#was a guy trying to seem innocuous and like the thing he was requesting was totally normal

[ming-sik]

@xenodogz ok replying is getting unwieldy im gonna go by your arguments point by point:

we do fundamentally disagree, i think that if someone sees something about "discourse" it is in fact their responsibility to find out what the discourse actually is before posting a long wildly incorrect theory about it being unprompted prejudice. personally if i hear that someone's mad at me i do usually try to find out why before i form my opinion on the situation and i don't think that's too much to ask! if someone can't be bothered to form an informed opinion why bother forming an opinion at all?

you've continued to not respond to the original point of the original discussion: it was literally framed as a test. the reason the screenshot was provided on its own was to test whether or not the reader can recognize this specific red flag by picking up on context clues, which are available in the original post. people don't always have signs on their head that say "i'm going to emotionally exploit you" so it's important to at least be able to recognize that something is suspicious and question a potential partner to make sure you're not putting yourself in a vulnerable position and they're being honest with you. you and a lot of other people failed the test, which doesn't mean you're stupid, but doubling down and blaming the tester for not giving you the answer kinda is. also can you decide if people were just saying The Guy was maybe aromantic OR if nobody was defending him OR if he wasn't relevant at all OR if the situation seemed fine without the context. it kind of seems like whether The Guy was defensible/relevant or not hinges entirely on which option bolsters your individual points. also what do you MEAN the origin of the discourse wasn't relevant. what? of course it's relevant that people originally misinterpreted the situation to use cishet aro dudes as a shield for a misogynist!

"nobody was saying it was arophobic to be upset at the guy" yes they were that was, again, the origin of the discourse. like defending him by saying "well maybe he's just aro and wants to be exclusive fwb for STD safety" w/o mentioning the presenting romantic relationships are more serious and feeling entitled to exclusivity when hes not taking it seriously, and doubling down when the people who recognized the red flags were proven right, is using cishet aro guys as a shield for misogyny which is my sticking point.

how is it not hurting cishet aro guys to, again, be used as a gotcha for people complaining about misogynists? that was the original problem. cishet aro men were not originally being attacked, so by responding to criticism of misogyny with "leave cishet aro guys alone" anyone who came into the discussion without a strong familiarity with the differences between cishet aro guys and misogynists who use 'relationship' as code for 'respect' would get the impression that if That Guy "might be aromantic" that this is standard behavior for cishet aro guys, which i would say is much more damaging than people complaining about that first thing.

yeah i saw the other poll i mentioned it in my first post. as someone who was following the original discussion i maintain that it's extremely bad faith to characterize things as them attacking cishet aro men without the context "after people defended a misogynist because he might be cishet aro".

in general i'm concerned about the current state of discussion in the aro & ace communities due to the same things you're presenting as counterarguments. i dislike seeing the only things in the aro tag being banal positivity or people weighing in on conversations through a game of endless telephone. this climate makes us extremely vulnerable to bad actors who can frame harmful things as an attack on aro people under the knowledge that most people won't challenge that, and forms a loop where people are incentivized not to get better at theory, ultimately making the community a worse place to be in. if the aro community had a healthy discussion scene the original people misinterpreting the situation either would've passed the test because they'd be educated about this type of abuse from the aro position of people who have to deal with potential partners who think no relationship =/= no respect, or would've been in a mindset to re-evaluate when they turned out to have failed to pick up on the signs being discussed. instead a bunch of people willfully misinterpreted an unrelated thing and then the entire aro tag for a week was people furthering the game of telephone. there's a third option beyond "nuclear wasteland of unproductive arguments" and "uncritical refusal to engage with anything except positivity".

in conclusion,

honestly it's just frustrating. you have people finding misogynistic cishet dudes and defending their emotional neglect of their sexual partners because it superficially resembles aromanticism even when the men themselves do not identify as aromantic and are often neglecting their sexual partners specifically because they view a girlfriend as the only type of woman who deserves any type of effort and so if the chick they're fucking isn't their girlfriend they can treat her like dirt. and then when people are rightly like "hey fuck you for defending a misogynist" the same people who claimed the cishet guy who never at any point claimed to be aromantic was aromantic and therefore criticizing his misogyny is arophobia go into the aro tags to despair at how many people HATE aromantics so they can whip a bunch of bystanders into a frenzy because they've heard that people are discrediting aromanticism, and therefore are encouraged to read the original unrelated posts or people getting pissed at someone defending emotional abuse by calling it aromanticism in bad faith or not at all, and so you get a mountain of people theorizing that the attack on cishet aro men was manufactured by TERFs instead of people who think that girls who date guys deserve dudes who don't see them as a freelance contractor they can expect sex from without having to treat them with the bare minimum respect they feel a girlfriend is owed.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

along for the ride | lee seokmin (dk)

pairing: lee seokmin (dk) x f.reader genre: idol!au (kind of?), smut rating: explicit, minors DNI warning: swearing, drinking, hoshi is a shithead (yes, that's a warning), honestly this is mostly just smut with a little bit of background smut warnings: thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (don't do this), vaginal sex, they were drinking but it's not drunk sex, dk calls reader baby word count: 4140 (don't @ me) summary: you say yes to a vacation with the new group you're working with. what else are you going to say yes to? a/n: i really don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a drabble for a request that @playmetheclassics sent and here we are. thank you so much to @here4btsfics for being a wonderful beta reader and to @classicscreations for the banner (even though i wouldn't let her beta). i hope you like this, indigo! and please be gentle, it's my first seventeen fic

a/n 2: a second part is in the works so stay tuned 💕

You knew a lot of things before you agreed to come on this trip. You knew that you needed a break, knew it was an all-expenses paid trip with little (if any) work, and knew it was a chance to get to know the people you were going to be working with better. 

So you quickly agreed. Who would say ‘no’ to running away to the sun during the coldest parts of winter? Certainly not you. There were definitely moments when you looked back and questioned your decision-making skills. This wasn’t going to be one of them.

Until it was.

Because there were things you didn’t know, too. You didn’t know how everything changed without eyes everywhere. Didn’t know how much more relaxed everyone got when they were truly alone. Didn’t know that you didn’t actually know much at all about these people that you worked with.

You certainly didn’t know much about Lee Seokmin. 

Previous interactions with him had been brief, usually. There wasn’t much reason for you to be hanging around him. Despite that, you knew him to be someone that was kind, caring, and generally always had a smile on his face. In the grand scheme of what you knew, he seemed relatively tame, innocuous even. Certainly not an obvious walking problem like Kim Mingyu, who you had been careful around so far.

And it was all fine, until you saw Seokmin sitting on the side of the pool in a bathing suit and realized just how thick his thighs were. Then you weren’t really sure what to do or where you could go that was safe. So you sought out the one person that you genuinely considered a friend and nothing more. There was one person among this group that you genuinely connected with. He had been an instant friend. You figured you would be safe with him.

“Are you hiding from Mingyu again? Because honestly, you’re gonna have to get over that,” Soonyoung said, more mocking than disapproving.

“No, I am not hiding from Mingyu. I haven’t hidden from him,” you hissed back.

“Mhmm,” Soonyoung hummed. 

“Can’t I just want to hang out with you?” you asked and rolled your eyes at him.

“‘Course you can,” Soonyoung said easily. 

Soonyoung seemed a little distracted and you figured it was okay to sneak a look back over to where Seokmin sat. He was laughing and trying to drag Minghao into something, an impressive accomplishment if he managed it.

“Ahhh, right year, wrong person,” Soonyoung chuckled. Apparently, he wasn’t distracted and you played right into his hand. When you looked over at him, his eyes were on Seokmin.

“It’s nothing,” you said, brushed any thoughts off immediately. “I just guess I didn’t know you guys that well before this.”

“It’s only the first day,” Soonyoung commented and that gave you pause.

You shook it off quickly. “Exactly, it’s the first day. I’m just getting used to everyone.”

“You’re used to me,” he said and you were worried for a second he meant it as a bad thing. If the smirk on his face was anything to go by, he was just causing problems on purpose. Again.

“You don’t count,” you said.

“Wow, rude, I’m a person too,” Soonyoung whined.

“I know you are,” you said patiently.

“And I’m hot too,” he added. Your eyebrows shot up at that.

“No, I’m not falling for that. Because if I agree that you’re hot, which you know you are, you’re going to ask me who else is hot since you said you were hot too,” you said and watched his smile fade.

“You’re no fun.” he pouted.

Crisis averted, at least for the time being.

Thankfully, the rest of the day was pretty easy and you were able to enjoy time with Soonyoung as well as some of the others. Although he made little comments, it wasn’t obvious what he was talking about. And that really was par for the course with him anyway. When you walked around thinking you were a tiger (that wasn’t all for the cameras, apparently), people took what you said with a grain of salt.

Dinner was a chaotic affair at best. With so many people, you had to spread out over several tables. It was easier that way for you too because it gave you a chance to have more personal conversations. You were fine in big groups, usually, but with so many people there often wasn’t room to get a word in. Especially when they knew each other so well and you were still brand new.

You sat down at the only two-person table, figuring Soonyoung or maybe Chan would sit with you. They had been the easiest to be around so far given they were the two you’d spent the most time with prior to the vacation. Easy. It would all be so easy.

“Are you saving this for someone?” 

The voice caught you off guard, mid-bite, and you wanted to curse at yourself for not paying more attention. Seokmin was standing before you, all smiles as he held his plate. Soonyoung was right over his shoulder and for a moment, you thought you might be saved. Seokmin followed your gaze and saw his friend.

“Oh, were you coming to sit here?” Seokmin asked, friendly as always.

“No, no, it’s all yours. I was going to sit with Jun and Jihoon,” Soonyoung said with a clap on the younger man’s back.

Yes, Soonyoung was one of the people that you knew best. So really, you should’ve seen that coming. You’d never met anyone else that got so much pleasure out of causing problems on purpose. Not that sitting with Seokmin was a problem. It obviously wasn’t and you hoped your face remained neutral while you internally spiraled. 

Dinner was easier than it should’ve been. Sitting at a table like this, it was much easier to just focus on what Seokmin was saying rather than any thoughts you had earlier. Not surprisingly, he had a lot to say and just as much that he wanted to ask you. He listened intently as you shared things that you thought were boring, insisted they weren’t, and smiled the whole time.

Maybe Soonyoung actually was good for something, not that you would ever tell him that. His head was already big enough. But you were also much more comfortable now and maybe he deserved a small thanks.

The warm feelings toward Soonyoung lasted until the next morning when he asked you to meet him in the gym to work out. You should have known something was off. Even though you had wanted to keep up with your gym schedule on vacation, Soonyoung had whined about it before leaving. Then, there was a sudden request and you were still thankful from the night before, and you didn’t think much about it.

Another mistake.

You walked into the small gym to find Seokmin and Chan working out with Soonyoung nowhere to be found. And okay, yeah, all those thoughts were definitely still there. Chan, being the sweetest human, asked if you were looking for someone and then laughed. Apparently, your friend was still sleeping. 

Soonyoung - 2, you - 0. 

That was how the next several days went. It was like a game to Soonyoung, just to get you to admit something that you didn’t want to because he knew it already. And because you were stubborn. He was doing this for his own enjoyment and you weren’t going to keep indulging him. So he’d wave the white flag, sometimes multiple times, lull you into a false sense of security, and then force you into a situation with Seokmin that was making it harder and harder to act normal.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you finally said and threw your hands up for good measure.

“What?” Soonyoung’s face was pure delight.

“Yes, you complete and total pain in the ass, I think someone here is hot. I mean, you’re all hot, but yes, there’s someone I’m struggling around,” you said softly.

“Mhm, and who is that someone?” Soonyoung pressed.

“Do I really have to say it?” you asked. You knew your cheeks flushed under Soonyoung’s gaze.

“No, of course not,” Soonyoung said and you exhaled. “We can just keep playing these games.”

“I knew you were doing all this on purpose, you fucking demon,” you hissed at him.

“Give me a name and it’ll stop,” Soonyoung responded, not even acknowledging that you were right. 

“Fine,” you shot back. “It’s Seokmin. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Soonyoung said.

Apparently not playing games just meant that he wasn’t going to keep trying to fabricate situations for you to end up alone with Seokmin. It did not extend to actual games, which he had on the schedule for that night. He was dying to play drinking games, or so he said, and he dragged anyone he could convince along with him. Some of them looked strong-armed and you wondered why he had left the rest alone. “I didn’t force anyone,” Soonyoung protested. “Did too,” you fired back.

“Please, you wanted to play,” Soonyoung said.

“What about Jihoon? Why’s he safe?” 

“Because that man could end me with a single look, I don’t fuck with that.”

Fair, honestly. Everyone’s secrets came out when they were drinking and you tried to observe more than anything. You didn’t want to reveal too much, that was the key. And the key to doing that was making sure you stayed clear of being truly drunk. Soonyoung, on the other hand, as the designated host, ended up pretty drunk. It was cute and you spent most of the game laughing so hard you were near tears. Until a couple of the guys announced it was time to call it and head off to bed, for Soonyoung most of all.

People filtered out until it was just you and Seokmin left in the living area. Unlike every other time, though, it was comfortable. Easy, even. A sort of silence settled around you and you soaked it in, not eager to break it.

“Are you having fun?” Seokmin asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah, it’s been really great to get to know you all better,” you answered.

“I’ve been, well I’ve been noticing we wind up together a lot,” Seokmin said and you looked over at him.

Was this going to be venturing out of easy again? That was the last thing you wanted. “Oh, yeah. I guess we have.”

“Sometimes I feel like Soonyoung has been setting me up,” Seokmin confessed.

It was the perfect opening to admit that you knew that’s exactly what your darling Soonyoung had done. The drinks made it seem like a good idea. “Why would you think that?”

You chickened out anyway. But as you felt dumb, Seokmin rubbed his hand along the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. Did he know? Was he about to let you down easily?

“Ah, well it’s kind of embarrassing? But I told him I wanted to get to know you better and was having trouble,” Seokmin admitted.

“What?” It was all you could blurt out.

“Yeah, I know, it was dumb…” Seokmin stumbled.

“No, no, it’s not. I will literally kill him though,” you said and Seokmin looked defeated.

“That’s, uh, a little drastic,” Seokmin said.

“No, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you rambled. “It’s just…I thought he was doing it because he knew I thought you were hot and the whole time…we could’ve avoided all this.”

“You think I’m hot?” The question fell out of Seokmin’s mouth like he couldn’t believe it.

“Um, have you looked in a mirror lately?” 

“I…can I kiss you?” Despite your confession, his question was still unsure. You had both been drinking, sure, but you weren’t drunk.

All you had to do was nod and he closed the space between you on the couch, took your face in his hands, and kissed you hard. Like he really had been waiting to do it. Like maybe Soonyoung had done both of you a favor in pushing you together over the past several days. Even though it would’ve been a lot easier without the games.

But it was a weird angle, sitting next to each other, so you repositioned into his lap, enjoying sitting on top of the thighs you’d been dreaming about. Seokmin slid his hands up your thighs and around to your ass, holding you in place against him. Your skin burned under this touch. His lips were steady against yours, confident. 

You couldn’t remember kissing someone and feeling this much. How had you completely missed this side of Seokmin when you were considering who to be careful around?

You couldn’t take it anymore, needed to feel him against you even a little. When you broke off the kiss, he looked confused. All you’d done was kiss him but his hair was messy from your hands running through it and his lips were swollen. You pulled your shorts down so you could get back into his lap only in your underwear and t-shirt. 

And it was a lot. 

Everywhere your bodies met felt like it was on fire. He looked confident, nothing like the carefree and smiling person you had seen up until this point. Seokmin watched the way goosebumps erupted on your skin as he ran his hands along your bare thighs. Carefully, he repositioned you so that you were straddling one thigh, which was probably more comfortable and maybe meant that this wouldn’t be too rushed. Neither of you seemed to want to rush despite being out in a common area. 

You really couldn’t take it and you started to slowly roll your hips against his thigh. The muscles tensed underneath you and it only made you move a little faster. His hands felt like they were everywhere. They moved from your thighs around to squeeze your ass and up your sides under your shirt. It made you shiver with how he switched between gentle and firm. He sure knew how to drive you crazy.

Your hips continued to roll against his thigh and the friction of the fabric was doing more for you than it should have been. You let out a moan that Seokmin immediately caught with his lips. One of his hands returned to your ass to keep your hips moving against his thigh. The other found the back of your neck to hold you against his lips. Not that you’d want to be anywhere else. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you moved a hand down between you and started to rub your clit through your underwear. Seokmin’s hand moved from your ass immediately and pulled your hand away, gentle but firm. Like he was in control. You wanted to break the kiss to question why he pulled your hand away, but his hand on the back of your neck stayed firm. A second later, you felt his own long fingers moving your underwear to the side and taking over for your finger.

“Fuck,” you groaned against his lips. He still wouldn’t let you break the kiss.

This wasn’t something you had ever really done before. You hadn’t ever gotten off on someone’s thigh like this, but here you were. His finger rubbed circles over your clit and you rocked your hips against his thigh faster, chasing a high that you hadn’t expected. 

Seokmin finally broke your kiss and moved his mouth along your jaw and over to your ear. He nipped at your skin and smiled at the string of moans and encouragement that slipped from your lips. His fingers never broke their rhythm as he kissed whichever part of your skin that his lips could reach. 

“Please, I don’t think I can…I’m gonna,” you muttered, so close to a release.

“Come for me,” Seokmin whispered into your ear. 

It was all you needed to let go and his finger guided you through your release. Your breaths fell heavy as you came down, still straddled over his thigh. Without another word, he lifted his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. And then he pulled you in again, kissing you deeply. 

Fuck, this man was hot.

You looked down at the space between you and saw the wet spot on his shorts. You had been so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t even registered that he was still dressed. 

“Seokmin, I’m so sorry,” you started and he shook his head, eyes still filled with desire.

“Do I seem like I’m complaining?” He was all confidence now, and it made you shiver.

“Well, no,” you said and he smiled. Not his usual smile. Something much less like sunshine.

You adjusted in his lap and brushed against his cock, already hard in his pants, which earned a groan from him. You were still so sensitive but you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips again. Seokmin threw his head back and bit on his knuckle to muffle some of the moaning.

“Come on, we’re going to my bedroom,” he said.

There was no room for disagreement or debate and fuck, why was that so hot? He helped you get your balance so you could climb off of him and grabbed your shorts when he stood up. Part of you wondered if this was a good call. Then again, you’d already made a mess of his shorts, so there wasn’t much use in turning back now.

With so many people, you didn’t realize how he had gotten his own room and were very appreciative when he led you back to what seemed to be the most secluded part of the main building. It was a little late to even think about that, though, since you had just gotten off on his thigh in the common area.

Once the door was shut, and locked for good measure, Seokmin pulled you against his body and captured your lips in yet another kiss. How did they just keep building and getting more intense? That didn’t seem like it should be possible and yet it was. His fingers trailed along your skin at the hem of your shirt before he pulled it up and over your head. 

While the kiss was broken, your hand snaked down to palm him over his shorts and found he was already hard. Was that just from getting you off on his thigh? And you wanted to tease him, wanted to continue running your hand along him without giving him enough.

But you couldn’t. All you wanted was for him to feel as good as you had. You dropped to your knees and pulled both his shorts and briefs with you. You thumbed over the tip of his cock, spread the precum already there along the tip. When you looked up at him, you found he was watching you and so you licked a careful strip up the underside of his length. His eyes fluttered closed for a second. 

You experimented and took more of him into your mouth slowly. He groaned when your mouth moved back to his head and you swirled your tongue around the tip. His hand twitched like it wanted to hold you in place but he wasn’t sure if that was okay. It wasn’t like there had been time to talk about any of it. So instead, you grabbed his hand and put it on the back of your head. His eyes found yours and even from your knees you could see his pupils were blown. Like he couldn’t believe what was happening. Not that you could either. 

His hips bucked into your mouth and you hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked. You put your hands on his thighs as you bobbed, felt the muscles there tense under your touch. And you couldn’t help but run your nails down them. The shiver you earned in response was all the motivation you needed to keep going.

Until he stopped you suddenly and you looked up at him. He pulled you to your feet and kissed you hard. With his hand on your lower back, he molded your body against him as if any space would kill him. Something about him being so in control fucked with your mind. Made you a needy, whiny mess. You were sure he could’ve asked for anything and you would’ve agreed.

“I really need to fuck you,” he murmured against your lips.

“Fuck,” you whined in response.

He pulled away and you knew you looked disappointed. Your lips chased his for a second. “Condom?”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on this happening,” you responded with a light chuckle.

“Shit,” he said. His breaths were shallow.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD if you want…” you started and his eyes snapped to yours.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed out and his lips were on yours again.

Strong arms traveled down your body and gripped under your ass. You gasped into Seokmin’s mouth when he lifted you and moved the two of you to the bed. Another thing you hadn’t realized about this man. Everything he did caught you off guard. And you should’ve been prepared by that point, but how could you be?

The two of you settled on the bed and your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of him. His hand trailed down your body and he let his fingers skim your folds. You were wet for him again and stifled a moan when two of his fingers entered you. Just a couple pumps and he pulled his fingers out again to grip his cock. You sat up so that he could line himself up against your entrance.

Seokmin let you adjust and you took him in slowly. As soon as you had all of him inside of you, he sighed. Told you how good you felt clenching around him. Told you how much he liked stretching you out. Told you a lot of things as you started to slowly roll your hips. The pace was slow and you knew it needed to be faster. But there was something really nice about having a moment of control. Something nice about watching him. Something nice getting him to beg.

“Please,” he whined.

And so you gave in. You rolled your hips faster, dug your nails into his shoulders, enjoyed his finger tips digging into the skin at your hips. Every sensation added to the next and only made you want more. More of him, more of this feeling, more everything.

As if he couldn’t help himself, his hips bucked up into you. When you let out a string of expletives, he took it as permission to do it again. His hips bucked up into you in rhythm and it was almost more than you could take. You were sensitive from your first orgasm but he felt so good. The pace quickened again as he thrusted his hips up into you. He was so deep and it was so much. You reached your hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. But he knocked your hand away and kissed you hard. A second later, his hand was on your clit.

It was all too much. His thrusts started to falter and you knew he was close. You adjusted so that you could make up for him faltering, rolled your hips as hard and fast as you could manage. Chased the high for both of you.

Seokmin swore and released into you. His thumb on your clit had you cumming right after him and you both rode it out together. You moved slower on him as he thrust into a final few times. You stilled on top of him and his lips found yours again, hands moved to tangle in your hair. 

This time the kiss was soft, almost like a first real kiss. It was so, so gentle and so filled with care. So at odds with everything that had just happened between the two of you. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket on a cold day, warm and familiar. You had a thought that you could kiss him like that again. That you actually wanted to.

But you needed to pull away. You needed to get off of his lap and you both needed to get cleaned up. Those were some dangerous thoughts and you didn’t really need to be having them. 

If only his face wasn’t all care and affection when you pulled away. If only he didn’t offer to go get some washcloths to help you clean up. If only he didn’t offer you his clothes to sleep in. If only he didn’t ask you to cuddle in bed with him that night. If only he didn’t look so cute when you agreed.

If only, right?

i hope you all enjoyed that! please let me know your thoughts ❤️

[coneyislandbabey]

so hot you're hurting my feelings. -> w.rojas

WARNINGS: profanities, steamy scenes like. maybe 16+ but not actual smut

SYNOPSIS: your seemingly innocuous wardrobe choice makes Warren lose his mind. word count: 1,717

NOTES: written for this request. Sorry it’s been so long! Also, thank you guys for over 300 followers 🫶

You knew what you were doing. 

You had to, Warren thought, as you walked into the room wearing that. You walked into the green room shortly before the show wearing a matching set: a blue suede vest with daisies lining the front, and the tiniest pair of matching shorts, white boots the exact shade of the daisies hugging your legs and coming to a stop shortly before your knees. Christ, there wasn’t even a button on those shorts, just a thin brown cord lacing up the front. You certainly hadn’t been wearing that at soundcheck, he would have fucking noticed. 

You slung the strap of your bass around your torso, the pearly white body of the instrument perfectly matching your getup, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you chatted idly with Daisy on the other side of the room. Warren crossed his arms over his chest, trying to pry his eyes from the way your outfit perfectly hugged each one of your curves, to no avail. He knew someone was bound to catch onto his staring if he didn’t get himself under control, but he couldn’t help himself. All he could think about was his fingers tugging at the laces on your shorts, roughly undoing the neat little bow, pulling them loose– 

He shook his head, trying to physically rid himself of the thoughts. The two of you had been messing around on the down low for quite a while, miraculously having been able to keep it from the prying eyes of your bandmates the whole time. You weren’t dating– not that Warren was opposed to the idea, but neither of you seemed to be in a rush to complicate things, even if it was for the better. You both felt like you had all the time in the world. Plus, the thrill of sneaking around definitely made the sex better. And yet, Warren was about three seconds away from tossing caution to the wind and tackling you to the floor right then and there, in front of everybody. 

As if you could read his mind, could feel how worked up he was getting without even touching you, you turned to look at him from across the room, eyes dragging up and down his body before tossing a lazy wink his way and turning back to your conversation with Daisy. Fuck, you were going to be the death of him. He felt a little dizzy, his vision tunneling until all he could focus on was you. 

He was pulled out of his trance by the sudden flurry of movement around the room: it was time to go on stage. No fucking way was he going to have to sit there and play a whole show with you standing in front of his drumkit the whole time looking like the hottest woman who has ever lived. There was a solid chance, he thought, that he would drop dead on stage. Or stop playing in the middle of a song to start making out with you in front of thousands of people. On some deeper level, he was aware of just how ridiculous it was that he couldn’t get a grip, but was it really his fault that you drove him so crazy? All rational thoughts flew right out the window every time he saw you. 

It was a good thing that he had all the songs down to muscle memory, because despite his best efforts, he was distracted throughout the entire show. Truthfully, he was always distracted during shows. His eyes inevitably always found you playing your bass just a few feet in front of him, getting lost in the hypnotizing way you and your instrument became one as you played. Even if you two weren’t a thing, he was sure his eyes would still be drawn to you– you gave Daisy and Billy a run for their money when it came to the spotlight, that’s how magnetic your stage presence was. Every little facet of your magnetic presence was dialed up to a hundred for Warren, sitting through the entire setlist and the encore almost unbearable. 

Excruciating eons passed before the show ended, but finally the encore was finished, the whole band standing in a line at the front of the stage to bow and say goodbye to the audience. You were on the other side of the line up, and it took everything in Warren’s power to look forward at the audience, to smile at them and wave goodbye and keep up his usual onstage energy, feigning his usual nonchalance as he walked off stage with everybody else. 

But as soon as he was out of sight of the audience, his eyes sought you in the dim chaos backstage. He couldn’t think about anything besides you in his arms, you looking at him, you in his bed. After a few seconds of frantic searching, he found you alone in a secluded corner, tucking your bass away in its case. He beelined for you, warm hands on your waist as soon as you were in reach, not caring about who could possibly see. You turned in surprise at the physical contact, questioning look receding when you saw it was Warren. Any words you could have said died in your throat when you clocked his dark eyes, pupils blown wide and hungry. 

“Warren,” you greeted, voice pitched low and a little breathy after the exertion of the show, and fuck, god, you had to know what you were doing to him. 

“I need you,” he said, bringing his mouth close to your ear, the hunger you saw in his eyes a barely-constrained need straining in his voice. “Right fucking now.” 

A shiver ran through you at the tone of his voice paired with his intense gaze, pinning you right where you stood. You had half a mind to look around to see if anybody was around to witness the interaction, but you only entertained the thought briefly. You gave the barest nod of your head, and that was all Warren needed to grab your wrist and pull you along behind him. Warren walked on, peering into various doorways until he found an empty room to pull you inside of. It was a storage closet of some sort, filled with cardboard boxes and extra guitar amps and other detritus, a single dusty light bulb swinging overhead. Warren tugged you inside, the force of it causing you to stumble a bit, closing and locking the door behind you. 

In a fraction of a second he was on you, wide, calloused hands warm on the exposed skin of your stomach, mouth sucking a hickey into the supple skin where your jaw meets your neck. You let out a gasp at the sensation, hands immediately going to tangle in his hair. 

“Warren,” you managed, letting out a breathy chuckle. “What has gotten into you tonight?” 

“You’re fucking driving me crazy in this little outfit,” he murmured against your skin. His hands slid against your skin, dipping below the waistband of your shorts for emphasis. 

“Funny,” you hummed, fingers skating lightly down the back of his neck causing him to shiver. “That’s exactly why I bought it.” 

“You’re evil,” Warren laughed, though the sound was almost pained. He swallowed up whatever reply you had, grabbing your chin and angling your face to his, dragging you into a kiss. You fisted one hand into the material of the back of his vest, your other palm flat against the bare, sweaty skin of his chest. Warren kissed like a starving man, like he would have died if he’d gone one more second without his lips on yours. 

Warren broke away only when in desperate need of air, resting his forehead against yours and panting as he turned his attention to the laced up front of your shorts. His fingers fumbled with the bow, pulling at the ends until it came loose, working his deft digits into each section of the criss-crossed cord, pulling it loose. 

“Are we seriously doing this here?” you asked, watching his enthusiasm with your brows raised in amusement. “Not that I’m complaining, loverboy, but you’re like a man possessed.” 

“When I said I needed you right fucking now, I meant it,” Warren said, tugging at your shorts. You knew just how serious he was by his total lack of pet names for you; usually he couldn’t get a sentence out without using one when talking to you. You took a step back, half sitting on a large amp behind you to make it easier for him to pull your shorts down your legs. 

Warren reattached his lips to your neck, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear, skimming across the skin of your hips and the lowest bit of your stomach. The need was still there, but he had slowed down ever so slightly, needing to enjoy you, to savor you. 

“Warren, please,” you rasped out, growing impatient. “Get to it, please.” He snickered, and you could feel him smirking against your skin. Just as he moved to pull your underwear down your legs, the closet door knob rattled violently. 

“Why the fuck is this locked?” A muffled voice yelled, pissed off, on the other side of the door. A second later, you could hear heavy footsteps heading back down the hall. Your head whipped back to Warren, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the wide-eyed, kid-caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar expression adorning his face. 

“Aw, baby,” you said, rubbing your thumb against the skin of his cheek. “Universe is not on your side tonight.” 

He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. You laughed, patting the side of his head as you reached down with one hand to pull your shorts back up. Once they were around your hips, Warren helped to tighten the laces once again, tying the cord in a neat bow. 

“Okay, new plan, mama,” he started, once you were fully dressed once again. “We sneak out of this fucking place and get back to the hotel in record fucking time.” 

“Sounds good,” you grinned, this time being the one to grab him by the wrist and head toward the door.  “Great, ‘cause I fuckin’ love this outfit on you, but I need it off.”

tag list: @xleiaorgana @neptunes-curse

[mrghostrat]

OK IM ANSWERING ASKS!! open for some delightful streamer au headcanons

Anonymous asked:

ohh y'all mentioned how crowley / aziraphale would react to edits and ... oh god the chaos of a media share stream crowley would ABSOLUTELY be swarmed with simping clips, no matter how good he thinks he is at copyright striking oh and song requests after singing reveal oh ANDDD things in French that are just. vile (complementary) he would probably not do media shares for a looooooong while after that lmao

this has such chat jukebox energy oh my god. i love media streams, they're insanity, which makes them perfect for crowley.

and poor sod, when he finally thinks he's escaped the last of the simp clips, chat starts sending him seemingly "innocuous" songs to play. good old fashioned lover boy. pale blue eyes. a nightingale sang. HMMM there seems to be a theme here........

@genderlessjacky asked:

okay okay "How Long Can We Protect Aziraphale From Dying game" is amazing , love it , no criticisms at all . but what if we go the other way Aziraphale is a GOD at COD or Halo or whatnot lets just say before he became a cozy streamer , he used to play like a crapton of shooter games when he was younger or when they came out and played them for YEARS in his younger ages until he got bored and started baking and reading and stuff , discovered it was his passion and continues doing it , streams it ectect and when this happens everyone expects like "Omg he is gonna get killed in the first 5 seconds but ends up carrying the entire team to victory and everyone is like "WHAT." so confused that this innocent , plump old angelic man who cooks and reads and barates anyone who swears , got 20 kills in a row in COD?? while not swearing and barating anyone in chat who does?? is my life a lie???????? Bonus : Crowley , Anathama and Newton had no knowledge of this. at all. like he just assumed that they already knew he was really good at this and when they ask him ab it he goes like "hm? i thought you already knew?" and the others going "WELL CLEARLY NOT."

aziraphale is a man of many talents 😂 i personally can't picture him enjoying games that revolve around killing and hurting people, but i love when he can constantly surprise everyone and crowley with out of pocket talents and hobbies ehehehe

Anonymous asked:

I would like to suggest the Western Hognose as a most patient and cuddly snake to be delivered during snake delivery, they are funky little tubes with no neck and cute upturned snoots

UGH THEY'RE SO CUTE I WANNA KISS EM. i drew crowley's snake as a big black python but now i can't stop imagining him with a little guy that hides up his sleeve while he games and is small enough that people might not notice it immediately......... aziraphale's hand reaching into frame with a guy wrapped around it, and they just kind of sit there half holding hands while they wait for the snake to slither from one wrist to another.

Anonymous asked:

Your art inspires a hc…. Someone (Crowley, probably) gets Aziraphale a pair of purple round glasses and when the do streams together they match

omg aziraphale with blue light glasses that look like his little reading glasses from the show 🥺

@samsteacup asked:

So Streamer AU won't leave my mind. So I gotta share this. I understand if you don't put it into your ff, it's your story but your followers might enjoy it. :D 1. Aziraphale collaborates in Crowley's stream where they wanna play a game. (some shooter) and they set up Aziraphale character together but Aziraphale spends way too long to perfect him. Crowley is all patient and all and then when they start playing Aziraphale just can't handle the controls for the love of god. So Crowley helps him and it's a fucking disaster, he's furiously protecting Aziraphale in game while simultaneously trying to explain to him what to do. But Crowley is incredibly patient, even when they lose because Aziraphale accidentally shoots someone from their own team. The chat loses it because he usually is so short tempered in streams. Aziraphale is still a bit overwhelmed and frustrated that he completely ignores the chat. Which is good because people are shipping them to death and writing the wildest (naughtiest) theories of what already happened to make Crowley so gentle and patient. So Crowley just bans them all. 2. Another collaboration but this time on Aziraphale's channel. They are baking Christmas cookies together while talking about the holidays, gift buying, songs and other cute traditions/Christmas memories. While preparing the dough Crowley is a bit too aggressive while kneeding the wet with the dry ingredients and he gets a cloud of flour into his face. Aziraphale chuckles and cleans his face with some wash cloth. They continue baking and having a great time. Though Crowley constantly steals the leftover dough from Aziraphale, after he punches out the forms with the cutter. While waiting for the cookies to bake and cool, they start making the icing and drink wine. Crowley kinda overdoes it with the wine and gets a bit tipsy. So at some point he just dips his finger in icing and holds it to Aziraphale's face, who gets all flustered but eventually eats the icing of Crowley's finger. (Which will definitely not end up a GIF that forever haunts both of them in their streams) When they finally start icing the cookies, Crowley is not just tipsy anymore but properly drunk. So half of the Santa cookies get penises or boobs or both. And Aziraphale just rolls his eyes, says "You're being silly" (yes, exactly in that voice!) and takes away the wine from Crowley.

what the fuck im so FED

crowley switching on his patience to help aziraphale in a new situation like 😭 "i won't leave you on your own"

IT SOUNDS LIKE CROWLEY JUST STRAIGHT UP FORGETS THEY'RE LIVE and gets caught up just havin a fun time oh my lord!! 😭😭😭

@squirrellegion26 asked:

hiiiiii hi hi SIR IM ADDRESSING UR STREAMER AU. im in love with itttttt buttt what if what if what if crowley’s head pops up in one of azi’s streams like a frickin cat over the counter and chat is like “ohhh myyy goodness he’s adorable!!!” and azi’s like “oh, hello, my dear” and then crowley’s like “see ya peace” and then slinks back to whatever dark hole he slithered out of anyway SO MUCH LOVE TO UR AU I LOVE IT I CANT WAIT UNTIL UR FIC COMES OUT I LOVE U OKAY BYR

thpfht it's giving

Anonymous asked:

I just found your good omens streamer au and I'm instantly obsessed, I love the concept and ideas so much. This scenario instantly came into my head aswell and I wanted to share!! Like Crowley just did a really long stream and wants to go sleep and doesn't end up fully stopping the stream by accident, so the viewers see him after he thinks he ended stream and he just calls out "Angel, I need hugs now" and just walks off without knowing the stream is still going. And everyone in chat goes crazy trying to let anyone know the stream is still going but also with the fact they saw Crowley switch to his soft side so quickly!! And either Anathema calls Crowley to tell him it's still going and he runs back cursing to turn it off... OR...Aziraphale goes into the room to maybe collect the mug of coffee he made for Crowley and finds the stream still going and the chat going MAD over it trying to get his attention but also freaking out that it's Aziraphale.

oh lord have mercy on m for all this second hand anxiety but

you GOT ME with the mask switching from streamer mode to soft tired angel hugs mode, i'm punching myself in the face

i imagine that footage of aziraphale walking onto crowley's room for mug collection is like cryptid footage that occasionally circulates the gossip subreddits even after crowley has deleted the vod

Anonymous asked:

i literally just found your streamer AU and i have read EVERY MORSEL YOU HAVE ABOUT IT. i am so excited to read the fic when you’re finished with it! all i can think about is Aziraphale sliding things under Crowleys door if its locked while he’s streaming. and its the most random things every time, and of course it gets turned into a compilation posted somewhere. i just think that idea is silly. AGAIN I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS AND EVERYTHING YOU SHARE ABOUT IT!! 💕

hthfph THANK YOU FOR SHARING HEADCANONS i mean it, it's so fun and silly and i love that everyone is getting into this together ✨

[arabaka]

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. content warnings ⤸ sfw. serizawa katsuya x afab!reader. 1.6 words. while i don't mind ageless/minors interacting with my sfw posts, do NOT follow if you do not have your age in bio.

₊˚ʚ ☁️ ₊˚ ♡ ﾟ. author's note ⤸ wowie this has been in my drafts for a thousand years so i thought, why not post <3 i do have a chapter 2 of sorts, just need to polish it up! thank you for reading <3

He never used to do this…

Play video games online, that is.

Serizawa Katsuya had long preferred games of the retro persuasion; they were a familiar comfort, much like a security blanket. For so long, he’d only known a controller with a single stick and two buttons and that had been enough for him. It still is, most days. But that all changed when he found a new reason to turn to his desktop computer, the one he saved up every 1-yen coin for from his job working for Reigen.

But it wasn’t the graphics of new age games that kept him coming back. It wasn’t the carousel of variety that got his chair rolling and his PC buzzing. No, it was never something– it was someone.

Now he knows your name but your username used to come first. It was how Serizawa met you after all, when he was still a complete and total noob to the pixel MMORPG you’ve frequented since day one. 

And like most things, your friendship with Serizawa happened by chance. You were helping a buddy out, shepherding them if you will because after all, they were trying the game out because of your incessant begging and pleading. You needed another person in your group after all, a certain raid requirement wouldn’t let you participate otherwise and you’d much rather go in with a group of friends than some randos that might steal all your loot in the end.

Serizawa just happened to be in your party when playing as a duo through the tutorial. After you tore down the first boss, an aquamarine monster made of slimy goo, Serizawa had typed an innocuous question in the main chat.

『 How do I equip the armor? 』

And you weren’t about to ignore the help of someone trying the game out for the first time. So what started as casual advice turned into a friend request popping in your inbox… Then spontaneous meet-ups…

『 Hey Gyudon-san! Are you going to be playing for long? 』

『 Hello! Yes, I have an hour. 』

『 Want to play together? 』

『 Yes! Thank you! 』

Turned into repeat plans…

『 Gyudon! I have a day off tomorrow, want to play? 』

『 Yes! That would be fun. I have night school but we can play after. 』

『 How are your studies going? Don’t play if you have a lot of work! Education comes first :p 』

『 No, not a lot. I want to play with you! 』

Which then led to chatting outside the game…

『 Gyudon-san, do you use LINE? 』

『 Yes, but mostly for schoolwork... 』

『 We should add each other! 』

『 Okay! 』

… And that’s when you learn his name for the first time. Serizawa Katsuya. The discoveries wouldn’t stop there; with the game no longer a crutch for communication, your conversations became a staple for having a good day. Good morning texts, good night texts. You messaged him when you saw something that reminded you of him, things that went beyond your shared interest in video games. He was so kind, you could feel his warmth over the phone even from simple messages; you have so many of them saved because sometimes, you need a pick me up from the man in particular. When you are on your phone with a smile that makes the apples of your cheeks glow, more often than not it’s because of him.

“You so like him.” One of your friends tells you one day over a bowl of ramen and they just know that it isn’t the steam rising from the broth that’s making your face clammy all of a sudden.

“He’s just– He’s a really good guy! Can’t I have friends?” You remark, stuffing your face with noodles and slurping loud enough to hopefully drown out the teasing that would soon follow. But you know they’re right. Who else do you think of when the lights are off and you’re left to ruminate in your bed, the mattress seeming larger and emptier as the days go by? Who else are you always looking forward to calling, even though phone calls aren’t really your thing? How many times have you looked up train tickets and times for Seasoning City, only to click back with your heart thumping in your eardrums?

“Don’t you want something more?” The words bounce off the walls in your head long after you say goodbye to your friend. 

Don’t you want something more? 

You can practically see the words when you close your eyes as you try to go to sleep but it’s deep into the night already and you’ve been tossing and turning for hours now. You stuff a groan into a pillow, cramming your face in the plush to silence the sounds even though you live alone. You groan because… you do want something more.

But does he?

You don’t know if you can live like this. Pining is one thing, something you’ve apparently been doing all this time (and you’ve known, god you’ve known but coming to stare it blank in the face is making your heart stutter at a pace that makes your chest cavity feel like it’s going to break at the seams if you’re not careful) but living in a shadow of doubt makes you feel even worse. 

“So that’s it,” You grumble into the pillow, “I gotta do it.” The pillow wilts in your arms from all the tight squeezing, the sheet blotted with a few drops of frustration straight from your scrunched up eyes. You grab your phone– no, you’re not doing it now but you figure, since you’re already going down this path, you might as well soothe yourself by rereading some of his messages from earlier.

Only, when you go into your chat history with Serizawa, you see three little dots greeting you from the dimmed screen. 

🗨 I can’t sleep… I hope you’re resting well.

Your thumb jitters on the screen, your last swallow lodged in your throat as you read the message. 

🗨 Same here. 

That’s it? That’s all you can come up with? You don’t want the conversation to die here so you’re flipping through conversation notecards in your brain, chiding yourself for not having anything to say when suddenly, you get another message.

🗨 Would you like to talk on the phone?

You say yes. Your stomach bounces, fraught with nerves, but you say yes. And when you answer, you don’t see the face of your phone until hours later when the sun’s already come up and a new day’s begun. 

“I didn’t realize what time it was… Sorry…” Serizawa sheepishly apologies and you swear you hear him stifle a yawn at the tailend of his words. Cute.

“No, no– it’s okay! Talking with you always makes my day… Night. Day and night?” You stumble over your words but it seems to charm him nonetheless, Serizawa’s soft laughter a gift to your ears. You wish you could hear it in person.

“I– I feel the same.” He briskly coughs, almost like he’s working himself up to something, “I– I was going to ask you… My last week of school is coming up. My friends want to have dinner and I– I was wondering if–”

Your shirt wrinkles in your balled up fist, trying as you might to still the beating of your heart but failing.

“If you would like to come? Y-You don’t have to, of course!”

“I’d love to!” You blurt out, incapable of keeping your lips in an airtight seal for any longer. “J-Just tell me the date!”

And he does– it’s in two weeks, which feels like so much time and not enough all at once. You put him on speakerphone, smiling all the while as he scrambles for the right words; is he as worked up about this as you are? You’re already on the shuttle website, looking at the price of tickets, debating on buying them early just because you can. 

“... It’s going to be a lot of fun, you’ll like my friends,” Serizawa’s voice drifts back to focus, “and I’ve… Told them about you too.” He’s blushing, glad that you can’t see the red painted across his cheeks. 

Your grip wobbles, phone nearly falling on your face when you gasp, “You have?!” 

“A-Ah, should I not–”

“No, no! I’m – I’m happy you have! I’ve talked about you to my friends too… Besides the ones we play with…” How is it already 7 AM? “Hey, you don’t have to go to work or anything do you?” 

You hear him yelp, “I-I do! I have work! I gotta go! Sorry!” 

How can somebody sound cute even when they’re panicked? How smitten with this man are you? “Go, go, go! Talk to you later, Serizawa-kun!” 

The phone line ends. You wish it didn’t. You already miss him. You blink, your retinas burning from the lack of sleep, your lids suddenly so heavy you can’t help but… Close them for just a little bit…

And when you wake up – is that really the time? – you’re greeted with a flurry of notifications but the only one you really care about is the message from Serizawa.

🗨 Very tired at work but I am glad we got to talk. I hope we can do it again sometime. 

Sometime would end up being an understatement. You go a day, tops two without talking over the phone, the next few times coupled with alerts that remind you to GO TO SLEEP because otherwise… You’ll end up repeating a sleepless night and as cute as Serizawa’s eye bags were (he’d sent you a selfie for the first time that week, which you stared at for an amount of time you are still too embarrassed to utter aloud), you weren’t about to make them worse… Though you were tempted.

And so was he.

[moviesludge]

guy from high school added me on fb a few months ago. i was never really close with him. he was more of a friend of a friend type. i thought I remembered him getting involved in military somehow. And I remember it seeming like he was one of those guys that is very intense. like you get the vibe that he might snap some day and kill somebody or something. freaked me out a bit but I think he disappeared back then. So he pops up as a friend request a couple of months ago. Super courteous and polite guy but political vibes were off to me even though he didn't seem to post anything really overt. Then I posted a MARS ATTACKS painting of three kids that had just beaten down one of the martians with weapons. One of the kids was Black and this guy comes in making a comment about "DEI" something something. I acted like I didn't know what it was and asked him about it. He described it in a sort of innocuous way and I replied like "oh ok" and then he deleted his comment.

He had weighed in a couple times on other posts I made, with a helpful and constructive spirit. He seemed thoughtful and proactive, which I appreciated, but I felt like I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. So Just a few minutes ago, I saw that he posted a link to a Matt Walsh documentary called "what is a woman?". I'm not familiar with that guy or the doc but right away I'm like ughhhh shit. So I look up Matt Walsh on twitter and of course I have him blocked. (I block everybody who sucks), so I check out his profile and of course it's an anti-trans pile of shit doc and the guy describes himself as a "fascist theocracy" guy. I don't consider myself a really sharp guy, but if you're perusing the "market of ideas" or whatever and you see "FASCIST THEOCRACY" you can stop reading. And if you don't, there is something seriously wrong with you.

So you know. 5 or 10 years ago I might have messaged the guy and had a conversation telling him that I don't want to be friends with someone who is into stupid hateful shit like that and posts about it, but I've tried that a few times and it goes about as well as you can imagine. I'm not interested in explaining why you should shut the fuck up and let people live their lives the way that feels right to them, as long as they aren't hurting anyone. That is some basic life shit, and I think you either get that or you don't. And if you don't get that and you feel the need to spread some stupid chudbrain garbage like that, I do not want to be your friend, no matter how nice and helpful and courteous you act towards me. And maybe that's shameful of me. I own that. Because I am far too angry of a person to have the patience to entertain the idea of trying to guide people back from embracing hate and fascism. I know it's probably better to be a good influence to people like that, but I need all the peace and calm I can get in my life right now (especially now), and I go from 0 to psychotically pissed off and stressed out when I have to see people floating dumb hateful garbage in my periphery. Maybe I can work on this in the future and achieve my own robust source of patience and peace, but I'm not there yet.

I've already cut ties with a couple of people I used to work with who were more or less acquaintances. It was the same type of thing as this military guy but I probably was a little closer to them and liked them a lot more. I worked with the guy at Blockbuster and he ended up marrying this girl who worked at the cafe at Borders where I worked. I don't know if he did, but she came from a really religious family. They were both really funny, nice people. Over the years she started to post about all this nutrition stuff. Like you shouldn't eat something that has x thing in it or y thing in it, etc. And then she actually became a sort of social media nutritionist. I don't know if it was like a full time job or not but it always seemed just slightly weird to me. Like the weird you feel when you have a friend who is just way too likely to believe a conspiracy theory and go down an internet rabbit hole. But I never saw anything really overt from either of them. And then J6 happened and I remember the husband was like arguing with me about how the rioters were "trying to fight a wealthy elite system" or something like that. And I was just so pissed off about it that I was like extremely adamant in my replies that these people were all scumbags and shitheads working for trump. So I guess I overwhelmed him with how pissed off I was and he responded like "ok then they should lock em all up" but I think he was just sarcastically agreeing with me so I would stop telling him about exactly what was really happening.

I recently heard someone mention that the nutritionist thing is some kind of common red flag for weirdo fascist qanon adjacent bullshit. I had suspected that to be true but was never really sure until very recently, just after the election when she was praising trump and rfk for the things they did and planned to do. That's where I finally had to draw the line. Although I did see a photo that one of them posted and one of their friends was wearing a "let's go brandon" shirt. I probably should have known then. I think I did but I didn't want to believe it.

I guess this is a good time to praise the people that stay friends with people like these and do their best to influence them. I've read stories about people who really did help their friends back from the verge by meeting them where they are and kind of showing them the harm of what they're doing. It's crazy because I see friends of mine who stay friends with people like this and I like want to punch their friend through the internet. I just cannot stand them. If you can tolerate that shit, you're a more patient and understanding person than I am, and I applaud your efforts.

[eponymousfics]

Ooo monster alternate universe ? 👀 I mean, there's beyond just a few AUs with them as monsters/mythical creatures but what do you personally view as 'most fitting' for each brother ... ?

This. Um. This answer spiraled and really got away from me. Sorry it took so long to get to it >_>

But here's some visual aids:

(The rest is going under a cut bc the explanations get long. because i'm incapable of shutting up lol)

OK so roster of sextuplets as monsters according to their personalities and most "monstrous" traits:

Oso:

I went with a kind of tanuki yokai thing because they're associated with trickery, laziness, crassness, and shapeshifting. Also drinking lol

The idea is he's pretty low-level and weak compared to other yokai but he still has magic, which is more than can be said for any human he comes across, so that inflates his ego and emphasizes his absolute worst traits.

He'd be kind of a devil figure, someone who makes underhanded and twisty deals where whatever service he provides you either sucks or only lasts long enough for him to get his payment and book it.

If you run into him in the woods he will follow you and pester you until you agree to a shitty deal.

But he's also not that bright so if you're careful you can wriggle out of the worst consequences, get away with just a lot of wasted time.

Kara:

Classic werewolf, to emphasize his two-faced side. I think he would try his best to blend in among humans, and Kara is Kara so that involves trying to be a cool biker guy to varying degrees of success.

I think he's lonely and subconsciously looking for a pack, but he's also got some "no babe, i'm a monster, i'll hurt youuuu" kinda angst working against him. I think his wolf transformations are a toss up between Slavering Eldritch Wolf Beast that will kill indiscriminately and completely harmless doggo who will beg for treats incessantly

He can be very protective and kind and loving but he is also a monster, he can be petty and vicious and violent, and I think the melodrama of werewolf transformations and symbolism (especially the animal instinct vs. humanity thing) fit him pretty well. Of the brothers, I think he'd be doing his best to actually integrate with human society, not just prey on it or play with it.

Choro:

He's an evil ghost. He looks innocent at first glance, some quiet young man who asks for some innocuous help or offers to do a small kindness for you, like walking an old lady across the street.

But the moment you accept his offer or ask him for anything, he's bonded to you and starts to slowly leech your life force for himself.

He's very polite the whole time, and while his requests might get more and more demanding as you grow weaker, his pointed smile never wavers. It gets harder and harder to say no, until you finally fade away yourself, and he moves onto the next sucker.

However, if you decline his request he won't ask again out of sheer embarrassment, so as long as you cotton on to the fact that he isn't human at the start, you're fairly safe.

Wherever he's standing, for some reason, there always seems to be a huge flat expanse of nothing stretching out behind him, partially obscured by fog.

He wants and he wants but he only knows how to take, never how to give or reciprocate beyond the shallowest, lowest-effort means.

Ichi:

I picked boogieman, but specifically the Discworld variety, where they're always hiding behind doors or under beds and scare children simply because children believe they're real, and therefore they are. They can be defeated with a blanket over their head, because everyone knows that boogiemen disappear if you put your head under a blanket, therefore if you put their head, the boogieman believes that he doesn't exist.

Which is very distressing for the boogieman.

So he's fairly easy to defeat, but I think he'd have a great time scaring the shit out of people and hiding/lurking in dark places. Rifling through people's private closet stashes, whatever they are.

He's potentially befriendable if you see him but show you're not scared. You can try offering a glass of milk. He loves scaring people but is also curious and lonely.

Jyushi:

Anthropomorphic personification of destructive fire.

He's an unstoppable force of nature, and while he isn't malicious, he has so much energy. And unfortunately, it burns everything to ash. He can do his best to rein himself in, but it doesn't change the fact that to touch him is to burn.

He's very cheerful though, definitely a lot of elements of Calcifer in him, but he also revels in fulfilling his purpose: burning shit to the ground.

He can be tamed, briefly, in campfires and hearths, but requires constant supervision. He can be everywhere at once in a breath, and you'll die sucking down his smoke.

He likes people. They give him so many places to live, and so much to eat. He wishes they would last a little longer when he comes around to visit.

Todo:

Fae, but specifically using a glamor to make himself look nice and princely. Underneath he's something more like a lich, and his pretty persona is there to lure you in.

He likes toying with people. He likes tricking them and pulling the wool over their eyes, both visually and in the twisty deals he makes with them.

Which he never refers to as deals, they're just pinky promises. That's not threatening, right? It's just a little promise. Don't worry about it. Don't look beneath the glitter.

Like Kara, he's extremely two-faced, but unlike Kara, he doesn't really care about humans or being part of their society. He'll take what he wants from people (which doesn't always cost them their lives) and disregard the rest. He needs to eat, after all.

SO that's my serious personality-based answer, I also have alternatives though because I love monsters. These are like, if I were picking monsters specifically for more wholesome or romantic AUs. The above ones would technically be romanceable, but the genre would probably be more horror and angst, vs the following are for lighthearted fun.

(you can tell which set i drew first lol)

Oso:

Classic incubus/devil, the transactional and non-commitment based nature of it works for him. He could be persuaded to fall in love with someone, maybe, but he lovessss sleeping around with no strings attached.

Once again, being a monster gives him actual powers, so he winds up being insufferably smug. You can tell that I don't like drawing feet lol

Kara:

Like a satyr but with bull parts instead of goat? I'm not sure what to call those. I'd say minotaur, but that's specifically with a bull's head and human body, not this way around.

But similar to the Greek Minotaur, he's kinda isolated and lonely, too big and too awkward to fit in with normal society. He tries to make himself small and quiet and appealing by learning music and things like that. Kind of a gentle giant thing.

Choro:

Frog prince, but caught in between. He's like a half-metamorphosed tadpole, with the arms and legs, but still with a tail. Idk I just wanted him to be slimy and awkward.

I'm not sure why I keep choosing washed out colors for Choro as a monster, maybe because I think he'd be the most self-conscious or distant about it? Like, most of the others would revel in or embrace their monster status, but I think Choro, while fulfilling his "job" as a monster, would always hate that he was one deep down.

A simple kiss probably won't break his curse. In the original fairy tale, the princess needs to learn to look past her disgust at having a frog husband, but in this case Choro needs to learn to look past his own sliminess and find worth in himself and others.

Ichi:

Blobby shadow monster, idk what to call it. He's got a bit more substance and weight than mere darkness, it's a bit more drippy and fluid.

But like the boogieman version, he can hide and blend in shadows and scare people, although he mostly chooses to watch. I think he's an accretion of the misery of the isolated, and goes to keep them company as they die. Or get help and get better. In the former case, their souls become part of him. In the latter, he just leaves.

In some ways, he wants to help. But he doesn't think there's anything he can do but be a witness. So he watches.

Jyushi:

Cyclops/oni thing, absolutely huge and cheerful and unfortunately clumsy. He does his best but he breaks things all the time. People still like him though, they just have to be very very careful. Luckily he has amazing hearing so he's so far managed not to step on anyone.

He could act as a guardian for a city, or as a transport service between towns. He can also rip up trees and deposit them directly in lumberyards for people to start chopping up. He's very useful.

But he does get a bit lonely. People are always happy to see him, but it's usually because they have a request. No one every wants to hear about this fun new game he invented using boulders and his club.

His laughter often causes avalanches on nearby mountain ranges.

Todo:

Classic vampire, because at least one of them had to be. I think it's fitting for Totty, who once again can use his appearance to lure people in and get what he wants from them.

Only, of course, most people nowadays are quite happy to have the attention of a vampire, even if they know where it's going. And he loves getting to dress up and be fancy.

He's arrogant and entitled, but less malicious than his fae persona.

END

ANYWAY I'm SO SORRY this spiraled so hard, I was just typing up a reply and then next thing I knew I was hunched over my drawing tablet and it'd been six hours. I might need to write some monster AU one shots now please fucking shoot me

[tobiasdrake]

Well, chief. I guess this is it. Thanks for everything, and I'll see you aro-- Oh, we aren't finished yet.

Goddammit.

Hypothetically speaking, if you were going to be alone with a man who might try to kill you, what size of knife would you carry on your person and where would you stash it? Asking for a friend.

Are you, though? You know in a Saturday Morning Cartoon when the adult guardian goes, "The plot is happening but YOU will go to your room and behave yourself. You will NOT slip out and go do the thing."

But this is like episode 87 and we all know they're going to slip out and go do the thing anyway so, really, saying this is just a formality at this point?

That's your level of authority, Yakou. Thank you so much for saving my life from my terrible mistakes last chapter; Anyways, back to doing the things that got me in trouble in the first place!

I'll write him a note and leave it in Halara's hotel room, along with an IOU formally requesting that they deliver it to Yakou upon confirmation of my death.

I obviously won't be able to pay the IOU but at this point I'm pretty sure Halara only cares about the optics of charging money.

Kurumi, I took you to meet my dangerous, ambiguous wildcard contact. There's a 50/50 chance he's going to tie you to a chair and dangle you over a vat of acid before all is said and done. We are well past the point where something as innocuous as worry is inappropriate.

OH THANK GOD. Of Death. Literally. Thank you for finally ending this awkward quasi-farewell, Shinigami.

We're running out of good ideas to escape from this sub. This is one step above pointing behind Yakou and shouting, "LOOK, A FALSE LEAD!" then bolting when he turns around.

Because then it will spoil. The best kinds of evidence have an expiration date!

Yuma finally proving that abandoning all pretense and bailing at the speed of feet is, and always has been, a viable option for dodging Yakou's paper-thin attempts at professional responsibility.

Sorry, man, but you-

HAHAHAHA OKAY, Yuma made me laugh but I was unprepared for Kurumi to then also bolt out the door. XD Run, guys! Yakou looks like he maxes out at a shamble! A brisk jogging pace should do!

To be fair, she does not work here. It'd be uncomfortable for her to stick around someone else's workspace without her one and only connection to this place.

Sorry, Yakou. As hard as you're going to kiss her ass, Kurumi is not interested in becoming your intern. She's here for Yuma. And she is as much of a troublemaker.

HOLY SHIT YOU GODDAMN VAMPIRE

I legit did not turn the camera to check the fireplace. He may have been here for this entire scene thus far.

I KNOW RIGHT!? We need to put a bell on him. Wait, no, bell only chimes when you move. ...one of those perpetual motion clicky ball sets that managers have on their desk to make them look important. He can wear it around his neck.

You heard as much as Yakou, man. Yuma was super cryptic and then fled.

*sigh* Okay, what's Desuhiko pulling this time, Vivia? Is the pale blue blink supposed to be Fubuki? But then the storm would be... him getting the shit kicked out of him....

Ugh, I don't have time for his shenanigans, I have a trap to go die in.

For a man who was all gung-ho about box cutting my throat out, you sure don't seem to be in any rush to do it. I think Vivia used up all of his energy trying to stand up dramatically.

How are you going to feel if I die before you have a chance to kill me, Vivia? Can you live with that regret? Or... I guess, since you want to die someday, maybe not being able to live with that regret would be a good thing.

I guess. Keep doing what you're doing and hope for the worst, my guy. Power of positive thinking!

[angeldcgs]

from what she could tell, this kid needed a major ego check. entitlement was insufferable when coming from wealthy folks, but it could be just as unbearable on those who were less fortunate, as well. despite the fact that he had been the one who broke into her house with the intention of stealing her belongings, violating her space and her privacy, he had the nerve to act like she was the bad guy. it was like he had no ability to see his own wrongdoing or acknowledge his mistakes, instead preferring to lay the blame on whoever was most convenient, and that just happened to be petra. it's not like she was expecting him to thank her for stripping him naked, but he could at least acknowledge the fact that things could've turned out so, so much worse had she not seen some sort of potential in him. "it's called a strip search, dummy," she deadpanned. "cops do them all the time." which wasn't exactly the best the best example to evoke, considering perverts in law enforcement commonly used their authority to sexually assaults civilians with impunity. such a request was far from nefarious when coming from her, though— it was a common practice to ensure her safety. just because sonny seemed completely inept, that didn't necessarily mean he was harmless, either. if he was smart, he would've been carrying a weapon on him, and she had to make sure he wouldn't whip it out as soon as her guard dropped. "oh, i'm sure... wouldn't wanna jeopardize your relationship with your right hand, anyway. you two make such a cute couple." his jabs were nothing more than playground level insults, petty attempts to try and bite back at her, though he hadn't even lost his baby teeth yet. it would've been cute, had she not been too focused to even really acknowledge it. if he wanted to lash out at her, using her as a stand-in for every filthy rich asshole who filled him with envy, transferring his well justified frustration onto her for less than valid reasons, he was welcome to do so. he'd find out soon enough that her tolerance for bratty behavior could only stretch so far, likely the hard way, as all things seemed to go with him. once he reluctantly handed over his shirt, that signature scowl still plastered on his face, she folded it and placed it atop his pants before returning her attention back to him. "arms up," she instructed simply, raising her arms in a t-shape to demonstrate. "now turn in a circle. slowly." she remained watching him closely, eyes scanning up and down his body, though the only place he could've possibly been hiding something was in his boxers, and from what she could see, he wasn't packing very much of anything in them at all. "alright." seeing that he definitely didn't pose any sort of physical threat to her, she gave him a curt nod before beginning to walk over to where her clunky old wooden dresser stood against the wall, gesturing for him to follow. "c'mere. c'mon, don't drag your fucking feet." with a look of impatience, she waited for him to join her, opening one of the drawers in anticipation for his arrival. "give me your hands." keeping him in the dark as to her intentions was essential, trying to prevent him from trying to fight against her by utilizing the element of surprise. his mind was free to run wild, crafting whatever innocuous or sinister outcome he could possibly think of, but he'd only know for certain where her head was at when she wanted him to.

it had never occurred to sonny that he would've been better off training himself with smaller, more manageable thievery attempts first before heading to the rich part of town to loot the their big fancy houses. the stakes were higher, sure, but in his eyes the only thing he needed to do was not get caught and he'd fully believed that he'd achieve that. with his assumption that petra would be out of the house, there was nothing that could've gone wrong. he didn't have the luxury to work his way up to robbery, he wasn't trying to be the best thief in the world he was merely trying to get enough money to pay his rent and not starve to death. he was trying to exist with the heavy boot of capitalism pressed down on his throat, it wasn't laziness or a lack of work ethic that had led him to her home, it was desperation. whatever her plan for him was, sonny thought it pretty obvious to assume that it wouldn't end well for him. if she wasn't stripping him for some weird kind of sexual gratification, she was doing it to humiliate him and it was unlikely to stop there. "you're the one who wants me naked." he pointed out with a heavy tone of disdain, his eyes flickering down to his bare chest, feebly covered by the shirt balled up in his hand. "yeah? well, you're not my type." sonny scoffed and shook his head at the suggestion he would've in any way enjoyed being taken advance of. was her ego that high? sure, she was an attractive woman, he wasn't blind but she was way too aggressive, bossy in a way that sonny couldn't help but want to fight against. if she was intending on trying to embarrass him, she'd need to try a lot harder than getting him naked. as a teenager he'd suffered perpetually with feelings of shame, believing himself to be broken somehow and incapable of ever living the sort of life that his peers were capable of. eventually, he realised that he wasn't to blame, he'd been bound to a stupid city, unable to make any kind of social progress because of his family's financial problems, smart enough to survive but not to go to college or make any kind of name for himself, he was trapped in obscurity and there was an odd freedom in that realisation. instead of hating himself, sonny turned that frustration onto others, on every stupid face that he served in the store who thought they were owed his kindness because they were customer, on any rich asshole who refused to even so much as glance in his direction when forced to walk on the same street. she could take very few things from him, his life was there if she really desired to act so drastically but all in all, sonny would've preferred that outcome than one in which he was made to snivel at her feet. it was one thing to pretend, a whole other to actually feel whatever mortification she wished to see him squirm with. once his pants and shoes were off and he was left standing in his boxers, sonny looked down his nose at petra as she rose back up and held out her hand, waiting for him to hand over his shirt. he thought about fighting back, though that only lasted for a moment or two till she mention her willingness to dispose of him. he wasn't willing to die for his shirt, even if a sting of anger stabbed him the moment the fabric left his fingers. "fine. can we get on with it? it's cold in here."

[kimageddon]

Prompt!

41. you need some sleep

I know I've already submitted a prompt but I just love the idea of sick Maul insisting that he's fine 😭

------

(I've not had a submission before so I'm still trying to figure out how they work, the above was sent to be by the wonderful @natashagregtrude thank you so much for your prompt! )

-|- Page header by space-b33 -|- Masterlist -|- Prince of Dathomir Masterlist (Maul x Nightsister OC) -|- Check out my : Ko-fi / AO3 -|- Prompt Challenges -|- Join my tag list -|-

OC is from my A Prince of Dathomir Series. Check out the prompt lists here! (Requests are still open)

Contains/Warnings: Just a lot of fluff and pining. Maul x Nightsister OC

Summary: Maul is injusred. And stubborn.

Notes: I just adore getting asks for prompts, seeing the cool things you guys send in! Feel free to check out the plethora of prompts in the link above, I am still taking requests for asks for the characters from A Prince of Dathomir. Doesn't have to be Maul, could be any of the others! Thank you so much for the support! I hope you enjoy!

Just Rest

“Just keep still, sire.” Zaiya said softly as she wound the bandage around Maul’s tattooed chest. 

“I am not an infant, Lieutenant, I am able to dress my own wounds,” he replied in what could only be described as a huff. 

“Of course, however that would be inefficient,” she replied with the same calm, the same gentle tone as if she were answering any innocuous question. “Were you to do it yourself it would take more time, and be more likely to come unravelled, the angle would make it difficult.” He didn’t seem to find reason to argue that, and became silent. She worked quickly, making sure the wound was covered sufficiently. 

“You are lucky that the blaster shot wasn’t two inches to the left,” she said quietly, a little more solemn this time. 

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he sneered. Zaiya refrained from rolling her eyes and tugged on the bandages a little as she began to tie them off. 

“The next time we have to deal with Pirates, let me cover your flank instead of jumping into the fray of a dozen of the fools on your own,” she muttered, he’d been uncharacteristically reckless this time, and seeing him shot… well her hearts still ached. He wore a sour expression. 

“They will learn to respect us, Lieutenant,” he muttered moodily. There was the telltale droop of his shoulders, he was tired, though he didn’t like to admit it. 

“It doesn’t matter if they respect us, they just have to do as they are paid to do,” she shrugged. 

“And what was said to you…? That is acceptable?” he snapped, glaring at her. She looked back at him with her mismatched eyes, a little confused. Was that why he had goaded them into a fight? Because they had insulted her? She stared at him a minute or so before letting out a sigh and shook her head. 

“You need some sleep, sire,” she told him gently and helped him to stand and pulled back the covers. He rolled his eyes at her but moved to the bed, his quarters were not overly luxurious, but they were certainly the most spacious on the ship. He sat back and she felt him watching her as she stepped away to gather the med kit together and lay it aside, then she picked up her boots she had slipped off before tending to his wounds. She moved to leave him to rest, but he was still sitting up - his golden eyes on her intensely. 

“Are you planning to sleep while upright, my Lord?” she asked with a half-smile. He stared at her, as though she should know what he needed without him speaking. She kept his gaze. She did know what he needed, though she was embarrassed and flustered. It was nothing she could get used to. Her gaze dropped and her hands gripped each other firmly for a moment.

“Zaiya,” was all he said, and she approached him. She knew what he meant. Her bare feet padded on the metal floor and she dropped the boots by the foot of the bed. He shifted back as she shrugged off her jacket and slid in beside him as he shuffled back beneath the covers. As soon as she laid back, one of his arms curled around her, and she shifted to allow him to rest his head on her chest. A low hum escaped him and he seemed to relax. Something about letting him sleep on her eased his tension. She didn’t quite understand it, but if it helped… she would not deny him. He needed to heal.  Her hand hovered over his bare shoulder as she gazed at her gloved fingers. She couldn’t see his face, but her other hand rested on her belly near his head, and his own hand came up to lazily tug at her other glove. Her fingers flexed and Maul gave a tired little grunt. 

She placed her gloves on the side table a moment later, one of his large strong hands enveloped hers, while her other hesitantly rested on his bicep. She heard him sigh, he sounded content. The corners of her tattooed lips curved upward, just slightly. This felt like something she should not be doing, that she should not be privy to such a quiet moment of him. 

The Fanged God had blessed her with such a moment. Her hands gripped him a little tighter. She never wanted to let him go. Even if it was only a little while, she could spend this moment with him, She didn’t need more.

Taglist! @two-black-leviathans @fallenrepublick @eyecandyeoz @ashotofspotchka @sitherin-mxschief @littlepossss @octupus-on-the-moon @justalittletomato @nxctuaryninetythree @mach-opress @mustluvecho @nahoney22 @leotatombs @eloquentmoon @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @maulslittlemeowmeow

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 2)

(part 1)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 3k

chapter warnings: kinda smut? (male masturbation), stalking (not bucky lol), a bit a violence, angst

It had been a month.  Well, 29 days, to be exact; he’d been counting them.  29 days since he’d seen so much more than he was supposed to, and he was pretty sure you’d seen him too.  29 days of tense silence as he wondered if you were ever going to say anything about it.

It must have been that you hadn’t seen him, if you hadn’t said anything for so long.  But god, it really did feel like you were looking right into his eyes as you came that night.  He knew the reality was that it was a horrible mistake and he was a terrible person for looking at you like that, and that he was never going to be any closer to you than watching someone else pleasure you; he knew that truly.  But regardless, that moment had been playing on repeat in his mind for 29 days.

And now, as he took his shower, he prepared to finish off day 29 and start day 30.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, head falling back against the cool tile as his hand stroked slowly over his cock.  He’d dreamt about you (again) and woken up so hard that it actually hurt; so this wasn’t a continuation of his perversion, or his unhealthy obsession, no, it was pain relief.  It was medicine, really.

In his dream, like always, it had been him between your legs in the back of the car and not that other guy— who he’d seen on TV the other day, dying in the first five minutes of an episode of some awful CW drama, by the way.  It killed him that he couldn’t know how you really taste, or how you really would sound saying his name, but the best guess of his subconscious would have to do.  He tried to conjure in his mind how you sounded that night, each frame of the memory burned into his brain until it was what he saw every time it closed his eyes.

Baby.

That was what you’d said first, and it still made his heart stop every time it echoed in his head.  Baby.

The word itself was sort of innocuous, but it was the way you said it— just below your breath, deep but airy— and what it meant.  It was a plea: you were begging him to touch you, to make you feel good, to help you.  Bucky could listen to you beg for hours, it would be like music to his ears; like poetry, even.  

Later that night, when he’d given you the rest of his sandwich, he’d gotten the closest he ever would to hearing you moan his name.  What you’d said originally was just ‘oh my god, Bucky, this is so good’ and it was just generic enough that he could imagine it being a little more specific.  Sure, it was stupid to get off on memories of you praising a sandwich (that you ate while drunk in the shower) but it still did wonders for him as his hand pumped his length faster and faster.

Oh my god, Bucky, it feels so good— you feel so good.  You’re so good.  Oh my god, Bucky—

He bit down on his lip, already so close to the edge that there was no turning back, toes curling underneath the stream of hot water as his breathing moved just as quick as his thoughts— thoughts of you in the back of the car, or in the shower with your foggy silhouette just barely visible to him, or doing all sorts of things that he’d never seen you do but he’d love to pretend he had.  

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you yelled as you swung open the door, a choked moan jumping out of his throat in shock as his eyes shot open, come starting to spill down over his hand.

You couldn’t see him through his shower curtain, thank all that’s holy, but it was a sort of sensory overload as he tried to process what was going on mid-orgasm.

“What?!” he yelped, voice clearly rougher but hopefully not in a way you would find suspicious.

“Come quick,” you requested.

Already did, he thought to himself with a shudder of guilt.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s somebody in the yard,” you explained frantically, “it’s probably nothing, but I don’t know how they got past the gate—”

Your mitigation was lost to him as he was already turning off the flow of water, the evidence of his misdeed already washed away, leaving only the ringing in his ears and the burning in his cheeks as reminders.

You stepped out into the hall to give him just enough privacy to slip on a robe, which he was certain he looked ridiculous in but he really had no choice.  Storming out of the bathroom, he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront a potential threat while dripping wet and barefoot, but the whole point of him living here most of the week was so he could keep you safe at all times— apparently, shower time included.  

“Stay inside,” he instructed you quickly, “and stay out of the line of sight of any windows and doors, got it?” 

You nodded, and he could tell you were scared.  He hated that you had to worry about this sort of stuff.  He was glad to be there to help, yes, but he would rather this line of work didn’t need to exist at all even if it put him out of a job.  You waited for him there as he pushed past you and moved through the living room, considering whether or not he should grab a weapon from the safe he kept hidden in this room— but then he glanced to his left arm, drying quicker than the rest of him, and remembered he already had a weapon.

By the time he reached the door he could hear someone shouting your name outside.  As Bucky flipped on the damn-near-blinding security light on your porch and entered the yard, he saw a guy— smaller than him, but not exactly tiny— who seemed to ignore him and the light completely as he continued his desperate attempts to get your attention.  

“This is private property, you need to leave,” Bucky told the man in his best ‘stern but not quite yelling’ voice. 

“Is she home?” he asked him instead, totally unfazed by the warning.  As the fan looked back up and called your name again, Bucky shivered with the realization that he was looking up at your bedroom window.�� Had he already seen you there?  Or, worse, did he have some other way of knowing which window was your bedroom?

“You need to get out of here before I call the police.  You’re trespassing,” Bucky continued, pushing the man back towards the gate.  Sadly, Bucky knew from experience the police weren’t that concerned about celebrity stalkers— you and him had both called to no avail once they learned the name of the homeowner.  It made his blood boil just to think about it.

“Hey, let go of me!” the man resisted, pushing Bucky back.  He seemed to sober up a bit when Bucky’s face changed, though, but it was too late.  He tried to duck but totally missed, and Bucky’s right fist made contact with his jaw.  “Ow!” he screeched, cowering and trying to cover his face.  “What the fuck?!  That’s assault— you just assaulted me!”

“And you’re trespassing.  And harassing.  And probably stalking,” Bucky listed, continuing to guide the man back towards the gate.  “Tell me how you got in here.  Did you hop the fence?”

He couldn’t go any further back as the man was pressed back against a stone column, squirming a bit but otherwise putting up little fight— or maybe he was actually trying his best, and it was just lost on someone as strong as Bucky.  

Unamused by his stammering and lack of an answer, Bucky brought his metal fist to the column right beside the man’s face, hitting hard enough to break off a sizable chunk of the stone.  “Tell me!” he demanded.

“There’s a tree out back, I climbed it!” he explained with a whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t come back here, you hear me?  Or this—” Bucky pointed to the dent in the column that he’d made— “will be your face!”

Letting him go and swinging open the gate a bit, the man ran away of his own volition, stumbling down the street and out of the glowing light of the streetlamps.  Bucky let out a low sigh, hoping it was the last of him but terrified that it wouldn’t be.  He made a mental note to call a landscaper about trimming this mysterious tree in the back, or maybe chopping it down altogether, as he made his way back inside.  He found you in the living room, chewing your nails nervously and watching him step closer with wide, watery eyes.

“He’s gone,” Bucky informed you quickly.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“Um, yeah,” you decided, but you didn’t seem so confident.  Even so, he wasn’t sure what more he could do.  

“Oh, I broke your pillar, by the way.  Sorry.”

“I saw that,” you smiled a little, but he frowned.

“I told you to stay out of sight of the windows,” he reminded you.

You sighed.   “I know, I know, I just…” you trailed off, lip quivering a little as you got emotional again.  “I know it’s stupid but—”

“No, don’t say that,” he interjected.

“— but I was so scared,” you finished, voice wavering as you ran towards him, suddenly pulling him into a tight hug.  It took him by surprise, but he figured it was okay to hug you back.  He was only wearing a robe, he suddenly remembered, and your face was against the exposed portion of his bare chest.  If he hadn’t gotten off just minutes ago, he certainly would’ve gotten hard just from that (embarrassingly enough).

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed gently, indulging himself in resting his chin on top of your head as he stroked your hair.  

“Thank you,” you mumbled against his skin, pulling him even closer, “god, I don’t even know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”

A pang of guilt rattled in his chest; you trusted him so completely and he was crushing on you, spying on you (only the once, but still), taking advantage of your need for protection, staying in your guest bedroom and jerking off to you in your shower— when had he turned into an unstoppable pervert?

“Will you stay in my room tonight?” you asked him suddenly, looking up at him with those big shiny eyes and a pouty lip.

“Oh nonononono,” he shook his head, instantly recognizing that trap.

“No, Bucky, please,” you whimpered, “that guy might come back, I don’t want you all the way across the house.”

“I shouldn’t— I’d be overstepping—” he stammered.

“Please,” you sighed, and he sighed too, because when you said it like that, he couldn’t say no to you.

//

Bucky had insisted on staying on the floor as opposed to getting up on your bed, which was a drag but whatever.  At least you had a lot of good spare blankets and pillows to make him a comfy-looking pallet.  He seemed to agree when he appeared behind you in the doorway to find you on your knees on the floor, putting it all together.

“You didn’t need to do that, I’m pretty good at sleeping on floors as-is,” he dismissed.

“No, I’m happy to!” you beamed, turning around and choking a bit when you looked up at him in his pajamas.  Even though they were still pretty conservative, specifically sweats and a scoop neck sweater-y sort of top, it was probably more than you’d ever seen of him since his uniform was very concealing.  You were kind of hoping to catch a glimpse of his metal hand— you didn’t get to see it much because he wore driving gloves the vast majority of the time, and you hadn’t really been paying attention when it was exposed earlier by his just being in a robe— but he was noticeably leaning against the doorframe in such a way that you couldn’t see it.  The thing that really got a reaction out of you was his dog tags, though; you’d never seen him wear them before and there was something perfect about the way the silver chain dangled over the slight peek of collarbone visible above his neckline.  “Aren’t you warm wearing that much to bed?”

“No, it’s fine,” he dismissed.  You hoped he wasn’t wearing more just for your benefit.  Shirtlessness would’ve benefited you more, certainly.  In fact, now you felt kind of bad that you were just wearing a thin, silky short-and-tank set.  Hopefully it didn’t make him uncomfortable.

Getting up from the floor, you slipped under your covers and motioned for him to do the same.  He turned off your lamp first, stealing your last chance at a good view of the hand, and you heard him get comfortable on the floor.

“Thank you for this,” you mumbled quickly into the darkness.  “I don’t think I’d be able to fall asleep if you weren’t in here.

“Oh, of course,” he replied softly.  

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” he answered back, and his low, sleepy voice was somehow both soothing and energizing.

You weren’t sure if you even tried to fall asleep, or how long you laid staring out into the void of the darkness.  It was so dark in your room that you saw purple spots dancing in the corners like static as your eyes adjusted, incomprehensible shapes forming to make up for the lack of visual stimulation.  You wished that there was enough ambient light to be able to see Bucky’s shape on the floor and know he was there; instead, you settled for the subtle sound of his slow breathing.  When you heard him adjust slightly, you decided maybe just the breathing wasn’t enough to be sure it was really safe.

“Bucky?” you whispered under your breath.  “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he answered, making you sigh with relief.

“I can’t sleep.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn’t here.”

“But I never said you being here would make me sleep,” you pointed out.

“Then I should go,” he decided.

“No, please,” you hissed, “don’t go.”

“Okay.”

You took a deep breath.  “Tell me something,” you requested.

“Tell you what?”

“I don’t know, anything.”

He paused for a moment.  “Will it help you sleep?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Bucky sighed, and you heard him turn on his side.  “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” he asked, sarcasm noticeable even in a whisper.

“Yes,” you announced with a smile.

“Okay,” he pondered, “um… once upon a time—”

“Good start,” you rolled your eyes.

“No interrupting!” he scolded.

“Sorry…”

“Anyways, once upon a time there was a princess, who lived in a castle in the Isle of Manhattan.”

“A castle?” you asked excitedly.

“A somewhat modest castle, but yes.  One with big golden gates and marble columns.  The princess didn’t live all alone in her castle though— at least, not all the time.  She had many royal attendants, and servants, and plenty of friends of course.  But the problem with being a beautiful, kind, generous princess is that sometimes people get too friendly and want to visit her in the castle when she’d rather be alone.  Thankfully, the princess had a last line of defense—”

“Let me guess, a knight in shining armor?”  Or more like knight with shining arm.

“Wish I could say so,” he disagreed.  “No, this princess needed something a little fiercer, and that was why a dragon guarded the castle.”

“A dragon?!”

“Mhmm.  A big, scary dragon with sharp teeth and big wings, that breathed fire on anyone who got in his way.  The thing about knights is that they’re noble, and handsome, and righteous.  But righteousness prevents people from doing bad things, and sometimes bad things need to be done to protect good things.  So, knights can’t protect princesses like they should.  That’s what dragons are for.  They’re mean and nasty— it’s their nature, after all— and sometimes you need somebody burnt up, so you call a dragon and he’ll deal with it for you.  And this dragon was the meanest and nastiest of them all, and he’d burnt a lot of people in his time.  Oddly enough, the princess was still nice to him, but she had a lot of knights and princes and kings who wanted her hand.  Good thing the dragon was there to pick off the worst ones.”

You giggled a little, even though your heart was racing.

“The dragon watched over the castle every night— well, five nights a week… cause the princess wanted weekends to herself— but, still, he was very dedicated and did his best to keep her safe.  Sometimes he would take her to whatever lavish ball she had been invited to that week; she would ride on his back as he flew there, even though he was pretty scared she would fall off or something.  And sometimes…”

Your breath caught at the pause, waiting anxiously for what would come next.  

“Sometimes the dragon wished he wasn’t a monster.  But if he wasn’t a monster, then he couldn’t keep her safe.  So, he resigned himself to a life outside the castle, because at least he could be near her— even if she was impossibly far away.”

You swallowed as you tried to process it, finding yourself at a complete loss for words.

“The end,” he whispered gently, before giving you a goodnight and saying your name in a way that he’d never said it before— at least, you’d never heard him say it that way before.  But you really, really hoped you’d get to hear it again.  You did manage to fall asleep eventually, dreaming about flying and wishing you didn’t have to wake up.

[atlabeth]

neighborly things - sokka x fem!reader

summary: reader can’t make things for shit. thankfully, she has a cute and crafty neighbor willing to help her. 

a/n: im so sorry lmao. i have requests and i have 2 series that havent been updated in like a month but sometimes i just need to write a stupid little oneshot to get back in the writing mood. i did this in an hour 

im not a screwdriver expert so dont come at me if some of this info is wrong lmao 

wc: 1.6k 

warning(s): some cursing but otherwise pure fluff. also i didnt proofread im SORRY im pretty sure they laugh grin and smile like 200 times 

-

“Dammit!” 

 Anyone unfortunate enough to have a place near you during this time would have heard the phrase on more than twenty occasions, and it wasn’t even noon yet. You had gotten the parts in the mail to put together a new dresser a couple days ago, and had finally decided to take on the task. You didn’t know if it was because you were inexperienced with furniture or just lacked basic comprehension skills, but it was proving to be no less than Herculean. 

 You threw the screwdriver at the wall and fell back to the floor as you let your arms sprawl out above you. You had been trying to screw in a part for no less than thirty minutes, and if a miracle didn’t happen right about now, you were going to lose your mind. 

Your head snapped towards the door when she heard a knock, and your brows creased. “God?” You muttered as you got up, wondering if you had actually thought a miracle into existence. 

 You weren’t greeted by a deity when you opened the door, but the man standing in front of you was pretty damn close. With ocean blue eyes, hair pulled back in a ponytail with shaved sides, and toned arms, he was a sight to behold. But you had no idea why he was in front of your door. 

 “Hey, are you okay?” He questioned, genuine concern in his tone. 

 “Um, yeah, why?” You were trying to rack your brain for any memory of this guy — because you knew you would remember him if you had seen him before — but to no avail. “Also, who are you and why are you here?”

 “Right,” he chuckled. “My name’s Sokka. I’m your neighbor; I live—” he gestured at the door just next to your place, “—over there. Moved in a couple weeks ago, so that’s probably why you don’t know me. I’ve just been hearing a lot of cursing and loud noises coming from your place, so I figured I would stop in and see what was going on.” 

 “Oh. That’s.. very considerate of you, Sokka. I’m just…” you sighed and chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. “I’m just trying to put together a dresser, and it’s not going well at all. That latest sound you heard was the culmination of my rage. I threw a screwdriver at the wall.” 

 “Yeah, that’ll do it,” he laughed. “Listen. I don’t wanna intrude on you or anything, but I happen to be pretty good at putting things together. I had to do a lot of furniture construction when I first moved in, plus I’m the one all my friends call when they need help with putting anything together. I could probably help you with whatever’s troubling you.”  

 “Are you serious?” 

 “Oh, no. I just go door to door joking around with people, asking if they need help with their furniture, sometimes I ask if their refrigerator is running? It really gets a kick out of them.” 

 You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly and stepped aside so he could enter your apartment. “Thank you so much, Sokka. I’ve read the instructions a million times, I seriously don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” 

 He crouched down and picked up the manual, turning to a dog-eared page and skimming over the instructions. He pointed at the screwdriver you had thrown against the wall and glanced back at you. “Is that the one you’ve been using?” 

 You closed and locked the door behind him then walked over to the wall, picking up the unfortunate victim of your anger and spinning it in your hands. “Yeah, why?” 

 “Do you know what kind it is?” 

 “Um.. maybe? God, I don’t know. I think it’s a Phillip’s head?” 

 Sokka laughed and shook his head, holding up the manual so you could see it. “That’s where you’re going wrong. You need a Pozidriv for these screws — they’re similar enough that anyone can make a mistake.”

 You stared at Sokka in complete amazement — apparently, your savior lived next door, and he came in the form of a handsome guy with basic knowledge on putting furniture together. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said as you walked over and took the booklet from himl. You flipped through it a couple times and read over the part, shaking your head in disbelief. 

 “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” you repeated, louder this time. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get that thing to- to work, to screw, to— whatever you call it?” 

 “It’s actually to—”

 “Thirty minutes!” You interrupted, earning a small chuckle from Sokka. “Thirty damn minutes that I have been trying to get that screw in, and it’s all because I was using the wrong screwdriver. Why would they make screwdrivers that are so similar but aren’t interchangeable?!” 

 He shrugged and held up his hands. “Don’t ask me — I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. But like I said; this dresser might fall apart if you keep using this thing. I actually have a Pozidriv back at my place, I can go get it and we can finish this up together.” 

 “God, that would be the biggest help,” you admitted. “But I don’t wanna take up your time — I don’t know how I would even repay you.” 

 “I’m doing this because I want to help you,” he said. “You don’t have to repay me. Think of it as… as a neighborly thing.” 

 “A neighborly thing?” you repeated with a laugh. “Well, if you’re offering, I’m definitely not going to refuse.” 

 “I am offering,” Sokka winked. “And unless you want to be at this for another three days, I think you should take that offer.” 

 You pretended to deliberate over it before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll let you help me. I mean, really you should be thanking me for this brilliant opportunity to, um.. hone your skills.” 

 He laughed, a brilliant sound that made your heart sing, and nodded as he went back to the door. “Thank you so much for letting me put together this dresser. Truly, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

 “Then I’m happy to be of assistance.” 

 Sokka grinned then unlocked and opened the door. “I’ll be right back, then we can get started.”

 -

 Once he got back, the two of you got to work. The next three hours passed so quickly as you and Sokka talked about everything from the work you did to people in your lives (no girlfriend, thankfully), to exchanging stories — even the silence, though rare, was comfortable. 

 Sokka pushed the last drawer into its place then clapped his hands as he stood up, admiring the fruits of your labor. “And that’s it! We’re done.”

 “Wait, we’re done? Already?” You set down the instruction manual and stood up as well, backing up to Sokka’s position to see what he saw. “Wow, that looks.. that looks just like the picture. We are good at this! Well, you’re really good at this, I’m good at keeping you entertained. But still!” 

 You held your hand up for a high five and he laughed, but not without meeting it with a satisfying clap. 

 “It does look pretty good,” he admitted. “And not only do you have a brand new, fully functioning dresser, you also had the priceless experience of spending three hours with the neighbor you know nothing about.” 

 “That’s not true,” you countered. “I know that you’re really good at putting things together, you’re a genius when it comes to anything math or science, and you hate blueberries.” 

 Sokka snickered and brushed his hands off on his jeans. “That’s everything there is to know.” 

 “I dunno, Sokka. You seem like a pretty interesting guy.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah. It’s not every day that someone offers to put together a whole dresser just because they feel bad.”

 “Well—” he tore off a blank part of the instruction manual and picked up a spare pen from the counter, then put it up against the wall as he scribbled something on it. Sokka put the pen down and handed the slip of paper to you with a smile. “If you ever need any more help with furniture, then call me.” 

 You could feel your cheeks heat up as you took the paper. Your fingers brushed ever so slightly as you took the slip of paper, and you decided to just go for it. You bit back a grin and tried to sound as innocuous as possible. “And if I want to get to know you beyond the blueberries?” 

 Sokka laughed and leaned against the doorframe. “Definitely call me.”  

 “Great.” 

 The two of you smiled at each other like idiots for way too long before a notification from his phone broke the silence. He jumped from the sudden noise and dug his phone out of his pocket, giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry, my sister just texted me and I gotta get over to her place.” Sokka started towards the door then paused and turned around. “I actually had a lot of fun doing this, though. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

 “Yeah.” You knew you had that same smile on your face, but it just wouldn’t go away. His energy was contagious. “Definitely.” 

 “Great.” He winked at you one last time then left, closing the door behind him, and finally snapping you out of your spell. 

 You leaned against the dresser and stared at the slip of paper in your hands, committing the number to memory. 

 You were definitely going to take him up on that offer. 

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin​

[tenthgrove]

Hewwo hewoo, if you have time could i please request la squadra with the reader who has a type of stand similar to Harvest? Basically cute lil beans following them around, giving them affection, and begging for the boy's attention! (Dont be fooled, they could be used to kill someone if necessary)

Metallica but Without the Screaming

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Platonic/Romantic (interpretable), SFW

Formaggio- This guy’s a cat person, so of course he’s going to love a hoard of small cute things begging for attention. Just like a cute animal, he’ll be ready with all the sweet pet names for your little stand beans, which inevitably extend to you as well. As much as he adores the little things he occasionally does something stupid with them like trying to toss them in the air and catch them. When he inevitably misses, he’ll be quick to patch up the wounds you get from your stand hitting the ground.

Illuso- On the practical side of things, Illuso is pleased with your stand as it reduces one of Man in the Mirror’s few weaknesses- the small possibility a target could escape some distance while in the mirror world and have time to plan their defence. When you’re assigned to missions together, he has you disperse your entities around the mirror world to catch any attempted runners in the act. As soon as one catches sight of the target, it brings the entire hoard to its location. Back at home, whenever your stand shows an interest in him he brushes it off arrogantly. “Of course it would rather be around me than the rest of those plebians!” However, deep down he feels genuinely touched that it would choose to be with him.

Prosciutto- Filled immediately with curiosity. On one hand, your stand looks completely innocuous but on the other, Pros knows Risotto would have never let you into their team if you weren’t deadly. Determined to know what you’re really capable of, Prosciutto keeps a close eye on you in matters related to work. Of course, Prosciutto being Prosciutto this inevitable develops into a fondness, and a rich desire to see you succeed. At this point, he doesn’t even care what your stand was capable of. He wants to know how much it can be taught.

Pesci- Naturally, Pesci is absolutely besotted with your adorable little stand. You’re welcome to let it near him any time, and he’s happy to let it give him affection. Sometimes, he wonders why your stand would care, however. What could he possibly offer that would make it interested in him? It just so happens that your stand picks up on this and swarms to him more. At the end of the day, there’s nothing he loves more than your little entities knocking on his door to beg for attention.

Melone- Your stand is a joy to him because it breaks up the long hours of tediously typing away on his own stand. Baby Face takes hours of research to properly operate and he sometimes finds himself up all night tracking targets. The fact your stand comes to him so freely and is so content to just snuggle up in his hair is wonderful to him. He sometimes asks you to do him a favour and fall asleep next to him (or in his lap, if you’re comfortable) so your stand can keep him company all night. He’s a light sleeper even if he doesn’t have work, so it would mean a lot if you could do that for him.

Ghiaccio- Initially reacts with annoyance. The feeling of the little stand beans crawling all over him makes him anxious, and he accidentally froze a couple once or twice. You make a point of training your stand not to touch Ghiaccio, and he seems to appreciate that. However, no matter how hard you try you cannot make them avoid him entirely. Whenever sits down, your stand’s entities always pool around his feet. One day, after complaining that someone is going to trip over them, he picks a few up and rests them against his lap. He is a lot warmer to them after that.

Risotto- He feels an immediate fascination for you and your stand. Stands reflect their users, right? So would it be reasonable to suggest that the similarities between your stand and Metallica reflect similarities between you and Risotto? This intrigues the assassin because there are few people who can relate to him and you might very well be a possibility. Furthermore, your stands are alike in other ways. It’s a deep secret, but Risotto occasionally uses Metallica to ask for attention by having it manifest harmlessly near people he cares about. You are similar to him in that regard, yet for whatever reason, you do not feel shame in showing your affection through your stand. Risotto wishes he could be the same way.

Sorbet and Gelato- They have an idea and they want you to help them out. It will be fun, they promise. On your next mission together, they want you to go up to the target and use your harmless looking stand to lull them into a false sense of security, and then just have it fucking swarm them. Make it like a hoard of wasps. Trust them, it will be hilarious. When Sorbet and Gelato aren’t using your stand for morbid entertainment, they occasionally regard it more softly. More than once now you’ve caught Sorbet tucking a few of the entities down his collar as he cooks, or Gelato sitting them in his lap and showing them his myriad of weapons.

[drabbles-mc]

First Impressions

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by @eversonaive​ : Could do a fic on the reader meeting Juice when he has the sign stuck to his chest only to find out later he is the club's intelligence officer lol

Part 2 can be found Here

Warnings: language, Juice being an embarrassed lil cutie

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I loved writing this. Flustered Juice gives me life lmao. I hope it’s what you had in mind! I peppered in a couple other of our SAMCRO boys because why not?

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

SOA Taglist: @adela-topaz-caelon​ @garbinge​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @masterlistforimagines​ @mijop​ @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @mayans-sauce​ @shadow-of-wonder​ (If you want to be tagged in any of my writing please let me know! xo)

You couldn’t pretend that you weren’t surprised, and a little off-put by the scene in front of you. You looked around, wondering why you felt like you were the only one who saw what you were seeing. Everyone else was walking by, minding their own business, but you couldn’t pretend that you didn’t notice.

Crouching down, you pressed your fingers gently against the side of his neck, and you were rewarded with a fairly steady pulse. Relief flooded through you, glad you weren’t going to have to report a dead body. However, you weren’t quite sure how to handle the scene in front of you.

Gently nudging him, you tried to wake him up. He let out a soft groan but didn’t fully wake up. With a heavy sigh, you shook him a little harder but weren’t able to wake him. Pressing your lips together into a thin line, you patted the side of his face. You saw his brows furrow and twitch and you knew that he was almost awake.

“Hey,” you shook him and patted his cheek again, “you good?”

With a groan and what seemed like more effort than it should’ve taken, he slowly started to open his eyes. Part of you wanted to laugh because he seemed like he was probably going to be alright, but more than anything you were just confused.

“You alright? Looks like you’ve had…a time.”

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at the state of himself. The fact that he didn’t seem shocked and appalled spoke volumes. With a quiet grunt, he forced himself to his feet.

“Do I have to be worried about you?” you couldn’t help but to look him up and down again. With a chuckle and a shake of his head he reassured you that he was fine, which did little to actually make you feel better, “There somewhere I should be take you?”

He laughed, “No. Don’t worry. Thank you for, uh, waking me up. Way better than getting kicked by the cops,” he shook his head.

“Small miracles,” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he glanced down at the sign on his chest and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he was weighing the pros and cons of ripping it off right then and there, “I should go. I’m uh,” he gestured to the cardboard, “apparently late for my eight o’clock feeding.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Well that’s unfortunate.”

With a deep breath he pulled the sign from his chest and you both cringed. He cursed under his breath from the pain of it before folding it and tucking it underneath his arm. He gave you a lopsided grin and a small wave before turning and walking in the other direction away from you. You stood there, feeling like you should be offering him a shirt, or something to at least tie around his waist, but he seemed pretty unbothered by it all, so you let him go. You shook your head to yourself as you continued on your way, unable to believe what a weird day you’d already had.

A few days went by and you hadn’t forgotten about your run-in on the street that morning. It was a tough scene to forget. You didn’t want to believe that that was going to be the first and last time you ever saw him. If nothing else, you just wanted some closure on the situation, and you also wanted to know how the hell he ended up like that.

Your mind had wandered back to that situation as you stood outside your car waiting for the tow truck. You knew that your car was on its last leg to begin with, and that you should’ve set about looking for a new one some time ago, but you just kept putting it off. The thought of shopping for one, and then paying for one was overwhelming. You were paying for it in an entirely different way now, though. You knew that fixing whatever was wrong with your car was probably going to cost more than it was worth. So, to distract yourself from thinking about that, you thought about literally anything else as you sat half propped up onto your hood.

You’d gone to Teller-Morrow one other time, maybe twice, since you’d moved just outside of Charming. You didn’t remember anything about it, though—you were in and out quick for an oil change or something equally innocuous. There weren’t a whole lot of options for mechanics to begin with, let alone ones that would also tow. Plus you figured since they were local, it wouldn’t take them too long to get to you.

About twenty minutes later the tow-truck pulled up, and you were a mix of relieved and apprehensive. Two men stepped out, and your first thought was that they couldn’t have carried themselves more differently from each other if they tried. The taller one approached you, adjusting his beanie slightly as he did, while the other scampered around to start hooking the truck up to your car.

“So,” he walked up to you, a small smile on his face for a moment as he looked at you, “what seems to be the problem?”

You chuckled and shook your head as you clocked the name stitched into his work shirt, “Well, it stopped running. That’s about all I know, Opie,” you smiled at him.

He laughed, nodding his head slightly, “Sounds like a pretty serious issue, then.”

“I’d say so.”

He glanced back to make sure that your car had been hooked up alright, “You need to be dropped off somewhere, or you got a ride?”

You sighed, resting your hand on the back of your neck as you thought, “Would I be able to ride back to the shop with you guys?”

He nodded, “Sure thing. Long as you don’t mind Kip staring at you the whole time,” he gestured over to the man who was waiting by the door of the tow truck.

You laughed, “Staring I can handle.”

When they pulled into the lot at the mechanics, Opie got out and instructed Kip to take care of the rest. He looked over to you and gestured to the office, “Gemma will get you all set up. We’ll get it right on the lift and try to figure out what’s going on.”

You nodded, “Thank you, appreciate it.”

You knocked lightly on the door to the office and she called for you to come in. She got you all squared away with your paperwork to get everything started. You let her know that if it ended up being more than a certain amount to just not bother and scrap it, or to give it back and you would take care of that part yourself. You weren’t in a position to be paying more than the car was worth. There was sympathy present in her eyes as she listened to you, nodding along. You hated the feeling of pity but you couldn’t deny that you’d landed yourself into a bit of a hole.

She was walking you back out of the office, “We’ll give you a call when we’ve got some numbers for you, sweetheart.”

“Sounds good. Thank you guys so much.”

“Need us to call you a cab?”

You shook your head, “No, no I’ll be alright. Thank you though.”

You were walking across the lot, pulling out your phone as you did to try and figure out who you were going to call to come and pick you up. There was a sudden influx of noise and voices. And despite the fact that you heard it, you still didn’t look up.

The only thing that snapped you out of your thoughts was the feeling of someone’s shoulder bumping into yours. You looked up and both of you were in the middle of apologizing when your eyes met his. Neither of you could hide the shock on your faces as you took each other in.

He looked a lot different when he wasn’t coming out of a mild coma. And also when he was fully dressed with an MC kutte on. You’d missed out on the fact that he was handsome in the midst of worrying about his well-being the last time you saw him.

“Oh shit,” he laughed, “hey.”

“Uh, hey,” you couldn’t help but to stare at him, “I didn’t…expect to see you here. Or again in general, for that matter.”

Another man in a kutte appeared, draping his arm around the shoulder of the man that you were talking to, “Juicy,” he said, “who’s your friend?”

He wore his nerves on his face, “Um. She’s not, uh, she’s—”

You cut him off to save him the trouble, holding out your hand, “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he let your name roll off his tongue, “nice to meet you. I’m Jax,” he paused, looking back and forth between you and the man next to him, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, “Sorry to interrupt,” you could see that he was biting back a laugh.

“No, you’re…you’re good,” you reassured him, “Nothing to interrupt. Just, um, a little surprised by,” you gestured to the two of them and to the clubhouse behind them, “all of this.”

“Well then I gotta ask,” Jax continued to stare at Juice who seemed to be getting more and more shy by the second, “how do you know Charming’s favorite Puerto Rican Intelligence Officer?”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped past your lips, “Intelligence Officer?”

Jax nodded, clapping Juice on the back as though he thought he was hyping him up, “For the club, yea. Can find out anything about anyone. Also our resident tech guy.”

You chuckled, unable to lie and say that you weren’t a little impressed, “Impressive. Guess we didn’t have time to get into all that last time we met.”

“Oh?” Jax looked back and forth between the two of you, embarrassment creeping onto Juice’s features.

“Yea, he was running a behind schedule. Had places to be.”

Jax looked over at him, “Where the hell did you have to be that could’ve been more important, bro?”

Juice ran his hands down his face, knowing that he was going to have to cop to it sooner or later, “When we met I was, um…she actually…” he shook his head, “She’s the one who woke me up the other day. Made sure I was alright.”

The entire incident had clearly already faded from Jax’s memory because he looked as lost as he had been before Juice said anything. You smiled, “I made sure he eventually made it to his eight o’clock feeding.”

Recognition flashed across Jax’s face and he laughed, “Jesus. Sorry you had to be a part of that.”

“Sure, her you’ll apologize to,” Juice rolled his eyes.

“She didn’t deserve it,” Jax chuckled and shook his head, “Well it was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’ll leave Juice to try and clean up whatever mess he might’ve made.”

He walked away from the both of you and you could head him laughing to himself as he approached the rest of the guys. You and Juice stood there facing each other, neither one of you really knowing what to say.

You broke the silence, “Won’t lie to you, Juice,” it felt nice to finally be able to address him as something, “over the past few days when I’ve been trying to think about what your life was like for it to land you in that situation, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“You’ve been thinkin’ about me?” he smirked.

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “You made quite the impression,” you looked him in the eyes, “I’m glad you’re alright though.”

He chuckled, “Not the worst thing they’ve ever done to me.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Well that’s a little concerning.”

“Sorry you got, uh, subjected to that,” he shook his head, “wrong place, wrong time.”

You waited for him to meet your gaze and you flashed him a smile, “I wouldn’t quite say that.”

There was a light in his eyes that was so enticing, “Right. Well. I’m glad I got a chance to make a better first impression. Sort of. Maybe,” he laughed. There were a few beats of silence before he spoke up again, “What brings you here anyway?”

You nodded towards the garage, “Car broke down.”

“Shit.”

Your laugh was a hollow, “Yea. Fucking sucks. Hoping they can fix it without bleeding me dry.”

Juice thought hard about it for a few moments, “I’ll take a look at it. I’ll see what I can do, see if I can get you a deal or something.”

“Yea?” you couldn’t hide your relief.

He nodded, “Yea. Least I could do.”

“You’d really be saving my ass.”

He laughed, “Guess that would make us even.”

You chuckled and nodded, “Guess so.”

He paused for a moment, eyes glued to the pavement, “If you want, you could, uh, you could give me your number,” he looked up at you, “and I’ll give you a call when I get it all sorted.”

You smiled, “Alright. Sounds good,” you held out your hand for his phone and quickly added your number to his contacts, “Hope to hear from you soon, Juice.”

“Juan,” he said quietly as he took the phone back from you.

“Hm?”

He looked at you, “Juan. My name is Juan.”

You smiled, “Well, then, Juan, I’ll talk to you soon,” you paused and bit back a laugh, “Try to keep yourself out of sticky situations, alright?”

“Well now at least I have you to call just in case,” he smirked.

“Won’t be able to come and get you until you fix my car,” you chuckled, “So at least be careful for a few days.”

“I think I can do that.”

“Good,” you stepped in and gave him a quick hug, “Thank you, Juan, seriously.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” you flashed him a smile before turning and continuing your way out of the parking lot.

You chanced a look back over your shoulder and saw that he was still standing there staring at you with a smile and a dreamy look on his face. You laughed and shook your head as you turned back around. There was something to be said about memorable first impressions, and something told you that you had landed yourself in an adventure when you met him. You were excited to find out what was in store.

[agent-cupcake]

IDK why but yandere prompt 10 screams sylvain to me! it's okay if you dont wanna do this one, though. thank you for opening requests! ive really enjoyed all your writings

10. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t have you.”

Sylvain didn’t greet you when you took a seat beside him, ready for the meeting to be called. Agriculture wasn’t a particular interest of yours, but it was a part of your duty as the wife of an important, land-owning lord to be invested in the affairs of Gautier territory. For his part, your husband didn’t seem terribly enthused. Just as you were about to ask if he was okay, he spoke.

“Who was he?” Sylvain asked in a would-be casual voice, low enough to be lost in the mindless chatter of the slowly filling council room.

The question usually went something like that, innocuous but pointed enough for you to know where it was headed. And you knew who and what he was referring to, knew it so intently that you felt a completely unreasonable stab of guilt because you knew how Sylvain was, how he might have interpreted your interaction with one of the male mages working on the current project. As familiar as the question was, you couldn’t immediately guess the tone. Sylvain was tricky, always masking his intentions behind playful masks and a glip front.  

“Who?” you asked, playing dumb. That sometimes worked. If it seemed like you were innocent, he might drop it and move on. It would be incriminating if you admitted that you knew what he meant right away. And if he was just teasing, playing around to fill the part of the protective husband, you didn’t mind the role of the oblivious wife. Really, you wished you were that type of woman. Blind to the world, and especially the men, around you. Everything would be so much easier.

"That guy you were talking to,” Sylvain explained, dangerously nonchalant. “The two of you seemed pretty close.”

“Really? We only met… Mmm, last week?” you replied, refusing to meet his eye or become flustered. That would just make you seem guilty. Which you weren’t. “He’s from Fhirdiad, one of the mages who are working on solutions to fertilizing the soil in the fields near the Fraldarius border.” You hesitated, searching for something to add, something to change the subject and ease the tension. “Um, the tests so far have been really encouraging. They’re thinking that next spring they can have at least half of that land ready for production.”

"Yeah, I heard about that,” Sylvain said, nodding off your attempt to distract him. “I was just asking ‘cause you were laughing pretty hard.”

There it was. Sylvain’s tone, as you had come to know quite intimately, was cool, a little stiffer than his usual way of speaking. Lacking inflection. It was always like that with him. He never told you outright when he thought or felt or explained his stark shift in demeanor, always skirting around the subject with those needling little questions, maintaining his façade of indifference even as a storm brewed behind his dark eyes. Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, he told you that he’d never experienced jealousy before you. He told you that it hurt. Was this pain? Was that what made everything so uneasy and uncomfortable, leaving you scrambling to find the words to ease his mind?

You forced a faint smile, clinging to your innocence. “Was I?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain said, clearly not buying it. If anything, his eyes just narrowed. “You were.”

“We were just discussing his work. If I was laughing, I don’t…” You shook your head, forcing a shrug. “Please don’t get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?” he asked. “I was just wondering who he is.”

“For no reason,” you said, some of your frustration leaking through.

“Yeah, sure, for no reason,” Sylvain agreed in an amicably flat tone. “Although now I’m curious about why you’re so defensive.” He paused, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I guess he was kinda handsome. Are you worried I’m jealous?”

“That’s not-”

“‘Cause I’m not…” he insisted. “Unless there’s a reason I should be.”

There wasn’t. There never was. You never thought like that. But he did. Sylvain always did, those too keen eyes of his following you around, waiting for you to slip up in some way, to do something for him to misinterpret in the most uncharitable ways he could. Even if it was ignored, unspoken, willed out of existence through the sheer force of his adoration, yours was not a relationship born out of the stuff of romantic novels or even the clumsy affections of young lovers. For as obsessively insistent he once was in proving your own feelings to you, sometimes it was like Sylvain didn’t believe it when you told him you loved him and only him. Because there was a time―such a long time ago, hardly worth remembering―when you didn’t mean it. Even though you did now, that memory was his constant anxiety, an endless tension lingering right below the surface.

“I don’t want to fight,” you finally said, spreading your hands out in an attempt to de-escalate the situation, to convince him of your innocence. “I swear that it meant nothing. But… but if it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t talk to him again. I really, honestly don’t care.”

“Sheesh, you make me sound like I’m some sort of control freak,” Sylvain said with an air of coolly playful offense, leaning back in his chair. “Why would you even assume I’m trying to fight?”

“I don’t-”

“I’m not,” he said before you could really respond. Not loudly, never loud enough to draw any unnecessary attention to the two of you. Sylvain always knew exactly how to skirt the line of propriety in public. “It’s not like it’s even my business who you talk to. I’m only your husband. No big deal, really.”

“It is!” you insisted, heat burning at the back of your eyes. Realizing you’d spoken a bit too loud, you softened your voice, glancing around the room to ensure nobody heard the slip-up. “You are. Of c-course you are.” Maybe it was the trembling of your bottom lip as you stared hard at the table to fight off the tears burning your eyes that made regret flash over Sylvain’s face. Sometimes, when he was in a very particular type of mood, your crying only spurred him on, but not now.

“H-hey,” Sylvain told you, leaning close and draping his arm across your shoulders. “Don’t cry. I was just playing around. Guess I let it go too far.” Now he seemed apologetic, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

You met his eyes, confusion and distress giving away to understanding. Of course Sylvain had only been pretending. And you had been overreacting, always too sensitive to this kind of thing. Embarrassment followed the momentary emotional lapse, frustration that you wouldn’t just go along with his antics and had to go and make it all weird. Relief, too. It was just pretend, after all. He wasn’t upset with you.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Sylvain asked sweetly, pulling you towards him with the arm around your shoulders, his soft voice tickling your ear.

“You’re too mean,” you told him. But the words weren’t serious. They made him smile fondly, such a dramatic shift from the Sylvain of only minutes before.

“I’ve gotta keep you on your toes,” he said. “You never know what’s going on in the heads of pretty girls like you. I mean, imagine if I lost you to a guy who studies dirt. I’d never live it down.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you told him, leaning into the half embrace.

“Isn’t it? But, you know, I can’t help it.” Sylvain leaned in even closer, speaking in such a low, intimate way that it definitely pushed the lines of propriety, even for him. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t have you.”      

[kopikokun]

Snack Run with a Snack༄ j.jh

↳ On your usual movie night with the members, they assign you sudden snack collecting duty. You’re a little peeved, but at least Jaehyun offers to tag along. Unfortunately for you, things really aren’t going in your favour tonight.

pairing: idol!jaehyun x camera operator!reader (feat. johnny, jungwoo & doyoung)

genre: fluff, comedy, co-workers to lovers

warning(s): expletives

word count: 3526 words

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: crush (souly had) ✧ mango love (shawn wasabi, satica) ✧ make you feel pretty (lovelytheband)

Request 39: Jaehyun x Staff!Reader during movie night where she’s an extrovert and is close to all of the members.

← BACK TO NAVI.

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

Your fortnightly movie nights are always something you anticipate eagerly, no matter how frequent or repetitive they may be. It’s always nice being able to take a breather from the grievous monotony of your daily schedule to just kick back and—essentially—do nothing. You know the rest of the members cherish these ephemeral moments too, because despite all odds, they’ll valiantly try to show up and join you, or at the very least make an appearance. Once, Ten had even barged in, still with his extensions intact.

    To be fair, you’re not any better. When you heard that Jaehyun was participating the other day, you had dropped all other priorities just to come over. Safe to say, your roommate was not pleased seeing the state of the abandoned living room.

    Your vision sweeps the perimeter of the room. Usually, it’s packed to full capacity, but there are only four others here besides you today.

    “The glasses.” Doyoung purses his lips, planting his stare on a startled Jungwoo. “Where are the glasses? I thought I told you to get them?”

    Jungwoo smacks a hand to his mouth, the sound of skin against skin so loud that you wince on his behalf. “It totally slipped my mind. Honest to God. I got sidetracked.” He clasps your—an innocent bystander’s—shoulder with such force that you physically jolt forward. Jungwoo flashes you his signature million dollar smile.“Hey, could you be a dear and help me out? I still haven’t decided what movie we should watch tonight.”

    “Yeah, sure.” You grimace, already turning on your heel, mumbling, “You didn’t have to hit me.”

    “Thanks!” he calls after you. “And sorry!”

    His voice cuts through the hurried chattering between Jaehyun and Johnny which comes into earshot as you step into the kitchen. Their mouths move at the speed of bullet trains and Jaehyun’s hands flutter around his pensive face frantically. Maybe it’s the rose-tinted lenses, but the sight endears you. The slightest of chuckles escapes your lips at his delirium.

    Their bodies seize, their zealous conversation slipping into a steady silence.

    “What’s wrong?” you smirk. “Were you guys talking about me?”

    “No,” Jaehyun snaps, so quickly that it almost prickles. “Why would we be talking about you?”

    “Ouch,” you pout, masquerading the sting with a frivolous cadence . “How mean.”

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “What are you doing here? I thought you were, uh, clearing the table?” There’s a nervous edge to Jaehyun’s voice which insinuates that he knows something you don’t.

    “I was, but then Jungwoo asked me to get the glasses in his stead since he’s too busy fussing over which movie we should watch.”

    Johnny laughs. “I should go help him out then, or he’ll be stuck on the selection page for ages.” He pats Jaehyun’s back as he leaves. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

    You toss an inquisitive glance at Jaehyun. He turns away, cheeks blooming with colour.

    Admittedly, you’re more than intrigued by what Jaehyun had been so ardently conversing about. A small part of you whispers the possibility of it being you, and your heart soars. Now you’re the one getting sidetracked. Of course, you are. This is one of the rare moments you and Jaehyun have shared alone. Although you see him almost daily, there’s always someone closeby; a fellow staff or member of the group. And while you’d consider yourself someone who thrives in social situations, there’s nothing more you desire than a few seconds in solitude with the charming man.

   You swing the plywood cupboard door open, extinguishing your idle delusions, the handle cool in your grasp. Three shelves greet your vision; each stuffed full with either miscellaneous tableware or seldom used kitchen utensils. You spot the mug you gave Mark for his birthday collecting dust in the corner and scoff bitterly. And he said it’s his ‘favourite mug’.

    Your face screws in bewilderment. Usually, the glasses are graciously arranged on the bottom shelf; easily accessible for the people who are less gifted in the height department (namely you). Strangely, today they are at the very top, shoved deep inside, so far in that you’d think that it had been done with malicious intent. If they were in the middle, perhaps you could’ve reached them with a little extra effort, but given their current position, even on your tiptoes you wouldn’t even come close. The tips of your fingers barely graze the bottom portion of the glass. You huff.

    “Do you need help?”

    Your head swivels to see a clearly humoured Jaehyun, his eyebrow arched.

   “Yeah, someone’s kept the glasses on the top shelf,” you grumble, tenaciously continuing to reach for them despite knowing that you and your height—or rather, lack of it—have been bested. “Must’ve been Johnny. The tall-ass.”

    “You’re probably right. It wouldn’t be his first time either.” You groan in exertion. “Hold on, let me help.”

    “Thanks, Jae—”

    Your eyes widen and your stature stiffens. Just the smell of his aftershave is enough to knock you out.

    Jaehyun’s chest presses against your back firmly. His hot breath tickles your neck; the fine hairs stand on end. His right arm, hugged in the most breathtaking way by a black sweatshirt, reaches forward while his left is planted on the counter in front of you, caging you in. You’ve done your fair share of ogling at Jaehyun’s more than ravishing physique before, but only from afar. At this proximity however, you can individually trace every vein on his forearm. They’re like roots branching across the ample muscle. God, you’re making it very apparent that you’re staring.

    While probably not the most proficient, you don’t dispute this method of reaching for glasses. You’re sure Jaehyun knows there are better ways to do this too.

    Stunned, you all but stare in what you can only describe as awe at Jaehyun’s side-profile. Sharp lines accentuated by peculiarly delicate features, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel like running your fingers over the curves of his cheekbones, the arch of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow.

    Jaehyun’s gaze latches onto yours, his arm still hanging above your head. You swallow dryly before licking your lips. Jaehyun’s jaw clenches, the movement guiding his eyes to them. The counter is digging into your hip.

    “I got the glasses,” he breathes, your vicinity means you can practically taste the mint on his tongue.

    “Thanks,” you mumble.

    Neither of you move farther or closer to each other.

    Jaehyun places the glasses beside you. “I should probably go set up the projector now.”

    “Yeah, you should.” No, don’t.

    He nods curtly, prods the inside his cheek with his tongue and shuffles out of the kitchen. You lean on the counter, recomposing yourself. Your heart pounds in your ribcage. Jaehyun’s lingering aftershave muddles any chance of a coherent thought.

    What was that?

    Sure, over the past week or two, you and Jaehyun have made your ever augmenting attraction to one another remarkably tangible, but neither of you had acted upon it. Until now.

    Dazed, you almost forget to do what you had initially come in here for. You have to literally turn a 180 to retrieve the five glasses which sit innocuously on the countertop; they lay witness to your sins.

    “So, how’d it go?”

    “Did you do it?”

    “Well, technically no, but—”

    The four men are huddled together in the middle of the living room, each with equally suspicious expressions carved into their faces. Jaehyun’s back is turned to you as he’s hunched over, almost like he’s sharing some petty gossip.

    You set the glasses down on the communal dining table, shift your weight on one leg and perch your hands on your hips like a disgruntled teacher waiting for her class to fall silent. Doyoung is first to sense your presence, nudging Johnny and jutting his chin towards you.

    You can’t suppress the snort that courses through you when—simultaneously—all four of them disperse. It looks almost rehearsed.

    “Why are you guys acting so weird today?”

   Johnny sputters, Jungwoo chokes on presumably his own spit, Doyoung makes a sound which resembles more of a wheeze than a cough, and Jaehyun’s body goes completely rigid.

    “We’re not acting weird,” scoffs Johnny.

    You’re unconvinced. Just the way the whole room was immediately shrouded in a thick cloud of tension at your question was very telling.

    “Yes, you ar—”

    “Alright then,” Jaehyun clasps both of his hands together like a middle-aged man in the midst of a conference, “the movie! Jungwoo, what did you pick this week?”

    Jungwoo hammers a fist to his heaving chest. “I picked Jojo Rabbit.”

    “Oh, Minji noona watched it the other day. She told me it was so good she cried,” Johnny says. “And she rarely—if ever—cries over movies, or anything, really.”

    “Why didn’t she and the others come over today? They’re always here for movie night.” By the others, you’re referring to the rest of the staff who are usually present. Being more or less the same age, the members naturally gravitated towards the rest of you; your closeness in years meant that you could easily relate to one another. You’d consider yourself a decently convivial person as well, which was probably another fundamental factor.

    Once again, a restless fog congests the room. You seem to have struck another nerve.

    Jungwoo tightens his grip on the remote. “They were… busy.”

    His spontaneous lie is deplorable at best, but you let it slide.

    You assume they think your conjectures have diffused because they seem to share a relieved glance; Jaehyun casts an appreciative smile to the bunch. He clears his throat. You don’t miss the mental exchange between him and Johnny, who grins wittingly.

    “How about the snacks?”

    All eyes are on you.

    Your eyebrows cinch. “What?”

    “The snacks,” Jungwoo reiterates. “You’re on snack duty.”

    The way he says it makes it sound like you were aware of this. “No, I’m not.”

    “Yeah, we told you in the groupchat,” Doyoung says. Jungwoo seems to be restraining a smile.

    “No, you in fact, did not.” Scorned by this blatant accusation, you begin fishing your phone from your front pocket to show the others that none of you had come to that agreement.

    Jaehyun’s hand coils around your wrist, halting your movements. “I’ll come.”

    “I’m sorry?”

    “I’ll come along with you to get the snacks,” his grip loosens, “if you want me to.”

    “Oh.” Your arm falls limp to your side. You study Jaehyun’s earnest gaze. “Sure.”

    It’s painfully palpable that the rest of the group were expecting this; their lips curling with a smirk of gaiety.

    “Great, I’ll go grab some cash.”

You really should have thought twice about letting Jaehyun tag along.

    “You should’ve stayed at home.”

    “I wanted to come.”

    You’re reasonably terrified, both for you and Jaehyun’s sake. Getting recognised out in public is an all too plausible scenario, and you really do not have the resolve or strength to fend off a horde of fans right now.

    “Relax, it’s like 11pm. Nobody’s going to be just walking out here. At least, not anybody sober.”

    While he makes a valid point, you’re still skittish. “Alright, but keep your head down.”

    “How will I see where I’m going?”

    Collecting your wits, you reach for his hand to tug him forward. “I’ll lead the way.”

    Though Jaehyun is more than capable of staying grounded in his spot, you drag him along with relative ease, like a lifeless rag doll.

    “I… was just kidding.”

    Not looking back, you say, “Does that mean you want me to let go of your hand?”

    Brazenly, Jaehyun intertwines his fingers with yours, strengthening his palm’s embrace. A jolt of exaltation zips up your spine.

    “No, don’t.”

    The remainder of the brisk walk to the convenience store is spent in exhilarating quietude, one that conveys a hundred messages. Not once does Jaehyun’s hold of your hand weaken.

    The intimacy of the store welcomes you wholeheartedly. From its single constantly flickering bulb, that one cooler door with the rickety handle, and to the out-of-order slushie machine, you could peruse this store with your eyes closed. Being NCT’s camera operator first and designated snack buyer second, you’ve been in here more times than anyone should ever have to be in a lifetime.

    It’s not the most popular store on the block. Their selection is limited, their interior outdated, but in your humble opinion, they are leagues ahead of any other store out there. Plus, it’s usually vacant, meaning minor risk of being spotted. Other than you, Jaehyun and the single weary employee, there’s only one other person in here, a tattered hood draped over their head. While they’re sketchy in a certain sense, you’re confident that they don’t pose a threat to you or Jaehyun’s safety.

    “I’ll go get the crisps and you get the chocolates,” you declare, standing on your tiptoes.

    “Chocolates? We’re getting chocolates? We already have some in the fridge.”

    “Okay, then I’m getting chocolates.”

Another reason you love this place to bits is because of its prices. Everything is outrageously cheap. The first time you had visited, wet behind the ears, soul bursting with vigour yet pockets embarrassingly empty, you almost cried. You had one of the best dinners of your early adult life in this very store. Sure, it was just a truckload of processed, packaged food, but here’s the thing: it was a truckload. And when you’re as financially stable as a thumbtack balancing on the tip of its point, a truckload of food is a blessing bestowed by the Gods.

    So, safe to say, you and Jaehyun definitely got your money’s worth.

    In fact, in the time the two of you expended scouring the aisles for tid-bits, a forlorn cloud had consumed the sky. It had started raining. Lightly at first, but the drizzle had swiftly transitioned into a furious storm.

    Thunder claps in the distance, the sound so tumultuous it shakes the tiles of the store floor, the vibrations so intense they reach the tip of your head.

    “Do you have enough money for an umbrella?” you ask.

    “Even with an umbrella, I think it’d be too dangerous for us to go out there,” Jaehyun says, and as if to illustrate his point, another bolt of lightning strikes the Earth. The convenience store trembles. “And no, I don’t have enough money for an umbrella.” From the tone of Jaehyun’s voice, his delight is hidden by the pretense that he too is upset by this development.

    “Then I guess we’ll have to call one of the guys to pick us up.”

    Jaehyun’s expression immediately turns sour. “I mean, yeah… I guess we could.”

    Under normal circumstances, you would have been pouncing at the opportunity to spend some quality one-on-one time with Jaehyun, alas, three other undoubtedly starving men are waiting for your return.

    A long, dull white counter, meant for customers to sit and eat at faces the heavy gloom outside. Droplets of rain cling to the glass like fluorescent crystals embedded to cave caverns, before slipping down in a wavering trickle, racing each other to the bottom. You take a seat on one of the plastic stools and Jaehyun takes the one beside you, dropping the bag of snacks to the floor.

    “Hello?” Johnny’s sonorous voice greets through your speakers.

    Jaehyun stares at you, anguished. To his right, the hooded stranger from earlier slips into the third stool, leaning forward and shelving their chin on a palm. They stare outside the window.

    “Hey, Johnny. We got the snacks, but Jaehyun and I have a separate problem.”

    “I know. It’s pouring.”

    “Exactly,” you nod. Jaehyun looks like he’s about to crumble into a heap of anxiety. “Can you pick us up? We don’t have enough cash to hail a taxi.”

    There’s a commotion on the other side of the line; hushed discussion and rustling of fabric. You can’t pick up a lot, only the words, “Yeah.” and “So, that’s what we’ll say?”

    “Sorry,” Johnny finally says, after much delay. “I can’t.”

    “What do you mean you can’t?”

    Beside you, Jaehyun visibly perks.

    “Car’s being repaired,” he replies languidly. “Mark popped a tyre while learning to drive the other day.”

    You groan. “You’re joking.”

    “Dead serious.”

    “God, the car just had to be out today of all days.”

    “Sorry, it can’t be helped,” Johnny sighs, a twinge of mischief to his voice. “The matter’s out of my hands.”

    “It’s fine. We’ll just… wait it out or something.”

    “We’ll try and see if any of the others can swing by and pick you guys up, so just stay put for now.”

    “Alright thanks, Johnny. Sorry about tonight.”

    “Nah, it’s fine,” he says. “Have fun with Jae.”

    The call ends with a click before you can probe Johnny further.

    “No go?” Jaehyun chirps.

    You shake your head. “No, though you don’t seem bummed out about it.”

    “Yeah,” he shrugs. “It’s not often I can spend some time alone with you anyway. In a way, I’m glad.” You bite the flesh of your cheek, face turning hot. Jaehyun turns in his seat, reaching down for the plastic bag. “And, we have snacks to—”

    His eyebrows furrow.

    “Jae?” His adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “The snacks?”

    “They’re… gone.”

    “What?”

    “I put them right here beside me, but they’re gone! I swear I—”

    The bell above the door chimes as the mysterious figure—the one who had been sat beside Jaehyun mere seconds ago—dashes out, with, lo and behold, a very familiar plastic bag dangling in their grasp.

    You point a finger towards them. “They stole our snacks!”

    Jaehyun’s head whips around to gawk at the culprit who has already made their way out of the store, head-first into Mother Nature’s wrath. He leaps out of his seat, hell-bent on chasing the person down, practically foaming at the mouth. “Motherfucker—”

    This time, you’re the one who grips his wrist. “Jaehyun, wait. It’s not worth it.”

    “They just stole all of our snacks! Am I supposed to just watch them get away with them?” he seethes. If not for his genuinely fuming expression, you would’ve laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

    “They already had a head-start, Jae. I doubt you’ll be able to chase them down. And what if someone sees you? How are we supposed to explain why Jung Jaehyun of NCT was sprinting in the rain after a stranger with a bag of snacks?”

    His shoulders sag. “But… our snacks… and your chocolate! What about your chocolate?”

    “It’s fine. I didn’t even get the version I liked. They were all out of the original ones.”

    Jaehyun slumps back into his seat, defeated. “Should we call the police?”

    You snicker. “And tell them our snacks got stolen? They’d laugh in our faces.”

    “I hate that you’re right. I wish they’d treat snack theft with the same severity of other crimes,” he jests, despite still being obviously disheartened. “Hope whoever that was gets struck by lightning and fucking sizzles out there.” He cards a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

    “It wasn’t your fault, Jae. I mean, who the hell steals snacks anyway?”

    “No, not that. Well, I am sorry about that but what I meant was... I screwed this up.”

    “Screwed what up?”

    “You know how everyone was acting really strangely today?”

    “You guys weren’t being very secretive about it.”

    He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well, it was because they were helping me get us alone.”

    Jaehyun’s confession is like the final piece of a puzzle; the final thread to connect all the dots together. “So that explains why everyone collectively decided to not show up today, and why the glasses were on the top shelf, and why you guys said I was on snack duty when I clearly wasn’t! And I bet the car isn’t even busted too!”

    He nods, a wry smile etched onto his lips. “The glasses weren’t actually a part of the plan, but in the end, they were in my favour, so I’m not pissed about it.” You flush as the memory floods you. “They did all of that, and yet I still blew it.”

    “Who said you blew it?” you say. Jaehyun lifts his head to look at you. “We’re alone right now, aren’t we?”

    He swipes his tongue over his teeth. “Well, yeah, I suppose we are.”

    “So, just tell me you like me already.”

    Jaehyun jerks back in his seat. “You knew?”

    “Of course I knew,” you grin, “because, I like you too.”

    His face breaks out into the widest smile possible; one that stretches his lips so much that it must ache. “You do?”

    “Yes, I do,” you giggle. “Even though you got our snacks stolen.”

    By the time you two make it back to the dorm, clothes dripping rainwater onto the carpet, lips swollen from stolen kisses, and smiles teeming with euphoria, the rest of the street is already dark. Johnny, Jungwoo and Doyoung greet you with knowing smiles and playful comments.

    “Look, I’m super happy for you guys and stuff but,” Jungwoo gestures to your empty hands, “where the hell are the snacks?”