#whos gonna find my nervous tick attractive??

[likeprongstostars]

[izloveshorses]

What about your most recent one?

send me a fic and i'll write up a director's cut commentary for it!

No More Pretend:

this one is sort of a combination of a few ideas and concepts that have been sitting in the back of my notes for a while, but i was never sure where i would put them/when i would get to them. so if it reads like three parts, this is why lol. i have been wanting to write the trio Improving and Performing A Con together for a while, and then i wanted to write a classic traveling sequence bed sharing moment, and i wanted anya and dmitry to bond over some shared trauma while having a little slumber party. it came together somewhat nicely, no?

you just know dimya had to pretend to be married at least once during the traveling sequence. it's too delicious and awkward not to think about. even though they're not as malicious against each other as they were at the start of the show by this point they still haven't quite crossed into the 'friends' threshold yet, so i don't think they would be exactly enthusiastic about the idea. and we don't see enough of vlad and dmitry working together to pull a smaller con. i think they would have, like, preexisting characters they play, depending on who they're trying to trick, and sometimes even have costumes and stuff (think dwight and jim playing brothers on the office to make a sale, for lack of a better example). and while anya doesn't like lying, i think she loves acting, pretending, playing a part. so it's delightful when she gets to exist in that sort of gray area.

i read a book recently where one of the main girls had to pretend she was kidnapped over the phone, and was like sobbing and yelling and stuff, but when she hung up she just wiped her tears away like 😌 and i just knew i had to write anya doing something like that at one point. idk about y'all but the bit where she reveals her 'pregnancy' is so funny to me. everyone is so uncomfortable. at this point in their relationship dimya would definitely be particularly squeamish about the thought of anya carrying his baby, but it was so fun to write, and i think dmitry is like really obviously attracted by her ability to act so well (obvious to us, maybe not to anya lol).

the bit where dmitry gives anya her food belongs to a thread that i ended up not pulling, but i think i was trying to think of excuses for them to go take a walk in the middle of the night, and one of those would've been that dmitry actually was hungry so anya was gonna be like smh let's go find an open kitchen or a bakery somewhere 😤 but this was already getting so long. i do like including dmitry feeding her in a lot of my fics, it's just such a simple and quiet way he can take care of her. and i just think she is so so hungry.

this isn't that important, but i really like the line where anya originally thought dmitry messing with his hair was a vanity thing but she's since learned it's actually just a nervous tick, that never gets old to me. she's just... always watching him 👀

the latter half of this fic was a lot more complicated to write. little confrontations and scuffles are always so hard to write with them, since they both know the other can handle themselves, but i think dmitry is protective of his own, and i think anya has mixed feelings about that whole thing. it's basically like... being vulnerable is just really Really hard lol. physical responses to past trauma are so So embarrassing to have. like, logically you know you're safe, whatever, but you feel all hot and sweaty and itchy and breathing is really hard and your hands are shaking and you just know you look like you're about to crack, and it's embarrassing!! so someone witnessing that as it happens is really uncomfortable!!

anya's trauma is a little more difficult to conceal than his, and i think she would be a little embarrassed to be seen as someone who falls apart so easily, so she's assuming he just sees a mess of a person, since he has witnessed a lot of her little panics and meltdowns by this point. and she really cares about his opinion of her for some reason. so of course she gets defensive and of course she misinterprets his protectiveness/attempt to relate as just a clinical obligation and fascination with a 'crazy' girl, and of course he gets defensive right back. but deep down they're both equals™ on every level and there's this deep respect they have for each other above all else. they're just bad at communicating that lol.

and on top of all of this, they have to share a bed, so they're about as uncomfortable as they can get. but this fic ended up being about sitting in the discomfort a little bit, and that discomfort brings out a vulnerability and sign of trust they probably wouldn't have reached without it. they're ironically the most authentic and honest they've been with each other while lying to strangers for food and shelter lol.

and again, trauma is embarrassing. she's already had to be so vulnerable with him, now she has to force him to witness her nightmares firsthand. it's like... when you're anxious, you build up a little thing in your head until it seems impossible to stop thinking of it that way. and this fic ended up being a little bit about consent and autonomy, too, and i think dmitry feels bad anya was put in this situation to begin with, no matter how dire the circumstances are. idk how y'all feel about them having kids, but i liked how they get to discuss the idea this way, apprehensive yet open for debate at the same time. slumber party talk fr <33

dmitry's confession is sort of the big punch of the whole fic. i had that scene written on a scrap document deep in my fic folder, like, years ago, but i never attached it to anything larger until now. i was nervous about posting this fic because while i've hinted at dmitry having some sexual trauma and a history of prostitution, i've never written him explicitly saying All That before. it's definitely a headcanon i will carry with me to my grave tho 😤 he just has so much Self Loathing already, being objectified and seen as someone only good for his body and nothing else had to have affected him. and of course he tries to downplay it, make it sound not so bad or at least not as bad as what anya has been through, but anya thinks it's important that he understands how similar they really are, how they understand each other, how grateful she is that he shared this with her and he trusts her enough.

i didn't want this whole scene to be super sad and heavy, even with the darker topic, so hopefully it's still sweet enough to swallow. we're trying to set them up to be besties by the time they hit paris, after all <3 and what's an izloveshorses bed sharing fic without some platonic snuggling 😤

overall, this one was fun to write. working on something in canonverse between long au chapters always feels like coming home <3

[ghostwritcr]

she  scoffed  as  her  eybrows  raised  ' maybe  ' cause  she  didn ' t  want  you  to  end  up  doing  anything  stupid ,  just  like  you  did ? '  and  immediately  after  realizing ,  she  shamefully  corrected  herself  ' i mean . . .  we  did . '  guilt  hit  her  gut  not  only  for  that ,  but  also  ' cause  of  the  frustration  felt  as  he  put  on  his  shirt ,  making  her  notice  how  she ' d  been  admiring  his  naked  torso  this  whole  time .  she  obviously  felt  bad  for  betraying  her  bff ,  but  she  also  couldn ' t  deny  to  herself  how  she ' d  previously  forced  herself  to  ignore  her  instant  attraction  to  oliver ,  from  the  moment  charley  presented  him  as  her  boyfriend .  guess  some  things  can ' t  be  tamed  forever ,  huh ?  ' no  shit ,  sherlock ! '  she  mocked  as  he  remarked  the  obvious .  ' but  that  doesn ' t  make  this  any  less  bad ,  does  it ? '  she  whinned ,  running  her  fingers  trough  her  hair .  ' well ,  best  case  scenario ,  no  one  saw  us  and -- '  her  optimistic  speech  was  cut  short  as  she  picked  up  his  phone ,  catching  a  glance  at  the  screen .  ' oh ,  shit . '   she  sighed ,  eyes  locked  to  the  screen .  the  worst  part  was  that  even  tho  it  was  wrong  as  hell ,  it  still  felt  good  as  hell .  her  cheeks  gained  a  maroon  touch  as  the  flashes  from  the  night  runned  her  mind ,  not  because  she  was  ashamed ,  but  because  it  fucking  turned  her  on ,  making  her  wish  there  was  a  way  they  could  wake  up  together  and  do  it  one  more  time .  or  a  few  more .  forcing  herself  back  to  reality ,  she  looked  up  at  the  contact  name  ' please  tell  me  this  guy  doesn ' t  hate  you . . .  if  he  were  to  send  charley  this ,  he  would ' ve  already ,  right ? '  putting  on  her  shirt ,  her  optmism  was  crashed  again  as  she  soon  added  ' i  mean ,  unless  he ' s  planning  to  fucking  blackmail  us . '  but  it  only  got  worse ,  as  she  recognised  the  man  in  the  contact  photo  ' wait . . .  is  this  connor  as  in  basketball ' s  connor ?  like ,  my  fucking  ex ' s  friend  connor ? ! '  she  jumped  out  of  bed ,  searching  for  her  own  phone ,  nowhere  to  be  found .  if  connor  had  sent  her  ex  the  picture ,  he ' d  probably  be  knocking  oliver ' s  door  down  by  now  and  flooding  her  phone  with  calls  and  messages ,  but  the  femme  knew  better  than  to  count  on  her  luck  twice .  the  femme  got  frustrated  as  she  couldn ' t  find  her  phone ,  nor  her  freaking  panties ,  and  the  remaining  alcohol  on  her  body  made  her  dizzy  and  her  head  hurt .  the  fact  that  time  tick - tacked  in  her  mind ,  like  a  bomb ' s  count  down  to  charley ' s  arrival ,  didn ' t  help  either .  ' damn  it ,  oliver ,  what  are  we  gonna  do ? !  it ' s  only  a  matter  of  time  ' till  charley  finds  out  about  us . . .  who  knows  whoever  else  saw  us ,  and  you  know  that  people  talk . . .  and  the  worst  part  is  that  i  can ' t  even  say  i  completelly  regret  what  we  did ,  ' cause  i ' m  for  sure  going  to  hell  for  how  much  i  liked  it . '  as  she  always  does  when  nervous ,  the  girl  chatters  on  and  on ,  her  words  raw  and  honest  as  can  be .

was close to launching a pillow at fem's head when she rolled back over to sleep again but at the sound of his voice she soon realised she had awaken not so innocently . ' why the fuck did she ask you that ? ' homme questions in mock offence as he throws on a shirt in order to look slightly less suspicious if his girlfriend was to walk through the door right now . ' you were as drunk as i was ! ' she asks the obvious question of whether the pair had slept together and oliver knew they had instantly , but it didn't stop the events running through his mind and he couldn't deny how good their rendezvous felt . of course a part of him regrets what happened , he has a girlfriend and oliver had just cheated on her with her best friend but the passion and chemistry betwixt the pair were hard to ignore . ' i'm gonna say yeah , ali we did . ' male tells her as he opens a text message from his roommate ––––  a photo of both allison and oliver kissing against the door of his apartment . sighs before throwing his device to the girl still in his bed , allowing her to see the image and have memories rushing back . finding her shirt on the ground , oliver throws it toward her to allow her to feel a little less exposed .

[im-in-vin-ci-ble]

Hello~ Can I request a Mark x fem reader who’s a lot like starfire and is very Powerful close to omni man and is also an alien princess but she lives on earth and they go to the same school and she’s also a solo hero who one day sees invincible fighting off a tough villain with the teenteam but is losing so she steps in to help and he recognizes her and starts getting all nervous since he has a crush on her and then after that they introduce themselves get to know each other and eventually work they’re way up to mark confessing and she says yes :3

(If possible can it be a slow burn im a sucker for slow burn tropes and stuff 😤)

A/N: I gotchu, this bout to be a lil long 😮‍💨 making the fem!reader a little more human, figured since she’s in an actual school for humans she’d need to adapt to the humor/culture so she doesn’t get suspicious

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Rating: M, some swearing and gross monster guts

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Mark is finally joined in battle by an alien princess who has caught his attention. Turns out she goes to the same high school, and if he can throw around 150-pound monsters across the street, surely he can confess his true feelings to a girl... right?

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?!" Rex Splode yelled as he wobbled up off the ground. "We've been on this thing for hours and it only has one damn cut!"

"Calm down Rex," Atom Eve said from behind, "You're gonna get even more tired from yelling."

The two watched as Dupli-Kate attempted to distract the scaly kaiju, replicating herself second after second to give space for Invincible to hit the monster by surprise. The kaiju's screech echoed throughout the city and shook the foundations of the surrounding buildings, forcing Rex, Atom Eve and Robot to move aside and save however many civilians they could.

"Invincible," Dupli-Kate shouted, "I can't keep up much longer!"

A sonic boom overcame the surrounding noise and Invincible appeared from the clouds. Dropping in at maximum speed, the young superhero balled his hand into a fist and took a deep breath. A loud battle cry escaped his mouth but it was cut short as the kaiju's heavy arm slapped him away just in time, throwing him through destroyed buildings until he landed on the pavement.

Out of breath, dizzy, and in a serious amount of pain, Invincible laid on the broken road for a second to regain his strength. The wind softly blew down on him as he focused his sight on a contrail leading towards him, and he watched as a girl in purple land right next to him.

She bent down and held him upright, "Invincible, are you okay?"

"Mmhmm," Invincible croaked with a defeated smile, "Totally fine."

His sight reverted back to normal and the first face he saw shocked him alive. It was her. They never talked in school and he was almost sure she didn't know his real name, but here she was, basically cradling him in her arms and calling him Invincible.

So she knows who I am. At least with the suit.

"Come on, that kaiju is about to be destroy the entire city," she said, helping him get back on his feet and flying away to the seemingly unbeatable figure.

He huffed, "Stay cool, Mark. She's here to help," and he followed suit.

This marked the first time he really interacted with the new superhero; he'd only ever see her on TV or read about how she saved people on the newspaper. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find her attractive — as do most guys his age — but watching her blast the kaiju with the green bursts of energy from her hands made her only even more appealing.

Invincible regrouped with the rest of the Teen Team. "I don't know what else we can do to this thing," Atom Eve admitted.

"I do," the girl spoke up. "Distract it as best as you can but stay far away from the stomach. When I tell you to take cover, make a run for it."

Robot replied, "That seems highly dangerous."

"Let's do it," Invincible quickly replied in a high-pitched voice.

Everyone looked over at him, surprised at the sudden change in his voice and just how fast he reacted in agreement. 

"Uh, it's a good plan," he nodded, causing the girl to shoot a warm smile his way. "I definitely think we should do it... if all of you... uh, think, we should."

Exhausted and out of options, the rest of the group followed her orders and took different corners of the monster. Dupli-Kate handled one leg, Rex Splode handled the other, Robot and Atom Eve took the arms, and Invincible went back to the head. The kaiju struggled to keep its focus on just one of the heroes, and while it remained preoccupied, the girl absorbed all the energy she could muster and flew straight for the stomach.

"Take cover, now!"

Invincible and the Teen Team moved away and they watched as the flying hero's eyes opened in a bright shade of neon green, both her arms extended out as a large ball of green formed around her hands. The rays exploded right through the kaiju and it shrieked in pain as she briefly disappeared into the stomach. The kaiju lost balance and slowly fell forward as the girl, her eyes still green, appeared on the other side and harshly fell down on the ground.

The kaiju landed on the street with a loud boom and the group ran towards the girl who was now covered in parts of the kaiju's digestive system.

"Okay, that's kinda gross," Rex Splode commented, to which Dupli-Kate quickly responded, "Shut up."

Invincible dropped down on his knees and wiped the blood and guts off her face. Subtly admiring her facial features up close, he couldn't believe (and almost felt stupid) that he never recognized her despite the fact that he almost saw her everyday.

The girl groaned in agony softly shook her head, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of Invincible's dark hair, goggles and yellow mask.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, "Are you alright?"

She sat up and hissed at her injuries, holding her head with her bloody hand. "Mmhmm," she gently nodded with a half smile, her eye one still shut. "Totally fine."

---

Mark had a hard time focusing on school. His body ached from yesterday's injuries and he suffered a few bruises from literally tearing through buildings. He made his way to his locker and rested his head on the metal door, dreading the fact that he still has an entire afternoon of classes to go. Closing his eyes in hopes to quickly recharge, his moment of peace was disrupted when a shoulder rammed into his chest and several books landed right on his toe.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," a voice exclaimed.

Mark's head snapped up at the sound of the voice. It's her. He momentarily froze and watched the girl bend down to pick up her things, and when he finally regained movement a split second later, he also bent down to help her out. He kept quiet as he tried to think of the coolest possible response to make her think that he was actually the coolest guy in school, but all he could think of was how heavenly and badass she looked yesterday.

"Thanks," she said as he handed her the book. "I hope your foot doesn't bruise."

They both stood up and he shot her a nervous smile. "T-totally fine," he replied, clearing his throat afterwards.

She crossed her brows at his response and nodded, and a look of suspicion replaced her worried demeanor.

"I'm Mark, by the way," he cleared his throat again and reached out his hand, "Grayson."

"Mark... Grayson, huh?" she responded, scanning his face as her suspicion grew. Her eyes finally landed on the hand that was waiting, and she took one last look into his eyes before deciding to shake it. "I'm Y/N," she introduced herself with a skeptical smile, feeling his sweaty palm wrapped around hers. "I'll see you around, Mark Grayson."

She walked away and Mark's eyes followed her trail as far as he could see. He quickly pulled out his phone to send a text to Eve, who was actually watching their interaction a few classrooms down.

"Mark," Eve called out as she moved towards him. “So I’m assuming...”

"You knew?” he asked her in disbelief. “Why didn't you tell me Y/N was a superhero? I just introduced myself to her as Mark Grayson and I'm almost positive she knows I'm Invincible."

"First off, it's not my secret tell," she answered with a shrug. "Second, you guys didn’t trade secrets or whatever?”

Mark shook his head in a panic, "No, but I'm guessing she also knows that I know her secret the same way I know she knows my secret." He rested his forehead on the locker door once again and groaned, "Ugh, I'm so into her, it isn't even funny. And this whole superhero thing just made it even more awkward."

Eve laughed, "Look, I'm not going to force her to tell you if she isn't up for it, but if you want, I can ask her to hang out with us later. Maybe — emphasis on maybe — my presence will make her comfortable enough to admit who she is."

"Okay, okay," he sighed, turning around to rest the back of his head. "My insides are dying."

"After the kaiju yesterday, be thankful you don't mean that in a literal sense."

---

Where in the hell is Eve?

Mark pulled out his phone for the third time in 10 minutes. Still no call or response from Eve to his text. He was getting evidently nervous; his palms were sweaty again and it felt like someone turned up the heat in Burger Mart. His left leg jerked up and down in anxiety as he stared at his phone, looking at the seconds on the clock icon tick by. If he were left alone with Y/N, he'd have no idea what to say. What does she like? Should I bring up the kaiju yesterday and praise Invincible? No, she'll just think I'm full of myself.

"Hey Mark."

He jolted and saw Y/N standing by the corner of the booth. "Hi!" he replied in that irritatingly high-pitched voice. Mark's heart began to race and the thoughts in his head ran wild. "Um... Have a seat. Sorry Eve isn't here yet, she actually hasn't answered my calls or my messages. Teenage girls, huh? What can you do?"

She crossed her brows again and chuckled, "That's fine, we can wait for Eve. But I think I'm more concerned about you."

"What do you mean?"

Y/N chuckled again, "You seem... nervous.”

He faked an obnoxiously loud laugh, “Me? Nervous?”

She watched him from across the table in silence, waiting for him to regain his composure.

When Mark couldn’t hear Y/N laughing with him, he finally shut up and shook his head. “Yeah, I am nervous, sorry,” he admitted, shutting his eyes tight. 

She giggled, “Totally fine.”

Hearing her say those two words calmed his racing heartbeat. A smile crept on his face and she reciprocated, their eyes locking for a few seconds before both their phones buzzed.

“Oh, I just got a text from Eve,” Mark said. 

“Me too.” She opened the message and began to read it out loud, “Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Something came up.”

“Have fun, you two,” he followed, his voice faltering. He placed his phone, screen down this time, back on the table and sighed, “Sorry, guess you’re stuck with me. That is, if you do want to stay and... hang out, and stuff.”

"Why wouldn’t I?” she replied, her warm smile easing Mark back into a relaxed state. “It’s nice to have a friend who...” she trailed off, “understands.”

“Understands what?” he asked.

“This thing people like us call life,” she answered. “You know, it took me a long time to acclimate here. I didn’t think I ever would, then I met friends who made this place feel like home. And home is a feeling I hadn’t felt in a really long time.”

Mark rested his elbows on the table and leaned in closer, “Well, I’m always here. You know, a-as a friend... or an acquaintance, even. I don’t, I don’t want to push it.”

Y/N giggled again, “You’re a funny man, Mark Grayson. This planet is lucky to have someone like you.” She reached out and held his hand, “And I’m even luckier to have you as a friend, or an acquaintance.” 

He felt the heat rush to his face and he could swear his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. The afternoon flew by in a hurry as they engaged in lengthy conversations, fatty fast food, and childhood stories. While Mark was open to sharing every tiny detail — down to the color of the bleachers at the park where he played little league — Y/N kept hers pretty vague, leaving out descriptions of family members and even the places where these stories happened. 

Mark’s phone buzzed again, but the vibrating pattern indicated it was a phone call. He turned the screen over and saw the unknown number; it was time to suit up.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N, but I need to go,” he said in a rush. “I have a... uh, an emergency.”

You couldn’t have thought of anything more specific?

“It’s cool. Um, don’t worry about it,” she said, shaking her head with her eyes glued to the vibrating phone. 

Mark’s one leg was already out the booth before he decided to finally just go for it. Sitting back down with his now quiet phone in his hands, he took a deep breath.

“Y/N, I think you’re really cool. Can I maybe, like, call you sometime, or something?”

Her lips formed into smile that extended to her eyes, and it was enough for Mark to melt a little. “Of course. Yeah, sure,” she replied in excitement and typed down her number on his phone. She handed it back, “Now you know how to reach me if you’re getting your ass whooped again.”

His mouth fell open as his shaky hands grabbed his phone. “Wait—”

She smoothly slid out of the booth, “See you later, Invincible,” she winked, “Don’t get killed today.”

---

Luckily for Mark, no one got killed today. Maybe a few wounds here and there, but nothing painful enough that will land him in the GDA hospital. After spending an hour in the shower, he finally managed to lie down on his bed and rest his body. He sank into the mattress and closed his eyes, taking in the seconds of undisturbed peace that have become rare moments since he got his powers. 

As he replayed the events of today’s fights in his head, his mind drifted off to the hours he spent with Y/N. He pulled out his phone and mustered the courage to press the dial button, and the repeating sound of the ringing was making his pulse race. 

“Hello?”

“Oh good, you didn’t die today.”

Mark chuckled and sandwiched his hand between his head and the pillow. “It wasn’t that bad today, just took a few hits,” he explained. “So listen, Y/N, I was wondering, uh—”

She cut him off, “What are you doing right now?”

“What?”

“What are you doing right now?” she repeated.

“Um, nothing, just getting some rest” he sat up and looked around. “Why?”

“If you’re not too tired, do you maybe...”

Mark smiled, “Maybe...?”

“I don’t know, sneak out? My roof is pretty comfortable.”

Silently fist pumping, he fully stood up and nodded, “Text me the address.”

Just as quietly as he exited his room via the window, he softly landed on Y/N’s roof. Swiftly flying up and greeting him, she took the place next to him and crossed her legs. 

“You’re right, your roof is pretty comfortable,” Mark said.

She chuckled at his remark then noticed a gash by his right temple. Her brows furrowed in worry, “You have a wound,” she said, making sure not to touch it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, softly holding her hand and placing it back down with his. “Totally fine.”

Those words brought her some sense of comfort as her eyes softened, causing her to unconsciously squeeze his hand. Mark’s eyes widened and he looked down at their tangled fingers, frozen for a moment.

“Is this... okay with you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Wanna lie down? Since my roof is so comfortable?” she asked with a smirk.

“Sure,” Mark chuckled, removing his hand from her’s and stretching his arm out as they lied down. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, keeping her eyes up at the stars.

“Hey Mark?”

“Yeah?”

A moment of silence.

“Thank you for coming.”

He looked down at her as she met his eyes, “You’re welcome.” 

The two shared a smile, and Mark took a deep breath as he prepared himself for the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

It’s now or never, Mark. Now or never.

“Watching you kick ass yesterday was... really a sight to see,” he began. “You’re powerful and strong, but more importantly, brave. And you’re so fucking beautiful and kind and smart and...” Mark trailed off, sighing, “I never thought I would be in this position — with you next to me in a very comfortable rooftop under the stars.”

“Mark...”

“And I really like you. Like, really, really like you.”

“Mark.”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I just wanted to let you know. It’s important that you know—”

“Mark,” she cut him off. “I like you too. A lot.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and covered his eyes with his free hand. “Oh thank god. Thank god!” he exclaimed.

Y/N shushed him, “You’re gonna wake up the neighborhood, Invincible.”

“Sorry,” he giggled quietly, “I got excited.”

She laughed and faced her body towards him. They locked eyes again, and Mark didn’t know if it was gravity or just the adrenaline that pushed him, but he finally leaned down and met her lips. Static ran through his body as he deepened the kiss, and he felt an excitement that was even more exhilarating than the first time he flew.

She pulled away and Mark ran his hand through her hair, resting his hand on her cheek. “How was that?” he asked.

She smiled gently and placed her hand over his, “Totally fine.”

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

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[tobegiggledat]

You're Meant to be Laughed At

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

❀pairing: Emi Fukukado (Ms. Joke) x GN!reader

❀warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, victim blaming, gaslighting, implied past rape/noncon, mild sexual content, implied kidnapping

❀word count: 1.5k

To your surprise, disheveled appearances aren't enough to catch the sights of a large crowd. A makeshift gown of tattered linen is slung loosely across your shoulders, but remains tainted as it chafes at your bruises just as abrasively as when you were lying unwillingly against it.

It evades the grasp of your twitching fingertips, the unforgettable scent of blood and stolen sex still lingers within its threads, permeating your judgement even though you're way past the reach of her doorstep.

Dust coats your soles in a thin, chalky layer, feet singed by the sidewalk’s heat, you tiptoe through bypassing civilians, many who hardly turn their cheek to your shuddering form and practically scoff at the sight.

“Can someone help me please!”, you finally shout within the sea of the unbothered.

And for the most part, no one pays any mind to your panic-stricken sentences, dodging each desperate flail of your arms outwardly as you try to draw more attention to yourself, and the weakened state of your body.

Dread starts to seep through your aching muscles and into your bones, the crowd is thinning out the further you travel along this lonely path—it's hopeless you think.

That is, until you're finally approached by a businessman just before your light dims completely.

“What’s the matter?” A deep but calm voice emits from the suited man before you, tall and with features too difficult to make out from the intense shadows that cast across them.

“You've gotta help me”, you gulp. “S-she’ll be here any minute, but I don’t know what to do. "S-She—"

“It's alright now. No one's coming to hurt you.” His collected tone almost borders on cold. “I’m gonna try and look for a hero, but first can you tell me what happened? Who’s she?”

“Emi! A lady with green hair, I was kidnapped by her, and-and…“

The man smiles.

Initially, those small curves at the corners of his mouth are something you brush off as a nervous tick, an unexpected, but common reaction to receiving such news so suddenly.

He wouldn’t find humor in your misfortune would he…

“Sorry about that, you were saying—”

You’d never guess that a sinister chuckle was capable of passing through kind lips, but it does—boisterous and loud as it attracts more confused looks than what you could've ever achieved with your shouting.

“What’s so funny?”, you ask awkwardly between his cackles.

Blood bursts in the veins across his cheeks, his laughs turn into near chokes and gasps for breaths while a crowd finally gathers near.

“Please, help me”, you take advantage of the surrounding people. “I'm in trouble! I was kidnapped by a woman with—”

But even more chuckles emerge around you; some high pitched and squeaky while others are deep enough to rattle your insides—yet all are of the same manic intensity.

“Why are you all laughing? I'm serious, she kidnapped me—the woman with a bandana and green hair.”

It takes a few more interrupting giggles for you to conclude that any further reasoning would be a fruitless endeavor.

Why doesn’t anyone ever listen? What more will it take for your struggles to finally be acknowledged? You’re unsure but these dizzying thoughts eventually shatter any optimism you may have had left.

“Hey!”, says a voice coming from the other way. “There’s my favorite jokester!”

Jokester? Jokester?

Your skin suddenly chills at the nickname and cheerful tone that says it.

A firm hand is placed on your shoulder and by its grip you don't need to meet her eyes to recognize Emi as she stalks behind you, proudly. “What did I tell you about making jokes like that?”

“I-I wasn’t joking though…”, you murmur, shoulders drooping at her touch as your limbs attempt to cocoon you.

“That’s enough. Look at what you’ve caused.” Emi points at the curled over businessman and the other gigglers. “It’s kinda distasteful, don’tcha think, joking about kidnapping and all that stuff? You shouldn’t make people laugh at things like that, yknow?”

“But, it wasn’t my fault. I was trying to—“

The sharp glare of mint irises cut you short.

“C’mon, let’s get back, I don’t want you to cause any more trouble.” She nudges you to take the lead back to her house, which you trail toward meekly under her watch; her eyes a suffocating thread that loops tightly around the base of your neck, and punishes you for movements outside of what she expects.

“Go and wait in the room for me”, Emi says quietly and with an unreadable tone upon reaching and entering the doorway.

You immediately do as you're told, walking briskly to your shared bed then sitting on its edge until she follows suit.

When she enters, she's silent, pacing along the tile to meet your knees as they dangle over the mattress. She stops to look at you closely, but it's difficult to tell what she's feeling when her stare follows the frightened twitches of your lips and the uneasy flickers of your eyes.

“Emi, I’m really sorry”, you begin in hopes of aiding the tension. “I just got overwhelmed this time, you know I love you.”

She slowly pulls at the covers on your trembling figure, without a word. It's a silence that's overwhelmingly thick and difficult to move in.

Not a single trace of her signature smile is present; the one she wears now is trembling, as if a crooked line etched poorly into a stone slab. Though, her face has always been much like that of stone, slowly cracking from the years she’s held a playful façade until her true sinister nature is revealed.

That same playfulness is what roped you into these circumstances, though her stone wasn’t as blemished when you met her initially.

Her cracks have multiplied tenfold since then, and you think your presence and the continuous disagreements that arose from it may have accelerated them.

“Emi?”, you desperately reach for her arm but she pulls away.

“It’s fine, it's fine”, she says, swatting at the air with the back of her hand. “You just wanted to pull a little trick on me, right?”

“R-right...I guess I thought it would be funny at the time.”

“Oh, you did?” Her brows raise a little at that.

You nod.

“We should really work on your humor then”, she continues. “I don’t like jokes at the expense of others, and you kinda scared me back there.”

“Yeah, sorry...”

She hums softly. “Anyways, enough with the gloomy talk. Let’s do something fun, like earlier, before you ran away.” Her fingers begin to swipe lightly across your shoulders, but you swiftly duck from her touch.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think we should try something else”, you hesitate while trying to inch away from her, but she doesn’t allow it. “How about we-we—”

“C’mon, you know you like it.” She's swift to close the distance, straddling your hips as your back is pressed against the sheets. “After a few minutes, you’re begging me to keep going. You’re always like Emi, don’t stop. Pleeease, I want to cum now, I'm sorry.”

Her hands clumsily reach down to swipe at your slit. “Look, it's already wet, see.” She holds the glistening tips of her fingers in front of you, before bringing them to her lips, and sucking on them obnoxiously until you squirm with embarrassment.

Once she’s finished, she stills, sharp eyes gazing down at you once more.

“Do you know why I like you so much?”, she eventually questions. “You’re always so funny even when you don’t intend to be.” Her body is warm as it rests on your thighs, and when you're calm enough, you could sense how she moves gently with each of her breaths. “I just wish you’d stop sharing that part of you with other people. That’s the real reason why I got so mad earlier, if you were wondering.”

“But I don’t know how to because I never get what’s so funny in the first place”, you say timidly.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t talk as much about what’s going on between us, no one is ever going to take it as seriously as you do.”

The curt way her words leave her lips has you nearly recoiling, you quickly shift from beneath her, weight now resting on your elbows. “What do you mean? I’m telling the truth aren’t I?”

“No, I think you’re confused about our relationship. I wouldn’t do anything to you if I didn’t think you truly wanted it. I mean if I really kidnapped you, why did you walk back here with me so easily? It’s because deep down you realized you were being ridiculous—comical, even—and that being with me is the best place for you and it’s all you’ve got.”

Your jaw clasps tightly with her words repeatedly bouncing between your neurons, you stare blankly at the ceiling, along with its cracks, its dull and peeling paper, and its faint water stains…

You don't even notice Emi’s sorrowful glance until you finally turn toward her and she brings you into her arms. “I'm sorry. I hope I didn't take it too far”, she speaks into the crook of your neck.

“I don’t like being laughed at, Emi.”

“No, no. There’s nothing wrong with being laughed at. It just means you’re a natural comedian.” She pulls away to place a palm on your chest, her nose burrows into your cheek. “My natural comedian.”

[ventiiology]

— ✦ || home

title . windtrace characters . kaeya , diluc , venti , childe type . fluff , bullet-point headcanons

an interesting man in mondstadt is advertising for a game that represented mondstadt’s history but eventually got less played and forgotten over the years. he wanted to bring back the tradition, with more exciting edits made to the game in hopes of attracting more players. you have convinced your boyfriend to play it with you, and hell, it was a wild ride.

kaeya, upon hearing about the game from you, would already be interested

it sounded really fun, so he played it with you asap

he may or may not have skipped some duties from the knights, but in his eyes it was completely within reason

he didn’t tell you about that, of course, or else you would’ve forced him to go back to favonius headquarters and finish up whatever boring paperwork he needed to sign.

anyways..

as a hunter he would be quite experienced, as expected, since he was a knight and had to do similar activities when hunting down criminals like treasure hoarders, the abyss order, etc

you’d have to be good at hiding, otherwise the game would end very quickly

“hm? i’m surprised how you were able to outrun me the first time with your height. i don’t usually fall for the same thing twice, that’s why i was able to catch you~”

as a rebel kaeya would also be surprisingly good at the role

he’s scarily good at hiding and even with your perks as a hunter to trace wherever he is, he still made it really challenging

if you ever get too close to wherever he’s hiding or disguising he might take advantage of having a cryo vision to slip you up somehow

whether that be literal or not

although he’ll get called out for cheating later

“my, you’re freezing up. come on, don’t be salty you lost. you were pretty close to catching me, i’ll give you that.” kaeya says as be brings you into his embrace, warming you up in dragonspine’s bitter cold.

diluc would honestly not be interested at first

it would take quite some pleading, daily bugging, and perhaps a bit of bribery to get him to agree to play

tell him that he wouldn’t have to see kaeya around for the week or something

as a hunter he would spend a good 30 seconds just standing there wondering what he should do. there are a lot of places to hide, and the map was very big. also you could’ve disguised yourself as something from the area, so how could he be completely sure it’s you?

he’s really quiet so you wouldn’t hear him coming

using the hunter ability to trace where you went, he’d be somewhat indecisive on whether he should take his time or run to follow the traces

will use hunter abilities at the most inconvenient moments

for you, as the rebel, at least

like when you think he didn’t notice you and is walking away he’ll activate the hunter ability ‘insight’, which reveals your location and points you out with a pillar of light

diluc will be annoyingly good at finding you this way

“did i scare you? i— i’m sorry. i’ll try not to repeat my actions.”

as a rebel, he’d probably be more hesitant than when being a hunter

multiple times throughout the game, he will mutter to himself that he is not suited for this role

however diluc always seemed to take the longest to find... you wondered how he pulled it off every time

he’s definitely aware of this game

venti, of all people, should know about windtrace, especially its origins...

so he’s actually the one who invited you to play with him

as a hunter he’d love the thrill and challenge of finding you

he would much prefer to be a rebel, but the hunter role was still fun to play as!

he’d take his sweet, sweet time as a hunter

not sprinting all over the place will give him more time to examine places

but if he gets as much as a glimpse of action, he’ll go running towards that

“heeeey! that’s not faaaair! i declare a rematch! if i win this one, you owe me... an apple! no, five apples!”

“deal!”

as a rebel he’ll be able to find hiding spots in places you didn’t even know existed within the map

he might use a little bit of his anemo powers to let him climb up to higher places... if needed

will climb trees a lot, so when you start looking in trees, he alternates his hiding style

and he’s a speedy little shit too— so speedy you can hear him leaving sonic behind

like if you manage to get his disguise out of commission and you spot him since he’s unable to hide, he’ll literally just speed away behind something then you lose track of him

like???? what??? how does he??????

he will taunt you

one time he was disguising and you got pretty close

when your back was turned, he whispered, “missed me~” then will use the rebel skill ‘transparency’ to just disappear and sprint away since he knew that your hunter abilities’ cooldown wasn’t done yet.

“let’s play again! hold on, let me write a song about this...”

you didn’t even get to finish asking him if he wanted to play windtrace with you and he already agreed

this man is a simp

he’ll never admit that, though. he has pride.

as a hunter, the games played with childe will be so nerve-racking and intense

while he’s hunting for you, it’s like his whole aura’s changed

he seemed far more intimidating and scary than usual

“[name]~ where are you~? i can tell i’m getting close...”

why was he taking this game so seriously????????

when playing with childe, you could truly feel like you were the prey and he was the predator

he’ll give you a false sense of security. he’ll make you think that you’re safe from his watchful gaze.

you used your ‘transparency’ ability to become invisible to him

he’ll pass by and you hold your breath, nervous that if he hears a single movement, whether it be an exhale or the small brushing sound of your sleeve moving against your shirt, he’ll be able to find you

he walks away and sprints out of sight. he probably saw movement ahead and went to track that

you started to calm down and your tense shoulders relaxed. phew, he was gone.

then, you heard a whisper behind you as someone grabbed your shoulders.

“boo~”

you jump out of shock and he starts laughing at the scare he gave you

“that was not funny. i’m gonna hate you forever for that one.”

“you can’t hold it against me for that long, and you and i are both aware of it.”

as a rebel he would be annoyingly good at it too

after him scaring you as a hunter you got somewhat paranoid. who says he won’t pull off the same kind of thing as a rebel?

you swore you saw a wooden crate move so you turned around to face it but then it was gone

childe’s light on his feet and barely makes a sound

you’d get more panicked as the timer ticked closer to the end of the game. you really wanted to win this one.

according to the ‘hunter’s intuition’ skill you were able to pinpoint the place where childe was at

you sprinted closer to the beam that gave away his location

you wandered around the area, trying to find where exactly the pillar of light was pointing you to... then the light disappeared

you saw a hay roll near a house which definitely wasn’t there last time you checked, so you took your chance

you were 5 metres away from it when you felt a certain someone pull you into a hug from the back.

at the same time, your timer rang, signifying the end of the match.

how does childe keep sneaking up behind you?

“hah, was it really that hard to find me, love?”

“HOW DID YOU DO THAT?”

“i’m just a natural at it, i guess. haha, don’t worry~ with enough practise, you might surpass my skill level!”

[astroismypassion]

HOW MARS SIGNS HAVE CRUSHES/SHOW INTEREST/APPROACH SOMEONE 💘

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

Finally! The long awaited post! ✨

💓ARIES MARS💓

Will play cat and mouse game. One day acting more invested in you and the next they completely cold. To see how much they actually mean to you. Might put you through trust tests too. They will say things just to get reaction out of you, even if they actually don’t agree with it. They are suprisingly “mental” in inicial interactions and not physical at all.

💖TAURUS MARS💖

They are a mix of Virgo, Scorpio and Libra Mars. Veryyy slow-moving. First, “the evaluating stage”. They will pay attention to your micro reactions while asking you deliberate questions to get a reaction out of you. They will search for your inconsistencies. Remeber they value stability and being consistent in relationships the most. And when they actually start catching feelings for you? They would like to be in your constant physical proximity. They will always find a reason to get closer to you. Like move a chair. If you are even closer or if there is a chance, they would actually lean towards you or whisper something into you ear. But it depends on the situation and context. If the attraction is already pretty high, they might linger on your touch when they hand you something.

💛GEMINI MARS💛

They look for signs of you paying attention to them. They will analyse if you are really listening to them. Might even bring up a topic from a previous conversation. Theh will be more nervous around. Or like they are suddenly being more timid or quiet. They will carefully listen to every word you say in a group conversation.

🦀CANCER MARS🦀

One of those placements, that might go for their already existing friends. Or someone they’ve known for some time and/or been friends with. They are the real Taurus Mars of the signs. They are much into what is already known to them. Because with that they are comfortable and secure. They are already almost at home with you. Might offer you little things or food. Or share it with you.

🦁LEO MARS🦁

They will be more on the straight-forward side. However, they will look for signs of interest from you first. They already know you are their specific person. So now they are just evaluating, analysing and searching for signs from you if this feeling could be mutual. They dislike potential rejection, because their pride would get hurt. They will get extra moody if someone else shows interest in you or approaches you. Because in their head, you are already “theirs”.

💛VIRGO MARS💛

Similar to Libra Mars, they first start in a polite manner. Always kind, respectful towards you. And then they want to suddenly be around you more. Not necessarly directly in your company, like Taurus Mars would be, but indirectly. In group setting, in circle of friends, mutual people you both know etc. They might not talk to you directly at all. With all others yes, but not to you. But they will be paying close attention to your mannerisms, look towards you to get your reaction about a shared joke. They will be paying attention to your reactions. The next stage is analysing and remembering your facial expressions, gestures, mannerisms. Your lips, your forehead vein, your earlobes, your Cupid’s bow over your top lip. Your upper lip being bigger than the lower. Then your habits. Do you style your hair differently every day? Do you chew gum? Why are you keep wearing that blue sweater, is it your favourite sweater?

💗LIBRA MARS💗

Those are sly people. Before not knowing you much, they will be politely smile, always say thank you and please to you, greet you warmly. They will be charming and you would feel this natural warmth in them. But when they are getting to know you, they pull back. They are now in the stage of “readjusting” to you. They are trying to figure out what makes you tick, differentiate between your fake laugh and genuine laugh, how you act to others in comparison to them etc. Now, they will pick their “personality” in according to your personality, that they estimated, would suit well to yours based on characteristics, habits and goals. When they start catching feelings, then “the doubting stage” occurs. They try to weigh in all the options, try to figure out if there is anyone better on the market out there for them, or if their best possible outcome is really settling with you. They act a bit more cold, reserved and non-chalant in this stage.

❤️SCORPIO MARS❤️

It’s all in the eyes and the gaze. They already must have quite magnetic, seductive, alluring eye contact. But it intensifies. Never openly, directly or even subtle flirt with them. This is a no no with them, especially when in a group setting or at a party. If they find you interesting, they CHOOSE you. They allow YOU to approach them. It’s all about trusting, comforting safety with these people.

🧡SAGITTARIUS MARS🧡

They are surprisingly quiet at first. You would not expect it, because of them being a Fire sign. First, “the getting to know you stage”. They are trying to get the bigger picture of who you are. So they might ask a lot for your thoughts. What are your thoughts on this? How do you feel about that? They are trying to gather as much information about you as possible from your answers. But how they start showing interest? By voicing their own interests, hobbies, opinions on things, views, perspectives on culture (music, films, travels, countries etc.)

💙CAPRICORN MARS💙

Actually quite similar to Scorpio, Virgo, Taurus and Libra Mars. A lot of analysing before even taking you into account. After that “growing colder towards you stage”. Then “the thinking stage”. Next, “I woke up one day and decided today is the day, I’m gonna tell my crush I like them stage”. And by tell, I don’t actually mean express their feelings verbally. They will show you through action.

💚AQUARIUS MARS💚

They will want to know what are your interests, hobbies first. What makes you tick. Which things you are into. Based on shared interests they will decide, if they want to develop a friendly bond with you. No matter if Aquarius is on their 5th, 7th or 8th house, they would actually prefer having irregular, from time to time hangouts with you. They most certainly will disappear for a while. BUT they would like to pick up things where they were with you, when they talk to you again or see you. They would like for things to remain the same. And if you can provide them with this type of support, they will start “considering” you. But they will always want to have a sense of their own personal freedom in at least one aspect of the relationship. They would like to have a long distance relationship more than a Sagittarius Mars would.

💜PISCES MARS💜

Might actually act more giving and selfless towards you, especially when you’re in need of something. The last cookie? You can take it. You need a pen, because you lost one? They would GIVE you stuff to show off their caring and giving nature to those in need. You’ll notice they will try to help you in many possible ways.

@astroismypassion

[swcetnight]

It’s Definitely You || kth (m.) 1

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: self doubt, adorable plant names... there's really not many warnings for this chapter!

→ word count: 7,973

authors note:

alrighty everyone... here we go! (i’m so nervous) this is the first chapter of this series (which it took me 50 years to figure out whether I wanted this to be a series or a two shot... lets just say that it's gonna be a long one, so I think that a series is the best way to go)! this story is really near and dear to my heart, so 1. I really hope you enjoy it and 2. I hope all of you know how hard it was to write this into words... my goodness. now, make sure you look for clues throughout this series... there's a secret in here that won't be revealed for a while ;)) but if any of you have ideas, please be sure to send an ask while we wait to find out together! anyways, I hope you enjoy !!

authors thanks:

a HUGE thank you to @hantaev and @monvante for beta-reading and being so so supportive of me and this little (but not so little) story... y'all truly have no idea how helpful you've been and how thankful I am to be friends with both of you! forreal, y'all are the greatest and I'm sending you all my love!!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you 🤍

If time-travel existed, you would be on the first time machine and head back to 2 years ago. A time when you had a free schedule and were able to go out on Friday nights. A time when you felt confident in yourself and were raring to pursue theatre. A time when you didn't have this job (cause apparently, theatre is impossible to get into) that forces you awake at 4 in the morning for the opening shift.

You can't say you don't love your Barista job because you do. Still, when your alarm wakes you from the beautiful dream of performing on the big stage, you have to use everything within yourself to crawl out of your sheet cocoon… and that is unacceptable.

What's even more unacceptable is the fact that your co-worker, Jimin, hasn't arrived at the Academia Cafe yet. You have about 30 minutes to prepare for the morning peak; brew coffees, set up the bakery items, clear the boards "coffee of the day," etc. The problem is, it takes up all of the 30 allotted minutes— and you can't start prepping early because Jimin has the keys to the cafe.

You’ve worked at the Academia Cafe for about a year now, taking a break from your endless theatre audition schedule— since that was getting you absolutely nowhere. No matter how badly you want it, nothing seems to work. No matter how many times you practice, it never seems to be good enough. Let’s just say, you took this job at the cafe because you were over the repetitive let downs.

… But here you are, with a “Jimin being late” let down.

[To: Jimin ☕️] hey, you almost here? times ticking, keys!

You stuff your phone into your winter coat pocket, the brown material catching snowflakes as they fall gently from the cloudy sky. You love this weather; it's always been your favorite. When you were little, you used to pretend to be a dragon; running all over your front yard and releasing heavy breaths that chilled in the air and spread like smoke. You don't enjoy the cold, but the entire feel of winter has you cozying up in a blanket with hot cocoa and a good book… nothing could beat that.

A buzz in your pocket catches your attention.

[From: Jimin ☕️] Hey! Look up.

Your eyes immediately lift to see Jimin smiling a few feet away, shuffling through the snow as he drags the keys out of his pocket. He's sporting a heavy blue coat that reaches down to his knees — making his short stature appear even smaller — topped with a matching blue beanie. Despite his tardiness today, you’ve always been fond of Jimin. He's like a ray of sunshine, beaming through the skyscrapers of the city and making everyone around him happy just by flashing a single smile. Honestly, you wish you could sneak some of that happiness from him and lock it somewhere safe... so you can save it for a time when you need it most.

"Your timing is impeccable." He laughs, gently placing the keys into the front door lock. "You texted me right as I was rounding the corner."

"I'm telling you, Jimin; we're always on the same wavelength."  Smirking, you make your way through the doors of the cafe, greeted by the warmth that surrounds you like your sheet cocoon did this morning, but accompanied by the smell of fresh coffee. "Except for the fact that you, my friend, are late, so now we only have twenty-eight minutes until opening."

Old, rustic book pages litter the cafe's dark walls, executing the dark academia theme flawlessly. You have to give the interior designers a hand, what with the black stools and high dark wood counters etched with different story pages. You wonder if anyone took the time to read the stories that covered the cafe; maybe the stories moved them in a personal way. Maybe there was a reason why they read them, a part of the butterfly effect of their life.

With a quick survey of the main room, you shuffle into the back to put your belongings away. "You would think it would be less busy on the streets because of the snow," Jimin calls, already working on the first batch of light roast coffee. "But unfortunately for me, that was not the case, and I nearly lost my life multiple times on the way here because of how slick it is."

A laugh emits from your lips, echoing in the backroom as you throw your apron over your head.

You begin with date labeling all of the pastry items, placing them accordingly onto the pastry cart; croissants, muffins, scones, etc. Then, you move onto organizing syrups and setting toppings along the bar where drinks are made. Bar is your personal favorite position-- since you're able to make the drinks… Plus, you're so busy that your shift goes by way faster. The sooner you're done, the sooner you get to go home and sleep.

“All set?” Jimin questions when you finish setting the steaming pitchers next to the espresso machine, tossing the rag he used to wipe down tables into the sanitizer bin. You give him a nod, taking a quick once over of the bar. “Alright,” he claps, “let's do this.”

This morning runs like every Friday morning, busy and fast. The sounds of coffee glasses clinking and the calling of customer names at the hand-off station echoes through the air.

Ahhhh, the scenery in coffee shops; the quiet hush over the room as soft jazz plays over the speakers. It’s soothing, all encompassing, and extremely helpful for motivation… You used to go to a local cafe for homework when you were still in school.

You take a breath, relaxing against the back counter as you overhear a conversation a group of regulars are having. It’s the usual small talk: the weather, families, sharing pictures of recent events. Coming up with questions of the day for customers becomes easier after knowing their stories, so you subconsciously listen in often.

Because of this, you almost don't notice the man waiting at the register, wholly delved into the neighboring conversation— only looking over when you hear your name called.

"Y/n?"

You turn your head, catching eyes with the stranger behind the counter who holds his credit card ready. The first thing you notice is that he's young, probably around your age, wearing a brown turtleneck and white slacks. His eyes are dark, standing above his perfectly sculpted nose and lips. His hair is dark as well, forehead drowning within the wavy bangs that fall over his eyebrows as he takes you in. To be completely honest, he's probably the most handsome man you've had the pleasure of seeing… is that weird? You don’t know him… maybe that is weird.

The second thing you notice is that he looks completely anxious, hands grasping the edge of the counter like there's a thousand-foot drop below him. Why is he looking straight at you while doing that? Maybe you should call Jimin to take ove-

“Is it really you?” He questions, taking you aback.

"I-" You clear your throat, walking forward to meet him at the register, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

With an intake of breath, he releases the counter as he studies you. Was he… crying? You swear his eyes were not this bloodshot three seconds ago.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?...possibly.

You shake your head slightly, “I… I’m sorry. I don't-"

Wait… is he a regular? You swear you haven't seen him come into the cafe before. Shoot.. What if he is? The number one thing your boss has made perfectly clear: remember the regulars, so they come back and feel at home; recognized. Customer connection was the most important thing at the Academia Cafe… He's probably a regular.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

He's staring at you. Full-on staring, jaw slacked. Shifting uncomfortably in your keds, you eye beside you to see Jimin working away at a macchiato. You consider changing places, nearly walking over to him before the customer speaks again.

"It's- It's Taehyung."

You force a smile, nodding while he continues to stare at you. He seems a bit more hesitant, his eyes looking in different directions but ultimately falling back onto your own. Even if he tried, he couldn't hide the rosy color that spreads onto his cheeks. What was this guy's problem?

"Taehyung! Awesome, well, what can I get for you today?" You chirp, attempting to brighten up your increasing discomfort. He might have mistook you for someone else, you decide, jumping back into your customer service personality: kind and quick to the point.

Taehyung doesn't move, training his eyes on you. You've never had a man's undivided attention before, since boyfriends were never an option. When you were a teenager, you stayed home most of the time in your hometown, and the boys there were all just in it to take your pants off. You avoided them and never really caught their attention, so you can't help the uncomfortable blush that grows on your cheeks. It’s short lived though, your nerves dissolving as soon as you notice a single tear fall onto the front of his shirt.

Oh. Okay, he’s definitely crying.

"Sir..." You begin, leaning in closer to avoid drawing attention. "Is everything alright?"

"I…" The shake in his voice is evident as he puts his credit card back into his wallet, still refusing to break eye contact. “Excuse me." Without another word, he turns on his heel and rushes towards the exit, clocking a customer in the shoulder in his rush. He apologizes quickly, bowing to them before glancing behind to make eye contact with you once more.

You wish you could read minds, wondering what the hell is going through his brain… but you notice the tiniest gleam of a hopeful smile that hides on his lips.

And then he’s gone.

“I swear it was the strangest thing, Jimin.” You speak nervously, tugging at the strings of your apron and lifting it over your head. It had been busy all day, despite a quick thirty minute break when everyone had left and the cafe was suddenly a deserted island. You appreciated the busyness, it made your shift go by faster. Right now, all you wanted to do was go home, eat a fat bowl of icecream and distract yourself from the events of today with a movie. Thank God your shift was over.

“Maybe he thought you were someone else?” Jimin insists, taking a bite into the extra Blueberry Muffin you’d accidentally heated when you were distracted by the events that occurred earlier.

“Yeah? Well, I must be the spitting image because he was totally freaked out.”

“You never know, y/n. Or, maybe he just used that as an excuse to talk to you.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, throwing your rolled up apron at him harshly before you grab your belongings.

“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious. This guy looked like he had seen his ex… He was crying. I don’t think he was into me.”

“Maybe his eyes were watering from the cold wind?” He offers.

“Enough to cry actual tears?” You scoffed, “C’mon Jimin.”

He shrugs defensively, picking up his things so the two of you can head out a few minutes earlier than usual. Whenever the baristas have a chance to leave early, they take it. “If he comes back, then ask him: hey, dude, what’s your deal?”Jimin works his way through the cafe, throwing an excess chair upside down onto the table with the rest of them.

You hold your hand above your heart, which is still beating at a faster pace due to this discussion. Can hearts even beat this fast? This can’t be healthy… “Oh wow, you have such a way with words. That definitely won’t make him feel uncomfortable!”

Yes. Sarcasm coping mechanism.

“Y/n.” Jimin meets you at the door and puts his hands on your shoulders, making extra sure he has your attention. “Go home. Don’t think too much into it… He was probably high or something and mistook you for his ex that dumped him and now he’s moping through the city and getting into all sorts of trouble and he’ll forget that he even came here tomorrow morning. Okay?”

You nod slowly, exiting the cafe with Jimin on your tail. "Don't worry, y/n." Jimin adds, "He probably won't even come back." He locks the door and gives you one last thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction, calling out at the last second. “See you tomorrow!”

The forced smile on your face appears again (looks like this was a regular occurrence today), waving him goodbye.

Yeah… tomorrow.

Jimin was right. The handsome crying stranger was probably never coming back.

It has been a few weeks since you met him for the first time. Now, it feels like a distant memory. He hadn’t shown up to the cafe the day after the encounter, or the day after that, or the day after that, and eventually you’d come to the conclusion that he was probably never going to show his face again out of pure embarrassment. You can’t say you blame him. You’d be embarrassed too if you stared at and cried over a random stranger.

Still, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment... You'd kind of hoped you could figure out what his problem was, maybe ease his mind a little if you really did look like a past lover. You would make sure he knew that it wasn't you. What if he was avoiding the cafe because he literally thought you were someone else? Great… now you just feel bad.

"Y/n? Are you listening?" Jimin beckons over the phone.

"Huh? What?" You bounce back to reality, the soft comforter of your bed lying beneath you as you stare out the window. Thanks to your wonderful apartment search, you have a beautiful view of the city. Jimin had helped you find a place when you first moved here. The two of you had met when you visited to check out the first apartment options; he even took you out for a drink afterward to celebrate the first days' completion. Jimin had immediately clicked with you, as he does with everyone-- he was the kind of person to make friends insanely quickly. He must've been super popular in high school... unlike you.

"Y/n Y/l/n. I am giving you a chance to meet more people, and you're not even listening to me!" He cries, a light smack coming from the other end (probably from him slamming his hand on the table).

"Okay, okay-- I'm sorry. I'm listening now; what's up?"

With a deep sigh, he speaks again. "Party. My house. Tonight. It's not gonna be wild, don't worry... it's just a get-together with some of my friends, and you can have a few drinks if you would like to."

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you look over towards the clock on your nightstand. 5:00. "I don't know..." You begin, the bed shifting as you raise into a seated position. "I have to work tomorrow morn-"

"Already got your shift covered." He deadpans.

"What??"

"I already got your shift covered, so you have no excuse."

This sly guy.

"Who covered it?" You question, setting the audio to speaker-phone as you rummage through old text messages you haven't gone through (to prep for your "thank you for covering my shift" text message).

“Jin.” Noted.

“So…” Jimin continues, “are you coming?”

You can't even remember the last time you met new people, let alone gone to a party. Parties weren't necessarily your thing, especially with your busy schedule of workdays and auditions-- you just never had the time. You should be excited, right?

Well, you aren't.

"Jimin, I don't know… I'm not really a huge fan of parties." You mumble over the phone, picking at the lone string that popped out of its stitch on your comforter.

"Y/n, it's a small get-together, and it's not gonna be that kind of party. Believe me; it'll be really chill. It's just me, you, a few other coworkers, and some friends from my journalism class."

You chew at your bottom lip, looking over at your closet to see a single green cocktail dress that you hadn't worn in years. The memory of the dress was a good one… you had just finished up curtain call for The Addams Family and wore that dress to the after-party. It's a short sleeve, layered green dress that flows just over your knees, the same color sash tying the waist in a floppy bow. You blush at the memory of winning best dressed.

A pause, “Okay.” You conclude. “I’ll go.”

Jimin was honest about how chill it would be; soft music plays in the background as the group sits around the table playing cards. A basketball game is playing on the TV, desperate for attention as a player scores a 3-pointer, but no one is watching. Shuffling of cards is the only sound heard in the room as the game continues.

The atmosphere is calm… quiet…

“BULLSHIT.”

The immediate crumble of everyone’s mood causes the loud “HELL YEAH” that makes you jump in your seat.

"And that is how it's done, Ladies and Gentlemen." Jungkook (your fellow coworker) claps, his smile brighter than the sunset that seeps through the curtains on the opposite side of the room.

"And that's on cheating!" Jimin picks up the cards in the center of the table, gathering them clumsily back into a pile.

"It's called having skill," Jungkook replies, holding his hands up as he smirks at his opponents.

"No, it's called luck." Yoongi finalizes as he puts his hand of cards down on the table with a roll of his eyes. You haven’t met Yoongi before until tonight. He’s one of Jimin's friends from Journalism Class.

When you arrived, you decided to sit out of this round and learn to play before joining the game-- knowing you; you would've been crushed within the first minutes of playing. Card games weren’t exactly a skill of yours— board games on the other hand were where it’s at! That, and charades. For the sake of the party, a card game didn’t sound too bad this time around— so you poke at Jimin to give you the hand as he serves cards for everyone else.

“Wait, wait, wait—“ Jimin pauses, his hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his phone. “Hello?”

“I’m not Irish, so does luck really count?” Jungkook questions in a hushed whisper, nudging Yoongi in the side.

“Oh hey...yeah... it’s apartment 205.” Jimin continues.

“You’re so funny, Jk. Maybe you’ll actually become successful if you choose stand-up comedy rather than becoming a musician.” Yoongi replies nonchalantly, his cat-like eyes staring at the abandoned pile of cards before he seems to come to the decision to shuffle them himself. He gives you a small smile when you hold your hand out to signal that you’re joining in this round.

“Mhm, you can just walk on in! Doors unlocked… okay.. alright, see ya in a minute.” When Jimin's phone is down, Yoongi passes a hand of cards to him.

“Think you can beat me, Y/n?” Jungkook asks,”Since apparently these four can’t?” He motions to Yoongi and Jimin, glancing at the other two players of the game: Hoseok (Jimins other classmate) and his girlfriend, Faith.

“I think I can.” You say, smirking at the determined expression on Jungkooks face. Even if you weren’t very fond of card games, there was one thing you were even less fond of: losing.

“Mmm, might want to rethink that, but okay.” Jungkook replies. The two of you are death staring when the sound of the front door creaking open catches the attention of everyone else at the table. Jimin shoots out of his chair.

“Taehyung!”

You freeze.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?... possibly.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

"It's- It's-."

“Taehyung, you just missed me creaming everyone in bullshit.” Jungkook boasts. Your eyes are glued to the side of Jungkook's head, not daring to make eye contact with the source of your nerves the past few weeks.

“Oh did I?” The familiar, deep voice utters.

Okay.. you can’t help but look…

Holy—it’s actually him.

Immediate regret sinks into your soul when you see him. God, he’s even handsomer than you remember. A white woolen sweater hangs over a pair of his black pants, matched with white sneakers and accenting the head of dark wavy hair you’d been thinking about since you last saw him.

“Yep!” Jungkook continues. “And now Y/n’s about to get shitfaced too.”

The moment his eyes swiftly glance your way is the moment you crumble and turn your head back to Jungkook. You had hoped to make a sly remark, something along the lines of “in your dreams,” but you’re caught breathless from the tension in the room. The tension only the two of you are aware of. He must be tense too, right?

“I wouldn’t underestimate her.” You hear out of Taehyung's mouth, stealing a look at his face once more. He’s smirking at Jungkook, hanging his coat on the hook beside yours, oblivious of the way you’re basically dissecting his every move.

“Have you met Y/n?” Jimin questions, provoking Taehyung's eyes to fall back onto yours. This time, you don’t look away.

He doesn’t answer right away, making you more nervous than you should be— the silence deafening as you make to explain, “We-“

“No.” He states plainly, cutting you off. An innocent smile plays on his lips as he looks at Jimin and places his messenger bag beside the door.

No? Uhhh, was he not the guy who pretended to know who you were and cried in front of you without even explaining why? Nope, it’s definitely him.

“I’m Taehyung.” He calls in your direction, offering you a boxy smile and a small nod, “Don’t let Jungkook fool you. A girl pinched him when we were in grade school. He barely lasted five seconds before running away screaming.” Taehyung moved to the table, sitting beside the man he just brutally embarrassed.

“That girl was terrifying. She was way taller than all the other sixth graders. It was an unfair situation.” Jungkook protested, sinking in his chair as he shuffled the cards he held in his hand.

You couldn’t help but stare dumbly at Taehyung. Was he embarrassed of his outburst at the cafe that he just hopes you forgot about him? You guess you didn’t exactly meet each other, other than a few words exchanged before he disappeared out the door. He probably doesn’t want his friends to know about what happened. Or did he not recognize you and completely forgot about the whole ordeal?

Okay, it’s fine… totally fine.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” you laugh, “no more coming in late, Jk. Or I’ll have to pinch you.”

Jungkook merely rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. You see the crinkle in Taehyung's eyes as he laughs, the boxy smile taking root on his face again… a smile you’ve begun to enjoy the look of.

Hey. Snap out of it. This guy is so confusing. That’s a red card.

You straighten up in your seat, catching Jimin's attention when you move towards the kitchen, motioning with your hand to signal that you’re getting another drink. You have a feeling you’re gonna need some more alcohol to get through the evening.

Jimins place is clean, every knick knack placed neatly where it belongs; accompanied by the smell of potted plants that he keeps by his windows. Little name tags are attached to the plant stems: Flo, Sprout, Bob. He names his plants. Sweet.

He, like you, has a great view of the city too, a mid-size window perched above his breakfast nook where a small potted plant (quotabley named “bean”) grows. The city is bustling below as you reach for a beer, shrugging off the fact that you hate beer, but at least the taste will distract you from Tae-

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice call from the kitchen archway. When you turn you nearly drop the bottle out of your hand. Taehyung gives you a soft smile.

“Hey! Uh.. did you want a beer, or are you a wine guy?” You question, cringing at how much higher your voice sounds at his close proximity.

“I— Sorry, neither.” He starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he makes his way around the island. “I uh- I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nod slightly, “Yeah of course… what’s up?”

“Um,” he’s nervous, you notice. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole thing at the cafe a few weeks ago.. I was— not in the right state of mind.” He meets your eyes hesitantly, “you just look like someone I know from a long time ago and it kind of.. took me by surprise, I guess.”

Jimin was right. You offer him a smile, shaking your head in disbelief, “You know what, I truly thought that was the reason… It’s totally fine. I’m not who you think I am, by the way.”

A flicker of something crosses his features at your comment, something you can’t quite pick up, but he changes it quickly to a smirk. “Obviously.” He laughs, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.. I’m not weird, I swear.”

“Mmm, that’s what they all say.” You tease.

He laughs, a soft sound that you want to hear over and over again. “You’ve got me there.” He takes a pause, placing his hands on the island countertop. “Let’s start over? If that’s okay? I didn’t want to mention it when I came in because I wanted us to have a fresh start.”

You push down the questioning thought of who this woman he mistook you for was, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. “That’s totally okay.. clean slate?”

“Clean slate.” He finalizes.

“Straightforward,” You add, “I like it.”

He gives you a warm smile, the same edge in the way he looks at you dances in his eyes before he breaks it off, sliding the bottle of beer out of your own hand. “Actually, I think I will have a beer. You don’t seem like a beer drinker, anyway.” He turns quickly, smirking at you before striding out of the room. “Thanks, Y/n!”

Protestations die on your lips as he disappears from the room, your beer along with him. How rude. You can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you turn back to the cupboard, skipping the beer and pouring yourself a second glass of wine. You weren’t a beer drinker, after all.

Although you weren’t one for parties, you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were having a good time. No, a great time. All of you are seated in Jimins living room; a plate of chips sits on the coffee table, which was the hot spot of the night (considering there’s hardly any remaining). Others in the group still have a glass of alcohol in their hands, the tipsiness evident by the slurring of their words. You had stopped yourself after half of your second glass, playing it safe since you still have to walk home after the party. You weren’t much of a drinker anyway-- your family history being the root of this decision.

It isn’t the games that made the night this enjoyable, or the food, or the movie that is currently playing over Jimin's television (which, by the way, is Moulin Rouge, because half of the room enjoys musicals, and the other half enjoys regular movies. So, you decided to settle on a movie musical). None of that matters, except the fact that you’ve never felt this carefree in a long time.

For one night, you can put aside your cafe job, auditions, and never-ending to-do lists and just have fun. Real fun. Even in the audition rooms, it has never been fun for you. It’s been nerve-wracking to a fault and always ends with a “thank you for taking the time, but we’ve decided not to accept you this time around,” or a callback, which ultimately concludes with the same grueling fate.

But this is different.

This is a group of people who genuinely want to spend time with you and get to know you… with no “not this time’s” or open-ended questions.

Especially with Taehyung. You’re surprised at how quickly the two of you seemed to hit it off, despite the awkward introduction. Now, it feels like he’s known you for years… in the best way. You’re comfortable talking to him, chatting together during the movie about the plot points or songs you find specifically endearing. You had initially planned to sit next to Jimin… but ended up next to Taehyung on the couch.

It just happened.

He enjoys musicals as well, you learn. Maybe not as much as you do, but at least he doesn’t despise them. He’s one of Jimin’s friends from their shared art class. He loves the color brown. His favorite food is watermelon. He does illustrations for Jimins journalism projects (which, in your opinion, are exceptional from the photos he showed you during the movie while the others were engulfed in the film). He wishes to pursue traveling journalism, where he draws what he sees rather than taking pictures. His whole aura is warm… like a heated blanket that envelopes you whole when you feel him shift beside you on the sofa. A small reminder that he’s still there.

Okay, you’re liking his presence way too much.

He finds romance movies corny but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. This, the reason why he agreed to watch Moulin Rouge despite the cheesiness in the beginning. In the end, it was anything but cheesy.

"Well, that was stupid." Jungkook scoffs, slamming the remote onto the neighboring loveseats' armrest. The once loud room filled with music is now quiet from the after-effects of the movie.

“I told you it was sad!” Jimin exclaims. The two of you had seen this movie before in theatres… and this was nothing compared to how the ending hit the first time. “Y/N was nearly choking. She was crying so hard when we saw it.”

An immediate blush rises onto your cheeks as you shake your head in defiance, trying to hide the tears that had been stinging your eyes for the last thirty minutes. “Who wouldn’t cry at that??”

“Taehyung probably didn’t. He never cries.” Hoseok deadpans. Ha. You can’t help but remember the tear that ran down his face in the cafe… He never cries?

With a quick look over your shoulder, you find that Taehyung is no longer seated on the couch. When did he get up? You attempt to shrug off your curiosity, pivoting back towards the chip table where only sad little crumbs remain. You were worrying way too much over a man you quite literally just met tonight… even if it felt like you’ve known him for much longer.

Taehyung eventually reappeared, stating that he had to use the bathroom— you ignored the fact that it took him a solid 30 minutes to get back to the party. It wasn’t your place to ask any questions, especially since he lifted a smile onto his face the second he reentered the room. See, y/n… nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t long before you insisted you head home, knowing that you’d curse yourself in the morning if you stayed out past the sunrise. If you did, you’d sleep through tomorrow, and that would be awful. You’ve done this a few times… and every time, you felt like you had wasted an entire year of your life.

You move to grab your purse and jacket, which are hanging comfortably on the hook beside the front door. With a small smile, you bid everyone goodnight— smiling as they resume a card game around the table at one o’clock in the morning. It’s nice to know that the group of you hit it off… now; you can look forward to plenty of get-togethers in the future.

Your mind is bustling with all kinds of ideas: picnics in central park, late-night broadway shows, hangouts at the caf-

“Y/n!” The soft calling of Taehyung's voice causes you to halt near the exit, turning on your heel to see him jogging towards you. He had haphazardly thrown his jacket over him since it’s still being tugged onto his body as he runs. His hair becomes even more chaotic in his haste… Why do you want to run your hands through it?

“Hey!” You squeak, interrupting your thoughts before they trudged down a guilty road. “What are you doing? Weren’t you going to play another round?”

He gives you a smirk, catching his breath as he holds out your house keys. “You forgot these! You were really moving fast… sick of us already?”

“Wh— oh my god, thank you!” With a quick swipe of your hand, you’re stuffing your keys into your pocket with a grateful smile. “Also, hardly.”

You admire the way his eyes light up at your confession. “Well.. since you don’t want to leave us so quickly.. how about I walk you home?” He seems almost hesitant asking, but you can’t help but applaud him for actually taking the initiative to inquire.

You shake your head, pulling the strap of your purse farther up your shoulder. “You don’t have t-“

“I want to!” He cuts you off quickly, catching you by surprise as he moves past you to open the door. He glances back, taking in your reluctant expression, “It’s not safe this time of night Y/n… You shouldn’t be alone.“

You know he didn't mean anything by that statement… But the idea of someone genuinely caring and not wanting you to be alone makes your heart swell. Jimin cares about your safety of course, but this feels… Different.

This is the reason why you allow him to walk you home.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, like a symphony that beckons you home. You’ve been feeling exhaustion seeping into your bones for the last ten minutes, but Taehyung's occasional brush of his arm as he walks beside you keeps you wide awake. He doesn’t think to apologize for accidentally touching you, but you blame it on the time of night. Delusion.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You question, wrapping your coat tighter around you to kick out the nipping air.

“About a year now,” He responds, shuffling his feet, “though it feels like way longer. You?”

“Three years.”

Taehyung turns his head towards you, eyes wide. “Wow, way to one up me.” With a teasing smile he continues, “You must know this city like the back of your hand.”

The truth is… you don’t. You came here for the sole purpose of making it on Broadway... you never really took the time to focus on anything else. Part of you wishes you had learned more, craved more, wanted more with your life—then you wouldn’t be so miserable when the one thing you do want doesn’t work out. “Yeah… kind of.”

If he hears the somber tone of your voice, he ignores it, turning against the wind as he walks backwards down the sidewalk. “It’s overrated in my opinion.”

You raise your head at this, “Why is that?”

“Everyone here has dreams… and those dreams get crushed more often than not.” He shrugs, “No one cares if you want to succeed, only if you already have.”

You stare at him for a moment, awestruck by the weight of his words. “But,” he adds, turning back towards the wind, “the ones who never give up and continue to chase that dream can become successful. Despite all of the no’s they might face, they always hold on till they hear a yes. That sounds like true success to me.”

Turning your head, you stare at the side of his face— admiring the way his hair tosses back a bit against the harsh winter winds. His words hit you way deeper than he probably realized, sinking into your chest with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. You’ve been contemplating recently on whether or not to give up on your dream… that maybe it just wasn’t going to work out for you. You have been trying for so long, and have repeatedly been let down. There was no way Taehyung could have known, which is why his words hit you as hard as they did. Despite the hardships, you’ve been here for three years and you’ve never given up or stopped trying to chase your dream.

That was an achievement, right?

“To be honest… I've heard a lot of no’s in my three years of being here.” You speak softly, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Sometimes it feels like there will never be a yes… but here I am. At least I'm still working— at a coffee shop, not on the stage.”

“It’s admirable that you keep going.” Taehyung glances at you over his shoulder. “It makes you different from a lot of people who have left the city when they faced failure. It’s something to be proud of. Plus, coffee shop or big stage, you’re in New York City and pursuing your gift. It’s special.”

When your eyes meet, you smile at him, feeling a sense of victory the longer you hold his gaze.

“Don’t give up, Y/n. No matter what.” He speaks genuinely, leaning towards you to nudge you gently on your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his playfulness, giving him a nudge in return before your eyes downcast to your winter boots. The snow on the ground is fresh, powdery and sticking to the toes of your shoes. “Plus,” He adds, sucking in the chilly air, “you've got what others don’t have…”

This time when you meet his eye he has a serious expression, making sure he has your full attention as you round the corner towards your apartment building. His gaze is genuine, captivating… and a part of you hopes that the close proximity of your apartment wouldn’t cut this moment short. Finally, he speaks.

“You have passion.”

Taehyung's words weigh on you for the rest of your night. It started off as something simple, looking up audition songs for an upcoming off-broadway show your agent was telling you about. Then, you went to learning it. After that, putting on makeup. And finally, completely forgetting about your sleep schedule and filming an entire audition tape in your room at 2 in the morning (and you were belting… your poor neighbors). It wasn’t until four that you finally turned in for the night, not bothering to take off your makeup or get changed-- simply falling onto your pillow and blacking out the moment you hit it. You were definitely sleeping the next day away… but at that moment, you didn’t mind. Having a day off from your busy schedule wouldn’t be so bad.

“I sent in an audition tape two nights ago.” You speak confidently, wiping down the back counter that’s littered with coffee grounds. They stick to the rag like glue, tiny dots scattered along its white surface. If it weren’t for your apron,

and your expertly rolled up white turtleneck sweater, you would look alot like this rag right now.

“Did you?” Jimin questions from the bar, sleeving the cup before placing it on the handoff counter.

“Christopher! Medium cappuccino!” He calls, multitasking while he cranes his neck to still hear you.

“I did. I feel really good about this one..” You add, meeting him beside the bar as he lifts the pitcher up and down to create the latte-art of a flower in the center of the mug. You have tried sooooo many times to make latte art… and every time it ended up looking like a glob. A big, distorted snowball. Jimin was the master of latte art, always finishing it off beautifully with a whip of his wrist. The foam atop telling a story. “It was so late-- I was totally out of it… and yet I actually enjoyed myself while filming it. I just imagined being there.. In center stage.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/n!” He smiles, turning to place the hot mug next to the cappuccino.

“Caleb! Medium caramel latte!”

He was only half listening to you. The cafe was bustling, so it truly wasn’t Jimin's fault that he was sidetracked— but nothing could hold back the small smile that played at the edge of your lips. You had actually enjoyed singing for the first time in a while.. all because of Taehyung's Academy Award winning pep talk. Who knew that all you needed was for someone to tell you like it is. With a minuscule smile, you turn back towards the counter and lift the latte you’d whipped up this morning to your lips. Your distorted snowball is fully on display at the top.

Despite the busyness, the front register is deserted, giving you time to think for a moment about the pep talk... or rather, the person who gave you it.

“I think Taehyung likes you.” Jimin deadpans.

Uhhh… You nearly spit out your snowball at that— clearing your throat as you set it down slowly onto the wooden countertop. He speaks as if this is a natural conversation starter… it’s not.

“I’m sorry?” You croak.

“Taehyung.” He repeats, turning his head in your direction with a knowing smirk. “I think he likes you.”

You give him a scoff of disbelief, watching as yet another group of regulars enter through the door. “That’s not true, he just doesn’t know me… so he made an effort to talk to me.” If you weren’t studying the group, you would've seen Jimin giving you a scrutinized look.

So, now you have his attention.

“Y/n. It’s so obvious… He spent the entire night talking to you, he left moments after you did to give you your keys and he never came back. If that isn’t someone who’s interested, I don’t know what is.” Jimin is an expert at multitasking, finishing off two drinks at the same time and calling them out.

“Well, Jimin, when people don’t know each other, they get to know each other. It’s this thing called talking and becoming friends.” The sentence hangs in the air as the doorbell chimes, signaling that yet another customer has entered the cafe and into the swarm of regulars, but the two of you disregard the sound and continue on through your bickering.

“I’m just saying, Taehyung doesn’t usually talk to girls.” Jimin adds, wiping his hands off on the white rag seated beneath his espresso machine. “Even if they wanted his attention, he didn’t give it to them. I mean— he’s nice to girls, don’t get me wrong.. but he’s never talked to them like he did with you on game night. I don’t think he’s dated anyone since he got here.”

“He’s career driven.” You say quickly.

If you thought his smirk couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. “Yeah, girls don’t know that about him— meaning he told you, and not other girls.” Jimin deadpans.

You stare blankly at him. There’s no way. No way that a guy as attractive as Taehyung would even think about looking at you like that. There’s just no way. You’ve never had a boyfriend... or even a guy friend, until Jimin. Eventually, you’d accepted the fact that maybe you just weren’t that interesting. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough. Maybe you couldn’t flirt…. okay, you definitely couldn’t flirt— but that’s besides the point.

“He’s not interested in me.” You conclude.

“He is.” Jimin counters.

“He’s not.”

“He so is.”

“He’s so not.”

“Y/n. I swear to you. He’s interested and you need to shoot your shot.” He whisper-screams, throwing the rag in his hand onto the bar.

“Taehyung is not-“

A clearing of someone’s throat from beyond the register cuts your argument short, nearly making you lose your balance when you see who the source was.

You’re fairly certain you’ve turned pale.

Taehyung stands in front of you, eyeing between the two of you with an awkward expression. God, how long has he been standing there? “I figured I should step in before the two of you start fist fighting.”

“Hey!” The shrill of your voice causes you to wince.

“Hey.” He says with a smile, folding his arms in front of him and raising his eyes to the menu above your head. You can’t help the glare you send towards Jimin, who's notably holding back his laughter as he moves to the blender, the station farthest from the register. Ridiculous.

“What can we get for you?” You ask routinely, trying not to make it obvious that you were just talking about him… and praying that he wasn’t there to hear what the two of you were talking about.

“Hmm…” He looks especially good today, wearing a brown, long coat and a brown plaid scarf around his neck. He wasn’t kidding when he said his favorite color was brown, that’s for sure. It suits him. His hair is wavy, flowing to a point just under his eyebrows with a split off center, giving you the tiniest glimpse of his forehead. “How about an americano with hazelnut, and some cream?”

“We can do that for ya!” You have to force yourself to stop looking at him, pressing the buttons to ring up his order before you forget. You nearly overlook ringing up the hazelnut syrup. Why were you so dazed? He’s already placed his credit card into the chip reader, but your foggy brain asks anyway. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” He speaks as you move towards the bar beside the register. Grabbing an empty pitcher, you pour the milk inside and reach for the steamer. He drops a dollar into the tip jar, not giving you enough time to thank him for the unnecessary effort before he speaks again. “Are you free later?”

NEXT CHAPTER

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[writefandoms]

The Outfit

Levi x Female!Reader

Summary: You buy Levi a new outfit to wear during sexy times🥴 (NSFW, blowjobs)

Word Count: 2.1k

“What was that?”

The short captain scowled at your cocky expression, embarrassment mixing with anger in eyes.

“You heard me, dumbass.” Not being able to hold eye contact, his steel orbs wander to the wall beside him.

Being on Levi’s squad had a lot of advantages, it was well known that the Great Captain Levi chose only the best of the best for his team. So many cadets and new recruits looked up to you because of your skills. On top of that you were one of the only women on his squad, besides Petra. You couldn't help but feel pride when young girls would say you were their inspiration.

But that’s besides the point, your skill was enough to catch the might Captain’s eye. And after late nights of drinking and occasionally crying, you built a good relationship with the shorty. A relationship that turned into something less pure.

Now, the usually stoic and cold captain, is standing before you looking like a nervous teenager confessing his love to his crush.

“Sorry couldn’t hear you, Captain. Could you repeat that please?” The glint in your eyes didn’t match your innocent tone.

As much as he scoffs and glares, Levi loves this part of you. He sucked his teeth before staring straight at you, “I’ll wear the stupid dress.”

You knew what he was going to say, but making him say it himself only added to the satisfaction of cracking his armor.

“Oh? Why did you change your mind?” He obviously didn’t like the teasing because he swiftly turned around and stomped away, you could hear him muttering under his breath.

“I’ll see you later, Captain,” You call out to his fleeting form.

The clock ticked loudly throughout your empty room. Time always moved so slowly when you had to wait. Sitting in a sofa chair besides your bed, your boot taps against the wood floor. He was a clean freak, so he was definitely showering or something after such a long day.

It wasn’t much longer until you heard three light taps on your door, making you shake with anticipation.

Taking a deep breath you called for them to enter, trying to hide your excitement but probably failing horribly.

Your beloved Captain walks in, shutting the door behind him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Smirking at his poor attempt at seeming bored you retort, “As I recall, you’re the one who said they wanted to do this.” Leaning back in your chair you cross your legs, “If you don’t want this then leave, you know I would never force you into anything you don’t want.”

Levi knew what you were doing, while you loved riling him up, consent was key in any healthy relationship. Ticking filled the room once again as Levi stayed glued to his spot by the door.

“Good. Lock the door.” A small clicking of the door locking followed quickly. He remained at the door awaiting further instruction.

“Back of the bottom drawer.” You pointed towards your dresser, watching as his small form moved swiftly across your room.

He crouched and opened the drawer, “Do you just throw your clothes in here?” he complains.

“Just keep looking.” You roll your eyes as he grumbles as he probably fights the urge to re-fold all your clothes.

You knew he found what he was looking for when he went completely silent. Standing up once again, this time with a black and white clump of fabric in his hand. He pinches a shoulder in each hand and lets the ruffled dress unravel.

He scans the outfit for a moment. It’s adorable in your opinion, him and the maid outfit. You were shopping with your squad mates when you saw the dress.

A black dress with a white trim that connects with a short black skirt, a white apron tied around the waist, and a pair of thigh high white socks. There were cute little black bows on the sleeves.

You couldn’t stop the dirty thoughts from attacking your brain and crotch, imagining Levi wearing such a sexy outfit. Not wanting to chance someone else taking it, you purchased it right then, jokingly bringing it up to Levi a couple days ago. But it seems that seed only grew in the Captain's dirty mind.

“You like it?” Now standing behind him peering over his shoulder, worrying that he might not like the style.

“It’s not wrinkled like all your other clothes.” That’s a yes, you grin.

Pressing your chest against his back, your arms wrap around his waist. “You’re gonna look so perfect.” He shutters as you kiss a trail down his neck.

“Now go get dressed.” Pulling away he looks at you with a dazed look on his face, only nodding and walking to your personal bathroom.

Once the door fully shut you let out a small squeal of joy, unable to contain yourself any longer. Nothing is more attractive than a man who isn’t consumed by his own pride. Of course a man can be masculine, live your life however you want, but when it becomes the end all be all then it’s an issue.

Being comfortable with your body is an attractive quality, one that Levi most certainly doesn’t lack. This fact is only solidified when he exits the bathroom, maid outfit wrapped snugly around his form.

His normally small waist was more apparent with the apron tied around him, his hips appeared larger due to the flare of the black skirt. Underneath the skirt revealed his smooth pale thighs. That soft skin on both sides of your head, gently squeezing you as you worked him to the edge with your mouth. That’s a feeling you're all too familiar with.

Unfortunately, the remainder of his legs are covered by a thin white material. Disappointment quickly fades as you take in the white stockings on his slender legs, somehow the extra piece of cloth made the outfit feel more lewd.

“My eyes are up here,” he snaps at you as your eyes begin to linger to unholy places, “Stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

“Aw, but you look so beautiful it’s hard not to stare.” His cheeks turn pink at your compliment, but doesn’t respond.

“I gave you a compliment,” you place a finger under his chin tilting his head back, giving him a faux look of sadness. “So what do you say?”

His eyes widen at the authoritative tone in your voice, legs unconsciously squeezing together. “T-thank you…”

Hearing Levi stutter is a rarity that blesses you more than anyone in the Survey Corps. He is clearly struggling to maintain his composure.

You’ve only touched his chin and he’s already turning red and pulling his skirt to hide his growing bulge.

“Of course,” pulling your hand away, you swear he chases after your touch before controlling himself and remaining still. “Now I have a few ideas about how we can spend the night.” You sit back on your sofa chair, motioning for him to approach you.

He takes a few steps until his legs are touching yours. Spreading your legs, pulling him closer, his knees bump into the front of your chair. Hands gripping his elbows slowly sliding down to hold his hands.

Leaning forward, you rest your chin against his chest peering up at him. Due to his short stature, he’s only about a foot taller than you, when you’re sitting down. Pupils blown out, pink cheeks, and racing pulse. All telltale signs of your captains excitement.

“You’re beautiful.” Silver eyes widen a touch, clearly not expecting the praise. Quickly masking his surprise, he rolls his eyes and scoffs.

Chuckling slightly at the man's childish behavior, you release one of his hands. Fingers dancing along the front of his dress, the light touches making him press his lips together to prevent any sounds from escaping.

“So sensitive tonight, Levi.” Before he can retort, your fingers pinch his right nipple.

He arches into you, a small gasp followed by a low moan as you twist the hardening bead between your fingers.

“And so cute.”

“Shut… Aah… up.”

“Let’s take this to the bed, yeah?” He pulls away and goes to sit on your bed. You take a moment to take off your boots, knowing he’ll throw a fit if he sees you wearing shoes in bed.

Levi’s sitting at the foot of the bed, with his legs dangling over the side. Such an innocent position gives you the nastiest idea.

Rounding the bed, you sit on your knees on the ground in front of him.

“What the hell are you doing? You know how filthy that floor is?” His endless questions are silenced when you place a hand on his knee, slowly moving upwards.

“I thought I’d give you a little appetizer before we got to the main course.” Grinning widely you place your other hand on his other thigh, “Well I guess I’ll be the only one eating.”

“Such a shitty joke…” You lift up the front of his skirt, only to find he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. A very welcomed surprise.

“Boxers would have looked weird.” He’s looking off to the side, clearly sensing your next question.

For someone who seemed so against the idea, he was actually worried about ruining the aesthetic?

But you keep your teasing to yourself, not wanting to make him stomp off. You let his skirt fall back over his thighs.

Leaning forward, he shudders at the gentle trail of kisses as your lips travel up his stocking clad knees. Moving higher with each kiss, closer to the exposed skin of his thigh. Kisses turn into love bites, leaving a trail of crescent indentions and saliva along the inside of his thigh.

It only takes a few touches and his dick is already straining against the ruffled material. Instead of holding the skirt up, you opt to just throw it over your head, hiding your face from Levis' line of vision.

“Hey- Ah!” Your fingers wrap around his cock, giving it a slow jerk. Already drops of precum leak from it’s reddened tip.

“Ahh!” He moans above you, sounds slightly muffled from the layers of clothing above you.

Speeding up your jerking, you lean closer towards his dick and give it a few licks. All the way up the shaft, reveling in the slight quivers of his thighs. Parting your lips you take in the tip, giving it a light suck. Levi lets out a loud groan above you, his hand now on the top of your head.

His noises only encourage you to move your head faster, taking him deeper in your mouth. Obscene noises fill your ears and mix with his moans of pleasure.

Swirling your tongue around his tip, the salty precum hits the back of your throat the more you suck. His thighs spasm, squeezing tightly around your head. An obvious sign that he won’t last another minute.

Pulling him out of your mouth with a wet pop, you push the skirt off from over your head.

“It was so hot down there-” You cut yourself off once you caught sight of his expression.

His face was beyond hot. He looked absolutely fucked.

A thin layer of sweat covered his face, redness across his cheeks and ears, and a trail of drool trailing down his chin.

Although you just had his dick in your mouth, the look on his face is what makes you clench your thighs together. A familiar wetness building between your legs.

Standing up so quickly, you got a bit of a head rush. Levi jumps at your sudden movement, looking up at your hungry gaze. He bends his knees and pushes himself backwards up the bed. You follow after him, crawling on your knees towards him.

“I can’t wait to fucking destroy you.” You can see him visibly shiver at your dominant tone.

“Then hurry up…” He demands, a slight tremble in his voice.

Oh god. This man will be the death of me.

Pressing a palm against his chest, you push him down to lay against the pillows.

“Relax, baby.” The small resistance he meets you with melts at your words, “Let me take care of you.”

Laying flat on your stomach, you move his legs so they’re bent over your shoulders.

“Comfortable?” He shifts his hips down a bit before nodding. “Good. Remember two taps to stop.”

The heels of his feet dig into your back, pulling you closer to his torso. A silent plea to shut up and make him forget all his worries.

“Okay, okay!” So pushy, shorty.” He glares but says nothing, as you lift the front of the skirt.

“Now be a good Captain, and keep your voice down.” He grunts as you take the leaking tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Pulling away with a ‘pop’, fingers wrapping around his shaft jerking at a quick pace.

“We don’t wanna wake our comrades, do we?”

I hope this 2k word self-indulgent fanfic of Levi in a maid outfit makes up for my month absence☺️ Please tell me what y’all think❤️

[ravenadottir]

What do you think Kassam’s route would have been like if he had been one of the og boys, and how would his character have developed

my guy, i think i had a braingasm the moment i saw this ask! this is such a cool galaxy brain question, i can’t even...

‘cause i think so much about the possibility of kassam as an og, it’s actually ridiculous!! but in order to put him on day 1, i would have to put one of the boys in casa amor, and i’m choosing gary. that’s because lottie is gonna take interest in kassam right away. let me organize these thoughts in order of happenings in the villa...

♪ when mc steps outside, he’s lowkey interested, but he keeps his hands behind his back, only giving her a nod, accompanied by a smirk, when she says hi.

♪ “if any of you fancy me, please step forward.” kassam would be discreetly stepping forward, shooting her a neutral look, since he doesn’t want to come across as desperate, but a wink is also happening.

♪ “why did you step forward, kassam?” “i think we’re gonna hit it off, and you seem like a real sound girl.” bobby would say something like “ha! get it, because he’s a dj!” and laugh, but the prickly boy wouldn’t even look at him, focusing on mc.

♪ if mc chose to couple up with him, he would stand by her side, whispering his conversation, slightly analyzing the other boys.

♪ when lottie struts out, not gonna lie, he’s gonna think she’s attractive, but maybe a little intimidating. i do believe if she stole him (which i very much want to do here, since it’s an o.g kassam route), he’ll be standing next to her, but glancing at mc’s direction.

♪ the truth or dare challenge would probably be the opportunity to send him the picture, but if mc decided to kiss her partner i think that would “scare” kassam a bit. just because i don’t think he’s into p.d.a.

♪ he would have a lot of trouble relating/talking to anyone, because he automatically hates rocco, and for sure has some issues with how much rocco and bobby talk. which leads me to believe he would be closer to noah and ibrahim. (IT’S SO FREAKY TO THINK ABOUT THAT!!).

♪ priya is still gonna steal mc’s partner, which is not a big deal because she’s more interested in kassam than anyone else.

♪ kassam having more time in the villa means he’s also gonna open up to mc, eventually, and i think that’s what i wanted the most in casa amor. something to make us understand why he’s been closed up and extremely on edge at all times, like having the ear tick, the nerves, the quietness, if there’s anything to be talked about, mc would be person he would go to.

♪ music is probably what helps him relax, and right now he’s deprived of that, in every instance, so if the game wanted me to pay gems to bang some pots and do the glasses’ rim trick with him, i would a hundred percent be paying for that!

♪ bobby being musical himself would definitely blossom a connection between them. something that would make him a little fonder of cake boy. “i was wrong to judge you so fast, i guess.” and this could’ve been the “rap gang” throwback to season 1, having kassam doing beats, bobby doing the harmony, probably ibrahim rapping nonsense along with mc, and getting weird lines out of it! i would pay gems every time, i don’t care how much that would cost!

♪ as the recoupling approaches, kassam says he wants to couple up with us, but because bobby and he weren’t so close, the pastry chef has no idea of the dj’s intentions, proceeding to pick us.

♪ bobby’s choice forces kassam to choose between marisol and hannah, and going for the law student would be the obvious pick. but so much more awkward than gary’s was, because kassam wouldn’t try to hide the fact that he’s into someone else.

♪ marisol and kassam would be a friendship couple from the get go, because they have nothing in common, and that would probably make marisol realize her attraction towards rocco earlier.

♪ i do believe kassam would’ve been a cheeky sort, not the type that gary is, but definitely sneaking around to steal a kiss or two. “i don’t know what’s happening to me. i wouldn’t usually do this...” he smiles, almost not noticing it. “... but i feel close to you... it’s weird...”

“wow, kassam, thanks...”

“no, no i don’t mean like that... i’m just not used to it. you’re not the weird part of all this.”

“and what is?”

“me...” he proceeds to laugh uncomfortably.

♪ twitter bingo would have a fact about him, possibly a secret kiss, but it’s not revealed who he had it with.

♪ mr. love island. his “swimsuit” portion would be similar to lucas’, flexing his arms once he gets out of the pool, direct advice from noah, rahim and bobby. his talent would definitely include music in, possibly doing those beatbox tricks with two or three layers of sound... maybe even the low bass voice, which it’s honestly... SO FUCKING HOT. it would be a tough competition. between ibrahim doing the rubik’s cube trick shirtless, and kassam doing this... i don’t think noah or bobby would stand a chance!

♪ roccosol is still happening, and kassam is baffled by how much lottie is lying through her teeth, and shouting about the matter, since she was already talking to him behind rocco’s back. remember the welcome party for lucas and henrik? which would also mean kassam doesn’t take much heat from food/drinks, and that’s funny to me, for some reason!

♪ i do think instead of rahim, kassam would’ve been voted as “least dateable/leaving the show with a girlfriend. not endangered like lucas/henrik/rocco, but definitely voted. mc having the opportunity of the firepit conversation would end up in a kiss, and the angst is just taken on a new level!

♪ the date with him, before the recoupling on day 9, would be the chance we have to get to know him better, maybe having him tell us an embarrassing story about a gig he had. and if it was an ex’s story, even better! we don’t have that from him.

♪ hideaway scene, after the girls’ choice, would have him slightly less confident than he usually is. “i’m really excited to be here with you, i just don’t know exactly what to do.”

“i mean, if you don’t know, i don’t think i can get a biology book here.”

he would probably chuck a pillow in your direction and laugh at your joke. “i’m just nervous, i guess... i’m not used to feeling nervous around girls.”

♪ now! here’s the tricky part of the whole villa plotline in his route. operation nope. if mc went with it, he would end things, loudly and clearly, because he cannot stand betrayal, much less coming from the girl he spent so many days chasing. and he would probably advise MC to tell hope about it before it happened. kassam should be the type that breaks up with you and don’t want you back, later. i would definitely program him to act like that!

♪ drama to him is pointless, especially if it involves other people. he doesn’t see why people are being so out there about things, and definitely doesn’t understand why his girl has to be the one to solve everything. “i understand they’re upset but it’s not your job to fix it.”

♪ chelsea coming in, along with jakub, would irritate him to the extreme. the bomb she drops about him and lottie would have everyone riled up. YES, I WANT KASSAM TO KISS LOTTIE. they were coupled up before and he thinks she’s hot, besides the fact he was insecure about mc being picked by bobby. similar plot line to gary’s, except he might say something like “i had to know if there was anything there.” i really want him to explain himself here, but with short words: “we were coupled up just an hour before the recoupling. i wanted to make sure there was nothing there.”

“and...?” mc asks, staring at him.

he glances at lottie, shrugging. “there isn’t.”

♪ as revenge, mc would go on the date with jakub, resulting in kassam being apprehensive when it comes to talk about his feelings to her. and very angry and jealous, because that’s just who he is!

♪ the news about the recoupling arrive the night priya and hope are having that big fight, and yes, the bathroom scene happens with kassam, but he’s one of the boys that say the line “i want this to mean something to you”.

♪ disaster recoupling gets you both angry, and kassam would, for the first time, raise his voice, questioning jakub and the boy who steals mc. no, he wouldn’t be like the others and only question jakub or no one. at that point, everything is working against him, and just two days after mc finds out about the secret kiss, this is throwing him into a spiral of stress.

♪ casa amor gets everyone pissed off, and everything stays the same, except you get gary instead of kassam, and he’s interested in lottie and mc. (maybe the unicorn route wouldn’t happen). but casa days would’ve been way more interesting because now marisol and lottie are interested in the same guy! and in some cases, mc as well lol NOW, THAT WOULD’VE MADE CASA INTERESTING!

♪ cheeky the way gary is, he’s probably trying to stick with one girl by suggesting a kiss, sharing the bed and etc, but if mc is not interested in him, lottie would probably be torn about bringing him back or not, and marisol would get confused between gary and graham, proceeding to focus on fish boy, later.

♪ coming back from casa amor, kassam is single, and you get bean bags conversation, only with him he says how anxious he was for mc to come back. “i’m just... really glad you’re here. i...” he stammers a bit. “i missed you.”

“did you miss lottie too?” mc would raise her brows, slightly irritated.

“no, of course not! i missed...” realizing she’s being prickly, just like him, he continues. “har, har... very funny.”

“i didn’t think it was funny finding out you kissed her.”

“i wouldn’t think that either... i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.”

♪ the route is pretty much the same from there, except for a couple of moments:

one: the conversation we have with gary, by the pool, is held by kassam, and he talks about anxiety, and how that affected his relationships in the past. he didn’t know how much he missed out because he was too afraid of taking the leap, and he’s glad he’s in a better place now. also, talking about therapy and mental illness in the same tone gary did, with body issues.

two: he would make a comment of how excited he is to write songs about mc, and how much he has been thinking of his journey and the album he’s gonna dedicate to his time there.

♪ asking mc to be his girlfriend would go a little differently, since he’s not the blob of characterization he normally becomes in the game.

♪ he would continue to be prickly, and sarcastic, but his journey would’ve taught him how to trust people more, and the improbable friendships he developed there would go to show just how much he’s opening up, and how it can only get better from there.

♪ his speech, at the prom, would include his friends, mentioning them as the support system he had in there, just like one of the girls do with mc. “my journey wouldn’t have been the same if it wasn’t for you lads. and despite the bad advice i got, i guess everything worked out in the end.”

i really think kassam deserved a spot in the og’s line up, mostly because of how different he is from the other boys. he would probably have a brief friendship with lucas if the physiotherapist stayed, too.

hope this is what you were looking for. thank you so much for this ask!

[sycamorre]

Okay now YOUR Ori/Damak and Ori/Ranna thoughts!!

*cracks knuckles* Time to get wordy.

As a starting point: coming into the campaign, I really debated having Oriana be ace, even though ultimately that is no longer the case for her. However, that uncertainty I had when starting off with her did get a bit incorporated into how she views relationships, particularly with her situation and the whole "hey I've got some celestial thing in my head telling me what to do" bit she's had going on. She never saw herself as someone who would have the ability to settle down because of all that in addition to her just being weird (and potentially a ticking radiant time bomb). Taking care of the people around her and looking out for them? Sure, she's got that handled. Letting her emotions get involved with it any deeper than that? Wait no that's illegal.

So looking at it from that angle, imagine her surprise when Damak openly admits that he finds her attractive (!) and is not joking in any way (!!).

I do love them as a ship, both the narrative/thematic opposites they have going on that create a satisfying foil between them, but also the smooth meshing of personality traits that have made them a good team. They can be ready to kick ass at a moment's notice. Ori can look to him to act as someone to ground herself on, since he can be both serious or humorous depending on what a situation needs, the whole nine yards. And she would very much like to be the one that helps him keep his cool when they get to Fantasy!Russia if nothing else. They could easily be a nice slow burn if we had more time before the inevitable end, but either way I could see them being such a nice, chill ship that feels like a long-established one. Very natural regardless of their differences! The funniest thing to me about the whole thing, though, is that I don't think he was initially on her radar at the beginning. Not just because she was all "no settling down for me" but because they fell into that sort of rivalry so quickly that she figured he wouldn't even think about her like that in passing. But now even she's realizing that yeah, he is attractive even if he likes the cold and she has no idea how to handle any of this besides sweeping it under the rug until she feels like she's allowed to let it out.

Oriana may be giving off a pretty chill air about the whole thing right now, but that's mostly because she has other worries to focus on as a distraction. Inside she's a mess of confusion and emotions. We'll see if she decides to unironically yolo it because she's convinced she's gonna die anyway or take it slow and easy because she's a nervous wreck waiting to happen. We're definitely in the "let's see what happens" stage at the moment.

Ori and Ranna though... That would be such a sweet ship. Basically Ranna used charm and supportive friendship, Ori failed her save and it was super effective! When I realized that Oriana could potentially develop feelings for Ranna, it was too late because oops Damak happened. But! That does not mean I still haven't speculated! I will speculate until the day I die!

You mentioned how much blushing and pining Ranna would do in this situation, but have you considered how much Ori would just... bumble through it all? I could see Ranna doing these grand, romantic gestures (hopefully not in public) and Ori would just cease to function and go tomato red or get all blubbery because no one ever does those kinds of things for her. Ranna’s already been her hype man for the latter portion of the campaign and if this were where their relationship took them, Ori would just make one of her life goals be making sure that Ranna knew she felt just as loved and appreciated, from using her light magic to enhance Ranna’s performances to following her wherever her heart’s desire led them. Gods be damned. This would be a very, very fluff-filled ship. My only reservation is that I don’t know Ranna’s exact age so I can’t pinpoint whether or not these two are on a similar enough maturity level where it would feel natural for them or not since they both have elven blood, but that’s a lesser concern in the grand scheme of things.

And even though it wouldn’t be canon in this campaign, the thought of this ship has actually inspired me to add in a bit to Ori’s backstory that her one significant crush during her training years was a performer from a traveling group that would come during spring/summer festivals at the villages around the monastery. So now that would potentially add even more to this ship if it were ever a part of an AU or something along those lines.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme Chapter 18

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 1286

Summary: It’s time for a difficult discussion about Grace

by @adventuresintooblivion

Y/N could hardly breathe as Thomas looped his arm around your waist. Even as her body instinctively reacted to his touch, all she could think about was what lay ahead. Her mind swam with a million possibilities until her thoughts became a dull roar. 

“Thomas, I need to tell you something.” Y/N took a shaky breath.

She watched as his features smoothed over in the classic Shelby fashion. The wall that shot up between them left the air feeling heavy and foreign. Y/N’s nerves lit up with the need to run, to fight, to do something. 

“You’re leaving aren’t you?” His voice was barely a whisper. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I can have Danny grab your things. But if you think I’m gonna let you wander around without-.”

“Wait. What? Thomas, no. Calm down; I’m not leaving.” Y/N frowned. Why had that been his first assumption?

Thomas’ mouth hung open a moment before he removed his cap, running his fingers through his hair. A nervous tick that she recognized from the trenches. While his shoulders visibly relaxed, she could still practically hear the wheels turning as he shuffled through all the possibilities. 

“I’m sorry. I guess I got ahead of myself,” he said, glancing away unable to meet her eyes.

She playfully elbowed him, “Hey, how about you save yourself the heart attack and stop trying to guess what I’m going to say.”

He gave her a weary glance. “Then say it already.”

Y/N pressed her lips, debating her next words. “Remember the other day when Grace was sleeping in my room? After we got stuck?”

Thomas nodded, his brow furrowing.

“Well, I had some questions that needed answering so I started investigating. And-”

“Investigating?”

“I… rifled through her purse.”

His eyebrows shot up, “I can’t say I’m surprised, but, Y/N, you know she’s important to me. I think that grants her a bit of leeway.”

“Thomas-”

“No, that’s not ok. Have you gone through my things? Aunt Pols or Arthurs?”

Y/N huffed, “You’re comparing her to your family?”

His eyes shone with a fury that Y/N had never had directed at her, “What if I want her to be a part of the family? Is it so out of the realm of possibility?” 

“Yes!” Y/N gestured wildly. “You absolutely cannot marry her.”

“And why not?” his voice growing so loud they were beginning to attract attention.

The words were out of her lips before she could stop them, “For fuck’s sake Tommy, there was a badge in there. It even had her name all engraved on it. Do you know how expensive it is to engrave things?”

“You still had no right to go through her thi-. Wait. WHAT DID YOU SAY?” Thomas stared at her wide eyed. 

Y/N sighed heavily, “She’s a bloody copper, Thomas. She’s probably been spying on you the whole time.”

Thomas’ eyes glinted in the sunlight, a crazed look shining within them. Most people would’ve stood down or even backed away, but Y/N didn’t have that luxury right now. Thomas was hurt and if he lashed out, she didn’t want an innocent bystander taking the brunt of it for her.

Without another word he stood and left the small booth they’d been occupying. Startled staff rushed to accommodate the gang leader as he stormed out. There was no question that gossip about this would spread like wildfire. What could send a Shelby storming out into the street? 

Y/N scrambled to follow. Collecting her bag and practically climbing over people in her attempt to keep up with Thomas. Once out into the open air, she let out a huff and glanced around wildly. Rain pelted her eyes making it hard to see and, she realized with a growl of frustration, she’d left the umbrella of all things inside. There he was, making his way through the crowd. She desperately closed the distance between them.

“This conversation isn’t over!” she shouted over the murmur of pedestrians.

He froze before whittling around at her, “It’s over, when I bloody well say it’s over.” 

“You believe me, don’t you?” This finally gave her enough time to close the distance. Thomas didn’t answer, so she continued. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear-”

“No, it’s not. And a part of me finds it hard to believe that this comes from a place that’s pure charity,” he hissed.

Her brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Thomas knew he was grasping at straws to keep his world sane, but in that moment he didn’t care. “It’s awfully convenient for you if Grace is suddenly out of my life.”

Y/N gaped at him, “How could you even say that? The only thing that I’ve ever said is that I wouldn’t be the ‘Other Woman’.”

He shook his head and turned to leave. There wasn’t much else Y/N to genuinely convince him she was telling the truth. Except for one last thing.

“I saw her passing notes to Inspector Campbell, at the opera, my first night here. She was meeting him. I...I didn’t know who they were yet.”

Something inside Thomas snapped when he heard his name, “Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you telling me this just now?” She could barely hear his voice over the noise of the crowd.

Before she could answer, he continued, “You also failed to mention that it was Campbell who beat you within an inch of your life.”

Hearing the tone in Thomas’s voice sent a shiver through her. She shouldn't be surprised he had found out. But a part of her wanted to keep that anger to herself, wrapped around her like an armor against the memory of billy clubs. Now, in the wake of Thomas’ criticisms, it felt brittle enough that a stiff breeze would blow it to pieces. 

“You would’ve gone after him, Tommy. And don’t say you wouldn’t have cause God dammit I know you too well for that. However that turned out, it would have destroyed the Peaky Blinders.”

His eyes were ablaze with righteous anger, but as he sagged she could tell he knew she was right. Even as the wheels continued to turn through the possibilities, each one ended in bloodshed and failure.

“And Grace?”

Y/N finally met his eyes, “I didn’t know for sure until now.”

He held her gaze, his shoulders slowly sagged under an invisible weight as years of war and fighting seemed to catch up to him all at once. It curled up, becoming lead in the marrow of his bones. The next question he asked, he suspected he already knew the answer to. “How long did you suspect?”

“Since the night Campbell ambushed me.” 

He let his body lean against a nearby brick way, his head almost too heavy for his shoulders as he wished the world away. “Why did you let me carry on like I had?”

Y/N glanced away, “If I told you that night, you were angry enough you might’ve killed her outright.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “You deserve to be happy, Tommy. I didn’t want to take that away on a possibility.”

He barked out a laugh, “Someone like me deserves just about anything but happiness.”

She frowned, but he cut her off by standing again. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “I won’t be coming back to the Garrison tonight. Don’t wait up for me.”

Y/N’s breath whooshed out of her lungs as she watched him walk away. By the time she could gather enough breath to speak he was gone, leaving her there in the pouring rain.

[shuadotcom]

Convention Crush | KNJ

➛ Summary: You’re spending your first anime convention alone, in one half of a couple’s cosplay, until you meet a new group of friends and your other fictional half. ➛ Pairing: Namjoon x Gender Neutral!Reader ➛ Genre: Fluff, slice of life ➛ Rating: PG ➛ Warnings: Like two curse words but nothing else ➛ Word Count: 1.7k ➛ A/N: For BHQ’s Anime Club Event! Thank you @nightowls388​ for the prompts! 💚

nightowls388 said: Carese darling!! May I has Namjoon in spirited away with dialogue prompt 10 please :D

The hotel is loud and bustling with life as you walk through the doors. A group of teenagers dressed as various Naruto characters runs past you, arms back and backs bent in classic “Naruto run” stance. You weave through a group of My Hero Academia cosplayers to the registration table to get your convention pass.

Once the lanyard is around your neck, you beeline for the hotel’s attached Starbucks. You’ll need the caffeine if you want to survive your first anime convention alone. You’re supposed to be here with your best friend, but Jungkook decided to catch the flu two days ago. The four-day pass was non-refundable, and you weren’t about to lose out on $70 that you barely had to begin with. So, here you are, alone in a sea of over-excited cosplayers and exhausted parents, in one half of a couple’s costume, not even sure where to begin.

“Hi!” A group of teenagers dressed in various Studio Ghibli cosplays approaches you as you head to the escalator for the main convention floor. “You’re Chihiro, right?” A girl dressed as Princess Mononoke asks, gesturing to your pink bathhouse uniform.

“I am.” You offer a nervous smile, unsure where this is going.

“Can we take a picture with you?! We don’t have anyone from Spirited Away in our group!”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” They all crowd around you, squishing you between a Howl and a Kiki as they get a passerby to take a picture of you all. As soon as the camera shutter goes off a few times, they all thank you in a rush and are gone just as quickly, sprinting up the escalator and disappearing into the crowd.

Still reeling from how fast-paced the interaction was, you finally step onto the escalator and fish the convention schedule from your backpack to scan the upcoming events. An ask the cast panel for Demon Slayer could be interesting, not that you’re sure what that consists of, but that’s one of your favorite anime and you have to start somewhere.

Too absorbed in the schedule, you don’t notice the group of men crossing in front of you at the same time you step off the escalator until you bump into one of them, dropping the pamphlet.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you reach down to grab the dropped paper, luckily still clutching your coffee safely to your chest.

“No problem, I got it,” One of the men bends at the same time as you and picks your pamphlet up. It’s not until you really look at him that you notice the black bob wig, blue pants, and white Haori.

“Oh! You’re Haku!”

He flashes you a dimpled smile as he takes in your outfit. “And you’re Chihiro. What are the odds.” You share a laugh, both of your hands grasping either side of the pamphlet longer than is probably necessary.

“Ahem.” A throat clear next to you has you both snapping out of the moment you share, remembering the other people he’s with. You make eye contact with a grey-haired man wearing the signature volleyball costume from Haikyuu. Checking the number on his jersey, you deduce he’s dressed as Sugawara. “This is a super cute moment and all, but the AMV contest starts in like fifteen minutes, and we need to get good seats. You can come with us if you want.” He proposes the last part to you.

“Ah, well I was going to go to an ask the cast panel.” Haku, Sugawara, and the other two men with them dressed as Ash Ketchum and Eren Yeager all give you the same pointed look.

“Is this your first anime convention?” Haku asks.

“Yes...how did you know?”

“No one who comes to these things often would ever put themselves through an ask the cast panel. It’s just a bunch of high schoolers being loud and obnoxious, pretending to be the characters. Total shit show.” Sugawara says matter of factly. “Were your friends really gonna have you suffer through that?”

“I’m actually here alone.” The four of them share a look before Haku turns back to you.

“That means you have to hang out with us. We can’t let you fall into any first-timer traps.” He shoots you another smile that’s all dimples, and you feel your pulse quicken. Even under the wig, he’s the most attractive man you’ve seen all day. Maybe even all your life.

“Okay.” You may have just met these men, but you don’t have any internal alarm bells going off about spending time with them. Your possible blooming crush on Haku aside, you don’t feel any negative vibes.

“Now that that’s settled let’s go! I’m not sitting in the back of the room for the contest!” Sugawara takes the lead as you all fall in line and follow him to one of the main meeting rooms.

As the day wears on, you’re more than happy that you decided to spend your time with your new friends instead of wandering alone, letting the four of them take you to various panels that they deem worthy of your time. Haku, whom you now know as Namjoon, is nothing but sweet to you all day. He explains that he and his friends have been going to anime conventions since high school, and now that they’re all seasoned college students, they still make it a point to attend. He mentions that he’s dressed as Haku because Jin, his roommate who’s the most handsome Erin Yeager you’ve witnessed at the convention, was supposed to be Chihiro but backed out last minute for the “cooler” cosplay instead.

Sugawara, who you find out is named Yoongi, is roommates with the fourth member of the quartet, Hoseok, dressed as a very compelling Ash Ketchum. When you compliment him, he flashes you the biggest, sunniest smile you’ve ever laid eyes on. After the AMV contest, they take you to a History of Horror in Manga discussion, much to Hoseok’s constant complaints. Around lunchtime, the five of you leave the hotel and cross the street to look for food. After Jin and Hoseok argue over sushi versus burgers they ultimately have you choose. You opt for chicken, much to everyone’s delight.

Out of everyone, you find yourself talking more one on one to Namjoon, finding out you have quite a few things in common. You both share a love for music and nature and are plant parents, although you tend to kill more plants than keep them alive. Namjoon promises he’ll give you tips on keeping your plant babies alive and grins at you for what feels like the fiftieth time of the day. Each time, your stomach does somersaults, and you feel your skin heat up.

At the end of the night, as you’re all leaving the 18+ Bad Fanfiction Reading panel, you almost don’t want to part ways.

“We can’t let you leave without getting your number!” Jin shoves his phone into your hands, demanding you put your digits in. The other men do the same, with Namjoon being last, hand shaking as he presents his phone. A series of four beeps come through on your phone, signifying the text messages from the group.

All of you are staying upstairs in the hotel rooms, so together, you head for the guest-only elevators as Yoongi announces the panels and events he’s planning for you all to go to tomorrow. Hoseok makes it a point to say that you’re included and that you’re now friends, therefore you have no choice but to spend the rest of the convention with them. Of course, you don’t object and agree to meet them downstairs tomorrow morning.

Your room is on the 8th floor, while their rooms are on the 10th, so you reach your floor first. Preparing to say your goodbyes for the night, you step out of the elevator and send a wave, but before the doors close, Namjoon is shoved out beside you.

“Joon will walk you to your room!” Hoseok calls as the doors close.

“Yeah, we’ll see you in a few, Namjoon!” Yoongi adds, then the doors are shut, and the elevator keeps going up.

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, please lead the way. I’ll make sure you get to your room, okay.”

Feeling nervous yourself, you simply nod as he follows you the short distance to your room.

“This is me,” you move to the door, and you both stop in front of it. Seconds tick by with the two of you staring at one another while you try and come up with something to say.

“Today was great,” Namjoon says at the same time you do, making both of you chuckle. “Sorry, go ahead first.”

“I just wanted to say thank you for inviting me along with you all today. I had a lot of fun and didn’t think I could’ve done so if I was by myself.”

“Really?” Namjoon says, looking surprised. “I thought we would’ve been a little too high energy for you. You really had a good time? Today made you happy?”

“Yes. I am happy. Because I was able to meet someone like you.” You blurt the latter part out and watch as his eyes widen and a dark shade of red blossoms over his cheeks.

“I, uh, I’m glad you feel that way. I’m really happy I was able to meet someone like you too.” Namjoon’s eyes dart down to your lips momentarily before he lets out a cough. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning. Make sure to meet us downstairs at ten on the dot. If you’re late, Jin will probably nag you for the rest of the convention.” He hesitates momentarily, then reaches out to pull you into a hug. You instantly melt in his hold, inhaling the warm cinnamon scent of whatever Namjoon’s got on.

Your grip on his waist tightens at the same time his arms around your shoulders do. You’re not sure who pulls away first, but reluctantly, you do release each other. Namjoon gives you another goodbye, and then he’s shuffling down the hallway and back towards the elevator.

Once he’s around the corner, you let yourself into your room, his scent still in your nose, and the feeling of his toned arms around you still lingering. How you managed to run into a great group of friends on the first day, you don’t know, but you’re not about to question it. The only thing you worry about is how you can make your cosplay planned for day two as cute as possible, now that you’ve got someone to impress.

[katsukikitten]

Part 2! Here is Part 1 f you have yet to read it! I hope you enjoy my little Walmart brand of summer wars as much as I am writing it! Let me know what you think!

×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×

The two of you leave with a small bow before your grandmother answers the phone. 

The second you are out of the room Bakugou grabs you roughly by the wrist, pulling you down into the small dimly lit hallway to press you against the dark wooden wall, caging you in much like he did on the train. 

But this time with malintent. Small pops ring out from his forearms, one hand threatening to char the wood beside your head while the other grips your wrist harder. 

You could understand his anger, it's not as if you had been truthful to Bakugou. He detests liars and although you didn't necessarily lie to him you still told him a half truth. He was still figuring out which was worse. 

"Fucking fiance?!" He snarls close to your face, "Deal's off." 

You had planned to allow him to bitch and moan about the shitty situation you put him in without argument. 

But his refusal to act semi decent towards you for the sake of your grandmother's old heart had rage burning hot in your veins. 

It wasn't like you were asking him to fuck you. With a tick in your jaw you drop your precious Kimono. Grabbing onto his chin with your free hand, tilting his face closer to yours to have a better look at those stunning crimson eyes. They widen from both the force of your grip and the proximity of your lips. He swallows thickly, his glare slowly coming back. 

"Listen here Bakugou Katsuki. I'm asking you to pretend to be my fiance for two weeks. I'm asking for small shit like sitting close to me, maybe giving a small smile in my direction and at the most hand holding. I'm not asking you to fucking marry me or fuck me in front of my family. My grandmother is a bit old fashioned if you couldn't tell by the house or her demeanor, she has been hounding me about bringing a man to her for approval since I was 16. She wanted to make sure I had a man that deserved me, that I would be taken care of. So I've made up boyfriend after boyfriend since I've never really had time for more than a good fuck but my Uncle called me last winter to tell me her health was beginning to decline and rapidly at that. I called her immediately and told her I had just become engaged and she'd meet him on her birthday. So you've got two choices Katsuki." You let every syllable of his name soak in sugar coated venom, "Suck it up for two fucking weeks and be semi decent to me or break my grandmother's heart and earn a dangerous enemy." 

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest the entire time you were ranting, unsure of why he was attracted to the hard set of your eyes and the ice in your voice. His stomach flips when you say his first name causing him to grind his teeth. He breaks away from your grip with his free hand, quickly pinning your arms above your head. Locking your delicate yet deadly wrists in one of his broad hands while the other presses against your hip bone. Thumb sliding through the loop of your too short shorts, bringing your pelvis to his.  The denim was barely able to contain your ass and thick thighs, he is surprised none of your elders have scolded you for such indecency if they were as old fashioned as you say. 

The faint blush on your cheeks and the defiant look in your eyes has his voice turn husky as he speaks.

"I should make you regret bringing me here. Maybe have you begging for something else." His lips a breath away as he presses his forehead to yours. Eyes molten with what you think is lust before he tilts his face. Amplifying the sudden magnetism between your plump lips and his own. Your chest tightens with mixed emotions as your eyes begin to flutter closed.

Suddenly he changes direction and gives you a harsh headbutt, hard enough your vision blurs at the edges causing you to growl in response. 

"This better not fucking bruise." 

He rolls his eyes, dropping your hands as he reaches down for the old Kimino. His heart racing from almost losing control of these odd feelings. 

Feelings that had never been aimed towards you until your grandmother stirred them up. 

"Would you die for my granddaughter?" 

The question drives him mad, mad enough that he places the kimono in your hands speaking the dark thought that he should have fucking kept to himself.

"Did you actually drag me along for your grandmother's sake or did you just want the kimono, Princess?" His voice is all bite, holding your gaze, your eyes widening. 

"Don't call me that." Your voice threatens to crack but he walks away before he can see the rest of your reaction to wander the house for his room until dinner. 

You're left standing there, eyes glued to the fabric, the deep navy blue and hand stitched cranes and lotus blur in your hands. Before fat droplets fall from your eyes. 

Why did you ever think Bakugou Katsuki would be a good partner, fake or not. 

You collect yourself quickly, angrily swiping at your eyes before you set to find your normal room. 

It doesn't take you long and you're honestly hoping Bakugou stays lost until dinner. His room should be on the opposite wing of the house. Opening the old tatami door to find Mei setting down your stuff and Bakugou's bag.  Mei follows your eyes to the well worn backpack with a skull pin on the strap. She knew exactly who it belonged to when she picked it up, having spotted the handsome devil from the hall. 

"Mei what's this you know he's supposed to be in the western wing!" You exclaim, trudging past her to hang your kimono on the old rack in the corner of the room. Mei scoffs, eyes glued to her phone as she speaks. 

"He was bound to sneak this way anyway. I'm doing you a favor." She rolls her eyes as if she knows everything at the ripe age of sixteen. 

You thought you knew everything then too. You sigh, rolling your own eyes. 

"What you call a favor I call a headache. Just take his bag to his room." You pass the straps to her, hating that it smells so much like him. Your stomach flips even as you look at the two person futon. 

"Just sleep with him tonight no one will know! Plus I hadn't cleaned his room. It's full of spider webs, the floor needs patching and his futon is gonna be dusty." She counters. 

"B..but one futon is not modest." 

"Wow please tell me you're not a virgin jushi. You're gonna get married anyway! I know I wouldn't have said no to a catch like that either!" 

Mei makes her way out of your room while you pinch the bridge or your nose. 

"Yea…. Why would I ever say no to such a great catch?" You fall backwards onto the futon hoping that that asshole was still lost for now. 

Someone would find him wandering and take him to the great dining room. 

×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×

Thankfully someone does end up showing Bakugou to the dining room but of course it would be Mei who also tells him where the SHARED room is. You bite your lip and choose to play dumb.  

"Oh good you found your way, babe." You smile sinking next to him on one of the many blue cushions. He grunts in response but pulls your cushion closer to his. Carefully pouring you some water before he yanks down your tank top that was riding up and trying to expose your midriff. His fingers feel like fire as they brush against your skin, igniting a dying ember in your stomach.

You quickly remind yourself of his nasty comment, as you're about to set him straight your cousin Haru walks into the room.  He sucks his teeth and sits further down the table across from his sister Mei as people slowly come in to sit or bring in food. 

"I don't know why you bothered to bring him here. Sobo is never going to approve of him." He cracks open his beer and drinks prematurely earning an eye roll from his sister. Bakugou and yourself both open your mouth to retort when Mei pipes up. Eyes still glued to her phone as her thumbs fly across the illuminated glass. 

"She already did stupid. She gave her the crane Kimono so get used to seeing his face." Mei rolls her eyes as your cheeks blush. 

Bakugou regrets his comment now more than ever but sucks his own teeth. An older gentleman sits to Bakugou's left commenting on the conversation as he does. 

"Wow the crane kimono! You know she's been holding onto that for quite some time. You must be very special. I'm Sozen, your lovely fiance's Uncle." He smiles, just as you're about pinch the blonde to make sure he answers he gives a small bow of his head. 

"Bakugou Katsuki." He introduces himself as aunt Mai rushes into the room.

"Wait, wait! I want to meet him!" She sinks next to your right, all smiles as her eyes are fixated on the young man, "Wow he is as handsome as you said on the phone last night." 

Fresh blush creeps onto your cheeks, remembering the phone conversation from when you were too nervous to sleep last night. Bakugou catches on and smirks in response. Everyone but Sobo takes their seats and you decide now is a good time as ever to get the formalities over with. 

"Let's just get through the introductions shall we?" You say as you run through the names of each family member on both sides of the three low tables shoved together. Introducing the hot head to well over 12 adults and their children and even children's children. For now Bakugou only makes an effort to remember the ones closest to him. 

Uncle Sozen who sits to his left and Aunt Mai who sits to your right. It's becoming quickly apparent that a lot of your family is either much older or much younger than yourself. He can understand why you could feel a little lonely at times. Being more of a black sheep than anything. Then he realises something very important.

"Wait, where are your parents?" He asks lowly to which you shrug. 

"They show up closer to grandma's birthday. They are both extremely busy and always have been. Soba more or less raised me." 

As if one cue grandmother comes in, looking over the table with the biggest and warmest smile she can muster. It reminds him of the summer sun lazily dancing across his skin in the late afternoon. 

And again it reminds him of you. He looks to you and sees you mirroring the exact same smile, happy for your grandmother's happiness causing his chest to tighten and butterflies to awaken in his stomach. He grinds his teeth in an attempt to calm them down. 

She sits at the head of the table, closest to Great Oba who he had the pleasure of meeting first thing, before grandmother holds up her small cup of sake. 

"To family." She announces, everyone lifts what cup they have, whether it was a kids small sippy cup, their o-choko, or even their cup of tea. 

"To family!" They roar back to her all taking a sip. 

"Let's eat." She says while the family cries out, "Itadakimasu!" 

The tables are loud and full of conversation. Although Katuski's family is not so big, the volume reminds him of his own family. A small smirk comes to his lips as he thinks of his mother and how she would fit in here. 

"So no Shoji?" Haru asks with a sneer, almost purposefully stirring the pot. 

"No surprise there." Someone else comments. 

"Shut. Up. Haru." You bite out, look fierce as if you were to devour him whole. He swallows thickly. 

"Great uncle Kodaka tell us about that battle we won here!" You change the subject and everyone groans as Kodaka starts the story they've heard thousands of times before.

"It was almost 150 years ago, when we were still a prosperous nation. Us samarai doing fine on our own. Hired by the wealthy or living by our own moral compass. It was like fish in a barrel…" 

The story continues on, mostly the children listen and your grandmother who smiles as she hears her youngest speak.

Sozen leans closer to Bakugou, as grey eyes hold onto scarlet. Bakugou remains quiet, glancing to you and then back to the uncle. Uncle Sozen takes this as an invitation to speak. 

"I guess since you're gonna be part of the family now I should tell you about Shoji. There was a time shortly before Grandpa died that he went down a dark path, gambling away majority of the family fortune and just when grams thought she had him under control then came Shoji.He was Grandpa's illegitimate child with a woman much younger than Sobo. But she loved Shoji fiercely anyway. She would take him through the field of wildflowers to the lake in the early mornings of summer. One hot day when he was small and the sun was rising, painting the sky in hues of red there was a crane. Our family's crest." Uncle Sozen points to the wooden crest above the door to the adjacent room that held the family's artifacts. A crane stands tall with a white lotus behind it in full bloom.

"It was the first time in decades that a crane had come to the lake and the lotus were in full bloom. He flew away, causing a gentle ripple in the lake and it was then Sobo knew that Shoji would bring fortune to our family." Sozen peeks your way to make sure you're not over hearing, he continues explaining softly as your loud laugh bellows out, "Everyone is so angry with him because he took the last of grandmother's savings and then ran away to America with no way to be contacted." 

"She is quick to defend him because she was too young to really remember how much it upset Sobo. That and she believed in him wholeheartedly. She looked up to him because despite his quirklessness he was exceptionally intelligent. She had faith that he would restore honor and fortune to our name." Sozen's chopsticks point to you as he speaks before he picks up a dumpling. Bakugou's eyes follow over you. 

"Hello Sobo." A deep voice calls from the engawa reducing the lively roar of dinner conversation to nothing more than the sad song of a lonely cricket.

"Uncle Shoji?!" You call excited, standing from your spot at the long table while the rest of the room holds animosity. 

Bakugou downs his sake to which Uncle Sozen silently refills. 

"I thought you were still abroad in the states!" You sink next to him and pull him into a crushing hug. He smiles, slowly separating the two of you. 

"What the hell do you want trash?!" Uncle Kodaka snarls, to which you produce a deadly glare his way.  

"Well yes I was in the states, thank you for asking Princess." He tucks a stay hair behind your ear before rising to speak with grandmother.

He does not address her properly nor does he bow. If anything he stands loosely with an arrogance about him that leaves majority of the room with a sour taste in their mouth. Bakugou watches Great Oba's chopsticks strain in her delicate hand, the distaste for him is becoming more and more obvious by the second.

And then he opens his mouth. 

"I made tenfold out of what you let me borrow, Soba." He pulls a stack of money and a check from his pocket as he speaks, "I made a drug to make people powerless and sold it to the highest bidder." 

Eyes around the room widen as news headlines flash in their heads about a new drug that made people quirkless. Villains shooting innocent bystanders and heroes in hopes of getting a leg up. 

Shoji tosses the money and the check onto grandmother's lap. Dark brown eyes stare into her lap for a long moment. 

Suddenly grandmother moves like an agile cat, jumping to her feet and grabbing for one of the divine naginata. She wields it masterfully before shoving the point towards him, fire burning in her eyes. 

"Mother!" Half the table shouts, as you begin to see red. You stand stepping next to Shoji, body shaking with rage as your heart drums in your ears. 

"I knew my Princess would save me." He says coyly to hide just how shaken he is, sweat dripping down his brow. Even ten years your senior he couldn't hide his fear of the fierce woman before him, shocked that a woman in her nineties could still brandish such a big and heavy weapon. 

Your hands land harshly on Shoji's chest as you give him a shove. Shocking the table into further silence. 

"YOU MADE THAT?!" Your voice echoes over the dining room, into the empty halls and out into the night but somehow the hurt in it does not reach Shoji. 

"Of course, it was going to be a hot seller. Governments offered me billions. Besides I made an anti...." But before he can finish you've got him by the collar. 

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO INTELLIGENT YET SO DAFT?!" Bakugou watches your knuckles turn white while your cheeks flush deep red. Shoji barely frees himself, his shirt crumpled but you press on. 

"Those were my friends!" A stomp of your foot has the dishes rattling on the table, Bakugou becomes more on edge, "You hurt my fucking friends!" 

You raise both of your fists above your head, ready to bring them down with all of your might. Too angry to control your gauge of power uncaring of the consequences. Katuski acts quickly, flicking his wrist to empty the shallow cup of sake high into the air. Igniting it into beautiful dancing fireworks, the kids oo and ah while he hopes to distract you if only for a moment. 

It works, slightly. You realize his plan as he jumps to his feet, running along the low tables as you try to beat him to the punch. 

Literally.

Bakugou barely makes it, shoving Shoji into the table, food and dishes fly into the air just to stain the freshly mopped wooden floors. The hot head holds out his other arm to take the brunt of your force. He let's off the smallest explosion to soften your blow but a small crack still rings out. 

Heated eyes watch as a black bruise blooms from the crease of his elbow to all the way to his wrist as the shock shakes the house behind him. Paintings and pictures fall from the walls in the wake of your force.

"Are you trying to bring down the house dumbass?!" He yells before his voice dips low, soft almost, "What if the roof had caved and Soba-san got hurt?" 

Your eyes widen at his words before they are locked with glistening scarlet pools. You look over Bakugou's toned arm, marred in angry shades of purplish black. Eyes darting over the family and the mess that lies beside you. Finally they fall on your grandmother behind your shoulder. Her own aged shoulders heave from the adrenaline, her graying white hair out of place with her lotus pin threatening to fall out. You spy Shoji, your once hero still squishing food beneath his torso and elbows, eyes filled with fear.

"Fuck this." You mutter storming off, leaving Bakugou to stand alone before your family. Shoji stands, rushing out of the house, moments later everyone can hear a car peeling down the gravel drive losing traction once or twice. 

After a few moments of silence grandmother fixes her hair and returns the naginata as she speaks. 

"This family cleans up their own messes. Now get to work!" 

And with that your family and Bakugou begin to pick up the shattered pieces of dishes, pride and family matters.

[boymeetsweevil]

the shape you make

Grouping: Reader x Johnny

Word Count: ~4.1k

Warnings/Themes: Halloweentown AU (again), body insecurity, slight allusions to speciesism, graphic smut, communication issues (as always), a very thirsty work friend

Summary: For both you and Johnny, there is something big holding you back from being intimate. At the yearly Harvest party, that something big becomes something known.

A/N: This fic is part of The Intimacy Anthology, and then Halloween came and ate it :) If you’re interested in the project and/or would like to see the works from the other talented artists, click the link!

“—I mean, we’re doing fine. I would say it’s perfect except for one thing.”

You frown down at the dragonling wriggling in your hands, partially in pity for him. Snickerdoodle is in for his first-ever check up and by the way he tries to burrow into the front pocket of your uniform, you can tell he’s uncomfortable. It’s likely that the coolant pills given to suppress fire during examinations are upsetting his stomach. You pat his rough belly. 

The rest of your frown is dedicated to a predicament you face with your boyfriend. 

You’ve been dating Johnny for three months. After being set up by two mutual friends who thought you’d be a good pair, you hit things off and decided to see where things would go. The issue was, while you’d had many a good conversation and even met his mother, you still hadn’t let Johnny get to know the real you. Which meant things between you felt too good to be true and you were preparing for an inevitable rebuff.

“What’s the problem again? He doesn’t want to go with you to the Harvest party?” 

Your coworker Nautilanita ruffles her wings anxiously as she hunts for the correct syringe for dragon skin and a few treats to distract Snickerdoodle. 

“No, we’re going to the Harvest party. The problem is that I want to go further with Johnny, but I don’t think I actually can.”

“Oh. That’s what I thought you said. But he’s literally perfect, so I figured I misheard you.” 

You roll your eyes. Despite being pair-bonded to another lovely griffin for almost 13 mating cycles, something about Johnny turns your friend into putty.

“I think that’s the problem. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s funny—”

“Ehh. I don’t think I’ve heard a great joke from him yet.”

“He’s funny in that cute, corny way.”

“Fair.” Nautilanita approaches Snickerdoodle with a dried newt and distracts him just long enough to give him the first of his vaccinations. “So, what, you don’t like perfect guys?”

“It’s not like that. It’s more like he treats me like I’m perfect.”

“Okay, did you just come here to brag?”

The flat look on Nautilanita’s face is enough to startle a laugh out of you. You’re glad for the tiny distraction and allow some nervous energy to leave you.

“You know what I mean. There’s things he doesn’t know about me that I’m pretty sure could ruin us. I’m not the perfect person he thinks I am.”

“What does not perfect mean?”

Nautilanita hands you a needle and switches places with you, scooping up Snickerdoodle. You take up a new syringe to draw some blood from between his wings for the examination. With quick work, you watch the gold liquid fill the barrel of the syringe.

“It sounds dumb when I say it out loud,” you whine while taking the blood away to the chemistry machine. Nautilanita smiles softly at you.

“That probably means it is dumb. And that you don’t have to worry about it.”

“You’ve seen Johnny, though.”

“Yes. Of course I have,” Nautilanita sighs dreamily. If it were anyone else, you might get jealous.

“He’s athletic and super buff. He’s normal. And I...”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you there. This is dumb. Do you think Johnny is a shallow guy?”

“Of course I don’t. I know he isn’t.”

“Then do you really think he’s gonna just drop you because you’re not 'normal’? I still don’t even get what that means.”

“No, but—”

The machine beeps and Nautilanita hands Snickerdoodle back to you to collect the sample.

“But what?”

“But I what if he doesn’t want me? What if he can’t be attracted to me?”

“Have you and Johnny kissed?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“More than once?”

“Yes.”

“And has he ever initiated a kiss?”

“Sure, lots of times.”

“Then I think he finds you attractive.”

You grimace to yourself. It sounded so easy put that way though you weren’t sure if Nautilanita even understood your worry. Maybe sitting down at that Leprechaun-run cafe after work with Nautilanita would help make your predicament clear, but at the moment you felt too exhausted. In an ideal world, it would be just as easy as Nautilanita said.

“What do you think?”

Mark holds up two button down shirts to his front for Johnny to compare. One is a saturated red and the other is a muted periwinkle blue.

“Blue one, easy.”

“Thanks. I’d ask Yeri, but she’s gonna be working almost up until the Harvest party. You’re lucky.”

“I don’t know who you’re calling lucky. I put sweat and tears into my outfits because I pick them all myself.”

“That’s bull. That one with the turtleneck and chains two weeks ago? There’s no way that was all you.”

“What? Yes it was”

Johnny tries not to eye the Harvest outfit he has laying on the chair at the other end of his room. The one that he’d recruited you into helping him with, over the duration of several days.

“Hmm. Not even when you’re shopping? Like when you’re in the fitting room and kind of flirting a little bit? Not even then?”

“Didn’t know you were such a hoe, Mark.”

"I have layers,” is all he says with flushing cheeks.

He’s glad Mark didn’t notice he avoided the question because the truth is that he’s never had such a moment with you. He’d like to, though. He’d like to be able to take you shopping with him, like normal couples do. Maybe you’d manage to sneak into the fitting rooms and give him a stack of things you’d want to see him in. Maybe half the time he’d come out shirtless just to see your reaction. Maybe at the end he’d pull you into the fitting room with him after one too many appreciative glances from you. But he can’t.

You’ve actually never seen him shirtless. Despite the fact that his thoughts sometimes go that direction when at the gym. Despite the fact that all his friends, Mark included, seem to think he’s already long since seen you bare and bared himself for you.

“You okay?” Mark asks when the minutes have ticked by and the conversation has screeched to a halt.

“Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“What if, just as a scenario, we hadn’t done anything other than kiss.”

Mark’s eyes widen in the middle of folding his shirts and though he tries to hide the reaction, Johnny catches it.

“You mean you and—”

“Yeah.”

“So, just a peck or...”

“No! It’s definitely gotten, uh, intense. But I haven’t ever taken off my clothes in front of her or anything.”

Mark tilts his head, eyes narrowed above Johnny’s head. “Because you don’t want to?”

“That’s the thing. I do. But I’m pretty sure I’m not her usual...type.”

“Have you gone through a catalogue of her past relationships and found her type?”

“No, but—”

“Has she said she doesn’t like certain things about you?”

“...No.”

“Then why do you think that?”

“Well—”

The chimes of an alarm on his phone interrupt his explanation. Johnny turns off the alarm and gets up to the bathroom. He leaves the door open, not worried about privacy in the company of his best friend. Over the sound of running water and the aerosol of shaving cream leaving its canister he continues.

“I don’t want to make things awkward for her.”

“I mean, if you want her to look at you that way, that’s important. Even if she does have a type.”

“Right,” Johnny mumbles while running his razor under the tap. 

Mark comes to lean against the doorframe of the bathroom to hear better. Johnny’s lips purse at Mark’s reflection in the mirror. He feels torn.

“And if you’re wrong, then you can just move forward.”

“Right.” 

Right?

This year, the Harvest party is being hosted at the mayor’s house instead of at a corporate venue. There are probably hundreds of guests on the property all milling about and giving you a calming sense of anonymity. Johnny texted you earlier that evening telling you where you could find him when you finally left the vet clinic and made it to the party.

A few friends stop you to make small talk and instead of telling them you have to go meet Johnny, you let them delay you. A nymph from work brings you to the large kitchen to eat some rare berries she brought. Another friend from work ushers you onto the main floor to spin you a few times while a song that you like plays.

When the song changes, you exchange goodbyes and stumble off from them. Unfortunately, you bump into Nautilanita, who you had also technically been avoiding.

“Look who it is,” Nautilanita‘s talons curve dangerously around the stem of a wine glass.

“Oh, hey.”

“Guess who I ran into half an hour ago.”

“Who?”

“Guess.”

“Johnny?”

“Mhm. Your boyfriend,” Nautilanita snaps. “Why was he asking me where you were? I had to lie and say you got held back at work.”

“You weren’t required to do that,” you point out. Nautilanita narrows slitted eyes at you.

“I’m guessing you haven’t sat down and talked with him yet.”

“I haven’t. I do plan to, though. I’m just...”

“Nervous?”

You nod and suddenly Nautilanita is grabbing your arm and pulling you over to a darker corner of the house. There’s a group of people huddled loosely near the basement door, light smoke wafting up from where their heads are craned down.

“What are we doing?”

“Getting you some extra courage.”

“Nautilanita,” you hiss before darting your heard around your surroundings. “Did you forget we have weekly drug tests at work?”

“I’m not getting you drugs. I’m getting you some courage. It’s legal, I think.”

You stand off from the group, confused, as Nautilanita chats with the lady in the middle of the huddle. A witch, based off the purple ring she wears. The witch reaches into her bag when Nautilanita does actually ask for courage by name. Nautilanita returns with a small bag of bright yellow orbs that flash welcomingly in the low lighting.

“Open.”

You open your mouth obediently and chew the little rubbery yellow ball until it bursts into your mouth. It tastes a bit like dish soap but you swallow it.

“How long does this last?”

“10 minutes.”

“You mean I only have 10 minutes to find him and tell him everything?”

“Well, 9 minutes and 55 seconds now.”

You push past Nautilanita to circle back through the crowd and climb the staircase to where Johnny said he’d be on the second floor. He’s not in the billiard room at the end of the hall, but someone there points you toward one fo the guest rooms. When you find him he’s sitting in an arm chair in a corner guest room, scrolling on his phone when you enter abruptly.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he puts his phone down and makes his way over to you. “Why are you out of breath?”

“I, uh, ran up the stairs.”

“You ran up the stairs to see little ol’ me?”

Johnny’s smile is bright and genuine and suddenly you feel a rush of something. It must be the courage. You throw yourself into his waiting arms and press your face to his chest. He should know, you think. He deserves to know.

You’re about to pull away and confess to him, but then he’s lifting your chin with a finger. His smiles bleeds into his eyes and softens into something you think you could swim in. He leans down and catches your mouth in a kiss.

Instead of worrying about the courage running out, you focus on the kiss. With your eyes closed you can properly lose yourself in the feeling of the hard muscle under his soft sweater. The sweater he chose after frantic consultation with you. 

Emboldened by the way you relax into him, Johnny pushes further into your space. His bangs tickle your face when he swivels his head and presses a fuller kiss to your lips. Warm hands creep a slow path up from the flare of your hips to the hem of your work shirt. His breath hitches a little in a puff against your cheek when you push up into him and kiss him harder. His hands come to anchor himself on your lower torso again. This time your movements have pulled your work shirt up to expose your stomach. 

The drag of the skin of his fingers on your lower back has you yanking yourself back with darting eyes and a shaky smile. It pains you to ruin the momentum of the moment, but you know that if you don’t explain yourself before your clothes are supposed to come off, you don’t know how things will end. You’re not expecting to look up and find Johnny’s eyes filled with something that looks akin to fear. 

“Shit—I’m sorry.” He rocks back on his heels and lets his gaze bounce around the corners of your face looking for a cue. “Should we talk about this?” 

You think about the 10 minutes you have, and how much of it could possibly be left.

“Y-yeah.”

You gravitate towards the guest bed and he follows with a flop.

“I hope you know I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” he offers.

“I know you weren’t. It was just getting kinda heavy there for a second.”

“And you don’t want that to happen.”

“I want to make sure you still want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because...I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

Johnny can feel the prick of sweat at his hairline and across his shoulders. He kind of wishes you would just tell him you know what he’s hiding so he can begin to adjust. He knows it’s not what Mark would suggest, but he doesn’t want to lose you.

“I know humans say they like magical folk, but being friends with the magicals and being with them is really different.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And even if they really are fine with us, they probably still would prefer to be with other humans.”

He nods, and then replays your words in his head. You said ‘us’.

“Maybe you wondered why it’s taken us so long to be physical”

“I have, honestly. But that doesn’t mean you should rush to do that.”

“Well, it’s not because I really needed more time. It’s because I didn’t have the courage to before. I didn’t want you to see me like a monster from those old books.”

“Wait, are you saying you’re—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you reach for the buttons of your work shirt and undo them as quickly as you can with shaking fingers and courage long since run out. As the shirt loses its structure and falls away, he can see more of your skin than he ever has before.

Scattered in patches across your abdomen, breasts, and even your back are teal scales that reflect his shocked expression back at him in dozens of little frames with the clarity of a polished gem.

“I’m actually not human. I come from a long line of water sprites.”

The tears of shame in your eyes, another first sight for him, are the same iridescent teal and leave subtle crystalline streaks on their way down your cheeks.

He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t find actual words, and the laugh seems to jump from his throat. Low bubbling first it then grows as the seconds pass by. You look up from the bedspread because you can’t believe your ears. This isn’t at all how you imagined he’d react. He holds up a hand. He knows how bad the reaction is but he can’t help it.

When the laughter begins to subside a moment later, he attends to his own shirt. He hikes the material up over his head and reveals smooth skin. You’re not sure what’s going on at first, but then he removes the silver earrings he wears every day and fur begins to sprout from his torso, his forearms, around his face. His canines and nails lengthen before your eyes to sharp points. And suddenly you understand.

“I bought these from a witch who specializes in werewolf magic the day before our first date,” he reaches over and places the small silver hoops into the palm of your hand.

You look down at the jewelry and then back up at your boyfriend’s face. You’re surprised to see that he looks different, though not because of the sudden lycanthropic transformation. There’s a lightness in his eyes and length in his spine that makes you realize just how much his secret was weighing on him.

No words leave your mouth as you crawl into his space. A small smile graces his lips and he lays on his back to make room for you. You kiss him once more and you’re shocked at how different it feels to do so without a secret smothering everything. As you part his lips, Johnny lays his hands on your skin gently. When you don’t withdraw, he lets his hands wander. 

His palms skim over the cold patches of scales like he’s trying to warm them. He likes the juxtaposition of the warmth from your skin and the cool brilliance of your scales. He likes the way they pattern on you, lining your spine and sloping over your roundnesses. He kiss parts he can reach on your shoulder and when you stop to let him move more, his kisses follow the trail below your collarbone and between your breasts. When he tentatively swipes his tongue over them, you sigh and sink more fully into his lap.

You pull at the thick hair hear the nape of his neck and redirect him back to your mouth. It doesn’t escape you that your bare torsos are constantly brushing. Your nipples harden when he hugs you to him and shivers at the cool patches meeting his skin.

“Are we going to?”

“Do you want to,” his breath puffs against the side of your jaw.

“Please.”

The press of your rocking hips against his reminds him of just how much clothing there’s still left to remove and how much skin there still is to marvel at. After switching positions, he has you on your back and makes a start on removing your pants. He makes quick work of them by trailing a claw under the stubborn button. When the slacks are gone, he looks over the splashes of blue on the inside of your right thigh, spilling over the front of both your shins, wrapping around your left ankle.

He starts there, with a simple kiss to the sparkle on your ankle and then continues. Like skipping a stone through cerulean waters, he kisses over your shins and makes his leisurely way over the hill of your knee. His tongue makes an appearance at your right thigh, where you had been praying for it. He lingers there until he’s certain the area is no longer untouched. There’s an urge to mark up the other thigh as well so there’s some symmetry. He follows the urge with your hand fisting in the thick strands of his hair the whole time.

“Johnny,” you groan when he takes too long trying to mirror the pattern of your scales with small nips to your skin. “When I asked if we were going to have sex, I was asking about today.”

“Sure, I’ve got you.”

He pats your thigh in a placating gesture, and then slides your underwear off at an obnoxiously slow pace with a shit-eating grin. You try your hardest to level a glare at him, but you break eye contact to gasp when he slides a gentle finger between your folds with no prior mention. You briefly consider just letting him continue, but you’re chasing a very specific sensation.

You rake your nails up the part of his back that you can reach, parting some of the fur there. The shiver that wracks through his whole back has you biting your lip in an attempt to stifle laughter. But it also has him shifting so he can hover over you, his hips occupying the place his shoulders once did. While he balances his weight on his knees and one hand, he uses the other hand to get just free enough from his pants.

He replaces his hand when the button, zipper, and the waist of his pants and underwear bunch around his lower thighs. You reach down before he can do anything else and see what he’s working with. Johnny releases a shaky breath while you feel him up, trace the trail of hair that run from his stomach to his groin. Your other hand runs up his arm in an idle fashion. It’s unintentional but, still, the feeling of your nails running over his skin feels like a live current, even through the fur.

The concentration he exhibits is clear as his head lolls forward. You stop your exploration and nudge him into action with a squeeze of your thighs. He still leans down to plant a kiss on your lips before hooking one hand under your back and around a thigh and shifting so you’re seated in his lap once more. You lower yourself onto him fully and begin rocking. You had been ready to take him early on but you’re wet enough to surprise him. He fights the instinct to pitch up into the wet heat until he’s sure you won’t mind.

When you start to get a bit frustrated with the angle, you push him back and brace yourself on either side of his chest. He lets out a long moan as you ride him, fangs glinting when he throws his head back. His hands come to pull you down onto him more firmly. He doesn’t realize that the prick of his claws on the swatch of scales that adorn your hip spurs you on as well. Each downward snap of your hips he meets halfway until he can feel the tell-tale signs of his orgasm coming. He’s not expecting you to reach down and brush a fingertip against the tip of one of his fangs. Carefully so you don’t cut yourself while you continue to bounce against him, you brush your finger across his lips. He’s not sure why, but it sets him over the edge and he spills into you.

You watch the way his face contorts with the pleasure and ache to join him. Grabbing one of clawed hands, you bring it to the apex of your thighs and he quickly guesses your need. He does his best to rub at your clit while the edges of orgasm fade away from his peripheral vision. It’s just slick enough to get you there, and you finish soon after his fog lifts.

The first thing you do is collapse onto him as you recover. Johnny tries to take deep breaths that you can match and eventually the two of you are letting out twin exhales. When you’re able to, you lift yourself just enough to kiss him again. This time it’s one soft singularity.

He sighs against your lips, and when he pulls back there’s a bemused smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you thought I was human.”

“Yeah,” you close your eyes. “I don’t know how we managed to fool each other for so long.”

“I was actually shaving five times a day since the first date.”

The thought makes you smile when you think back on all the times he would go to the bathroom and come back with a pink face.

“Now I’m sure you can guess why I never washed dishes at your place.”

“Would you get more scales,” he asks while brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

“Close. My fingers would turn blue and web.” You wiggle them for effect.

“You know what? I don’t even think either of us actually said we were human. I guess we just assumed.”

You nod and wonder how things would have been if you came out earlier. The idea of surprising a Johnny that thought you were human on the 2nd date with webbed fingers makes you break your composure. He must follow your train of thought because he begins laughing too, shaking the two of you with the force. When you quiet down again, there’s a heavy calm settled in your ribcage. You suppose this is what courage can bring. Johnny rubs your back as you start to nod off. The last thought you have is that you’ll have to remember thank Nautilanita.