you look at all of the ingredients in front of you.

"Now, for your signature challenge, Paul and Prue would like you each to make a baker's dozen of sugar cookies," Noel Fielding says and you contemplate slamming your head onto the counter.

You knew agreeing to be on this was a bad idea.

"Each cookie must be hand-shaped," Alison Hammond continues," And made with love. You've got one hour. On your marks."

"Get set."

"Bake!"

"So," Leah says suddenly," Is this a good time to mention I don't know what a baker's dozen is?"

You've never really been a bigger baker. It wasn't really your speciality like a lot of other things like cooking your own meals and doing your own laundry.

There was also the added thing of the fact that no one in your family baked because you couldn't eat it. Well, you could, but it would send your sugar levels through the roof and you hated injecting more insulin than normal because it always stressed you out.

"Less!" You yell out," How much sugar is too much sugar?"

"I'm not helping you!" She yells back and you stick your tongue out at her.

"This is discrimination!" You declare as you start pouring your sugar in, hoping for the best.

The judges leave it ten minutes or so before they start walking around.

They got to Leah first, congratulating her on captaining the team to victory which she graciously waves off before getting way too competitive over a baking show.

Keira is next and it's hard not to be endeared by Keira, clearly the only sane person in the tent.

Alessia ends up accidentally breaking the electric mixer and tries to get everyone to ignore it by throwing a dish towel over it.

Then, it's your turn.

"So, y/n," Paul says," Do you have much experience with baking?"

"No," You reply.

"Did you prepare at all for this?"

"No."

"Do you have much hope you'll win?"

"What I'm hoping for is someone else does extremely badly so I don't come last."

Prue laughs. "Well that's honest of you. So, you have done no preparation at all?"

"I'm planning on just winging it," You admit," I'm diabetic so I don't really eat sugary things so I'm just hoping that they're edible."

"So you're not going to be tasting as you go?"

You eyes go wide. "Am I meant to do that?" You hand goes to cover your mouth. "No, are you joking? Am I meant to be doing that?"

The judges have a little laugh as they back away.

"Wait! Don't go! Am I meant to taste as I go?!"

Even though you don't taste as you go, you don't end up losing the challenge (not with plain tastebuds Leah Williamson in the running) but you don't win either.

Clearly, Keira's just good at everything.

The technical round is a disaster for everyone involved, even Keira and somehow, after burning her first set of fondant fancies, Alessia manages to win.

Leah continues to be the worst, which is what everyone expects so even though you don't taste anything, you're not the worst and, honestly, that's what you're aiming for.

You're here to provide the jokes and not to humiliate yourself on national tv and, you know, also to show that diabetics can bake too - not that you really knew that was a big issue until you signed up for this but apparently it is.

The only one that you actually practiced for was your showstopper.

'Your Biggest Triumph' was the theme and you'd had to practice for this one.

"Leah!" Keira shrieks suddenly and you whip your head around to see Leah with her hand in Keira's bowl of batter.

"I'm sorry Kei," Leah says, sounding not very sorry at all," But you're going to win if I don't sabotage you. I'm sure you understand."

You hold your breath as Keira's eyes dart towards Leah's bowl of unsupervised batter, leaping over the countertop to do the same.

"Wait, Kei! Keira, stop!"

Keira doesn't stop and you notice from the corner of your eyes Alessia moving as well.

You snatch your bowl up before she can grab it, sprinting to the other side of the tent.

Alessia follows you until you're backed up against the fridges.

"Less, Less!" You shriek, voice panicky as Leah and Keira wrestle at Leah's counter," Don't do this! You don't have to do this!"

"I'm sorry." Like Leah, Alessia doesn't sound sorry at all. "But it's for the greater good."

"Greater good! This is pure selfishness!"

"This is baking!"

"This is sabotage. Stay away from my bowl!"

"Come on. Don't make this hard than it needs to be."

An almighty crash sounds as Keira and Leah accidentally knock a mixer off the table and in the confusion, you manage to shove Alessia away to pour your batter into the pan.

The carnage continues throughout the time limit, only dampening when a truce is called so you can all decorate your cakes. Apart from that, it's a free-for-all as you find yourself standing on Leah's countertop, throwing wooden spoons at Keira and Alessia whenever they try to approach the pair of you.

"Alright, y/n," Prue says at the end of the time limit," Tell us about your greatest triumph."

"Okay." You point at the various decorations on your cake. "So this cake is a representation of my Dexcom. I know everyone else is choosing football stuff and all that but when I was six, I started feeling really bad. I couldn't focus and I was sweating and I couldn't really move well and I felt tired. It went on for a few days."

You point at one of the little marshmallow figures you made.

"I was playing in Alessia's garden with her and I threw up everywhere and she insisted on having her parents take me to the hospital. I'd developed DKA and was about an hour or so from going into a coma. The doctors ran tests and stuff and found that my pancreas had shut down. So, my biggest triumph was being diagnosed with diabetes."

You give a little shrug, pointing out the way you'd shaped your cake to look like your Dexcom and how on top you'd decorated it with marshmallow versions of you and Alessia and the doctor that you still went to get check-ups from.

"That's a lovely story, y/n," Paul says," But let's see if the actual cake tastes good. What kind is it?"

"Victoria Sponge because it's my mum's favourite."

Each judge takes a slice and you hold your breath.

Paul holds his hand out to you.

Your eyes go wide. "Are you serious?"

"Shake my hand."

You do that gleefully. Getting a Paul Hollywood handshakes means a lot.

"I mean, there's not much I can say," He says," The sponge is perfect. The filling is perfect. The flavours work well. The story to go with it is fantastic."

"And you never tasted any of it?" Prue asks and you shrug with a grin.

"I'm on a strict diet."

"Well...I mean if football doesn't work it then baking certainly will."

The Star Baker Apron you win at the end hangs up on your wall with your Euro's medal.

[penelopepine]

Elephant in the Room Pt. 3

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: John and you hooked up after a night at the bar. You two after that never saw each other again. At least until 12 years later when Price discovers that 9 months after your time together you had given birth to not one baby, but two. Word Count: 1592 Content: angst

Price honestly isn't sure what the best thing to do in this situation is, but he decides to softly knock, almost a tap, against the door once more before calling out your name, "I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but I need to talk to you." 

 It goes quiet on the other side of the door, and for a moment John thinks that you, fairly so, left him standing there alone talking to himself. That is of course before the door is swinging open revealing you once more. Your eyes are bloodshot and cheeks are stained with tears. He also sees what once was confusion on your face is now replaced with anger. 

You take a step towards him with one arm raised. It's obvious that you're going to hit him, and while Price could very easily block it he lets you strike him. 

The sound of flesh connecting rings out through the quiet as you slap him across the face. Your breath is heavy as you growl out, "Did you do it? Did you take him?" 

He takes the hit in stride; you're hardly the strongest person to ever smack him before. Taking in your words though Price does feel a slight spark of anger in his chest at the idea of him doing this purposely. Although he supposes it does look very suspicious that he would show up right after Andrew was taken from your point of view. 

The labs luckily don't make any moves, simply watch the interaction in silence. "I promise you I didn't do this. You can think whatever you want about me, but I wasn't the one who took him. I have an idea who did though." He stares into your eyes, trying to show you that he isn't lying. "If we could all go inside I promise to explain what I can." 

"All?" It was at that moment that you finally seemed to take notice of the three other men behind him. 

John steps to the side letting you have a better view of them, "these are my men; they're here to help."

Looking at you though you don't seem to take in any of his words. You shake your head slightly before turning, and walking back inside; leaving the door open for them to presumably follow you.  

Silently you make your way into the dining room, and take a seat at the table. "Sit, please." Your voice is firm, but clearly exhausted. He sits down on the opposite side of you while Soap and Gaz sit on both sides of him. Ghost on the other hand stands in the corner next to the doorway. “Explain.” 

"My team was sent a video of Andrew." John for once found himself lacking confidence, and unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell you the truth, but in your current state being blunt may only hurt you further right now. "They made demands of me and my team for his safe return. A highly skilled team is looking into the video as we speak, and I will be going to get him back as soon as I can."

"Why did they take him to threaten you? How did they connect him to you?" You ask after a few seconds, "He has never even met you before." Your voice cracks as you try to speak. 

"Nothing is confirmed as of now, but I have an idea of how they found him. We'll keep you updated when new information comes to light. I assume after they found him they thought I had simply hid my family from any paper trail that led to me."

"So everything that's been happening is all because of some misunderstanding!" Your anger shining through with every word, "What now? I'm supposed to just sit here and wait; what's to stop them taking Amelia as well if you don't do as they say?"

“That’s actually why we’re here.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

Ghost is surprisingly the one to speak up, “It means you and the kid are being relocated. Time to start packing the essentials.” 

"Lieutenant!" Price quickly repremans, "What he meant to say is that it is no longer safe for you two to stay here while this situation is still active. We'd like to move you both onto base; a house is already set up for you." 

“You’re serious?,” You asked, voice rising in disbelief, “We have to leave our home?”

“It’s for your safety; I wouldn’t be asking this of you in any other situation.” 

“I just can’t believe that you-.” You begin to say before being cut off by a young feminine voice.

“Mom?” 

Price quickly looks toward the voice, and there standing in the doorway is Amelia. 

She looks quickly around the room, taking in and analyzing all the strangers in her home. Pausing once her focus is on him. He knows Amelia is a smart kid, and that with him in front of her there is no way she doesn't know who he is. It's obvious when it finally clicks in her head. Her shoulder tense and her eyes look sharper. "What's going on?" 

Before she has even finished asking her question you are standing and rushing towards her. You bring Amelia into your arms, and begin to guide her out of the dining room. "Let's go talk in your room." You say before addressing him once more, "I'll be down in a bit. Uh feel free to get yourself something from the kitchen. I'll be down to discuss this more shortly." 

No one says a thing as they watch you make your way around the corner and out of sight. The silence only lasts for a second though before Gaz is speaking up, "Cap, you solid?" 

Price takes a defeated breath, “How much have I messed this whole thing up?”

“I’d say this conversation is actually going quite well. She could have refused to listen to us entirely.” 

Soap is next to speak, “If anything I’d say Lt. is the one to make her hostile against him.” 

“She wasn’t going to like being told she and her daughter have to leave their home. That anger of being told that was directed at me rather than the captain. I’d say I’m the only one who helped him during that conversation.” Ghost states back.

Before Soap can say anything further Price interrupts them, “Enough you two; you’re not about to start arguing right now.” 

The room lulls back into silence before Gaz asks him, “What are we gonna do if she doesn’t agree to come with us?” 

"We'll stay here then until she does," John wasn't sure what else could be said to convince you to come with them, but he would stay here with you both until he did, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that." 

Before more can be said you're striding back into the room once again; coming to stand across from him. "You're going to get Andrew back?"

"I won't rest until I do." 

You give him a final nod and say, "We'll go with you; to the base. I'll go start packing I suppose then." With that you're walking out leaving Price stunned with how almost simple that exchange was.

The rest of their time spent there was filled with helping them pack their bags into the cars. Soap and Gaz talked the most to you both at this point; not wanting you two to be scared of them. Hoping to be a friendly face in a new location.

John wanted to try and talk to Amelia, but this situation was already overstimulating and he didn't want to add even more on top of that. 

Finally everything was packed and ready to go. Laswell had texted him as well letting him know that the house was now fully set up for his girls.

His girls. Isn't that a nice thought.

It was at this moment though where John took a pause. You two had gotten into one of the vehicles and as much as he wanted to be with you both he wasn't sure if that would be the best right now. Being away right now might be better. Without much more thought to that he climbs into the other car; Ghost getting into the passenger's seat. He watches as Soap and Gaz climb into the car you're in before pulling out down the road back to base. 

It's a quiet drive; neither one feeling particularly talkative. After so long though Ghost surprisingly does speak up. "You should have got in the car with them." 

"Thank you for your input lieutenant," irritation was clear in his voice.

"You need to talk to them."

"That's ironic coming from you; someone who never wants to talk." 

"I'm not the one who discovered they have a family this morning." 

John tightens his grip on the steering wheel, "I think it's best to not overwhelm them right now." 

Ignoring what he just said, Ghost continues, "Time heals all wounds they say. The sooner you have an honest talk with them the sooner the healing can begin." 

"Time is not always enough; sometimes you have to amputate to heal." He retorts despite knowing that Ghost is only trying to help him. "If that means by the end of this they need to leave me to heal then so be it." 

Ghost gives him a hard stare before fixing his gaze onto the road ahead. The rest of the drive is silent.

Taglist: @zarsghost @lulurubberduckie @mafer383 @7thsthings @sazifer

[steddieas-shegoes]

sir, this is a wendy's

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'modern au' rated t wc: 765 tags: established relationship, proposal, kinda silly

-----------------------------------------------

"They're out of the cookies, sweetheart," Eddie turned to Steve as he came back from the restroom of the Wendy's.

They were still nearly six hours from home and exhausted, a little bit grumpy if Steve's silence for the last hour was anything to go by.

"I'll have a Frosty then."

"Machine's down."

Steve blinked at him before sighing.

"I guess nothing then, right? Just the burger and fries."

Eddie sighed, too.

The visit with Robin hadn't gone...well. She'd told them she was taking a year to study abroad and part of the program meant she could only come home for one week during their summer break. Steve wasn't taking it well that she'd go from being an eight hour drive away to an eight hour flight away.

He was being patient.

He knew Steve hated change like this, and he'd only been sitting with it for about 12 hours.

Eddie turned back to the cashier with a smile.

"Two number two's, one with no onions and one with no tomatoes please."

Steve was standing next to him, staring down at his phone. When Eddie looked over, he had a tab open showing the program details of Robin's study abroad track.

While they waited for their food, Eddie watched Steve biting his lip, then his thumbnail, and then his lip again.

"Stevie, what's goin' on in your head?" Eddie finally asked.

Steve shoved his phone in his pocket and looked at the floor.

"Nothin'."

"It's clearly somethin'. You worried about Robin?"

"Obviously," Steve huffed.

"Love, she's-"

"Steve Munson!"

Both of them whipped their heads back to the counter, where a woman was pushing a tray of food towards them.

Steve's wide eyes looked back at Eddie, cheeks a bright red.

Eddie walked up to grab their food, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of Steve actually being Steve Munson.

It's not that he hadn't thought about it before; He had thought about it most days for the last year.

There was a ring in his drawer at their apartment to prove it.

"Table?" Eddie choked out, avoiding eye contact with Steve.

They were quiet as they sat down, taking their food off the tray and looking at it. Not eating, not even touching it anymore, just looking.

"Um."

"So."

They looked at each other, then back down at their food.

"Steve Munson sounds kinda nice," Eddie said hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Steve was picking at the wrapper around his burger now.

"I mean, I've thought so for a while."

"You have?"

Eddie was really about to propose in this Wendy's.

Without a ring or a real speech.

Just himself and a few old people in the corner eating chili.

"I'm gonna do this for real somewhere that isn't a Wendy's on an exit in some shitty town that has two gas stations and a Wal-Mart, but for now." He cleared his throat and reached across the table to take Steve's hand. "I dunno why they called that name, but maybe it's a sign. I love you. I know right now you're having a lot of thoughts, and you don't have to answer me. I'm not even on one knee, but really this is a Wendy's and my knee's been hurting for the entire ride. I love you. I said that already."

Steve giggled and Eddie couldn't help smiling back at him.

"I love you. I'll say it as much as you want, as long as it makes that smile happen. I'll say it when you're sad and grumpy, when you're happy and silly, when you're tired, when you're hyper. If it's okay with you, I'll scream it right here."

"In the Wendy's?"

"Yes, in the Wendy's."

Steve just nodded.

"Attention everyone! This man right here? I love him!" Eddie was saying loudly, gaining the attention of everyone around them. "And I'm asking him right now, to be my husband!"

"Sir, this is a Wendy's," an old lady sitting in the booth across from them said.

Eddie and Steve immediately started laughing.

"Well, is he sayin' yes so you'll shut up or what?" An old man said from the other end of the lobby.

Eddie looked at Steve with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'll marry you," Steve said loud enough for everyone to hear.

A couple people clapped, but for the most part, everyone went back to ignoring them.

Eddie kissed Steve softly, chastely.

"Was this a distraction from the Robin thing?" Steve asked.

"Not intentionally. Worked though."

Steve rolled his eyes fondly.

"You better make the real proposal a spectacle."

"Anything for you, my love."

[verysium]

how bllk boys would react when u draw them, could either be rlly good or rlly SHIT u choose idk (plz include barou and the itoshi bros) 😊😊😊 i love you and ur works, and the way u write the boys and ur content makes me laugh fr, one of my fave bllk authors mwjahaja 😓 have a great day, ily:3 and the icks post made me smile like all of ur posts do!

thank you so much anon ♡ this ask had me contemplating very seriously, so apologies if it's a bit late:

sae is definitely awestruck in some way, even if he doesn't immediately show it. i think i talked about this in a previous headcanon, but he has a deep-seated admiration for artists who can grasp abstract concepts because he himself cannot. he would be somewhat flattered if you drew him since he's never considered his own appearance to be particularly inspiring. would be appalled if you considered him your muse. like....why? to him, his looks aren't anything of importance (clearly he is blind.) would probably say your drawing was inaccurate but then hang it up by his nightstand so he can look at it every night before he goes to sleep. if you're a full-time artist, he probably keeps a little stash of your gifts in a small box beneath his bed. sometimes if he's having a bad day or he lost a game, he goes back and flips through them just to make himself feel better. secretly loves the way you draw his bangs and the little swoop you do in your signature.

kaiser corrects every single detail in your drawing. stands behind you and gives you little pointers here and there. he should have an 8-pack, not a 6-pack. his jawline isn't sharp enough in your initial sketch. poses shirtless in front of you so that way you can encapsulate the full extent of his sexiness. shows off your drawing to every living creature in existence. "isn't he handsome?" like...🙄 yeah, michael we know. he's probably the hardest to draw because of his tattoo, so i think he genuinely appreciates it when you put in the effort to capture his intricacies. will never admit this but he's low-key proud of you and your talent (mostly just your ability to make him look good.)

rin is one of those people who doesn't understand hyperrealism. like why does he need a highly detailed sketch of his face when he can just take a photo and print it out? i don't think he understands art in general. probably despises modern art too. he'd take one look at a rothko painting and be like....i could draw this too...in my sleep. similar to sae, i feel like he's just numb to the sentimentality of gift-giving. doesn't understand why you would waste your time drawing a little picture of him, but it does make his heart feel strangely fuzzier, so maybe he'll keep it this one time. lo and behold, months later he now has a collection of your drawings he doesn't have the heart to throw away. refuses to let isagi or anyone see them because they're meant for his eyes only.

yukimiya has impeccable taste. in fact, he's probably an artist himself. i think it'd be cute if you both drew little sketches of each other throughout the course of your relationship. but neither of you ever knew until you gifted him your sketchbook for christmas, and he was like....guess what...i drew you too. thinks you're pretty even when you don't think so. sometimes when you're having a coffee shop date, he scribbles a portrait of you on his napkin because the sunlight hit your cheek just right in that moment, and the birds were chirping, and he fell in love all over again. i think it's also tragic that he's slowly losing his eyesight, so he won't be able to enjoy your drawings and the vibrant colors you infuse into them. that's why he treasures them even more. probably thumbs over the pages from time to time. memorizes every stroke and line.

isagi likes the way you always draw that little tuft of hair that sticks up on the top of his head. it looks like a cute little bean sprout. he pins your drawings up above his bed next to a polaroid of you two in germany. buys you a professional art set for your birthday. if you're a digital artist, he buys you a new tablet and stylus.

bachira adds his own doodles next to yours except he makes a chibi version of everything. always pesters you to include his little fangs. uses the boldest combination of colors. he would definitely be a messy artist. paint everywhere. fingernails perpetually stained a different color. you both draw during class, so when you two trade notebooks to actually study......there aren't any actual notes.

barou acts like he doesn't know what to do with your drawing of him but then the next day you visit his house, and he's already put your artwork in a fancy picture frame. refuses to let anyone else even stand within a ten meter radius next to it because he doesn't want their "nasty fingerprints" all over your beautiful masterpiece.

[yuri-is-online]

ooohh 500 already?? it feels like the 300 special was just a few weeks ago ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧ can i get prompt 6 with ace and deuce together?? hehe congrats again, more milestones to come!! (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

6. Crowley has decided to put together a murder mystery for the whole ball and you've been the first one "killed." Whoever is playing detective seems really upset about that.

So I was uncertain if by together you meant Aduece + Yuu or Ace + Yuu and Deuce + Yuu. As it stands, I had an idea for Aduece + Yuu and requests for Ace and Deuce separately, so this post will contain Aduece + Yuu. I'm confused just writing that, but I hope it makes sense. If this is not what you wanted, you are more than welcome to make a second request. There is no time limit on that.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, what's worse than one angry guard dog? Two angry guard dogs! Or is it two and a half if you count Grim I guess. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Aduece

"And our first victim for tonight will be the prefect! I would have expected them to be the last victim how very odd." Crowley almost sounds sympathetic and you almost sound interested, you even let out a little "oh no" almost relived whoever was playing the murderer had decided to give you such a nice excuse to sit the next rounds of what you are certain is going to turn into a massive dick measuring contest. Grim does not share your gracious nature.

"This is bullshit!" He thrashes around in your embrace making grabby paws at the gathered crowd as if he is really going to make Mr. X regret killing you. "Just my hench human's name got pulled, why's that mean I gotta go?!"

"Aww, Grimmy, it's ok, we all know you'd be next." Ace laughs but there's a strange strain to it. He's run his fingers nervously through his hair several times now, and now that you've noticed he tries a more familiar smile, dropping his hand to tap his thigh instead. "Don't wait up for us, ok? Juice and I aren't going home anytime soon." You roll your eyes at the joke before giving both your friends a quick hug.

"For luck." You say with a quick wink before shuffling yourself and Grim up to the balcony soothing him with promises of food that you're sure will still be up there.

As soon as you are gone all pretense between the two drops as they both look at the identical cards they had been bickering over just a few moments earlier.

"I still think we should tell the headmage." Is what Deuce says, but he's missing his usual determination Ace finds so cute and yet so annoying every time he suggests the three of you cut class. "When he was explaining the rules he clearly said that there was only supposed to be one ca-"

"Then he can just deal with looking stupid." Snaps Ace. "It's not like he ever does anything else. Look can't you hear what they're saying about Yuu?" It's a low blow, they both can hear the snickering of the usual suspects, but Deuce grinds his teeth particularly sharply to find so many new people joining in. "They think it's funny." Ace says, voice dropping low and deathly serious with what he tells himself is just the intention to rile Deuce up. They both look up at the gallery, Yuu looks.... happy. Content with their lot as if they never expected any other outcome. It's beautiful, that carefree smile that turns into a pure beam once they notice the two of them looking up at them, and there is something breathtaking about knowing only the two of them can bring it out.

That seals it. Lovely as it is, the sight is wrong. You should be down here between the two of them laughing at the loosers who thought they were good at hiding themselves among the masses. Surprisingly, it's Deuce who takes the lead, turning away from Yuu and placing a firm hand on Ace's shoulder to convince him to do the same.

"It's probably one of the guys from one of the other classes." Class 1A wasn't completely loyal to each other, this was NRC after all, but all of them like the three of you. And they all knew better than to do anything to you when Ace and Deuce had you sat snugly between them like you had been all night. "If I had to make a guess, it's probably one of the guys from Leona's class."

"What makes you think it's an upper classmen?" Whispers Ace, shaking himself together and yanking Deuce back to the center of the ballroom to get a better look at the crowd.

"They wouldn't be afraid of us. And any Savanaclaw students in Leona's class would have a bone to pick with Yuu after that whole incident with Azul." It's surprisingly solid reasoning from Deuce, real proof he could probably hack it as a Magic Marshal, and Ace makes sure to take note so he can tease him about it later. But he's not entirely sold on it being pure skill that's gotten Deuce this far.

Seriously Ace thought beastmen were supposed to be good at hunting.

"Hey there, buddy." Ace throws an elbow into the Savanaclaw extra's side (partially to throw him off by annoying him but mostly to keep Deuce from jumping him immediately). "Having fun tonight? I'd have thought a big guy like you would find this whole thing boring."

"What's a fresh punk like you know about that?" His snort would be low and intimidating if Deuce wasn't so angry. "It's always the weakest links that get picked off first, I don't have to worry about shit till later."

"Oh you mean like Epel?" The upperclassman stiffens at Deuce's question, line of sight snapping away from their oblivious friend and back to the now maniacly grinning freshman who has decided to forcefully elbow his other side. Ace gives a laugh that would make Floyd proud as Deuce continues. "Cause I know you wouldn't be planning on him being your next victim, unless you really are as dumb as you look."

"What the hell are you!"

"Oi headmage!" Yells Ace, making sure to flourish the detective card in a way he very smugly thinks only he could. "We got your guy, bag him and tag a better one in next time, yeah?"

A general groan comes up from the crowd with how quickly the game is over, with Crowley quickly agreeing to another round as you once again find yourself sandwiched between your bickering friends.

"Oh come on there's no way the headmage intended for you to be the detective." Ace huffs, head firmly rested on your lap so he can glare up at Deuce resting on your shoulder. "I'm the one always taking care of you two, clearly it was intended for me."

"I'm the one who caught the killer though." A kinder version of that manic grin is firmly fixed to Deuce's face as you sigh and check the time on your phone wondering if they'll get in trouble with Riddle if they stay up here with you longer.

"Boys Boys, you're both pretty." That shuts them up, but maybe not for the reason you think. "But won't you lose your heads if you stay here much longer?"

"Eh I'm sure Riddle will understand." Ace smiles and though Deuce sputters in hesitation he makes now move to leave. "Besides, if he does not, we'll just bunk with you tonight."

"You're worth the trouble." Says Deuce, with a bit more force than usual and you sigh.

"Honestly, I should be saying that to the two of you." And though it should be said with a bit more meaning, instead you say it with a laugh.

A laugh that's quickly returned.

[kaleaido]

In your opinion how do you think/how do you want Taco’s apology to Mic & Pickle to go?

In Brian’s livestream he said “an attempt will be made” which makes me nervous it will go badly :,)

I was gonna answer this way earlier but after watching the trailer a bit of my original answer had changed, oh boy get ready!!! sorry if some part doesnt make sense, this is literally just word vomit

I'm not quite sure whether Pickle fully moved on from what happened, cause if I remember correctly, Brain confirmed in a tweet that Pickle was depressed and also he refuses to read the letters Taco sent him I'm pretty sure. That being said, he could've been doing far better off now but I DONT KNOW HONESTLY!!! Like I know he's a chill guy but it's hard to predict his reaction to her apology.. cause like, Taco was just EVIL to him - If she were to apologize to him, he might believe that she was tricking him again. It wasn't personal for her but it was for him. I get that he might not forgive her, but I do hope he accepts her apology in some ways. I'm also predicting that he could be the first person she apologize to just cause like.. They haven't seen each other in a long time and so the tension isn't that deadly??? and Taco is probably under the impression that he did read the letters she sent him but yeah

As for Mic, LETME TELL YOU I'M ABSOLUTELY MENTAL OVER THIS!!!!! I spend my free time imagining the different way this will go down AND NONE OF THEM SEEMS RIGHT I TELL YOU!!!! i feel like Mic is just an extremely scary hurdle to get over because of the stuff that happened recently. seeing how it was implied that Taco died from stress cause she thought Mic was coming makes me extremely worried that she wouldn't even have the guts to meet Mic face to face - having the possibility of her COMPLETELY messing the apology up. but the thing is, I don't think Mic is necessarily mad at Taco, she was just done with everything and cutting ties for her own good. If Taco were to appear back in her life out of nowhere I'm assuming that Mic will just be extremely uncomfortable, but I also believe that she would want to hear Taco apologise. The difference between Mic and Pickle is that, Mic had the additional context of who Taco really is - They saw her vulnerable side, albeit rarely, but Mic clearly knew Taco was struggling with something and wanted her to open up more (e.g. them asking her why she reached for the portal in hatching the plan) I'm hoping to GOD that Mic can see that Taco is being genuine if she were to apologise or talk about stuff, and I reallyreallyreally hope she listens but like. this is such a thin line to walk and I can see it going really badlyGAH quick thing but I'm assuming that Mepad will be accompanying Taco in whatever her next step is (like yeah did you really expect her to do this alone CMON) i'm just curious on whether he'll be there when she's apologizing to Mic & Pickle. like would he stand there in the corner of the room like an emotional support dog. regardless, I think Mepad being there is a game changer cause he's a generally trustworthy fellow, and he can CONVINCE Mic & Pickle that Taco is actually sorry. this is just my theory don't mind me lalalalala

at the end of the day, ii is a stupid little show (/aff) but the writers know what they're doing when it comes to character relationships. like they KNOW how to write realistic and nuisance dynamics and I'm really interested in how everything will pan out.. ALSO I KNOW WHAT BRAIN MEANT BY "an attempt will be made" BUT PLEASE I CAN'T BE THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THAT'S OMINOUS AS HELL!!! it is such a neutral statement that it makes me fear for the worse...please....you can't do this to me....

[dyushas]

I return two months later with another people standing image but this time it's Younger Character Designs for the Wayfinder Trio, because I don't think they should look exactly the same for four years straight of their adolescence. So this is how I imagine them when Ven had only just arrived in the Land of Departure

Thought-process notes under the cut (mild spoilers ig):

Terra:

-I think Terra is a creature of habit and has been dressing mostly the same since at least puberty, especially since his style is the most like Eraqus' (in my opinion) and I think most people would copy their parents less as they get closer to adulthood instead of more, but what do I know? Idk what I'm even talking about half the time. It's ultimately vibes, I just think that's his brand of autism. But I had to do it at least a little differently to justify the drawing

-Obviously he is like four years younger or something here so he's not as good at things yet or he would've just taken the Mark of Mastery then, so he's got a wrist brace to show he has fucked up his wrist. To show he's still not good at things. I am very intelligent

-I didn't want to draw the full arm piece but I pretend it's because he hasn't worked his way up to handling that much extra weight on one side yet

-I think the red shirt and the patterns look nice so I also did that

-Aqua cut his hair and she isn't that good at it

-I think he's meant to have brown eyes

Aqua:

-She's got so many flowy bits in her canon outfit and I think it probably took her awhile to achieve the kind of control needed for those to not just be a hazard, so at this point she's a younger teen and she isn't there yet, but she can still afford to add a bit of flair

-I was looking at ballet warm-up clothes like those trash bag shorts cause she's got this dancer thing going on

-She and Terra have the same style of shirt because I thought it would be cute and emphasize their closeness as well as the fact that Ven is somewhat of an outsider here at this point

-She has a knee thing. She hurt her knee. She probably fell trying to figure out that fuckass twirl she does sometimes or something

-She cut her own hair but had Terra help with the back. Mistakes were made

-Terra's nails are painted, too, I just drew him with the wrong hand position to show it. The two of them have been the only other kids around for a good while so they hang out when they're supposed to be asleep sometimes to study their keyblade stuff and then get distracted with something silly and joke back and forth, and they paint each other's nails and share clothes sometimes, although this is getting harder cause they're less and less the same size. And then the next day, Eraqus has to tell them off because Aqua is mad Terra's hogging the bathroom and now they're at each other's throats. Just the way it is

Ventus:

-I can write off everyone looking the same in the flashbacks in BBS cause it was a PSP game and they'd already made a lot of new character models so like. I can think "it was just a practicality thing, they probably didn't actually look the same back then" but Ventus also has the same outfit in UX and I pretend I do not see it. There's no way. He needs something else, his skin is sticking to his clothes. It's just not right, it's not ethical, he's only a boy

-I let him keep the waistcoat though cause it feels SO UX era, everyone in that damn game has a little waistcoat and then no one (?) in the console games does. So my thought process is that this one thing is for SURE from tha past and he just keeps wearing it. He's a little vintage

-He has shorts because ummm :P

-Sora had shorts both as a little baby in BBS and a larger baby in KH1, and then as he's been depicted as less kiddish and more teenaged they have him in those cropped pants now. So it's a Sora parallel. Shorts are just the little boys garment

-"But what if his legs get cold?" Well clearly I thought of that

-He has no armor bits because at this point in time he's just been through a lot of trauma and has only just woken up from a mild coma (for him), so he's all kinds of unwell and I don't think he's really doing any proper training yet. Eraqus already kind of babied him in the main story, so he was probably truly swaddled back then. He's dressed for COMFORT

-This meant he also needed different shoes so I drew some. They're not very remarkable

-I gave him a little jacket because I tried drawing him just without one and I didn't like it, he didn't look enough like he spends his days skulking around and looking sad and not getting to hit things with his keyblade, so I gave him something haori-adjacent like it's maybe something Eraqus had lying around and let him wear like how my mom starts putting her jackets on me when she thinks I'm acting sick. But it has black and white checks on the sleeves because I had to put them SOMEWHERE or else it wouldn't be right and every other option I could think of sounded ugly

-I CAN'T EXPLAIN THE LEGWARMERS, I just wanted him to have a unique silhouette that makes him look like he's been sitting the fuck around

-He just has the same hair as he had in UX, which is his original hair but shorter

That's it unless I forgot something in which case you can ask and I may or may not have an answer.

I might also draw Vanitas in this time period even though I'd just give him the same outfit he always has since it's a magic outfit or whatever, but like for the sake of imagining him Small. Vote now on your phones if I should or not so I can disregard it and do whatever I feel like anyway

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday wonderful fandom :) I can’t believe we’ve reached the finale I’m in shock we're here. This has been my side hobby for 9 plus months. I started these to get through the extended hiatus. I wasn’t even sure anyone would even read them. The response I got was so lovely. I adore this fandom. So welcoming to any new Chenford content.

So thank you to everyone who’s read these especially those who've been with me since the very beginning. I can’t explain how much it has meant to me. Whether it was likes, reblogs or comments. Special shout out to my tumblr bestie @makeitastrength and @northern-neighbor You both commented on every single one of these. Thank you so much for your insight and sticking with me this entire time. Means more than you'll ever know.

I’m planning to do mini reviews during this new season. Then this same kind of thing during our hiatus hopefully we’ll have S7 locked in by then. *fingers crossed* I finished this before S6 which was my goal. We are only 8 days away which is unreal. Eeeee. Let us get started.

5x22 Under Siege

This episode starts off with all kinds of anxiety. Aaron and Celina kill me with not calling the noise in WHY.... Why didn’t you call it in? Ugh. Celina lying on top of Aaron protecting him till they arrive. Rip my damn heart out right off the bat why don't ya? I’m going to cry. I love Tim and Lucy showing up to the scene together. They’re clearly off shift and showing up to the scene with each other. I love these little details they make my heart so happy.

They’re a packaged deal now and I couldn’t be happier about it. Also like to note looks like Lucy is wearing one of his jackets. Maybe they were at his place when they got the call? The sleeves look long on her and I adore it. Basically living together at this point. I can’t get over it. Just casually showing up to scenes now. Ain’t no thang. This thought is where I live till S6 LOL

Anyways Tim says he heard it was Aaron. Grey confirms this is true. GSW to the back. Looks like the same spot Jackson was shot. Eerily so. Three masked men and they were ambushed. The painful parallels to Jackson’s death in this one getting me in the feels. Grey has them start to work the scene. Lucy looks incredibly upset but is trying to keep it in check. Probably feeling the Jackson vibes too.

Our couple arrives at the hospital with an update. Once again arriving together. I love the quick looks we get as they approach. That silent communication of their's ever present. Also she is wearing the necklace I must comment. It’s popping against that shirt she is wearing. Like to also point out how look at each other while the other speaks. It’s the little things I love so very much. Getting massive 4x01 vibes from this scene too. Reminding me of the scene is Wes's living room night after the hug. The height difference, the way Lucy is looking at Tim as he speaks. United front power couple vibes.

So much can change and things like this stay the same I love it. They’re reporting back their CI’s have nothing. No one has heard back about a gang targeting cops. Lucy has also hit a dead end with the masks. Their next idea was Elijah but Tim says nothing out of prison confirming that. Angela and Wes are working on the riddle. Grey tells them to head home they’re not getting anywhere tonight. Once they've all left Grey turning to Luna saying he can lose another. Ugh getting me in the feels so early in this episode. More Jackson feels.

Lucy and Tim get home late. The minute they’re back Lucy’s walls are down. Tim can see how upset she is. Another great callback to 4x01. To that hug. Only this time Lucy doesn’t have to ask for it. Tim seeks her out. See’s how now that they're home her work walls are down. She is visibly wrecked and can't hold back the tears any longer. I love how he pulls her right into his arms. Being the exact comfort she needs in this moment. He can't stand to see her upset. Wanting to make it better.

Tim grabbing her instantly is so lovely. Lucy crashes into him and falls apart. He gets to comfort as much as she needs now. How very far we’ve come. It’s been a beautiful journey to this point. Lucy is ready to fall apart in her safe place. Knowing Tim will be there pick up the pieces. Shield her from the PTSD this must be bringing up for her. I love how he encases her fully. One hand around her back the other gently cradling her head to his chest.

Tim closing his eyes wanting to absorb her sadness. The swaying and his chin on top of her head. *squee* I love her being fully enclosed in his arms. Also never be over the fact Eric improvised the kiss to her head. Forever squeeing about that fact. Our ship King is the best. Oh captain my captain. How damn intimate and sweet it is as he does as such. Then resting his head back on hers. Telling her ‘It’s ok.’ His hand in her hair rubbing her back soothingly. I cannot. Lucy was alone last time. Grieved alone and dealt with everything solo.

Now she never has to be alone again and I wanna cry at that thought. Getting emotional at how beautiful this hug is. Lovely ray of sunshine in a rather dark finale. I love this scene so much it made my chest hurt. You want to see outstanding chemistry in a short amount of time? Watch this scene. Melissa and Eric are glorious together. We truly are so lucky to have them as our ship. This is such a soft and gentle moment.

Tim pulling her in and wanting to comfort her has me all in my feels. Lucy has this wonderful man to catch her when she falls now. To be able to absolutely come apart in his arms. Knowing he’ll be there to comfort and keep her together when she does. Gah I love them so much. Also A + to whoever does the music. The song in this moment is adding to the emotional depth of the scene. Amazingly good. It’s been so on point in this season. They need a raise whoever does this.

They finally have some suspects to track down. Violent felons that have connection to the station and to them as a group. Lucy offers to check on one by herself. Grey says no and Tim offers to go with her. Because he loves her and wants to keep her in his sights. They’ve all been attacked at this point. Except for him and Lucy. No way he’s letting her go solo. It’s not cause he didn’t trust her to handle herself. He can’t handle her going alone. His instincts on high alert.

Lucy telling Tim he should be out knocking down doors with Metro. Tim tells her 'He’s good'. As good as he can be without letting her out of his sights during this. Only they could so effortlessly flirt while on duty. In the middle of an intense OP. Lucy letting him know she doesn’t need him to protect her. Tim is very aware of this. Says he knows. Lucy turning this moment into some very cute light banter. Saying he is telling her he needs the protecting. Tim being sassy right back with his reply above. God I love them.

Their teasing and banter is iconic. Lucy’s next line is fantastic. I know we haven’t had an official ILY you yet. But they’ve said it so many different ways this season. In moments such as this. When we do officially get it not gonna be a shock to either of them. Tim telling her 'Back at you.' Making me all emotional. They are such a power couple and the next portion of this episode proves that. I’ve always said watching them in the field is poetry in motion. This next battle scene is literal proof of such.

It’s a good thing Tim came with her. I don’t want to think what would’ve happened if she’d been alone. The creepy crowd coming at them. My stomach dropped. First Tim willing to sacrifice himself for her so she could get away. *heart clutch* Man would die for her and not even blink in the decision making process. Lucy of course will not allow this whatsoever. Valiant or not he’s not falling on his sword for her.

We get a nice call back to 1x18. Not only with Lucy saying they need to go to higher ground. Like he taught her in that ep but to show no mercy. Tim instructing they hurt as many as they can and then retreat upstairs. Lucy getting exactly what he’s saying because they’re simpatico. This entire scene shows that. Also LOVE Lucy saying they only stand a chance TOGETHER. Theme of this season right here. They're better together. Damn right.

What a bad ass battle couple we have. Look at this scene. Lucy calling the audibles in this moment and Tim following her play. Repeating it back and saying 'Copy that.' Gah I love this so very much. Tim trusts her gut without question. Not a doubt in his mind to go with it. The amount of respect he has for her in the field is immense. He was going to stay behind she said no. Then Tim instantly followed her lead after that.

Damnit I love them so much. Tim’s instinct is to always protect Lucy. Where her's is to protect them both in this moment. It’s never because he thinks she can’t handle it. Tim just can’t handle the idea of losing her if he doesn’t. Started from the bottom now we're here and I’m emotional. Also the song once again killer during this epic scene.

Love her touching his arm before they engage in battle in that first one. Look at them in the final two above. I know Eric said they had a blast filming this. They are so damn in-sync. It's such an amazing thing to watch them take these people on. Like I've sad many times before poetry in motion when they're in the field. I love getting to watch the well oiled machine that is them. This was that on steroids ha

Eric was so excited for us to watch this scene and I can see why. It so fun to watch. Taking these guys apart together one at a time. I LOVE Lucy taking that guy out and then grabbing his riot shield. Tim is starting to get overwhelmed and she makes work of what's around her. Running towards Tim getting that guy off her man. With a very impressive shove might I add. Sends him flying down the stairs with the others. They have to start retreating up the stairs after this. They are slowly running out of ammo as well. Backup has yet to arrive and they're battling the best they can to stay alive till it does.

Harper and Nolan finally arrive on scene. Nyla tells John to get to them. She is going to get her sniper rifle even the odds a bit. Unfortunately even with higher ground they’re getting ambushed from all sides now. It's now all melee combat at this point without ammo. Tim takes a guy out with pepper spray and gets a guy off his girl.

Who is literally choking the life out of her. Tim dispatches this guy with any remaining rage he has left. Smashing this guy's face into the wall. Making sure he can't get up to get back to her. All the while Harper being a bad ass snipping people left and right for Tim. This scene is epic af. I love it so much. One of my all time field scenes for sure. They did a damn good job with this holy cow.

Then we get an other beautiful parallel from 1x01 to now. When Lucy pulled Tim to safety mid battle. We get to see Tim do the same for her. The way Tim scoops Lucy up and carries her to safety. I’m not crying you are.... Power couple since day one they just didn’t know it yet. The way he picks her up and then shields her with his body. Gah it’s so good.

When the door opens Tim is worried it’s another bad guy. He shields Lucy with his body. Ready to take a hit to keep her protected. Not willing to let them get at her again. I’m sobbing everyone. The instinct to always protect one another. I’m drowning in feels over here in the best way. Nolan ushers them to safety. Never been happier to see John Nolan in my life LOL

They make it to the stairway battered and bruised. Gasping for air as they try to recover from what just happened. Let’s look at the no space between them when they land on the stairs. Tim reaching out for her instantly. Placing his hand on her thigh checking on her. TWICE might I add. He touches her twice there. While checking around to make sure they’re truly safe. Lucy reaches out for his hand on the first touch. Also their heads touching as well in that first gif. Gah this mini moment has so much to it.

Tim is grounding himself in this moment through those touches. Making sure Lucy is breathing and he can stand down to catch his own breath. Such an intimate moment after an incredibly intense battle. He almost lost her so he is reaching out and making sure she’s ok. He also needs to touch her to settle himself. It was to tell her we’re ok now’s and to confirm to himself she was as well. Damnit it's so good. Don't tell me one of Tim’s biggest love languages isn’t physical touch. It for sure is.

Our last shot of the season for them. Just a BAMF couple post battle. Height difference that I love so much. The check in’s they do walking away knowing this could've been so much worse. Battle worn and bruised. These shots always hit harder knowing they’re together. I would like to think they would fuss over each other's wounds at the hospital. Or at home. We shall see what S6 brings for that if anything regarding it. If not sure someone will write a fic. LOL

The lack of personal space as they walk from the scene always floors me. As close they can possibly be at the moment. Sure Tim is thanking his lucky stars he came with her. I don’t wanna imagine what would’ve happened had he not. Or what Tim would’ve done had something happened. They looks so exhausted they’ve earned a good snuggle and some alone time. Sadly they're still in the middle of case so that's a no go.

Look at our power couple everyone. They're ours. We get to have them. And have a season to look forward to. I was so nervous about the season ending. Knowing this strike could last a long time and it did. Luckily we are coming out of it. Light is at the end of the tunnel. Looking forward to S6 and all the squeeing to come with it.

~~~~

Side notes non-Chenford

This episode one giant stress. One of them being when they try and take Harper’s daughter. The panic in my soul for her. My goodness this finale was great.

All of Celina's scene with Aaron pulling at my feels as well.

Thank you everyone once again who supported these reviews. They started out as a way to fill time between S5 and S6. Became a truly fun hobby for me. Kinda sad the ride is over but like I said at the beginning I’ll do mini reviews each week for s6 won’t be rid of that easily ❤️❤️ Can’t wait to delve in S6 with you all :)

[bobohu4eva]

Good to You - Part 5

Characters: Idol!Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Maid AU, fluff, smut

Warnings for this chapter: Explicit unprotected sex

WC: 4.1k

Tag List: @scentlacigarette @ltamiee @listxn

A/N: Last part y'all! (unless I decide it needs an epilogue lol)

Masterlist

The bliss of laying there together was rudely uninterrupted by his alarm, and you both groaned at the shrill sound. He quickly turned it off, and sat up, pulling you up out of bed with him. Once standing, his hand brought your face to his one more time, kissing you with a gentleness very different from the rough passion he’d shown you only minutes earlier. He pulled away too quickly, smiling again and then he finally started getting his clothes on for the day. 

You too started getting ready, and when you stepped in front of the bathroom mirror you groaned at the state he’d left your neck and chest in. In the past he’d left small marks here and there that were easy enough to cover with clothing or makeup, but this time, he’d left you with large purple splotches reaching from your chest, all the way up to your jaw. There was no way you’d be able to cover that, and it would surely stick around for days. 

“What is it?” He must've heard your reaction, and a second later he was standing next to you. 

His eyes widened when he saw the purple marks covering so much of your neck and chest, but he also had to fight back a smile. 

“Oh shit.” He let out quietly, now shamelessly grinning. 

“It's not funny! It'll be days till they're gone, what if someone sees me leaving here and gets the wrong idea?” 

His smile vanished, falling into a look of disappointment. You could see how fast his heart dropped. 

“The wrong idea? You still want to keep denying it, even now?” It came out sounding pained, confused.

“Denying what?” You knew you were playing dumb at this point, but you felt the confrontation you’d tried so hard to avoid coming at you now at full force. 

He sighed, running one hand through his hair. The inner turmoil was clear on his face, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before finally meeting yours again. 

“Really, y/n? We have sex, we sleep in the same bed, you let me kiss you and cum inside you but you still think people might get the ‘wrong idea?’” 

He was tired, defeated. You couldn’t remember ever seeing him look this upset.

 “That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then tell me what’s going on here, please, we can't just keep ignoring everything.”

You could see it clearly in his eyes, he was pleading with you, he needed you to give him some kind of confirmation, before he broke down completely. 

But you couldn’t, and he knew that, the desperate way you looked at him told him enough. You were begging him not to take this conversation where you both knew it was headed. He didn’t want to force you to talk about something you weren’t ready to talk about, but his own frustration was becoming too much. If you weren’t going to be the one to finally address it, he would. It had been too much, for too long, and he had to get it off his chest. Now that the last barriers had fallen, barriers meant to convince you both that it wasn't ‘real’, he knew he couldn’t keep acting like this was all normal and fine. 

“I care about you, a lot, and I know you care about me too, and not just because you work for me. We both know we like each other too much and not talking about it is making me feel like i'm losing my fucking mind” 

The way your lip quivered broke his heart even more. You didn’t have it in you to acknowledge it, you’d been pushing it away for too long, but now you had to, he left you no choice. He had a right to know, you knew it was cruel to do all of this with him without ever talking about what it meant. But that was the only way you’d been able to stay sane, by denying to yourself that he really liked you, or was attainable in any real way. Having him was impossible in your eyes, and you didn’t deserve it anyway, so you lied to yourself, until you were so deep in denial that his sudden admission made you go mute.

“Please, y/n. Just tell me that I’m not crazy, tell me you care about me the same way I care about you.” 

You couldn't stay quiet when he looked at you like that, imploring you to give him even the smallest semblance of hope that you might finally validate the undeniable feelings you two shared for each other. But the words were still too hard to form, and the tears came before you could form a proper sentence. 

You choked on the first sob, but eventually forced it out. “You’re right” 

The intensity of your crying made it clear to him that you weren't able to say any more, so he just wrapped his arms around you, letting your tears stain his shirt as he reassured you that everything was okay, that the two of you would figure it out. 

When even after a few minutes your tears showed no signs of slowing down, he started to talk again, saying everything he'd wanted to for so many months, finally admitting everything to you. 

“Contacting that company, and them sending you here that day, is the best thing that's happened to me in a really long time. You know you're so much more to me than a housekeeper, and I know I'm not just your boss either. I want you, I don't want you to work for me, I want you to live here and sleep in my bed and have sex with me because there's something real between us and not because I pay you, and you know that. I told you how I feel about you a while ago already, and I know it's asking too much and I could never be a good enough lover to you anyway, but that's what I want. I just want you to be mine.”

His words hit you like a tsunami after all of the months of denial, confirming both your wildest dreams but also greatest fear. The tears had finally slowed down a bit by the time he'd finished his confession, but words were still too difficult. When you were able to pull back enough to meet his eyes, all you could think to do was kiss him. 

“I'm sorry if that was too much, you don't have to say anything, if you aren't ready.” He said when your lips eventually parted. 

You shook your head, and after a few deep breaths, finally gathered the strength to speak again. “I've been lying to myself so much, I really didn't want to believe that someone like you could fall for someone like me, you're way too good for me, I don't deserve you at all.” 

“Whoa, what? Why would you think that?” Of all the reasons to deny what had been going on, he'd never once even considered that. The confused look on his face tugged at your heartstrings.

“I'm just some girl who showed up to help clean one day, and then never really left. But you, I mean, there's a reason millions of people love you so much. You could have anyone you want, and I'm just me.” 

Despite having the strength to talk again, you were still crying. The way you looked at him when you said it had a lump forming in his chest. Baekhyun had kept the tears at bay so far, but now, he too felt them spill over. 

You could feel his tears wetting your forehead as he held you again, your words bringing on an onslaught of emotions, none being good. To him, hearing you speak of yourself so negatively was gut wrenching. 

“You're so fucking wrong, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, even if it's just for a little while, if anything, it's me who doesn't deserve you. I'll never be able to take you out to a movie, or a nice dinner, or even just a fucking walk down the street, you constantly have to worry about crazy people seeing you come in or out of here, my work schedule is an insane mess, I’m only ever going to make your life harder than it has to be, you deserve so much better than that.” 

You shook your head as best you could while buried in his chest. “You're crazy.” 

“I'm not crazy, I just love you.” 

Both of you tensed up, he hadn't meant to let it slip so soon, but taking it back wasn't an option, he knew he meant it. 

“You.. love me?” That one word stole your breath and left you wide eyed, staring up at him. 

“I- I didn't mean to tell you so soon, and you don't have to say anything back, but yeah. I love you.”  This time, those three words were barely above a whisper.

Both hands reached for his face, resting on his red cheeks, swollen from crying, as you took him in. He wouldn't meet your eyes, too embarrassed by his slip up, and too worried that you wouldn't say it back. 

“Baekhyun?” You needed him to look at you, and finally, he did. “I love you too.” 

The way he perked up at those simple words was devastatingly cute. “Really?” 

You nodded, smiling, and he just looked so happy in that moment, you wished you could burn it into the back of your brain for eternity. 

Once again, all you could think to do was kiss each other even more, in a feeble attempt to make up for lost time. But one question still plagued the back of your mind. 

“What happens now? Being your housekeeper and working for you, it just feels..wrong” 

He thought for a second, and then a lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind. 

“Marry me.” 

He blurted it out without as much as a second thought, but he didn't take it back. Instead, he started getting down on one knee, and the tears were back, trickling down your face even more urgently than before. 

“I mean it, no more working for me, what's mine is yours, all that, I just want you here with me. Fuck the household stuff I'll do both of our laundry I'll even learn to cook, and you can hold me to that. I don't have a ring but we can go get one, any ring you want I'll buy it, and then we can go to the courthouse. We can worry about everything else later.” 

The look of complete shock still very clear on your face made him swallow, nervous, as he went on.

“Ever since I was a kid I always thought I'd grow up to get married and start a family, but then I debuted and I just kind of learned to deal with the fact that that would never happen. But when I met you, you made it feel like I was finally getting a little taste of that. Whenever I come home and you're here smiling and waiting for me, it just feels so good and right and especially since we started sleeping together it's like that dream I had before debuting is actually possible, just barely out of reach, because you wouldn't let it go quite that far, until this morning. And for a while now, every time I think about that kind of life, coming home to a wife who loves me, maybe a few kids someday, I can only imagine it with you. You're the only one I want that with. You're the one I want to make my wife, if you'll let me.” 

He looked up at you, teary eyed, but hopeful, waiting for your response. 

You nodded, and eventually, a “yes” passed your lips. 

There was a part of you that was screaming to take it back, to say no to him, but deep down, you simply couldn't. You trusted him more than anyone else, and the more it sunk in, really, truly, loved him too. Not only that, but he loved you. Of course marrying so soon was kind of stupid, and everything else was terrifying and uncertain, but if you had him, you knew you'd figure it out. You'd been staying at his place for long enough, you knew him well, and there wasn't a single ounce of doubt within you, that he would be anything less than the best husband a girl could ask for. Baekhyun was the sweetest, loveliest, funniest, warmest person you'd ever met. He felt like home. Of course you would marry him. 

It was almost laughable how dramatic it all was in the moment, but the way you both smiled and laughed while he stood up and kissed you just felt right, and you knew that was where you were supposed to be. 

“I can't believe I asked you that, and I really can't believe you said yes, what the fuck, that's so cool. I love you so much.” 

By now you were smiling so hard it was starting to hurt your face, but you couldn't have cared less. He kept peppering kisses across your face, each one paired with another “I love you”, until he finally pulled away enough to get some air. 

“You're gonna be my wife, my lovely, beautiful, caring, super sexy wife.” 

You could never get sick of his smile, it lit up the room so effortlessly, banishing any negative feelings to hell, making it impossible for you not to smile back. 

“Let's go get a ring.” He said. 

“But don't you have-” 

Fuck. 

You both realized at the same time, that he was already almost an hour late for work, and the ring would have to wait. For a second he considered ditching again, but two days in the row would be hard to forgive. 

Luckily he was already dressed and pretty much ready, so all you said was ‘go’ and another ‘I love you’ before basically pushing him out the door, as he kept his hands on you as long as possible, insisting on one more kiss before he left. 

Now alone, you played it all over again in your head, and again, and it still almost felt too good to be true, but now you knew that it wasn't. There was no more denying it, hell, you were gonna marry him. And you couldn't have been happier about it. 

When Baekhyun finally arrived on set, not even the annoyed faces of the staff and his band mates could bring his mood down. He went right up to his friends and started hugging them, still smiling, as they looked more and more confused.

Junmyeon was the first to speak up. “What took you so long? Where the hell were you yesterday? Why are you so happy? Are you on drugs?” 

Once he'd given everyone a hug, he looked back at their baffled faces, still grinning like an idiot. 

“I'm engaged.” 

“You're what?” Chanyeol was never really the best at keeping quiet in situations like these. 

“I'm serious.” 

“You don't even have a girlfriend?!” 

That was when Sehun connected the dots, eyes going wide before laughing out loud, almost crying from his amusement. “I fucking knew it!” 

The rest of the men still stood there stunned and confused as Baekhyun just stood there with a big silly grin on his face, and Sehun had fallen to the floor from how hard he was laughing. 

“Knew what??” At least two of the others said, almost in unison. 

“He's marrying his maid.” 

They looked at Baekhyun, expecting him to argue such a ridiculous claim, but instead he nodded happily. 

“Is he serious..?” Chanyeol still didn't buy it. 

“She's not working for me anymore now, obviously, that would be super weird, but I asked her to marry me and she said yes!” 

“And you're sure that's a good idea?” 

“Positive.” 

The others were still skeptical, sure, but they hadn't seen their friend look so happy in years, and at the end of the day, that was what mattered. If he thought this was the way to go, they'd support him. 

Luckily the shoot went by quickly and they ended up back on schedule by the end of the day, and Baekhyun had never been more ready to get back home in his life. 

You too had been waiting anxiously for his return, and when he came back on time rather than an hour late as you'd expected you were overjoyed, running to the door and wrapping yourself around him before he even had the chance to close it again. 

“Did someone miss me?” 

“Are you kidding, those were the longest 8 hours of my life.” 

He chuckled, “mine too, baby, mine too.” 

His lips were on yours again in no time, his hands on your thighs keeping your legs wrapped around his waist. Holding onto him like this, he felt so nice and strong, an anchor for you, your biggest source of comfort. You never wanted to let go. His body was warm and firm and his lips tasted like home, so much so that you whined a little when he inevitably pulled away.

“Do you want to go pick out a ring?” His forehead was pressed to your own, still holding you up. 

You pouted, “Wanna stay like this.” 

“Okay my love, whatever you say.” 

He walked you both to the couch, sitting down with you now on his lap. You couldn't get enough, hands feeling up his chest and shoulders, kissing him with greed and urgency, all of which he returned. 

You two had had sex before, of course, but this was nothing like those other times. Just getting to kiss you and touch you without any restrictions made everything so much better, and neither of you had even started getting undressed yet. Just the feeling of having you on his lap straddling him, kissing him and touching him for no other reason than that you wanted to, nearly made him cry with joy. 

“You're gonna kill me, fuck, you're so perfect.” 

“Take me to bed,” you whispered in his ear, and he let out a soft moan before standing up, walking you both to his room. 

You were quickly laid down on the bed, hands impatiently tugging at your clothes until they were mostly gone. 

Baekhyun had always been… orally fixated, to say the least, and he was almost unreasonably excited to finally get his mouth on you the way he's been craving for months. His hands made quick work of your underwear, sliding them off before he placed his face right between your thighs.

“So pretty.” He mumbled, moreso to himself, as he stared at your most intimate area, making you squirm and whine for him to just get on with it. 

Instead, he attached his mouth to your inner thigh, sucking a mark onto the soft skin, before doing the same again, and again.

“You have no idea how many times I've imagined this, how fucking bad I've wanted to do this the last few months.” And then, ever so softly, he pressed his lips to your clit. 

Finally, it seemed, he was done teasing you. His tongue slipped its way between your folds, eagerly licking up your wetness, before enveloping you in his mouth completely. And fuck, was it good. 

Too good, almost. He didn't hold back one bit, devouring you with unmatched enthusiasm, moaning into your pussy unabashedly. Within mere minutes, he had you teetering on the edge, ready to cum in his mouth. Your hands were tugging on his hair, probably a bit too hard, but he was too busy to give a shit. He'd probably let you scalp him if it meant he got to stay between your legs. 

Once he’d figured out what made you whimper and pull his hair the hardest, he didn’t stop, not even when you started to fall. 

The first orgasm was like an electric shock, shaking you physically, mentally, hell, probably even spiritually. As he brought you to that first peak you twitched and writhed, broken up versions of his name falling off your lips along with moans and gasps. 

Once it was over, your thighs tried to close around his head, willing him to give you a break, but his hands just pulled your legs back open. He pushed you through the over sensitivity, straight into the build up of another earth shattering orgasm. 

He didn't want to hear anything coherent from you, and you gave him exactly what he craved. You were a mess, desperate, sweating, completely under his spell. His tongue by itself was enough to have you almost crying, begging for more, so when he pushed two slender fingers into you, you nearly screamed. 

It was too much, his mouth, and now his fingers, pushing in and out as his tongue stayed flicking your clit, sucking it past his lips every now and again to see how crazy he could make you feel. And before you even had time to fully realize where he was taking you, you were cumming again. 

Once again he rode you through it, only  pulling away when the overstimulation made you twitch so intensely you nearly kicked him.

His face, when you could finally see it again, was beaming at you, mouth and chin wet with your arousal. “You taste so fucking good.” 

His smile grew when you made grabby hands at him, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before moving back up your body, his hips now resting between your own. 

You tugged on his clothes, just now realizing how completely dressed he still was while you were only left in your bra. His lips pressed themselves to yours, and his hand snuck behind your back, undoing the clasp until you were fully nude, and finally, he got up to strip himself as well. 

When he was finally between your thighs again, he was naked as you, and you felt his hardness between your legs. 

“Y/n, baby.” The hand that wasn't propping him up was on your face, and the way he was looking at you stole your breath. “I love you, so, so, much.” 

Before you could return his words, his hips were pushing forward, and he was inside you. The whimper you let out was music to his ears, but he needed to hear something else. 

“Look at me.” Your eyes met his. “Say it, tell me you love me.” 

You tried to get the words out, but they got caught in a moan when he started to move, slowly rolling his hips. 

“Fuck, please.” 

His words broke the trance, and finally, you said it. “I love you, Baekhyun.” 

His lips were on yours again, and now, you didn't ever want them to leave. You just needed him close, as close as humanly possible. Your legs wrapped around him, hands on his back pushing him into you, even when your chests were already completely flush. 

You too felt how different it was, having sex, without any holding back, knowing that you loved him and he loved you. With every push into you, a moan fell from your lips, which he swallowed with his own. He somehow felt warmer, heavier, even more irresistible than you could've dreamed of. You wanted to melt into him completely, feel every inch of his body against your own, no matter how impossible that might be. This was heaven, it had to be. 

He was just as affected, so much so, that he felt himself start to lose control far too soon. 

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna- I can't-” 

You looked at him, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold himself back, but when your hand reached his face he opened them again. 

“I love you.” You told him, again, and that was all it took. A few more thrusts and he let go, taking you with him as he fell. 

You both stayed there, heavy breaths slowly mellowing out as the high faded away. Neither of you wanted to move, but the sweaty stickiness of it all finally had him rolling off of you. 

His arm was slung across his eyes, and he was just smiling so big. 

“I love you.” He said, and then again, and again, like a mantra, until your head rested itself on his chest, and his lips found your forehead. 

His love for you, and your love for him, felt so certain, like something you could almost reach out and touch. It washed over you like a warm blanket, and you layed there, using him as your pillow, with one of his strong arms securing you in place. And just like that, you both drifted to sleep, dreaming of all the wonderful things you'd do together, for many, amazing years to come. 

Fin

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

How would the M6 react to a very very short MC? Probably 4'10 or less?

No I'm not projecting, I'm a tol gorl (I'm a gnome)

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a short MC

~ @zedibleandedible of course you're not, you are a perfectly average height XD I hope you like these, friend! - brainrot ~

-- for headcanon purposes, MC is a fully grown, 4'9 adult. I'll be putting M6's canon heights by their names as well --

Julian - 6'4

Upon meeting you, his mind follows this logical process exactly:

Wow, you are very short

He knows a short person very well. That short person is Pasha

Pasha is not to be messed with

Therefore, you are not to be messed with

But also, Pasha is his precious little sister and must be protected at all costs

Therefore, MC is clearly meant to become someone very precious to him, and he must now protect them at all costs too

This is what was going on behind that plague doctor's mask before you were able to get a read on him. He was stalling because he needed to figure out how to proceed

Having learned the hard way with his little sister, he is going to check first before making any jokes about your height

But if you give him permission, he is going to make so many. He's been saving up short jokes about Portia for years and this is a brand new innocent person to unleash them all on

Kisses work by grabbing his collar and yanking. He doesn't mind it

Asra - 5'8

They think you're perfect and adorable in every way. Your height just puts you at optimal top-of-the-head kisses level

If you think he won't take advantage of this to hold you to his heartbeat each time he hugs you, he absolutely will

They're used to being the short one in their friend groups, so you're definitely a change of pace (in a good way!)

Every time he sees you he wants to pick you up

They want to pat the top of your head so badly

It's right there, and it's so pattable!

But he's so careful about not pressuring you that it takes months of you asking if there's something wrong with your hair before he explains why he keeps staring at it

Teaches you all kinds of spells to float things off of high shelves

Likes watching you put people in their place when they assume that being short means it's okay to pick on you

Knits you a closetful of beanies because the top of your head is visible and so cute and they keep getting distracted whenever they can see it. Joke's on him, you're even cuter wearing the stuff they made for you

Nadia - 5'10

She's composed on the outside but on the inside she's melting

You will not know until you've been together for a very long time and you know just how much she respects you, because

Oh my goodness

She needs to squish you so bad

Or pick you up in her arms. Just once

She knows for a fact that you are strong and smart and capable and someone to take seriously

But you are an entire foot shorter than she is

On the plus side, it means she can just smother you every time she pulls you close for a hug

On the down side, she never wants to miss the opportunity to kiss you, but she's worried that her lips aren't easily accessible enough for when you want to initiate

She starts wearing clothes with lots of fabric flowing from her shoulders so it's easier for you to pull her down for a smooch

Will absolutely destroy anyone who insinuates that you can't be taken seriously because you're too small. Valerius learned a valuable lesson about not looking down his nose at you

Muriel - 6'10

He's terrified

Look, he is over two feet taller than you are. That's at least one chicken's difference. Maybe even two small chickens

What if he hurts you on accident? What if he walks into a room and doesn't see you there? What if you stand next to him and he hits you with his elbow?

Even more scared when you have to share a sleeping space, if he rolls over he could crush you and you wouldn't be able to escape

Until he sees how you respond to Morga and how easily you take to fighting

He's still terrified, but in the other direction

You can do insanely powerful things for someone your size

You also show him proof of his size being a positive thing - you're constantly asking him to reach things for you, and you're always using his wake to get through crowds

He doesn't want to have to double over each time he wants a hug or a kiss, so he gets in the habit of finding something to sit on anytime you two are in the same space so he's easy to reach

Suddenly the hut and clearing have so many tree stump stools

Portia - 5'1

FINALLY

Finally, somebody's shorter than her and not by half an inch!

She knows how annoying all the short jokes can be, she's not going to put you through that

Unless the cuteness aggression kicks in and then she is unloading every joke she's gotten over the years just for the satisfaction of not being on the receiving end of them

Loves being able to lean her head on top of yours during hugs and does so constantly

If you ask her to reach something down for you she will melt into a smug little puddle and gently tease you afterwards

Both of you are people to be reckoned with, so if the two of you ever get an insensitive comment from some foreign noble about Vesuvia sending "travel-sized" citizens they are in for a rough time

All the sailors on the boat now mentally equate "short" with "very strong"

But you are still their go-to person for when there's a small sack of something that's been wedged between a barrel and the corner of the hold, and then would you be so kind as to squeeze in and grab it for them?

Lucio - 5'10

Oh, you never heard the end of it when he was still a ghostly goatman

He was calling you every height-referencing nickname under the sun, and the more annoyed or upset you got the cuter he thought it was

Wait, cute? Oh no. Oh no, he thinks you're cute oh nooo ...

He tones it down quite a bit as he comes to respect and admire you, and eventually quits the nicknames altogether in an attempt to get you to like him better too

But he will never stop loving your height difference!

He feels so tall and manly and big next to you

Every time you ask him to reach something or look over the crowd for you his chest puffs up with pride

Makes the offer multiple times for you to sit on his shoulders to see a performance or announcement better whenever you're passing through a busy marketplace or town square

Will defend your honor against anyone who insults your height, but likes it even better when he holds your travel pack for you while you correct them

[doetic]

Memento Mori - Jschlatt x F!Reader (Zombie AU!)

1/? -> Next Part (Coming soon)

Plot: New York City is not the most pleasant place to be stuck in during a zombie apocalypse, especially as a tourist from another country. After just barely escaping a dangerous situation, Y/n finds herself saved by a standoffish man named Schlatt who seems to think she's more trouble than she's worth. Unfortunately, the perilous world the couple has found themselves in requires them to stick together in order to survive, even if they can't stand each other. Warnings: Zombie apocalypse typical violence, Descriptions of blood, wounds, and fainting. guns. Word Count: 2160

A/N: It's been a while! I'm sorry I keep promising fics that never appear, I've had a hectic school and exam semester. I ended up submitting my wips to my prof for grades so I couldn't post them unfortunately. Luckily they're back now so I'll be revising and trying to get into a good schedule. I hope you enjoy this one especially, I've been sitting on it forever!

 “Just tell me, once this is over, would you stay with me? Would you want me like this?” The tall brunette’s voice was filled with a sense of nervous urgency, his brown eyes that were usually filled with a closed off sense of overconfidence pleading to you with unfallen tears of affection. 

You were quiet, your mouth unable to function as you looked at him with sad, wet eyes. It was a shock, seeing the man so desperate before you. He was usually cocky or angry, nothing like this… It made you wonder how things turned out this way. How you both ended up in such a fucked up situation. How you couldn’t give him a true, honest answer. - Memento mori

Remember you must die

Your whole body felt weak and faint while your shoes slammed against the ground as you ran down the street, the heavy black backpack you had slung over your shoulder was causing your body to tilt to the right underneath its weight, your hands constantly adjusting its position on your shoulder out of discomfort. The sunrise was slowly dipping below the horizon, casting a heavenly golden light between the buildings, although it did little to save you from the summer heat that the excess of pavement in the city amplified, coating your body in an uncomfortable sheen of sweat. Although you were dressed light in your too small shorts and thin tank top that was about half holes half fabric, your flesh felt as if it was physically melting off of you from the heat. You were lucky people forgot about sun safety during the apocalypse, it meant you were easily able to scavenge for good sunscreen, although you probably had sweat so much off by now that it wouldn’t do anything. The yelling from the men behind you made the situation all the more frantic, especially with the addition of the heavy and steady stream of warmth on the lower right side of your stomach that refused to go unnoticed. Your amateur attempt at stitches had ripped a while ago when the chase began, and the reopened wound was clearly the cause of your woozy feeling. Somehow, Despite the dire situation, you felt a desperate jolt of regret in your body for not letting your grandmother teach you more about sewing past the basics when you were a child.

You sharply turned the corner, running into an alleyway. The quick turn disoriented your lightheaded body. Time felt thick and slow as two options presented themselves to you; climb the nearby fire escape and find a way out through the apartment complex (but risk being cornered inside), or continue down the alleyway to the street it connected to and risk being ambushed on the other side. The sound of your heartbeat played as a steady yet fast paced drum in your ears as you heard the sound of the men’s running feet slamming on the pavement coming closer and closer. Your mind envisioned the bullets that would swiftly pierce your skin once they found you. The feeling of your body collapsing onto the pavement in a painful heap that was warm and sticky with your blood seeming more like a prophecy than a possibility. With sweaty hands you scrambled on top of the nearby dumpster and grabbed a hold of the fire escape ladder. The rusty appendage creaked dangerously under your weight. You could feel even more stitches tearing as you pulled yourself up. Your battered and weak body yelled at you to stay still and rest as you made it onto the platform, collapsing onto your stomach. Acting on adrenaline alone, you pulled yourself shakily onto your hands and knees and sent the hardest kicks you could to the ladder, causing it to slam into the ground below and render your pursuers unable to follow you up. Just as they rounded the corner to the alley, you crawled through the broken window of the apartment, only just barely avoiding detection. The tan carpet was moldy, presumably from rain entering through the broken window you had used to get in. Still, you collapsed into a heap on the carpet, panting heavily from the run. You were especially unlucky to have been in New York City as a tourist when the apocalypse broke out four months ago. Even though quite a bit of time had passed since the apocalypse broke out, you were still a novice at navigating the concrete jungle, which made avoiding scavenging in places already claimed by hostile groups of survivors a difficult task. You were honestly surprised you even managed to escape the current situation alive and find a safe spot, although the whole interaction was not worth the lone can of beans that had started the whole conflict. You hardly had time to catch your breath before your weak and disoriented body was quickly pulled up into a kneeling position by the now unbearably heavy backpack you wore, your tired body feeling much like a ragdoll. The cocking of a gun and cold metal pressed against your head soon followed.

You didn’t even have the energy to be scared anymore. Your mind was woozy, the world spinning from the blood that flowed and flowed uncontrollably from your weakened body, and the only thing you had the strength to do was wonder what death would be like. It sounded nice to no longer exist, to not think or experience anything anymore, to have your consciousness absorbed by an unending black void. To not be. But as death placed a cold, metal kiss to the back of your forehead, you couldn’t help but picture a set of sheer white curtains. You would feel content, watching them tinged orange from the sun that set over your childhood hometown through the window. The breeze softly leaving small kisses all over your face as you stood a few meters away from the open window, the curtains dancing in the gentle wind transfixing you to the sight. It would smell like the irreplaceable evenings spent with your friends as you waited for someone to start a bonfire. You would feel like you did once you finished swimming in the quarry on a perfectly warm summer day, but without the soggy feeling of being wet. It would be the manifestation of being hugged by a loved one you hadn’t seen in a while, your bodies pressed together into a gentle yet tight embrace, a soft feeling coating your body. You never wanted to let go. As the world seemed more and more distant, you squeezed your eyes shut, savouring the image you could practically taste upon your tongue. Death would be easy. It would be safe. It would be peaceful. It would all be okay. It would all be okay. It would all be okay. By the time your body slumped face first onto the floor, you were no longer around to experience the sensation of falling.

-

You woke up in a bed that someone you would never know once called their own, dust and the powder of broken plaster covering nearly all possible surfaces in the dilapidated yet fairly well kept bedroom. A steady breeze was blowing in through the large broken window, the sheer white curtains that flowed with it were tinged yellow with both age and the light from the setting sun that lowered solemnly into the horizon. The wind from the half opened window grazed against your skin as you inhaled the crisp, thick breeze into your lungs and felt your body be painted in a heavenly gold by the ethereal golden hue. The pain that seeped into every bit of your being breathily whispered into your ear that this was not heaven. A faint rustling grew closer and closer to the door of the room. You wanted to sob loudly as you propped yourself up in the bed feeling a tightness in your side where your wound had been. It wasn’t moving like the rest of your body. You peeled off the covers gently, bandages covering the biggest problem area and more staring back at you. You had been patched up. You carefully put the covers back on as if any exposure to air would ruin it. Your still adjusting eyes wandered around the room, cautiously searching for something to use as a weapon against whatever could be making the noise that came from just outside the door. The only reason you could imagine having been cared for by a stranger was if they belonged to one of those radical fringe cults that began popping up after the apocalypse hit. Unfortunately, you had no interest in joining them and they never took too kindly to rejection. You inhaled sharply as the room’s door opened and perhaps the tallest man you had seen in person entered the room, a can of beans with a spoon stuck out of it looking small as he held it in his hand. His hair was brown and long enough to peek out of the weathered New York Yankees cap placed on his head, a stray bit falling in front of his face. The man’s facial hair was odd, styled into a mustache and mutton chops although it was roughly trimmed, likely a result of having to use scissors.

The sight of him was inarguably intimidating. He was dressed in bits of gear he must have looted from dead riot police that had come to defend the city at the beginning of the outbreak. His large form was adorned with the bullet proof vest, forearm covers, and knee pads they often wore. Strapped to his waist in a holster was a handgun. You suddenly felt silly wielding the 70’s alarm clock you had instinctively picked up. “I’ll give you a few moments to think about if you really want to attack me,” he said, his dark brown eyes watching you quickly drop the alarm clock to the floor. “Smart.” “Who are you?” You asked, trying anything you could to seem in control over the situation in which you could not possibly be less in control. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who broke into my safehouse and bled all over the place. Do you know how hard it is to clean up blood well enough that it won't attract zombies? Especially without cleaning supplies,” He countered bitterly. Although his movements were casual in nature while he placed the can of beans beside a glass of water you hadn’t noticed on the end table, everything about him exuded an intimidating level of power and dominance, not to mention annoyance towards your presence. He picked up the discarded alarm clock from the ground, his gaze hard as he examined it in his hand before also placing it on the bedside table. “Well yeah, but…”

“But what? You’re not in any place to be making demands,” His eyes flickered back to yours, his gaze daring you to go on. “So either we’re at an impasse, or you cough up your name. I really don’t care either way.”

“Y/n,” You let a few beats pass before responding, looking down at the weathered duvet that covered your body rather than at him. “Schlatt,” He replied in turn. Wordlessly he lifted the duvet that covered your injured side and peeled up your shirt. With precise hands, he shifted around your bandages to inspect your patched up wound. You knew better than to make a comment about his odd name and cold hands.

“Well thank you …Schlatt… for helping me out,” Your words were shy as you tried to ease the tension between you two.

“Don’t,” came Schlatt’s curt reply. “I didn’t do it for your sake or anything, I’d just rather not have to deal with body disposal on top of everything.”

You stayed silent, watching as he continued to inspect your wound before re-covering it and pulling away, looking down at you. Every second spent in the same room as him had you feeling like more and more of a burden. Although you were grateful to Schlatt for saving your life, you couldn’t help but dislike being around him.

“You should eat,” He broke the silence, motioning to the can of beans he put beside your bed. “Don’t let them go to waste, it’s hard getting shit around here. And sleep too. You’ve been out for a few days but you still don’t look in good shape, if anything were to happen you’d be a burden.”

Not wanting to cause any issues, you stayed silent. In lieu of a response you quickly picked up the can of beans and began to eat, not noticing how ravenously hungry you were until you had food in your grasp. Schlatt’s cold eyes watched you for a few moments before he walked out, leaving you alone in the dimming room as the sun set.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Prodigy

Olympique Lyonnais x Teen!Reader

Summary: A slow morning at baggage claim

Two international youngsters are produced out of the Chelsea academy.

One goes to Spain and Barcelona. She plays striker.

The other goes to France and Lyon. You play centreback.

It seemed like fate that everyone would consider you rivals but you don't really care about that. You don't put much effort into looking through media articles.

You have better things to do.

"Hey, y/n! Come back here please!"

You huff, peeling off from Damaris and Ellie to head back to Ada and Wendie. You'd been sitting next to them for the whole flight from France to America.

"I don't want you to get lost. Hand, please."

"Come on!" You complain," I'm not as bad as-" You trail off. You don't say her name.

You think she must be a sore spot for the team after the three goals she scored past them in the Champion's League final. You were meant to be on the pitch that day too but during your last training session, you'd hurt your ankle and had to stay in France.

You give Ada your hand.

You live with her most of the time, although frequent sleepovers at Ellie and Daan's were a must. When Ada is stressed about things, you leave her to decompress by hanging out with Wendie, though you have to prepare yourself every time.

Your Papa is French and you've yet to decide what international team you want to play for. Wendie keeps trying to convince you to pick France.

It's kind of funny to see her try to sneak it into every conversation she can when you sleep over at hers.

Either way, Ada walks you through customs before setting you free in baggage collection.

You're off like a shot, eager to stretch your legs as Damaris and Selma race the luggage carts. Vanessa is on Selma's so you clamber onto Damaris' as she gets a run up and pushes you.

Ellie's acting as the ref and she narrows her eyes as both carts come to a stop.

"She's cheating!" You insist as Vanessa drags the cart forward using her hands. "Cheater!"

Ellie closes her eyes. "I don't see anything."

"Oh, come on!"

It's very early in the morning so there's no one else in the luggage claim, just your team.

You kind of assumed with no one else around that the bags would arrive quicker but clearly not.

You get bored of the game rather quickly and return to your older teammates.

Wendie, Ada and now Lindsey too are sitting on the floor, up against the wall as they wait for the bag carousel to start moving. You don't know who brought out the football but they did.

They're not using it though, just rolling it between them as you approach.

"Ellie's not a very good ref," You tell them," She's helping Vanessa and Selma cheat."

"Do you want to play with the ball?" Lindsey asks and you puff out your cheeks.

"I'm not a baby." You plop down next to her and she ruffles your hair.

"No but you don't do well not doing stuff and I know your phone is dead. Do you want the ball or not?"

You mumble something.

She grins, cupping her ear. "What was that?"

You mumble something again.

Ada and Wendie are grinning now too.

"Sorry. I couldn't hear. You'll have to speak a bit louder."

You glare at her and Wendie snatches the ball. "Go stand over there. Volley is back to me."

Wendie is a centreback. You're a centreback too.

You arrived from Chelsea fresh-faced and worried and Wendie decided you were her little project. She'd told you once, a little tipsy during a team bonding session, that you had the most raw talent she'd seen in a while and that she wanted to see you get better and better.

She trained you every second she could.

"Weaker foot this time," She says to you as you volley the ball back to her.

It's still early. The flight was long but you've suddenly got energy again so you can keep up with her coaching even as she gets up. She changes from throwing the ball at you to kicking it so soon you've both got a good volley going as Ada and Lindsey talk to each other.

"I didn't know Barcelona were doing their preseason here," Ada notes," I thought they'd be in Mexico."

You let the ball drop, turning your head automatically to see the Barcelona girls coming into the baggage claim.

You spot her quickly, just like how you usually do. You could spot her in any crowd.

Wendie spots her too, as does Ada. Both of them lay their hands on your shoulders.

She's across the room with Alexia Putellas though, held back by her backpack when she nearly wanders into a pillar because she's focused on eating her snacks.

You go to move but the hands on your shoulder tighten.

"What?"

Ada purses her lips. "Why don't we sit back down?"

It dawns on you then that Ada and Wendie have seen all the articles, all the articles that insist on the 'bitter rivalry' between you and your daydreamer.

"No-" You say with a little laugh," It's not like that. It's-"

A body barrels into you and lips are on yours in an instant.

You kiss your girlfriend back.

"I missed you!" She says and you peak over her shoulder to see Alexia Putellas and Irene Paredes standing there with their mouths wide open.

You laugh, just knowing Ada and Wendie are the same. "I missed you too!"

"It's so cool we're in the same city again! I've been doing my research and there's this really well-reviewed snack place near her that we should go to!" She tugs on your hand and you dig in your heels.

"Slow down, dreamy," You say," We still need to get our bags!"

"But Ale and Irene said I could go if I took someone with me."

You can hear Alexia Putellas sigh and mutter," I meant someone from our team."

Your girlfriend ignores her.

"Ada? Wendie?" You ask tentatively.

Ada sighs. "Take Daan and Ellie with you. We'll get your bags."

"Thank you!"

Your girlfriend sorts out her own escorts in the form of Ingrid Engen and Mapi León and she pulls you out the door.

You can't resist the teasing words you throw over your shoulder at your girlfriend's captain.

"I'll have her home by midnight!"

[hurlingsupport]

If you write for Rob Staedler, can you do romantic headcanons where gn!reader is like the token "yes-man" of the Illuminati?

Sure thing! I'm definitely late on doing requests, so sorry about the wait—but here it is!! A bit angsty ngl, but I hope you enjoy this either way!

"Run Away" (Ron Staedtler x Yes-Man! Gender Neutral Reader Headcanons)

To start off, I think Ron would make a bad first impression with the reader, regardless of them being a Yes-man sort of person.

As stated in the Rontagion episode, Ron commonly makes bad first impressions. You can see this in his character introduction, as well as when Reagan introduces him to Brett and the others.

So, with that in mind, a Yes-man! reader would probably act nice towards Ron while still holding dislike towards him.

Despite this, I feel like a situation would come up where their dislike is mentioned, and while the reader hurriedly tries to cover it up, they're surprised by Ron's acceptance of it.

Of course, you're offput by his acceptance of it. Perhaps the reader has a need for everybody to like them similar to how Brett does, which makes them admire Ron for his nonchalantness.

Because of this, you might make friends with Ron right then and there, putting the bad first impression behind you.

If that does happen, I think Ron would find some sort of solace with you in the Illuminati. And when the two of you get closer, he would express his regrets of joining and how his job torments him.

In this case, I think the reader would encourage him to leave; even if it meant never seeing him again.

Following the storyline of Ron meeting Reagan, I think the plot would be generally the same. Only Ron doesn't hook up with Reagan at the end of the night.

It just doesn't feel right, and he can't understand why. At least until he sees you again at work the next day.

Still having not left the Illuminati despite your endeavors, he would hang around you more often. He feels... happier around you.

Just being around you brings his spirit up, and the fact that you're encouraging him to leave for his own good goes straight to his heart.

At some point, I think he might confess on a particularly bad night. Maybe his subject's memories really got to him, and he just couldn't handle it.

He'd beg you to run away with him, to leave the Illuminati behind and make new lives for each other.

But with his tearful eyes and his frantic breathing, the reader is well aware that he's not thinking straight. And while a Yes-man! reader would vigorously encourage Ron to leave, I think they would have trouble leaving themselves.

So, without denying his pleads, they'd simply hold him close. Listening as he whispers how much he appreciates them and how he couldn't stand to lose them to this hellish company.

"I love you. So, so much."

It'll come out quietly, and the only indication that he said it is the feeling of his breath against your ear. Shivering slightly, you'll only hold him tighter.

And perhaps when he's thinking more clearly, he'll realize it's hopeless to try and leave such a life behind. But until then, you'll hold him as he confesses every little worry he has. And you'll happily allow him to believe there will ever be a future for the two of you.

[4sturns]

EYES CLOSED

ex!matt s. x gn!reader

genre: angst, suggestive

warnings: reader's flipping through one night stands like nobody's business but it's implied rather than expressed in explicit detail, rough breakup, reader's kind of catatonic (?), reader's in denial, reader's broken (goddamn)

a/n: loosely based off 'eyes closed,' originally sung by halsey, but this is based off rosé of blackpink's arrangement & cover :) also i absolutely hate this piece but i felt like writing tonight so it'll have to do unfortunately

you're walking through life in what seems like a trance. days are all the same, a never ending cycle of the day before, and the day before that, and so on. everything seems dull, the same words whispered through forced smiles, smiles which never really meet your eyes. smiles which once were only for matt. smiles which are now long forgotten.

words and phrases you once shared with matt, words that once meant so much to you now thrown around carelessly to whoever wanders into your bed next. although they're never sincere, never like how you used to speak them aloud while wrapped tightly in matt's arms.

you still remember where to lay in bed. you still remember what to say. you still remember how to play the game. but now the game is playing you.

this is your life now. you and matt were through, broken up, forgotten. your entire world came crashing down that stormy night when you both got into a heated argument. nothing could've repaired your relationship after the harsh and cruel words you both shot at each other set in. you were unfixable, matt was crushed, and your relationship was broken. fragments of your life falling to the floor with no one to stop them from shattering.

nothing could've stopped matt from leaving you after you took the final stab, piercing right through his heart. no amount of words, pleas, apologies, promises could be said to bring him back to you. you left him numb, and he left you broken.

so here you lay with void eyes, beside some man you just met, naked and vulnerable under the sheets. you're not even sure you know his name. he's sound asleep beside you, clearly spent from the evening of half-assed sex, with his back to you. you can't stop yourself from closing your eyes, imagining that matt was the one next to you instead. but no, he's not matt. he'll never be matt.

you'll wake up the next day to an empty bed, and no text messages from the guy you slept with the day before. you'll contemplate the same things you did from the previous night, just like you've been doing for weeks.

maybe you should've been more expressive. maybe you shouldn't have called him by wrong name while addressing him. maybe you shouldn't have imagined him as matt. maybe you shouldn't have kept your eyes closed.

days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, yet you're still stuck in the same routine. never once have you opened your eyes to accept that you've left that old chapter of your life. you don't want to move on. you don't want to forget matt. you don't want to believe he has moved on. you don't want to believe he's doing better than you. you don't want to believe he's doing better without you.

all you have left is an broken heart, and a temporary man to fill the void before he too leaves you.