#and then *one* person told me my art has gotten worse and it ‘looks better this way’

[socialc1imb]

I love art ! I’m not lying !

#cw heavy vent here #so feel free to ignore ! i have no one else to tell! #So upset because art has been *such* a struggle but I’ve finally started enjoying it again #and i was genuinely loving how my art looks #and then *one* person told me my art has gotten worse and it ‘looks better this way’ #and now everything I’ve managed to make seems like a waste and the worst thing ive ever drawn #even though i know its not true and i still love my art so much and i love creating #but the fact stands that now i cant look at my art without telling myself that ive *apparently* only gotten worse #people really stripping the last thing that makes me happy away from me and they dont even realize #the thought of my own hobbies that ive enjoyed my entire life makes me feel worse than before #now what’s left? #but its fine. whatever. #cw vent

[genericpuff]

Why is the art so unappealing in lore Olympus now Persephone looks like a highlighter and maybe it’s just me but the proportions like the fingers in arms are soul over the place I don’t think they used to be this bad. Am I just looking at it with nostalgia or am I crazy ?

Honestly, nostalgia does play a huge part in it, even to this day there are times I look back on old S1 panels and go-

Actually here's a great example that literally just happened yesterday in the ULO Discord that nearly had me on the floor LOL This is from Episode 70:

Like I didn't even believe that that was real until I was told what episode it was from and I was just. Astounded and flabbergasted. The over-shading of the blanket that just makes it look like a really bad edit. Insane.

And yeah, there are a lot of old panels that hit different now that the rose-colored glasses have been removed, crushed, and thrown into the trash compactor.

I think that's why it makes it all the more amusing when people come into my inbox and ask me "wait, why did you like LO to begin with?? It's always been ugly as shit, I think you're just romanticizing it" because like... there's something to be said about art and subjectivity, even if something is ugly to one person doesn't mean it isn't beautiful to someone else. It's why I try not to be too mean towards the fans of this comic for still enjoying it, because while I definitely have strong opinions about how "LO has gotten worse" and what kind of following Rachel has cultivated (cough cough), there are also just as equally valid arguments that LO has never begin good to begin with that I can't necessarily disagree with now that I'm looking back on it with a more critical eye.

That said, there's tons of media that I enjoy that is objectively awful. Like y'all, you don't need to take my opinions about a dumb pink x blue fantasy romance comic seriously, I like Starfox Adventures-

Like yeah it's a badly made rushed piece of shit that was developed right on the ass end of Rare's glory days and was really an original IP (Dinosaur Planet) that got Frankenstein'd into a Starfox game so it could "sell better" for Nintendo, but I don't give a fuck, I love Starfox Adventures and some day I wanna be in the top 10 speedrunner leaderboards for it, which I know doesn't mean much because no one is speedrunning Starfox, but I do and no one can take that away from me dammit-

Anyways. Lore Olympus has, in many regards, always had "bad art". But "bad art" can and should still be enjoyed by those who find joy in it.

And in LO's case, the world it existed in when it launched was a lot smaller than it is now - more specifically, the world of Webtoons. We can look back and see how 'bad' LO looks and reads now because there are genuinely way better comics surrounding it. It was unique and refreshing and experimental back then... now it's just "that stupid blue and pink comic for horny teenagers".

In most cases I would consider that "cringing in hindsight" feeling a good thing because normally it means something has grown and that it seeming "bad" in hindsight would mean that it's outgrown itself and moved onto bigger things. But LO has the more unique problem of "its current stuff is shit and it's making us want the old stuff more, even if the old stuff wasn't good either". In that regard, LO is closer to being like Harry Potter. Remember when The Cursed Child came out at the height of Rowling being exposed for being a TERF and even people who liked Harry Potter didn't like The Cursed Child because it was just objectively worse overall (with or without Rowling's bullshit attached)? It made a lot of people go back and re-read / rewatch Harry Potter with a more objective lens and go "wait a minute guys, I think we only adored these books so much because we were 12 when we read them". Often times it's the good memories we have surrounding certain things that make us have the opinion about them that we do.

Of course, LO is definitely not as politically weaponized as Harry Potter is, so that's where that comparison ends. But my point is that LO is definitely in a situation where it's been riding off the same privileges it had back in 2018 - having an 'experimental' art style while also utilizing tropes and characters that were VERY popular at the time (remember that 2017-18 was when Tumblr was at its height of H x P "Hades was a chill accountant guy who wore socks and sandals and didn't cheat on his wife like Zeus did" fantasizing) - and thinks that those same tricks and tropes will still work today.

Because of this, the art in LO really, really hasn't aged well, even the stuff that we look back on fondly. But I think it's the panels that we specifically think of when remembering "old LO" - the ones that stuck in our memories the most - that are the ones that make us miss or just not care about the panels that don't look good (the panels that make people question why we ever liked it to begin with).

We liked it because of how it made us feel to look at panels like these-

Those genuinely wonderful panels that we think back on the most don't exist separately from the bad panels, they exist in spite of them. Even if we can look back on panels like these and pick out problems in the lineart or the proportions or the color travelling outside of the lines, that can't and shouldn't change how those panels made us feel at some point or another. And that's why when people ask me "why were you even into LO in the first place" I don't have any one answer, because I can't fully explain how something made me feel to justify why it's good to someone who can see from the outside - without rose-colored glasses - that it evidently isn't. It's very much a "you had to be there" type of thing.

Unfortunately, nowadays even the 'best' LO panels in S3 still don't come close to what the S1 panels accomplished - because for many of us, the rose-colored glasses are gone, we can't appreciate the good among the bad because we know now how bad it truly is and so the good just feels like wasted attempts at trying to recreate something it can no longer be. It "came back wrong" so to speak.

LO came back just regular. But our journey to resurrecting it changed us to such a degree that even its closest intimacies are now foreign to us. Sorry dude.

This is still probably one of my favorite panels out of the entirety of S3 for being as close to "old LO" as I've seen since S2, and even it feels like a mistake, an accident, how could a panel like this exist in S3 when so much of it is a dumpster fire? It's like a flower growing in the ruins of an apocalyptic wasteland.

But wasn't that always the case? Isn't that 'always' what LO has been, since the very beginning? A poorly cobbled together mess of writing and panels that, every now and then, manages to leave an impression that makes you feel something? Did we ever truly know LO? Or have we just been relying entirely on an idea of it that we've built up in our heads that when it does do exactly what it's evidently always done (even if not made apparent until looking back on it in hindsight) we think it "came back wrong"?

#anyways sorry that was a way deeper response than it oughta have been #welcome to the AMA roulette game of “ask puff a simple question which they may or may not respond to with an introspective essay" #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[chaoskirin]

The Newest AI Bullshit

So now techbros are flooding short story publications with AI-generated writing. It's not just one or two magazines, either. It's all of them.

I'm just going to fucking scream. This is what happens when you pull art out of curriculums. You have a population who both thinks art is "too hard" and also believes it's "super easy" for the people who do it. We have a bunch of assholes who think artists who've worked hard to learn principles of design, color, and composition are gatekeepers if they tell people to stop using AI generation for profit.

I just don't know what to say anymore. I've gotten so many hate anons and braindead comments on my AI posts that I can't even fathom the true depth of hate techbros have for people who create art--whether that's visual art or writing.

And I know... Deep down the people who regularly use AI don't WANT to create art. They want to AVOID creating art. They know AI generation has nothing to do with their own creativity. What they want is something for free, even if it's mediocre or lackluster, and they definitely don't want to learn how to make those things on their own. They want it handed to them.

Worse, they don't even care who they hurt to do it. There's no appealing to their better nature. Artists on the internet are only vague concepts to them. The other day, someone RT'd my "how AI-image generation works" post and discredited my argument by saying I'm a "30-something game grumps fan..." As if I didn't work my ass off my whole life to become an expert in my field.

These idiots also don't realize that I have literally studied computer science my whole life, I'm getting a master's degree in it, AND my job description is literally tech support and software maintenance for a whole department.

But techbros don't actually know how technology works. They think it's a cool toy that they get to play with and make money off of and that's where the buck stops for them. I can no longer even count the people who've looked at my anti-AI posts and told me "NO THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS" with a billion different excuses that come in waves.

First, it was "It's just like a collage, and those are legal!"

Then, "Stop gatekeeping!"

Then, it was "It's just a computer being inspired like a human!"

Then "It's not anything like a collage!"

Then "Datasets don't actually store images!"

And the same argument comes from multiple people at the same time, as if they'll try to convince themselves of anything except that it's fucking theft and they're bad people for abusing the technology.

I'm not tagging this because it's just a personal rant. Feel free to reblog, though.

#not bestiary

[swaps55]

Fugue - Chapter 8 - Half of Me

Pairing: mShenko

Rating: M

Tags: Angst, Grief, Major (Canonical) Character Death

Summary: Alchera, and the two-year gap.  

Chapter Summary: Kaidan treads water. And finds support in an unexpected place.  

Thank you everyone for your patience while I took time away from this story. It’s taken me a long time to figure this out, but I think we’re getting there now, thanks to the help of @pigeontheoneandonly.

Chapter 8: Half of Me | Read on Ao3

Eight weeks into his six weeks of mandated leave, Kaidan sits in Alma Ingram’s living room, drinking a cup of hot chocolate as the snow falls thick and steady outside.

It may be cold out there, but not in here. Between the fire crackling in the fireplace, the collection of mismatched but comfortable couches and armchairs, and over eight decades of photos and knickknacks covering every available wall and surface, not many places feel as cozy and lived-in as Alma’s does. 

A raided platter of fruit and cheeses sits on a coffee table, next to a plate of Safa’s homemade kolaches. Kaidan quickly learned not to eat much before heading here on Thursday evenings. All six of her weekly guests bake, cook, or worse, both, and given the next youngest person in the room still has about thirty years on Kaidan, they’ve had a lot more time to perfect their art. Last week, Ghislaine brought bannock that Kaidan’s still thinking about. If nothing else, his visits to Alma’s have jumpstarted his appetite again.  

“This time of year’s the hardest,” Safa says with a sigh, following Kaidan’s gaze out the window. He sits back in his chair, faraway look in his eye. “Sophie loved the snow.”

“Not Marlene,” Alma scoffs from her seat beside Kaidan on the couch. “Anytime she glimpsed a flake she threatened to move south. Once I actually filed some paperwork for a transfer to Peru just to call her bluff.”  

A few chuckles go around the room. For her second trip through her thirties, Alma’s still got an award-winning smirk.

“What about you, Kaidan?” she asks, gaze landing square on him. “Did Sam like snow?”

Kaidan steeples his fingers as visions of rachni acid steaming in the snow on the roof of Peak 15 run through his head. Why can’t we ever go anywhere nice? Shepard had asked, before pumping another shell into the closest corpse out of spite.

“Didn’t care for it,” he admits. “But he wasn’t a big fan of…weather, really.”

“Spacer, wasn’t he?” asks Ghislaine, attentive look on her face. She’d lost her wife three years ago, after being married for fifty-two, not that much longer than his parents.

“Yeah,” Kaidan says. “Didn’t get planetside much, except when we were working. We never really got the chance to just…go somewhere.” His throat tightens a little, and he presses his knuckles against his lips.   

Alma pats his knee, and directs the conversation elsewhere before handing him another kolache.

It’s his fourth time here, at his mother’s suggestion. Alma and Marlene had been longtime customers of the orchard, and Marlene had died not long after Kaidan enlisted in the Alliance. Spending time with people who know how it feels might help, his mother had told him. You won’t find a more supportive place than Alma’s on Thursday nights.

They’d indeed welcomed him with open arms, quite literally. Each one of them had hugged him, a stranger, like he was an old friend, tight, long, with a gentle squeeze before letting him go. The kindness of the act had been enough to bring him to tears, after which they’d gone around the room and talked about the unexpected places their grief had gotten the better of them.

“Heard their favorite song while I was out shopping,” George recounted. “I sat down on a bench and cried like a baby in a crowd of strangers.”

“Dinner party,” Ghislaine had added. “I thought of a joke she used to tell and lost it in front of a room full of people who thought I finally had my shit together.”

“Trying to change that damn lightbulb in the foyer on Monday,” Alma had said with a wrinkled nose. “Marlene had a gadget for getting the light without needing a ladder, but my hands are too arthritic to work it anymore.” She’d rubbed her knuckles. “You wanna feel like an idiot, try crying over a lightbulb.”

Kaidan still hasn’t been able to make a pot of coffee. Shepard always controlled the coffee pot on the Normandy and never made a drinkable cup in his life; having the freedom to brew it himself should be one of the positive things he can draw from all of this.

But he can’t. Here, he’s surrounded by other people who understand why.

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Fugue Playlist

#mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #fugue update

[dndfanfiction]

Her shift ended two hours ago, but Valerie is still awake, sitting outside the Art Institute waiting for the doors to unlock. Thankfully, her museum membership means to online ticketing is required; a blessing, as she still hasn't figured out the internet, despite being present for its advent. A few minutes pass in calm silence, and she watches a museum guard come out to open the door, waving at her from her spot sitting in front of the left lion. The routine continues as they both keep their silence. Her membership card is also scanned silently; the same person has worked the front desk of the museum for three years. Elanor and Valerie have a careful dance of not speaking. They may even think she's mute, at this point.

Looking up the grand staircase from the bottom, Valerie takes a moment to think about the weddings held her. Thinks about her wedding on the comet, then leaves that thought behind. Today is not for those still living, after all. Her shoes echo on the white marble, not a fault of the soles but rather of her step. She puts a hand on the banister and climbs. At the top, to the left, and into the furthest corner gallery, she takes a lap before sitting on the ground in front of the painting she makes her weekly pilgrimage to see.

Decades ago, when the painting moved museums and she followed it to America, Valerie sat on the plane and wondered how the new plaque would read. Now, the black text on a small white rectangle is embedded on the back of her skull. Valkyries Riding into Battle, Johann Gustav Sandberg, Oil on Canvas, Circa 1818. None of the women on horseback look like her sisters. Brunhilde does not stare back at her from the collection of pigments. None of them are winged, and their armor is woefully wrong. Though Odin and Thor visited this planet in its infancy, art makes it clear Valkyries never made it out this far in the reaches of the universe. Guiding souls back home kept them busy, and they found better planets to spend their leave on then Earth. Still, this is the closets thing she has to a memento. Her sword and this painting, one hidden by magic and the other hanging on the wall in Gallery 220. "The dragon I told you about, Lgbt, is assembling a team. Says there seem to be stirrings, wants me to put back on the mantle. I told him I would." Valerie still isn't sure why she said yes. Earth was her life, now. She called Rockseau once a week, twice if one of them had been particularly stressed. Sometimes, she saw Sasha on the streets of Chicago, either planning a murder or influencing the world in the shadows. Klaus still asked her to come to the bar, and they would reminisce about their time in East Germany, the creative ways they found to sneak people over the border. If she was unlucky, a man in a bar would push a little to hard for a stranger to come home with him, and Val would cave in his skull and revivify him before the ambulance showed up. The doors of the ER kept spinning. Most of the time, if she was their nurse, they lived. Working with Lgbt again would ruin that. Off planet for weeks at a time was no way to keep a job. Could her mental health afford to lose the one thing keeping her grounded? "You would have approved, Brunhilde. Hildr would think this was all foolish, but only if a good battle wasn't fought from it. "Maybe I'm just trying to shirk responsibility. Last living Valkyrie, it just feels like my job is to keep living until we can all be together again. But you're all ash and I'm a slowly decaying form, seventy years overdue for a new vessel. I'm worried this body isn't strong enough to handle a fight." Over the last eighty years, since the birth of Douillet, her bone density has kept a constant, slow rate of decay. Slowly, she's gotten shorter. Only Lgbt has noticed; if she set foot on the comic, Rockseau would know that she's getting worse. Her one promise was to live long enough that Douillet could decide if she wanted her mother in her life; following Lgbt put that promise at risk. "None of your would recognize me, now. To even think about running from a battle. How irresponsible of someone with my strength. We took an oath, after all. What good was it, if I don't follow it? I'm the only one left to uphold it." After a moment of silent contemplation, Valerie knows her decision is made. Was there ever a choice, really? Even now, her hands itch to wield her sword, her shoulders brace for her pauldrons. Her body was designed for the battlefield. But first, she had to video call her therapist back on the comet. After an hour of crying, Cubert would climb out of the wall and she'd ask if he'd eaten any good rats, lately. Her routine of grief would end and life would return to its usual rhythm. This was all just part of the process.

--

All of our character's bosses is a dragon named Lgbt Q. Dragon. He's the ultimate ally and also likely a personification of straight savior complex, housing the unhoused gay community since he came to Earth. Cubert is a Gelatinous Cube that lives in his walls and Val is one of like three people who understands what he's saying. I love this dumb campaign so much.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #paladin #dnd campaign #dnd stuff #no seriously i have extensive playlists for so many of these characters #ask me about my val playlist PLEASE

[akinumi]

For Christmas prompt: Silco with an s/o who has basically become Jinx mom trying to make a perfect Christmas for their little family. S/o ends up working too hard and gets sick, but doesn’t want to ruin Christmas and tries to hide sickness and work through it?

Heavily thanking my friend for proof-reading and giving me advice/tips!

You think you’re slick? If you so as much tiny cough, Silco would pick up that something is wrong with you.

He’s noticed you’ve been working hard to make this Christmas the best one for Jinx, but in exchange for what? Your health?

It wouldn’t be the best without the other parental figure for her, so you should rest up and finish what you can when you feel better.

If you were to persist with or without Silco’s acknowledgment, he’d make sure you’re tightly tucked into bed while Sevika’s outside the door.

Silco, as well, does want to make this Christmas best for his daughter, but it wouldn’t be perfect if you were sickly on the day that was special towards family.

Forced to do as told, you waited impatiently for the day that you’ll feel better. Though, even in bed, you weren’t just going sit around and do absolutely nothing.

You grabbed pens, paper, scissors. Anything to do arts ‘n craft without deteriorating your health more so than it already is.

You’ve made cards, snowflakes… whatever that screamed ‘Christmas’.

Silco personally checks on you and you would have to quickly throw your supplies into drawers, closets, under the bed. Wherever he won’t look while monitoring you.

He suspects you’ve been doing something but if you haven’t gotten worse, he won’t stop it.

Days have passed and you were fortunate enough to recover four days before the astound Christmas day.

Although you feel great, Silco has his doubts. So, he continued to observe you.

Eventually, he’s offered his assistance to bring in this ‘Christmas joy’

Silco doesn’t know what he’s doing so he’s relying on you to tell him what to do for this instance.

He’s dismissed everyone in The Last Drop just so you and he could decorate everywhere inside the club.

If he sees you stagger here and there he will ask that you sit down for 30 minutes to an hour and just leave the decorating to him.

You weren’t going to let him freely decorate as he pleases though, so you were just yelling out where to put what.

Fours days went by quickly and everything was decked out for the holidays!

Gifts were wrapped and settled upon a booth table near the entryway of the bar, and you sat waiting while Silco went to grab Jinx from her room.

You heard her excited chattering from upstairs and smiled to yourself. You wanted the best for her and you will do everything you can to make her happy today.

Upon seeing the two arrive downstairs, you got up and gave her a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas, Jinx.”

#arcane x reader #arcane imagines #arcane silco x reader #arcane silco imagines

[erodasfishtacos]

harry adores yn with his entire being and i can tell that she loves him just as much but the poor thing is just so scared, and by what you have showed us she has a fair reason to have struggles

Through Hell and Back

warnings: cheating, mentions of domestic violence, this could just be overall triggering if you have experienced trauma or family struggles.

this is a very important blurb to understand dynamic and history of the characters.

PLEASE let me know your thoughts.

—

Harry’s out at a bachelor party for his friend, Jack, at a noisy bar downtown where there is a mechanical bull and half-naked waitresses.

His phone rings at two-thirty in the morning, he already knows who it is and why she’s calling him so late.

He steps outside the noisy bar, “Hi puppy, y’alright?”

Harry already knew she wasn’t.

Her voice is shaky, “Er, are you still out at the bachelor party?”

If he says yes, she’ll just try to say have fun and was just calling to check in - a lie because she felt like such an inconvenience at all times.

“No, just got home,” He lied smoothly, he could hear her trying to hide a sniffle - she must have had a bad dream.

Every since she started trauma therapy, they’d been getting worse, as she worked through her struggles with a therapist.

—

“I-I don’t want to g-go in,” YN whimpers as she sits in Harry’s passenger side outside the clinic, “I can’t talk about it.”

“Baby, you need to do this. You need to talk to someone who’s trained to help you, okay? You promised you’d try it f’me,” He hums, rubbing a thumb over her wet cheekbone.

She shakes her head stubbornly, “It’s all going to come back.”

“Yes, it will. Because you didn’t work through it, you repressed it. There is a difference, okay?” Harry’s heart feels like it’s being ripped in two as YN looks like a caged animal.

YN squeezes Harry’s hand so hard it hurts but he doesn’t mind, he can feel her fear being shared through the rough touch.

She wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, “Please, H. I don’t want to remember.”

He sighs softly, “I would never force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you really want to leave, we can.”

YN searches his eyes, sees his sadness and she knows she has to push through because she loves him so much, “Will you walk me in?”

“Of course, s’fucking proud of you. My strong girl,” Harry praises, kissing the top of her head, and shutting off the car.

He walks her in, watches her as she hesitantly goes back in with her new therapist, and sits in the waiting room for the hour and a half until she comes out.

He does that every week without miss.

Drives her, walks her in, sits in the waiting room, and then drives her home.

She doesn’t usually talk much after the sessions, her eyes swollen and puffy which is a telltale sign she cried during the appointment.

Harry holds her hand on the ride home, sometimes draws her a bath or tucks her in for a nap under his covers.

One day, after therapy, they crawled into his bed together. She hadn’t said one word since she walked out of the office but she looks tiredly at Harry.

“Why?”

Harry frowns, “Why what?”

She hides her face into the fluffy pillow, words mumbled, “Why do you want me? I’m so broken.”

“Hey,” Harry responds loudly, pulling her up and giving her a serious look, “You are not broken. Even if you were, I’d love every broken piece, okay? I want you because I’m so in love with you it doesn’t make sense.”

YN shakes her head, “I don’t deserve you. You-you have to drive me to therapy every week, leave work early, have to make it up the next day.”

And well, his heart breaks a little because she truly believes that.

Harry grips her jaw, gently, “If you need to go to therapy for the rest of your life, I’ll drive you until I’m ninety. I’ll drive you five days a week if you need it.”

He continues,“I don’t deserve you, sweet girl. Strongest, bravest, most resilient person I’ve ever met. You are my soulmate and I believe that wholeheartedly.”

“I want to nap now,” She whispers, crawling back into her shell where she’s safe from the world, from facing her fears.

Harry just stares at her, the girl he’s had a crush on since fourth grade, the girl he’d been in love with since ninth.

When she felt broken, well so did he.

—

“Mum, I want to do more for her,” Harry cries to his mother one night at dinner after school.

“I know you do, Harry. There is only so much you can do. She has parents tha-“

“Those aren’t parents, mum! You know that!” He shouts angrily, “I need to do more for her. Help her!”

Anne looks at him with a soft, understanding expression, “You’re doing all you can, Harry.”

—

He was still doing all he can.

“I wa-was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch a movie?” YN acts casual despite the tremor but he won’t call her on it - on the phone at least.

“I’d love to pup, I’ll be over on a tick,” already walking away from the busy bar.

Harry can hear the relief in her voice when she says, “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

When he uses his key to open the door, she sat on her couch with all the lights in the house on, not one off.

“Oh, pet,” Harry murmurs, all the blinds were drawn shut and he knew she’d already triple checked that the windows were locked - despite the state of the art security system he had installed for her.

“Um, so are we feeling a scary movie or romcom?” She ignores his words, picking up the remote, and pulling up Netflix.

He flicks a couple of the bright lights off until it’s normal dim and he sits next to her on the couch, taking the remote and turning off the television.

“Talk t’me,” Harry coaxes, unraveling her from the heavy weighted blanket, and tugging her into his chest.

“M’fine,” YN lies on a choked whimper.

“Y’safe, you know I’d never let anythin’ happen to you . Please puppy, tell me,” He’s not to manly to beg for her to open up.

He allows her to nuzzle her face into his neck, “He cam-came back an-and he -,” her voice drops, “broke in here and I wo-woke up as he was opening my door.”

Harry holds her for a very long time that night.

-

With Harry and her therapist’s constant encouragement she’d been able to be more open and up front with Harry - which made him feel unexaplainably proud of her.

Anna almost fucked everything up, all the hard work without even realizing it.

It was nearly three in the morning this time.

Harry was stuck at Anna’s house with her and her friends for a movie night.

He’d gotten up to go to the bathroom when his phone rings.

Anna sees who it is and picks it up, “What do you want? Harry’s busy and doesn’t have time for you right now. You know it’s not all about you, right?”

Then she hangs up, all of her and her friends giggling at how she just treated YN.

Harry is unaware of the call for a few minutes when he gets back until he gets a text from YN.

I’m sorry I bothered you. I am okay. Have fun tonight x

He scrolls through his phone in confusion until he sees the call, he glares over at Anna, “Did you answer my phone?”

She has a cocky look on her face, “Yeah, I told YN that the world doesn’t revolve around her and to leave us alone.”

All the friends are giggling - but that comes to an abrupt halt when Harry stands up, knocking over the little table of drinks with his anger, “Where the fuck did you get the idea that you could touch my phone, let alone answer it?”

All of them are quiet.

He scoffs, “Now all you annoying prats are going shut up? Get the fuck out of my way,” he orders to Anna who’s pouting.

“C’mon, it was a joke. Don’t leave,” She whines, grabbing at Harry’s arm which he instantly rips out of her grip.

“Don’t touch me. I can’t fuckin’ stand you,” He tells her honestly before storming out of her house without a look back at her teary face.

-

When he arrives at YN’s house, a book is automatically been hurled at the front door when he opens it, then another.

“Hey, puppy, stop tha’. S’just me, you’re okay. S’just me,” He coos, rearming the security system to make her feel better.

She is only in one of his shirts with the company logo on it and soft cotton boy shorts, hair frizzy atop her head.

“Y’have another nightmare?” Harry asks softly, all the lights were on again, every single one.

YN clenches her jaw, “No.”

He hardens his expression too, “I was in the bathroom when she answered that call. As soon as I found out, I came over here. Don’t be sour with me.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

“I know y’bloody lying because your legs are still tremblin’. Now cut the bullshit and talk t’me, we’re not going backwards,” Harry tells her seriously, with all firmness he can muster.

“I love you.”

It takes him aback. YN told him how much she adored him but it was something that didn’t come easy for her.

To hear it flat out, well….he nearly almost melted on the floor into a pile of goop.

“I love you too, puppy.”

She takes a deep breathe, “It’s been that same nightmare, but it’s not really a nightmare? It’s a flashback to…”

YN swallows before she continues, “Remember when….when I ran from my parent’s house to yours and my dad came and found me…”

Harry doesn’t want to remember but he does.

—-

“Harry, he-he just pulled up,” YN cries, peeking out his window, “I don’t want to go home.”

“Harry, he’s screaming at your mum. I have to go.”

“Harry, I have to go before he does something stupid. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Harry, don’t cry. I’ll be fine, he’s just really upset. I’ll just deal with it and it will be over before we know it, okay?”

——

“I remember,” He wavers like he normally doesn’t, feeling like a helpless sixteen year old again.

It was moments like this were no matter how hard he wanted to be angry or scream at her for making their relationship so difficult, that he couldn’t be.

How could he blame her for her commitment issues?

Why she struggles to trust?

Why she never feels good enough?

“I’m sorry to bring that up-“

“Do not apologize,” Harry interrupts, “I want to know everything you experience or feel no matter how traumatic or upsetting.”

YN despite her own struggles, when she heard Harry say things like that…well she knew full heartedly that he loves her with no conditions.

She knew this was so hard on him, “I am so in love with you, H.”

His eyes automatically soften and he reacts like he’s being praised. His face lights up without him even knowing it does.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen, thank you for being my person. I appreciate everything you do for me.”

It was something she had been also working on in therapy, expressing gratitude- specifically to Harry.

And it works because Harry actually starts tearing up, eyes watering with emotion, “I love you. I’d walk through hell and back for you.”

He would and he has.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #update #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles angst #cheating!harry blurb #cheating!harry #cheating!harry masterlist

[seriouslysnape]

Incompetence

Cedric Diggory x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 1,231

A/N: Just a disclaimer-I’m well aware that Cedric was already...Deadric when Umbridge came along.

“Did something happen today?”

Cedric had been trying (without success) for the last 15 minutes to stop the pitiful cries bellowing from your trembling frame. He couldn’t get a word out of you other than the couple of times you had whimpered his name to display your very obvious upset. He kept his hands underneath your thighs to keep you wrapped around his waist as he carried you through the castle to his dorm, offering reassuring nods to those he passed in the halls to let them know you were okay.

At least, Cedric was pretty sure you were okay since you had yet to tell him what was wrong.

He kept pressing kisses to your temple and the crown on your head to remind you that he was there when you were ready to speak, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t be saying a word until you were settled in the privacy of his room.

“Almost there, sweet girl. Then we can talk, yeah?” He suggested as he finally made it within a few feet from his prefect door.

You only blubbered an affirming noise that you had heard him, keeping your head buried in the crook of his neck and your arms around his neck to assure that the Hufflepuff boy wasn’t going anywhere. He was able to maneuver the door open with his foot and push it open with his hip. He swiftly entered inside the room, approaching his bed and letting you sink into the mattress once he detached you from his body.

He was surprised when you slipped your shoes off and crawled under his covers, balling yourself inside until you weren’t even visible anymore. This was VERY unusual behavior for you, considering that you almost always waited until he was snuggled up next to you before you got comfortable. Cedric slipped out of his black and yellow robes, draping them across the chair of his desk. 

Your crying hadn’t stopped, and his heart broke further and further with every sniffle and hiccup that came out of you. You whimpered when you felt the mattress dip, letting you know that Cedric was next to your curled up body. He rested a hand on your sniffling body that was lost within his sheets.

“[Y/N], you’re breaking my heart,” He said with a tone full of worry, wishing that you’d just tell him what was wrong; “Did something happen today?”

You only let out a noise of confirmation, followed by another hiccup. 

“Okay...did you have a hard time with your Potions exam?” He questioned, realizing he’d have to guess what it was.

You shook your head, and even though he couldn’t see it, he could tell that wasn’t it.

“Did you have a bad time in Transfiguration?” He queried, rubbing your arm through the thickness of the duvet.

You shook your head again, causing Cedric to really think about it. If it wasn’t Potions or Transfiguration causing you all this grief, then it had to be Defense Against the Dark Arts since he had Charms with you and nothing odd had happened today.

“Did something happen during Defense?” He asked lightly.

Your silence was a giveaway, along with the new round of sobs that began exploding from your chest. He couldn’t stand to hear you cry anymore, ripping the sheets off of you and pulling you in.

“Baby, baby.” He mewled with concern, rocking you back and forth gently to soothe you; “What happened?”

You sucked in a shaky breath, wiping your tears on the shoulder of Cedric’s soft shirt. 

“It was horrible, Ced,” You wept; “It was Umbridge.”

He brought you back to face him at the sound of your voice, his thumbs wiping away your tears that were steadily falling down your usually happy face. Cedric felt a sense of dread in his gut. Umbridge had been making everyone’s life a living hell all year. She was possibly the meanest soul to ever walk the planet.

“Oh no...what did she do, princess?” Cedric prompted.

A little bit of anger was beginning to wash over him. Not at you of course, but he had heard and seen what Umbridge had done to students, and he wasn’t sure what’d he do if she had physically hurt you.

“Umbridge yelled at me.” You confessed, falling into hysterical crying once more.

Cedric paused for a moment, and couldn’t stop the amused smile and soft chuckle that bubbled out of his chest. You sat up quickly from his hold, absolutely offended that he was reacting like this.

“Are you laughing at me?” You asked in a way that was supposed to be angry, but came out more hurt.

His smile faded into more of a softer one, and he cupped your face with a quick kiss to your lips. You were always a hit with professors. You were intelligent, witty, and very kind. There probably hadn’t been a day in your life where a professor had even remotely raised their voice at you. So, he wasn’t surprised that Umbridge had you falling apart like this.

“No, no, pretty girl. I promise I’m not,” He said, holding down a snicker. He knew you were genuinely upset over this, but he was just relieved that nothing else had happened; “Why did she yell at you?”

“I didn’t know the counter curse for some stupid dark charm or something,” You retold him; “She called me incompetent.”

That wiped the smile right off of Cedric’s face. That was one thing that he never, ever wanted you to think about yourself. You were unbelievably talented and bright, and he didn’t want you to ever think otherwise.

“You are not incompetent. You’re a wonderful, talented witch.” He told you, moving your hair that had gotten stuck to your wet cheeks.

“But she said-”

“Nope. I won’t hear another word of this,” He cut you off; “Umbridge is a horrible professor and even worse of a person. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

You still looked discouraged, but at least your tears had stopped now. He was afraid he’d start crying if you hadn’t stopped soon. You rose to your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck for a more comfortable hug that you surely needed. His arms snaked around you as he left a kiss to your collarbone that he was eye level with.

“Thanks, Ceddy,” You murmured, scratching at his scalp; “Can I have one of your Quidditch sweaters?”

“Of course, baby.” He granted, letting you slip away to change clothes.

He couldn’t miss the slump of your shoulders and the dejection in your walk. Umbridge had really gotten in your head. You changed into his sweater, reveling in the way the material felt on your skin. He watched as you padded back to his bed, curling up against his pillows. He layered you with kisses, showering you with love and reminding you how amazing you were.

“You’re my pretty girl, you know that? My wonderful, talented, lovely girl.” He praised, leaving a kiss just above your brow bone.

He linked his legs with yours, running his fingertips along the exposed skin of your leg.

“Yeah,” You smiled; “I know.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to ever forget it.” He remarked.

“With you around, I don’t think I could forget.” You joked with a giggle.

He hummed, kissing you once more.

“Even better.”

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x y/n #Harry Potter #harry potter cedric diggory #cedric diggory oneshot #cedric diggory fluff #seriouslysnape

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 4)

Requests are still open as of this post.

Shigaraki

You hadn’t meant to cause that level of destruction. It was an accident.

But they hadn’t seen it that way.

Their words followed you even when they could not. You could hear the accusations ringing in your head whenever you used your quirk – for better, or for worse. It became easier to ignore as you slowly learned to stop caring.

Until your quirk went out of control again.

You woke up in a dark room with a pounding headache and exhausted limbs. The doctor who was looking after you (a man you were relatively certain had no actual medical knowledge) had gotten very close and asked how much you remembered. When you informed him that it wasn’t much, he had smiled.

“Well, you certainly drew attention to yourself,” he had laughed. “Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that the heroes didn’t get to you first.”

“I guess so…”

Something warned you that this situation was more dangerous than it seemed. Your eyes drifted over the covered windows of the room and you stared at the door. “Why did you help me?”

“Well that’s hardly for me –“

He didn’t get a chance to answer before you dashed for the exit. The doctor’s quirk didn’t allow him to grab you and his alarmed shout was all you heard before you were darting down the hallway. You weren’t going to stick around and get experimented on.

You turned the corner, heart pounding in your chest. They must have given you something because you felt drowsy. The entire world was spinning.

But you had to nearly trip yourself up to avoid running directly into somebody as you sprinted down a different hallway.

This was hardly your first time dealing with villains and many of them had odd quirks, to say the least. It shouldn’t have shocked you to see somebody with a human hand on their face but maybe the medication was lowering your tolerance because it was terrifying.

“Who are you?” you snapped out, immediately on the defense. You took a step away, ready to run or fight, whichever seemed easiest.

The man didn’t seem too bothered by your snap at least; the one eye that you could see watched you steadily from behind his hand mask. “I’m sure you’re not meant to be running around here,” he said. “But you’re no hero so you must be here for your quirk. Do you still have it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t unknown in the underground that there was a man who stole quirks he liked. Nobody knew what he did with them but it wasn’t unheard of for villains to wake up with nothing. And you would never get them back.

You could feel your quirk was still there. It pulsed under your skin like a warning.

“My quirk?” you repeated. “I have my quirk.”

You did a random gesture, summoning all of your past acting experience to appear horrified when nothing happened. Again and again you tried before looking around in shock and horror.

The guy bought it and he shrugged. “Then there’s no reason to stop you.” He brushed past you and continued walking. “Not like you could find the exit anyway.”

The moment he turned the corner, you dropped the act and bolted again. This place was a maze but you found the exit and avoided any encounters with a practiced ease. Before leaving, you looked back up at the building and grimaced, hoping to never see it again.

Toga

It was late at night when you had the strangest encounter of your life. Not that that was a bad thing necessarily but it was something that occurred, nevertheless.

You had been feeling quite exhausted from a long day of fun with your friends. They had headed off to get a cab when you had realised that you needed the bathroom and disappeared to go find one.

There was a public toilet not too far from the street though it certainly wasn’t as clean as you would have hoped. Not to be deterred, you slipped in and found a sight that, even to your exhausted mind was uncomfortable.

A girl stood in front of one of the mirrors, blood staining much of her face. It covered the counter beneath her fingers and seemed to be coming from her lip.

“Are you okay?!” you asked, panicked.

She looked up at you, startled. Her dark hair covered much of her expression but she seemed a little out of it. Maybe she got hit on the head or something.

“I –“ she paused, her voice croaky and sore. She brought her hand up to rub her throat. “I think so.”

“Just wait, let me help you,” you said. You rushed into one of the stalls and gathered up some toilet paper. “Do you need me to call somebody or?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No. Thank you.”

You offered some of the damp tissue to her and she started wiping it away from her mouth. While she dealt with that, you cleaned the blood that she had left on the counter, making sure to get it out of all the cracks in and around the sink. “What happened to you?” you asked. “Did somebody attack you?”

“I slipped,” she said. “The tiles are really slippery and I think that I hit my mouth on the sink. It’s all kind of blurry.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, digging through your bag and grabbing some headache tablets. You offered the bottle to her. “Take two of those just in case. Even if it doesn’t hurt now, you don’t want to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I still have any blood on me?”

“Just on your jaw,” you pointed out. “Come on, my friends and I are getting a cab. We can call one for you also if you need.”

She took one last glance in the mirror before leaving. You had forgotten your own need for the bathroom and it was for good reason also. If you had hung around for a little longer, you may have seen blood trickling out from one of the stalls. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so worried about this stranger hitting her head.

“What’s your name?” you asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Toga,” the girl said, though she didn’t seem too happy with having told you. The words must have slipped out without her meaning to.

You gave her your own name and went up onto your toes to look around the crowd for your friends. Eventually you spotted them and waved but when you spoke to Toga, she didn’t respond.

She had disappeared into the crowd.

You went back into the bathroom and checked but she was long gone. Just like how the blood has escaped your notice earlier, you didn’t see the blonde watching you from the other side of the street, her head tilted a little.

Dabi

It was a rare day when you found yourself alone without at least one person to watch your back. You didn’t always need the protection but sometimes, it was nice to have.

But you had given your word and it wouldn’t do to back out of this now.

The building where everything had been organised was old and crumbling – its ancient nature hidden on the outskirts of the city and slowly becoming overtaken by countless plants. It wasn’t somewhere anybody with good intentions would find themselves.

You liked to think that your work was good. It benefitted many and took only from those who could afford to lose it. Unfortunately though, rules had to be broken for the best results, and sometimes what was classified as ‘wrong’ turned out to be needed in order to achieve a goal. It wasn’t quite in line with what you believed but it had to be done.

Did working with villains make you uncomfortable? Of course. But it was hardly going to be something that stopped you from moving forward.

The two members from the League of Villains that had been sent to meet you were both men. You didn’t bother with greetings, just holding up the briefcase that you held.

“I’m looking for a specific artwork,” you said. “I’ve been told that you might be able to help?”

“An artwork?” the one asked. He wore a white and black mask that concealed most of his face and an extremely gaudy costume.

“Not just an artwork,” you explained. “It has something of mine hidden in the canvas. Normally, I would just get the police involved but if they found it, it would be quite problematic for me. The group that stole it won’t listen to many but the League of Villains, I’m afraid. They have a few good quirks and they’re extremely cocky for it.”

“We’re not lapdogs,” the other man said. “Especially not for whatever agenda you’re pushing.”

“I don’t pay lapdogs,” you acknowledged. “Consider me a sponsor.”

Flames cackled into existence in his hand, surprising his colleague enough to jump a little. “Chances are, they’ve already found your thing. Even if they haven’t, the league can hardly go around picking fights with random gangs.”

“Shigaraki did ask –“

The masked man was cut off by a glare. Blue flames sent flickering light through the air as they waited patiently for your answer.

“If it’s already been discovered or if it happens to get damaged during the process, then I don’t plan on getting anything out of our deal. It’ll simply be a loss on my side.”

The flames slowly flickered out and you allowed yourself to breathe again. Confidence was a requirement for these deals but you didn’t quite have the nerves of steel that you portrayed. It was always a fight to keep your reactions in check.

“I guess if we happen to bump into the group, we can check around for your shit.”

You knew his bluff as well as your own. The League of Villains had always worked well with those who had money. They required funding and wouldn’t say no to being able to flex their reputation around the underground. It was almost needed with the way rumours were circulating.

It was less than a week after that encounter when you found your artwork sitting outside your home. Charred on the edges, it was damaged enough to make the art itself worthless. But your items inside were perfectly unharmed.

Not bad for your first time working alongside the League of Villains. It was worth the cost… you should do it more in the future.

Twice

When you had been called in for this job, you had no idea that it was going to turn into a fight of the magnitude you experienced.

Flames tore along the streets. They melted lamps and trapped hundreds inside buildings – the screams for help becoming almost deafening as you broke down yet another wall to get civilians out. It was the third building you had had to smash into and there were more yet.

Nobody could get out and, if they remained trapped, they wouldn’t survive much longer.

When your partner and you had realised you were dealing with the League of Villains, you had immediately called in the big guns. What you hadn’t realised was that doing so would result in a brawl of sorts in the streets. The League of Villains didn’t care about collateral and honestly, sometimes you wondered if the heroes did.

You were starting to overheat. The amount of fire swirling around was getting to you, drawing the breath from your lungs and slowing your movements. Its angry blue nature hinted at its abysmal nature.

The next building’s walls took even longer to get through but you managed it and a few people scrambled out. You ushed as best as you could although it was starting to get hard to speak.

But then you noticed a dark figure lying in one of the rooms

Outside, the fire roared and smacked against the walls but you couldn’t just leave somebody there. You stepped over the rubble and made your way to the figure.

It was hard to make out details with the flames. The heat seemed to be getting worse as you approached – soon identified as being caused by the gaping hole in the wall. It radiated around the room in waves. You covered your mouth and nose the best you could, creeping forward to reach where the person was.

When you arrived, it took you no time to recognise that you weren’t saving an unfortunate civilian but rather a member of the League itself.

You hesitated for a second before hooking your arms under his and beginning to drag him away from the danger. This was the type of thing that lost reputation for heroes. Civilians didn’t like seeing villains being rescued but you honestly didn’t care.

If he was left there, he was probably going to end up dying.

Though he had seemed unconscious, when you got him out of the building, he muttered something and moved. It was enough to make you jump back but he didn’t attack or anything. He just touched his face and then let his arm go limp again.

You moved back cautiously. His suit had been ripped on the one side, missing its arm and half of the torso. You checked his pulse, relieved to feel that it was still going, even if it was unsteady.

“Can you hear me?” you asked.

He didn’t respond and you reached up to remove his mask. His hand immediately snapped up to grab your wrist and you prepared to activate your quirk but all he did was push your arm away from his face.

Alright then. No touching the mask.

You bandaged the open wound on his side as best as you could. It looked like he had gotten launched through the building. Once he was as stable as he could be, you moved him to a safer area and jumped back into the fray. A ton of rescues later and the heroes had won, at the destruction of much property.

And, rather unsurprisingly, the villain you had saved was long gone.

Overhaul

There was a new drug running around the market. You had heard of a number of small-time villains taking it – most of them dying shortly after consumption. It wasn’t unheard of. If something had even the promise of a good time then it would attract thousands.

But what was a problem was that you had lost several of your newest underlings as a direct result of this drug.

Given how picky you were about hiring, this was going to be a problem.

You tracked the source to none other than the Shie Hassaikai. They were an old branch of the yakuza, sitting on the edge of a downward spiral into irrelevance. Rumors followed that their boss had fallen quite ill and now, it was only a matter of time until they fell completely on their faces.

So you didn’t feel too nervous when you approached the house that fronted their main base. Even with the members watching you from the bushes, you kept a straight line.

You weren’t unknown. It would do them a great disservice to attack you.

And they knew it.

You walked in the front door with absolutely no resistance and remained unsurprised when two masked men came out to greet you. They didn’t ask about your business or enquire as to who you were. Instead, they led you into a sitting room and gestured for you take a seat.

Instead of that, you walked around the room and picked up everything that looked interesting. Nothing was hidden around but you hadn’t expected there to be.

“Please don’t touch things without gloves on,” a smooth voice interrupted your curiosity. “Cleaning this entire house is rarely needed and I’d rather you didn’t change that.”

You turned around to find somebody considerably younger than you had expected for the head of the Shie Hassaikai. He wore their signature mask and a feathered coat, almost his entire body hidden in some way.

“Not a fan of germs?” you enquired.

“Not at all.”

You shrugged and made your way to the couch, sinking down into it. “Guess that means no drinks or anything? Oh well, that’s too bad.” You gestured for him to sit.  “So, you’re not who I was expecting.”

“You’ve never worked with our organisation before,” he said, sitting on the edge of the chair opposite you.

“No. You’re not in the same line of work as me and I don’t care too much about the Yakuza.”

“Then why are you here?”

You straightened, aware that you were about to get into the most dangerous part of the meeting. “Your drugs have been getting into my areas. Now, I don’t care all too much about how you distribute stock but it’s not just coming into possession of low-life criminals. My men are getting practically gifted it.”

His eyes narrowed. “We need to test it somehow. Besides, that sounds like a problem for you, no? Have better control of your men.”

“Keep your test tube shit out of my territories.”

A small staring contest took place – a test to see who would break first. You had been in almost a hundred of these over the course of your career. They didn’t bother you much at all in anymore.

Eventually he waved his hand through the air. “I guess we could stop supply to traders in your areas but this isn’t a charity.”

“I could kill your men.”

“But you would lose your own in the process. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this the peaceful way and maybe even establish a relationship between our two groups?”

“You have my attention. Don’t waste it.”

Kurogiri

There are those days when everything begins so well only to rapidly spiral into a situation out of your worst dreams. This was something like that.

You had gotten horribly caught in the crossfire of a battle between heroes and villains. It all occurred faster than you could have ever imagined – flashes of light and explosions of sound. People were screaming, the sound coming through a haze as you tried to get a grasp on what had happened.

Blood was trickling down your arm but you felt no pain. You slowly lifted your head. Something had hit you, you remembered that now as your brain caught up to the dull ache coming from your ribcage.

You tried to move, finding that you couldn’t. The ache became worse and a heavy, scraping sound interrupted your attempts to crawl away.

It was a piece of concrete, heavy and painful, pinning you effectively to the ground. A smaller chunk was holding it up and stopping you from being crushed. But if you moved too much…

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, nearly choking on the dust that filled the air. Maybe if you shifted slowly.

A crunching noise made you hiccup.

Alright, so that wasn’t going to work either. You strained your eyes to see through the carnage but you couldn’t make out any heroes. They would come eventually; you just had to wait patiently and try not to move too much.

The concrete seemed to get heavier still and you fought the desire to cry.

There was a crunching sound. You couldn’t just wait around.

Slow as you dared, you began to inch forward. The rough surface snagged at your clothing and made every centimeter feel like it was going to end with you crushed. Worse still, the more you moved, the more apparent the injury on your back became.

The blood that had been trickling down your arm was now creeping along your torso. It pooled in your clothes and made everything sticky.

You tried not to think about it but it made you light-headed regardless.

About half-way out, you spotted somebody nearby. It was just their silhouette but still, relief flooded your veins and you cried out desperately for help.

The figure made its way over to you, soon revealing that the man was almost entirely made of smoke. He wore a suit and tie but his body swirled as though only somewhat solid. Bright yellow eyes stared at you – any emotion behind them was completely unreadable.

His eyes traced your shape. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Please help me. This thing’s going to crush me.”

He paused, the swirling darkness that made up his face shuddered as though it was unsure how to respond. “I should leave you here,” he mentioned. “You’re of no consequence to me or to my cause. If anything, I should add pressure to the piece of rubble and make sure the fatality numbers are higher.”

You caught of whimper before it could escape. “Please.”

His smoke shook again, almost as though he was struggling to keep hold of it. Then he raised a foot and placed it on the concrete.

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the best parts of life.

A loud horn blaring made you open them again and a surprised yelp escaped as you saw tires race past in front of you. People were shouting, their voices loud and nearby. Bright lights surrounded you and the air was clear once more.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a panicked nurse rushing over to you.

#my hero academia #mha #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #shigaraki x reader #dabi x reader #toga x reader #twice x reader #kurogiri x reader #overhaul x reader

[flowerypeaches]

Mothership

“What is that?”

Hero stopped their approach, a positively bored expression on their face. “What are you doing?”

Their nemesis, who was currently pointing behind Hero with an incredibly overexaggerated look of surprise, rolled their eyes, “Uh, giving you your cue?”

“My cue?”

Villain sighed loudly, dropping the egregious pose. “You're supposed to turn your head, in a suitably dramatic fashion of course, search for what I was pointing at, only for it to be revealed a ruse, granting me the opportunity to strike you unawares so I may gain the upper hand in our skirmish.”

“Mhm, and why would I fall for something so stupid?”

“Because you are stupid?”

“...”

“Ow, okay, okay!” Villain held a hand to their nose, grimacing as it came back bloody from Hero’s rather crude punch. “See, this is what I was trying to avoid. No story, no drama, no excitement. What if I let you get a few good hits in afterwards?”

Hero replied by kicking Villain’s feet out from under them, knocking them onto the cold and cracked pavement. “Looks like I’m already getting a few good hits in.” They leaned over Villain, arms crossed. “Now, are we going to actually fight, or are you going to keep trying to direct your own personal soap opera?”

Hero waited for Villain’s patented snarky response, specifically about how soap operas are a valid form of art and Hero would be wise not to disrespect it, yadda yadda, but none came. In fact, Villain wasn’t even looking at them.

“Uh, Villain? You still with me?” 

Villain’s voice was barely above a whisper, “What is that?”

“Seriously? It hasn’t even been a minute and you’re really using the sa-”

“I’m not screwing with you, Hero, there’s something in the sky!”

Hero had to admit, Villain’s acting had gotten much better in the last thirty seconds, but no matter how real it looked, they weren’t going to fall for it. Villain might be messing around now, but Hero couldn’t forget that they were a criminal, and a dangerous one at that.

They reached down, pulling Villain, who was still staring into the sky, up by their collar. “Look, I get that you never got the lead role in the school play or whatever, and want to make the world burn because of it, but could you, just this once, take our fight seriously?”

“I think it's getting closer.”

Hero ignored them, “I’m tired of the other heroes telling me I have it easy because my nemesis would rather focus on projecting their monologue to all of the hostages than actually rob the bank they broke into to begin with.” Sure, Hero was thankful Villain’s obsession with the dramatic kept them from causing too much destruction, but they had their own reputation to uphold, and constant stalemates with the theatre school reject did not help! “Let me tell you what. If you go down to the station without a fuss, then maybe I can get you into one of the nicer cell blocks. You know, the ones with the view of the hills. Does that sound good? Villain? Are you even lis-”

Blinding light filled Hero’s eyes and ears, cutting off every train of thought and any plan of action they might have had before then. They looked up, and despite the harsh light making their eyes water, they could make out the vague shape of a disc floating directly above them.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Told you.”

Hero looked back down to their nemesis, who looked much too smug for the situation at hand, and sneered, “Maybe if you didn’t insist on playing drama club, I might have actually taken you seriously.”

Villain had the courtesy to drop their grin, squinting up at the…  “Is it getting brighter?”

It was, and that meant it was too late for Hero to prevent what was about to happen. Familiar cold heat ran through their veins as their limbs locked in place.

A safety precaution.

Definitely not to prevent anyone caught in the beam from escaping.

“Hero? I-I can’t move.” Villain said.

Villain.

They shouldn’t be here.

Hero’s eyes widened, realizing just how screwed they were. They tried to relax their hands, to let go of Villain, to shove them out of the beam, anything, but only managed to twitch their muscles, as if they were encased in a steel mold.

Villain seemed to be doing the same thing, though the trembling may have just been the fear. Any other time, Hero would have loved to see Villain’s mask slip. To force them to acknowledge that, yes, Hero was a real threat to their criminal livelihood. Instead, Villain acted as if Hero was a fellow actor, asking for Hero’s thoughts on new scenes they came up with, or excitedly talking about whatever had happened in their soap that day, a neon flashing sign that indicated they were in desperate need of friends. Did… did that mean Villain thought they were friends?

Not the time.

Hero gave up on their efforts, and let the looming dread wash over them. This wasn’t acceptance, no, they were just giving themself a moment to rest before they faced what was up in the ship. Oh, they weren’t ready.

Two enemies, encircled and entrapped in an ever growing light, locked eyes. 

“We’re so f-”

And as quick as it had appeared, the burning light and mysterious ship attached to it, along with Hero and Villain, vanished into the night.

.·°·.·°·.·°·.

Light surrounded Villain. The ambient noise of the city was replaced by a low, droning hum. Any sense of direction was lost as gravity no longer affected them. They were weightless, and, even in this world of superpowers, nothing made sense. Where did the city go? Why couldn’t they move? How were they floating? The light was all-consuming, and Villain would have thought themself lost in it if not for the deathgrip Hero still had around their collar. 

Slowly, the light faded, and Villain felt their own weight return to them. Their legs wobbled, and in an instant, whatever force that held them in place disappeared. They would have fallen if not for Hero, who still held them in their grasp.

“What just happened?” Villain said, though not really expecting an explanation.

Looking around, they could see they were now in a circular, silver chamber. Dials and switches and lights and symbols dotted the walls, communicating something or other, and the floor was, what was that, carpet? Villain shuddered. Honestly, it looked a lot like a cheap sci-fi set for a tv show that should have been cancelled three seasons ago than a futuristic aircraft capable of teleporting human beings.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Villain jumped at Hero’s voice, and stumbled as their anchor let them go to run over to a wall.

Not a wall. A window.

Villain blinked.

A window that showed… Earth? No, that couldn’t be right. If they were looking at the earth, that could only mean...

“Shit, we’re already in orbit.” Hero said.

Villain blinked.

They were in space. Space. That was impossible, right? They couldn’t actually be in space. But here they were, staring at the little blue marble with their very own eyes. Was the room spinning? Or was it the spaceship?

Villain ran their hands through their hair.

They were in a spaceship. A spaceship. That was impossible, right? They couldn’t actually be in a spaceship. But here they were, having been abducted by the UFO just seconds ago. By what? Aliens?

Aliens.

Villain forced their gaze away to keep themself from spiraling, instead focusing on Hero, who has since moved on from the window to the numerous switches and lights, tapping the wall and looking at the symbols that popped up. Villain didn’t understand what Hero was trying to do, it wasn’t like they could understand what any of it meant.

Three deep breaths, and Villain made the best plan ever made in 24 seconds. They stepped up next to their nemesis.

“Hero?”

Hero’s hand was covering their mouth, muttering something to themself, and clearly not paying attention. Nevertheless, Villain continued, “Now, as much as I hate to say it, I think we may have to work together to get back on Earth.” Truth be told, in any other circumstance, Villain would have been ecstatic to work with their nemesis. Whether to defeat a worse villain or take down some other hero that had become corrupt, they would have welcomed the opportunity wholeheartedly. 

Why? Well, Villain would argue that it was more interesting, that their relationship, and subsequent fights, would have more dramatic tension. Definitely not because of any other tension that may arise from spending time together.

Villain puffed out their chest, “Lucky for you, I have decided to put aside our differences, and your lack of charisma, to take the initiative and save us both from peril. Yes, this does go against my better judgement, and yes, it may possibly be my most difficult role to date, but if it means I get to go back home in time to watch my soaps, then it’ll be worth it.”

Hero finally turned towards them, “Do you ever shut up?”

“Only for dramatic effect.” Villain said with an award-winning smile, earning an eye roll and a huff of annoyance. “So… what do you think we should do?”

“I thought you said you’d take the initiative?”

“Yes, the initiative in proposing we work together.”

“...”

Villain held up their hands, “Hey, hey, before you go punching willy nilly, why don’t you tell me what you were doing over here? Get anything useful from the flashing green triangle you were poking at?” They would have teased more, but Hero’s lack of response made them move on. “What are you thinking?”

Hero’s eyes flickered to the wall and back to Villain. “You need to leave.”

Villain blinked.

“Well, obviously we need to escape. We were abducted!”

Hero shook their head, “No, you need to leave. I’ll stay, and deal with-”

“What? And how are you going to figure out how anything works, huh? Even if you do, why wouldn’t you just come back with me?”

“It’s not that simple, I can’t re-”

A low, loud beep interrupted the enemies, and Villain turned their head in time for a wall opposite the window to open up and let someone through. Someone distinctly… humanlike. 

The person, an older woman by the looks of it, smiled brightly and opened their arms. “ .·°¯°·.·° .·°° ?”

That was distinctly not humanlike. It was like hearing someone speak through water, and an undercurrent of static scratched the inside of Villain’s ears. 

The woman—were they even a person?—walked closer, and Hero quickly stepped in front of Villain, shielding them.

She paid no mind, however, and spoke again, “ .·°¯°·.·° .·°° ,” looking expectantly at Hero, who, after a moment of hesitation, stepped forward. Her smile widened, and Villain was hit with a sense of deja vu. She pulled Hero close, and, were they hugging? Why was Hero letting her? What was happening? 

The woman whispered something to Hero, but it wasn’t like Villain could understand even if they tried. Hero turned back to Villain, giving them an apologetic smile before, “ ° .·°° ° .¯ .”

Villain’s jaw dropped.

Hero was replying to the woman. Which meant they understood her. Which meant they knew whatever language was being spoken. Which meant… which meant… Why were they abducted in the first place?

The danger presented itself fully to Villain.

They had been taken off the face of the earth by their mortal enemy, or someone who was well acquainted with them, at the very least, and had no possibility of escape. Villain considered themself clever, but trying to figure out how alien—alien!—technology worked was beyond them. They had to rely wholly on Hero, who, although Villain was loath to admit it, hated their guts. Hero could be plotting in front of Villain right now and they would be none the wiser.

Hero wouldn’t do that. Villain tried to reassure themself, because Hero wouldn’t send them off with some unknown alien being. They’d want to arrest Villain proper, right? Arrest and put them in some high security cell they’d break out of a month later. It was their thing. Villain didn’t want their thing to end.

Huh.

Villain shook their head, they’d have to examine and repress that particular line of thought later, because the woman was suddenly standing in front of them, startling Villain out of their thoughts. She reached out, clutching Villain's jaw with cold fingers, turning them this way and that. As if they were being studied. Was Villain wrong? Was Hero really getting rid of them?

“ ¯ .·°°·°¯ .” She said. Villain’s ears itched worse now that the woman was closer.

Maybe Hero thought they were doing Villain a favour, sending them off on an adventure, letting them create their own melodramatic space opera. Or maybe this was punishment for all the dated Space Trek references. Both were a possibility.

Familiar hands pulled Villain away from the woman and into Hero’s chest. They were not blushing.

“ .·° .¯°·°° !” Hero’s voice was raised, clearly upset at whatever the woman had said.

She, however, was unaffected by Hero’s outburst, gesturing between the two enemies with raised eyebrows, “ °·.°·.°¯°·. .” 

Hero shook their head, and Villain felt Hero’s grip tighten ever so slightly, “ °·.°¯ .·°°·.°°¯ .”

A strange noise came from the woman, sounding almost like… bubbles? It was clearer than the other times she spoke, and it was the way she moved that made Villain realize it was a laugh. She was laughing at Villain. Or Hero. Both?

Hero’s hands were shaking, and Villain couldn’t tell if it was with anger or fear. 

“ ·° .·° .” Hero was curt with her, and Villain recognized the tone from when they threatened to blow up City Hall. The tone that preceded their fights.

The woman seemed to recognize the tone as well, as she backed off a little, holding her hands up in a placating way. She gave Villain a small wave before nodding at Hero, “ ·.°.°¯°°¯° .· .·° .” and left, the wall closing up behind her.

The pair stood in silence.

Hero let go of Villain, letting them step away. Except, they didn’t. In fact, they did nothing of the sort. Villain spun on their heels and stepped forward, “What on ear–ugh, what just happened?”

“There, um, might be a slight problem.”

“Slight problem? You call this”—Villain gestured wildly around them, narrowly avoiding hitting Hero in the face—”a slight problem?”

Hero leaned away from Villain, avoiding their eyes.

“Care to explain? Anything? At all?”

“Where do I start?”

Villain’s theatrics, for once, wasn’t uncalled for. “Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that we were abducted? That we are in space? Or, or!” Villain backed off, giving themself room to pace around the circular room and project their panic to an audience of one, “That there is an alien speaking to you, Hero, in an alien language, because no human could actually sound like that, acting like she knows you, and you, you reply to her? As if you know her too?”

“Yeah, that would be my… mother.”

“Your mother.”

Hero nodded.

“Your mother who lives in a spaceship. Who speaks an alien language.”

“Who is an alien.”

“Who is an alien.” It took a good second for the words to sink in. “Your mother is an alien?! Like, an alien from an alien planet?”

Hero nodded again.

Villain felt their brain short-circuit. “Does that mean…”

“That I’m an alien from an alien planet? Yes.”

Villain felt lightheaded. This was okay. This was manageable. This world-shattering, insane truth of the universe was perfectly manageable, and they were not going to spiral, not for one second. Deep breaths. One… two… three… Villain stopped pacing, facing Hero with the calmest expression the latter had ever seen on the former. “Okay, so now that you’ve had your nice little family reunion, we can go back, right?”

Hero’s face was a cross between a smile and a wince.

Villain’s expression twitched, but held firm, “And why not?”

“Well, my mother-”

“The alien.”

Hero tried not to get annoyed, but damn, did Villain make it hard. “Yes, my mother the alien. She, erm,” They groaned, covering their face with their hands, “She may have made a fundamental mistake about the nature of our relationship.”

“And what mistake would that be?” Villain grit their teeth.

“She may, perhaps, think that, we’re… dating.”

“Louder, Hero. Speak so everyone in the audience can hear you.”

“She thinks we’re dating!”

Villain blinked, completing the rule of thirds and simultaneously breaking their composure. So much for not spiraling. “Dating?” Their voice squeaked.

“Dating,” Hero nodded, “And-”

“There’s more?!” Villain turned away, back to pacing and practically pulling their hair out from the absurdity.

“And, the reason we can’t leave yet is because she invited us to dinner.”

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no no no.

“What’s wrong? I thought you loved drama.” Hero said, failing to lighten the mood. “Aren’t family confrontations and misunderstandings the bread and butter of soap operas?”

“My love of drama left me when we left the atmosphere.” Villain glared at Hero with enough ferocity to start a fire.

Villain walked up to the walls, flicking the switches and turning the dials, to see if, miraculously, they could make the ship go back to the city. The lights blinked mockingly in response.

“Uh, Villain?”

“There doesn’t happen to be an escape pod on this ship, does there?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“We’re really going to have to do this, aren’t we?” Villain said, turning to face their nemesis.

“Unfortunately yes.”

Two enemies, both flushed head to toe from frustration and embarrassment, locked eyes.

And Villain, lover of monologues and soliloquies, came up with the most profound, most thought-provoking line they could think of.

“We’re so fucked.”

Hero was inclined to agree.

#hero x villain #heroes and villains #hero #villain #aliens #would you be surprised to learn i have another thing planned for this month #le gasp #i know it surprised me too #also #i have a bone to pick #why arent there more alien superheroes #huh #like the most well known superhero is an alien #so where are my alien hero snippets #anyways #alien hero #is this #drama #idk but with the amount of times i wrote the word #ill put it in #ngl i lost my mind when i thought of the title #at least i make myself laugh

[imagine-nation20]

Sunshine and The Art of Picking Your Battles

Summary: “I wasn’t planning on rescuing anyone today, but it looks like my plans just changed.”

Requested By: Anon

Request: “I wasn’t planning on rescuing anyone today, but it looks like my plans just changed.” for Jason Todd (with the reader being kidnapped by any villain you want)

A/N: Jason Todd will forever and always be the best robin and I will not take criticism. Also I love writing established relationship with superheroes where one doesn’t know the other is a vigilante, so enjoy some reader having no sense of self preservation, and Jason outing himself as the red hood.

~~~

You hated Gotham. Or rather, you hated the criminal underbelly of Gotham, which wasn’t so much an underbelly as it was a very obvious toupee on the top of the head of the city. Gotham was built on crime, and it would probably crumble under the weight of crime. Most people who lived there were either involved in crime, or involved in the vigilante justice served by the masked crusaders.

Running a bar in Gotham was bad, running a bar in the crummy part of Gotham was worse. That is, if you could claim any part of Gotham wasn’t crummy.

Still, it was a better job than some of the other options. Who could blame the owner of the place appointing you manager and fucking off to his apartment in the only part of Gotham that could afford working deadbolts.

So it was no wonder that you got jumped on your way home after a particularly grueling shift.

Three men dressed in suits too nice for the area. It was pretty much common sense to learn some form of self defense if you were going to live in a city like Gotham, however, three against one wasn’t exactly fair odds.

They tied your wrists, dropped a bag over your head, and then hit you with something heavy and blunt that was probably going to leave permanent damage.

Waking up was a headache, to say the least. Your head pounded like a drum, the blood rushing through your ears sounding like the waves against the harbor. Or maybe that really was the harbor.

It didn’t really matter, because you had a bigger problem to worry about than whether or not the ‘whooshing’ in your ear was blood or water. 

A man, dressed in an expensive suit, stood a few feet away. His head was covered in the dark, slightly shiny material of a mask, shaped like a skull. Beady eyes peered through, staring you down.

“So, what is a bartender like yourself doing associating with the Red Hood?” Roman Sionis was easily recognizable, and his identity was not a secret to the citizens of the city. He seemed almost proud to lord the fact that everyone knew who he was, but couldn’t put him away for anything tangible.

Unless of course that person was Batman or one of his many disciples.

“What the fuck are you on about?” You slurred. You cursed yourself internally for your inability to keep your mouth shut. Most of the time you were okay, but you were tired, and in pain, and this was the third time this week you had been assaulted, so you were over it. Criminals and crime lords were a dime a dozen, and despite his very intimidating reputation, you could not care less about Black Mask.

He laughed, and it almost sounded genuine, “I’m talking about the fact that I have on good word that Red Hood has been in your shitty little bar almost every night for the past week.”

You were going to kill Kallista.

You avoided associating with vigilantes, but your coworker, and the woman who worked most night to day shifts, was known for giving vigilantes free drinks when they dropped in. Now, it seemed you had been mistaken for her. Serves you right for having the audacity to pick up her shift when she was sick.

You had seen a few of them drop in on your way out, but never Red Hood. She probably told him not to catch you, since you would have reemed her for it. Red Hood wasn’t a criminal, but he was known for incurring their wrath like no one else, and that usually ended up in situations like this.

Yes, Kallista was going to die… so long as you made it out of this.

“Listen pal,” you started, glancing around the room for a way out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You weren’t a bad friend, and you certainly weren’t going to sick Roman Sionis on your friend. Even if she did get you in this situation in the first place.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He yelled, taking quick steps towards you. You winced back, hearing the flick of a switchblade, and feeling the cold press against your cheek.

“Listen, if I was associating with the Red Hood, I would have told you by now.”

“For some reason, I just don’t believe you.”

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in,” A voice echoed through the warehouse. From above, you could see the familiar brown leather jacket, and bright red helmet of the Red Hood. He was reclined against a support beam, legs dangling off the one he was sitting on. “I’m going to be honest with you, I wasn’t planning on rescuing anyone today, but it looks like my plans just changed.”

Hopping down from the beam, he landed, knees bent, feet light. It was almost impressive, the way he could silently drop. If you weren’t so tired, you might have taken the time to marvel at the way his pants bunched and stretched. Kallista was right after all, there was a certain appeal to the vigilantes in uniform.

Roman shifted around you, knife going to your neck. You took in a sharp breath, glaring at the Red Hood as he faltered in his pace.

“Take another step and she dies,”

“I was gonna say thanks for coming, Hood,” You glared, “but you’ve kinda made the situation worse.”

You could almost see the tick of annoyance through the mask. His fists clenching slightly, he grumbled, “This is the thanks I get?”

“I’ll thank you when I don’t have a knife to my jugular.”

Black Mask tightened his grip on you, knife digging in a slight bit. You didn’t think it had pierced skin yet, but you couldn’t be sure. 

The next few seconds seemed to go by in an instant. The shattering of glass, the whizzing of something through the air, the knife nicked your neck, then was gone, and so was the grip of Roman Sionis.

Red Hood moved towards you, gloved hands untying the ropes that kept you bound to the chair. You looked to the side, seeing Black Mask passed out on the ground, a strange arrow sticking to the outside of his helmet. You could have sworn you saw little strings of electricity still moving over the black material.

The masked vigilante hoisted you from the chair, his arms slipping behind your back and beneath your knees.

“Seriously?” You deadpanned, “I can walk, you know. My legs aren’t broken.”

It didn’t seem like he cared, as he scoffed, “I still haven’t heard a thank you.”

“I didn’t think heroes were so egotistical.”

“Not really a hero, sunshine,” you could hear the smile in his voice, even through the strange effect his helmet gave off. You went stiff at the name.

Jason faltered mid step, and you knew you had him. Spewing a flurry of curses, you wriggled out of his hold and onto the gravel below. The rocks bit into your skin, and Jason moved to crouch and help, but you were already up and slapping at his arm.

“You son of a bitch, Jason,” you whisper shouted, “you’re so stupid. How long have you been the- no, I don’t want to know.”

“Sunshine-”

“Don’t you sunshine me, Todd,” you growled, “You didn’t think to tell me you were a fucking vigilante? And moreover, you were getting free drinks from my coworker while she ranted to me about your thighs?”

“What?” Jason asked, shaking his head. “No, no, I wasn’t… I was looking out for you! I was trying to make sure you got home safe! What about my thighs?”

You paused, mouth hanging open. You hadn’t known Jason for very long. He had come in during one of your shifts with a busted lip and a dazzling smile, and left with your number and the promise of a date. You should have guessed back then, if you were being honest, but you believed him when he said he had gotten jumped. Maybe he had been telling the truth, just not the whole truth.

Stalling so that you didn’t give in to his guilty look so easily, you glanced around. So it had been the ocean you were hearing. You turned back around, trying and failing to hold the vicious glare.

“You better have a ride back to my apartment, cause we are about to have a long talk about impulse control, honesty, and the art of picking battles.”

“You sound like my dad.”

Silence.

“OH MY GOD IS BRUCE WAYNE-”

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd oneshot #jason todd fanfiction #dc

[whosjunglejim4322]

SMUT, collegecrush!au, tattooed Johnny agenda, bff Jaehyun! And brief mentions of him being drunk, all the yearning, Johnny is whipped for you but you didn't hear that from me, he's got a big dick, brief dry humping, finger fucking and pussy eating bc....I'm a whore, sensual fucking cause he thinks ur precious teehee ngl I have a crush on this Johnny

A month ago, if someone would have told you that Johnny Seo would be watching The Matrix trilogy with you while sitting on your living room floor under a blanket that he'd brought to the routine occasion - you would have thought them to be crazy. Insane, even.

And not because Johnny is unpleasant to be around, quite the contrary. Despite his popularity he's one of the most levelheaded, endearing frat boys - for lack of better term - you've ever met, and you also happen to think of him as a superhero of sorts, always there the moment you need him.

It had been a party, where the two of you met - sort of. Not shocking, in the least bit, but also not the first place you would have planned to be on a Saturday night. Jaehyun, being the stubborn and puppy dog eyed best friend that he is, insisted that you come along with him - that he'd keep you glued to his side all night long.

Of course, in proper Jaehyun fashion, three tequila shots in and a game of beer pong had him barely cognitive and passed out on some ones bathroom floor within two hours. The house was big, but filled with people and between trying to lift him up while he giggled about your hair smelling so good and sweet - you also feared anyone seeing him like this. Even if it weren't the first time.

His presence spooked you, at first, a light tap on your shoulder from somewhere behind you just as you attempted to lift your aforementioned best friend for what felt like the hundredth time that night. You nearly dropped him back on his head, if it weren't for quick hands and a sturdy grip on the drunk boys slumped shoulders.

He looked like sunshine, honey skin and dyed blonde hair with the dark roots growing out - a soft, comforting smile across the smooth planes of his face. Dark ink peaked out from where the collar of his shirt had drooped, appearing to be spilling from his shoulder. Your arms felt weaker than before, and embarrassment regarding the situation began to make your skin hot.

"I got him, don't worry," he'd assured with a gentle grin, lifting your bestfriend with an ease you almost wanted to scowl at. His height had been startling too, and not just because you were sitting on someone's bathroom floor. "did you guys drive here?"

You shook your head, a sigh of frustration leaving your lips and slumping your posture as you remembered that you both had walked here. Johnny slung Jaehyuns arm over his broad pair of shoulders, and jerked his chin towards the door, which you opened warily.

"I'll drive you home, it's no problem," his voice was soft, reassuring and you were taken aback. He obviously knew Jaehyun, and you'd never met any of his friends that were so...pleasant. "let's get him to my car first."

It wasn't nearly as painful and humiliating to push past crowds of intoxicated people with Johnny leading the way, as it would have been if it were just you. No one even batted an eye at the way he was dragging Jaehyun like a ragdoll, while the boy grumbled under his breath like a child.

People looked at him, of course. Oh, they looked at him. But not because of his human luggage, and it felt odd to see so many eyes on one person, to realize that his presence has the same effect on everyone else as it did you.

He kept looking back, making sure you were still close behind him, and it wasn't until you were outside in the open that you realized he'd been clinging on to the fabric of your jacket, making sure you didn't stray. Your heart felt like it was bursting open. Focus. You'd thought to yourself.

"That's my car over there, can you open the door for me?"

You jogged towards the sleek, onyx colored SUV that looked like a shadow against the dark bushes, and in just a split second Johnny was behind you, maneuvering Jaehyun into the backseat.

"Mmm...leather." Your best friend's giggle made you all the more grateful for the fact that you hadn't had to do this alone, his cheeks bright red and eyes crescent moons from the way he gleefully grinned. Still, you love him nonetheless.

You pulled your jacket off and prepared to drape it over his body before Johnny stopped you with a gentle hand, shaking his head. "I've got two on, let me."

His jacket probably sufficed more anyways, a heavy denim that would actually cover most of Jaehyuns body. You thanked him with a shy smile while he closed the door, and headed towards the passengers seat.

This experience had been the beginning, the car ride home that night being one full of conversations - genuine conversations, and he didn't leave once you both arrived at your apartments. Jaehyun snored in the background while the two of you talked, laughed. It was hard to look him in the eyes, to not make it so obvious - it's hard now, too.

Neo and Trinity kiss on the screen in front of you, and you wonder how Johnny sees you. Sure, he's flirty, overtly sometimes, but there's never been a definitive line to mark where the both of you really are on the friendship spectrum. If you even want to call it that.

Every time he touches your cheek or catches you staring, even when you're walking to your classes and his hand graces the small of your waist just before he waves you goodbye - you have to assume that he knows what he's doing - that the tension hasn't ever just been one sided.

His hair is a light chestnut brown now, longer than usual and flopping into his eyes from the sides. It's unfair, how he doesn't even have to try. The sharp slope of his nose, the bow of his lips, even the elegance of his neck and jaw. That awe from when you first saw him, has never left.

Not to mention that you often times forget he has so many tattoos whenever he decides to wear short sleeves, the art inky and stark against his olive skin - riveting down from his biceps like silk, cascading over his thick forearms and ending at his knuckles.

You turn your attention back to the laptop upon realizing that you've gotten caught up, heart still rattling underneath your ribcage. It makes it worse, the fact that the heat of his body is so close, that you can smell the scent of dryer sheets clinging onto the fabric of his shirt along with the natural allure of his skin.

"Why were you staring at me?" His breath is warm against the shell of your ear and you shudder, surprised by his sudden closeness and the timbre of his voice. You turn to face him with an incredulous expression, feigning innocence - but he makes it damn near impossible with the way he's looking at you - a dark eyebrow raised and a sly smile playing on his heart shaped lips.

"I was looking at your tattoos, cause - uhm, I forget they're underneath your clothes sometimes." You confess, and his knee knocks against yours underneath the blanket.

"Mmhm, so you think about what's under my clothes?" He teases, and takes pride in the way your eyes glower at him, a scoff leaving your mouth. It's hard to be annoyed when he's so vibrant, right here in front of you.

"Just the art, this one's my favorite." Eager to not have the pressure on you anymore, you reach out to grasp his wrist - not realizing how deeply of a need you've had all this time to do so, until you're tracing the flower that's decorating the top of his hand.

In hindsight, it's a bold move - but you can't go back now, not when he's staring down at you so fondly, scooting closer and placing his hand in your lap while you admire his body art.

"Yeah? Why's it your favorite?" He asks, genuinely curious. He nudges your shoulder with his when he sees the shy smile spreading across your lips, your skin hot to the touch. His comfort level has you less nervous than you were before, and the whole thing feels oddly natural, being so close together.

"I don't know, it just suits you. Your hands are so big, and the little vines looping around your knuckles really makes them look...delicate."

You don't dare look up, not when you realize his chest is rising and falling faster than it was before, just like yours is as you spread his fingers out and play with the digits, his face just inches above yours, voice warm in your ear.

"Second favorite." It's not a demand but it's not exactly a request either, and there's a safety in the energy pulsating around you both - mutual, rippling like a current through your bones.

Your eyes deliberately trail up the length of his long arm, scanning, and your fingertips press against the belly of the dragon that wraps around his bicep, sinewy tail tapering off just below his elbow. You've secretly admired this one for a long time, sneaking glances whenever you can. He turns more towards you just the slightest bit, and the closeness begins to make you feel dizzy.

"Your hands are soft."

This time, you can't not look at him, belly filled with a need to see his face, to save the memory of his features so up close in the back of your mind. However, once you do, look up at him - you almost wonder how you'll be able to handle it at all, his amber eyes boring into you as if he's trying to read your thoughts.

"So is your skin." Is what you manage to reply, willing yourself not to look at his soft, inviting mouth - afraid you'll give yourself away. You feel something stroke the side of your cheek and it takes you a second before realizing he's touching you, apparently giving yourself away isn't an issue. You feel like you're being set ablaze.

"Is it really just the tattoos, you think of?" You're not imagining things, he's definitely moving closer - you can smell the starbursts that he ate earlier still sweet on his breath, the wrappers crumpled on the coffee table next to the laptop.

It's all settling in, the realization that this hasn't been just you, fantasizing and daydreaming about someone who hasn't even realized how his natural charm has made you feel.

You're afraid to speak, so you shake your head as a response to his question, the atmosphere thickening impossibly now that he's cupping your chin between his fingers, the tips of your noses almost touching. You've placed your palm against his knee without even realizing it, steadying yourself.

"I've wanted to kiss you since the day we met," he confesses, dark eyebrows furrowed as if he's restraining himself, waiting. "is this...is this okay?" Your lower belly flutters, and you're almost afraid to move, to change anything about this moment and the way it is right now.

"Me too. I've wanted to kiss you, I mean." You breathe out, and now your lips are ghosting against each other, a moment of hesitation that feels both infinitesimal and fleeting. "It's more than okay." A heartbeat passes and he presses his mouth against yours, so pillowy soft that you gasp, surprised.

It's just a second, that he pulls away to look down at you, and your expression is so heavenly - so hazy and delicate. He kisses you again and this time your lips begin to overlap, from top to bottom, suckling and getting used to the feel of each other. He's still holding your face, but with both hands now, thumbs on your cheeks and fingers wrapping around to the nape of your neck.

You cling onto him like you've no other choice, desperate to have him underneath your fingertips, reminding you that this is really happening and that your mind isn't just creating very vivid daydreams. He pulls you closer and you grip onto his broad shoulders.

"Mm, you're so sweet," he lilts between his kisses, tone somewhere between bliss and desire. You're not expecting to be so worked up already. "even better than I imagined." His tongue slips past yours, wet and warm and it's like your body is being put on vibrate.

He senses this too, with the way you're almost in his lap, breath unsteady. His arms are around your waist before you can move any further, pulling you on top of him and locking you to his torso.

"Johnny." You strain, as the feeling within you becomes overwhelming, craving his touch, his mouth. It doesn't help that he's being so vocal, as well - the sounds sweeter, and more desperate than you'd expect from him. It has something feral igniting within you.

What shocks you the most is that he's already hard underneath you, and the thought alone is enough to have you keening further against his chest, tightening your thighs' grip around his trim waist- not to mention you can feel him snug against your ass, material of your shorts so thin it's palpable when he twitches.

So, naturally, your whine is petulant when his mouth departs from yours, his plush lips a deep blush, matching his cheeks in their hue. He's just as worked up as you if his erratic breathing and the way that he grasps onto your sides is anything to go by, and you shouldn't be as surprised as you are about it.

"You...have no idea," he pants, smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip. "how badly I've wanted you. In so many ways."

Your heart feels like it's attempting to burst through your chest in an effort to be closer to him, his sharp eyes lowly lidded but fierce in their honesty. You take this brief moment to touch his face, his soft cheeks and the smooth, taut ridge of his jaw. It all feels too real to be a dream. This must be reality.

"I'm only stopping because, well I like you," it's hard to pinpoint if the trembling of his hands is fueled from his desire or his nerves, but either way he's got your rapt attention. You doubt anyone could look away from those eyes.

"I like you a lot and...fuck, I don't want to do anything you aren't comfortable with or...sure about. Because I'm sure about you." He finishes, sincere and stoic while holding you against him. You feel like you're floating.

"I have a really big crush on you, Johnny," you kiss his mouth and he smiles against it, humming in contentment. Suddenly, your nerves are replaced by pure adrenaline. "and I like you a lot, too." When you pull back from his lips with a soft smack, his expression causes your skin to burn hot.

"So it'd be okay if I did..." he tilts your head to the side, and a flurry of goosebumps descend across your skin, his breath warm against your throat. "this?" A kiss, soft but purposeful, is placed there, and you shudder.

All you can do is nod in affirmation, heartbeat in your ears among other places. Your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck while his mouth begins placing warm, wet pecks against yours, and his body lurches when your thighs tighten around his torso.

It only manages to work you up further, of course, brain already high off of the fact that Johnny likes you back...in fact...he truly is as good as you've always thought, sweet and kind and nasty, groaning when you rut your hips against him.

"Baby, you're shaking." He mouths against your jaw, wondrously and laced with an undertone of hunger. His strong arms hold you tight, eyes softening when he looks down at you and realizes just how worked up you really are.

"I just want you really bad, Johnny." Your body emphasizes your point, chest pressed against the firmness of his, nipples hard behind your shirt. He can practically feel you throbbing.

It's a little fucked up, honestly.

No ones ever had him this head over heels, he feels himself melting against you, your voice sweet and syrupy, dripping with this ache just for him and he's losing it.

"Yeah?" He muses, the wide palm of his hands sliding down the curve of your back, and over the swell of your ass where it's planted so firmly atop of him - massaging you there. "Where do you want me, honey?"

The pet names have you too worked up, you really could get off of anything right now and he's tracing the back of your thighs now, swirling his soft fingertips around, leaving a wake of searing heat in their path.

"Want you everywhere, just - mmph." This kiss interrupts you, bruising in it's intensity and he cups your face softly as a silent apology despite the fact that you're letting out small coos of satisfaction, tugging at the ends of his messy hair.

For a second you feel like you're being lifted, not realizing he's just moved you both to the couch until your head is resting against the cushions, inky arms caging your body against the length of his. He groans when you palm at his stomach, touching and rubbing his sides and then the broad of his back.

All the while his free hand, the one that's not attached to the arm holding himself up, does some exploring of its own, palming your breasts through your shirt and squeezing with just enough pressure to have you arching into his touch.

Automatically, your legs wrap around his middle and your heels dig into the dimples of his back, and his hips pivot downwards to nestle right in between yours. You're both instantaneously struck by the sensation of your centers meeting, his length jerking inside of his pants, your clit throbbing in yours.

"Gonna touch you..." nimble fingertips dance over the skin of your inner thighs. "...here, is that okay?" The warmth of his hand cups your sex and now you're positive that wetness has begun to soak through your underwear, senses gone haywire from the way he's rubbing you, up and down.

"Mhm that's - yes, that's okay." You pant, desperate to feel him as well and reaching in between your bodies in an attempt to grasp at him - his height doesn't make this as easy as you thought and your pliant hands meet just his navel, the faintest of happy trails soft against the skin here.

He switches to his thumb now, instead of the heel of his palm to rub you through your shorts. He searches, for a short moment, finding what he's looking for and pressing the pad of his finger against your bud.

He kisses your whimper, shifting his hips and shuffling upwards just a smidge so that your hands can reach his hard cock. You have to maneuver your arm underneath his but it's working out fine so far, your eyes widening once you feel the twitch of his length.

"Oh." You gasp, expecting to have felt it all while you were on his lap, but missing by a longshot. He's big, bigger than anticipated and you're a bit too flustered as you follow it's bulge through his sweats. He groans your name, and you might be short circuiting.

"You're so hard...and b-big, Johnny you're really big." The incredulity of your voice only has his hunger growing, threatening to swallow him whole. In one breath your hands are pulled from him, pinned above your head with his gentle fingers barring your wrists.

"You're so fuckin' cute," he professes with an awed lilt, moving his hips in circles between yours - his shaft, heavy and thick, nudged against your lips. "wanna make you feel good...mm, wanna make you cum."

Butterflies threaten to flutter into your throat and suffocate you, his breath warm and sweet against your cheek before he's nipping at your earlobe. You feel like you're high, spinning yet completely grounded by his weight above you, against you.

"I want you Johnny, want you to fuck me." You try to turn your head, bashful of the way you're being so shameless but he's not having it, keeping his gaze on your every expression, trying not to lose his sanity when you grind yourself against him. Your voice, petulant and needy, is enough to have him at his wits end alone.

"I will baby, I will," he promises sweetly, accentuating his point by letting go of your wrists, and using one of his hands to pry your thighs open. He rolls his agile hips against you and the friction has you reaching out to grasp at his waist - trim and firm underneath your fingertips. "just gotta get you ready first."

He sits back on his haunches and you pout about the lack of content, his pleased grin a beacon as he hooks his fingers into your waistband, pulling your shorts off your hips and past your thighs - till they're at your ankles, and it feels surreal when he throws them somewhere behind the couch, too eager for his own good.

You're brought back to current reality when his big hands caress the tops of your thighs, before creeping down into the soft crease where they're shut closed in embarrassment, and pulling them apart.

He outwardly marvels and you wonder if he can see you clench, the moment overwhelmingly intimate with the way he's staring directly at the wet spot that’s soaked through the crotch of your panties. He takes only a moment to reach out and press his thumb against the dampness, balls tightening with the need to release each time you whimper or gasp.

With his cock leaking in his pants, he wastes no time, taking the flimsy piece of fabric off so fast you don't even have time to by shy about him seeing you naked and glistening in front of him. Furthermore, you don't think anyone could feel even the least but bad about themselves if he looked at them like this - slack jawed, and starved.

"Fuck...you're so beautiful," two long, inky fingers formed into the shape of a V, spread your lips open and then he's moving further away - no, scooting down onto his stomach, and suddenly his breath is a warm puff against your most sensitive parts. "so wet for me, hmm?"

You're not sure you can look away, too enraptured by the visual stimuli that's correlating with the circling of your swollen clit. You want to cry, a little bit. Scream, maybe. He's so beautiful you can't help but to reach out, running your fingers through the front of his chestnut hair and then his eyes are piercing through you like the shock of ice water.

Your body seems to register the feeling before you can process the sight by itself, back bowing off the couch, hips bucking. His hot, wet tongue licks at the hood of your clit, starting slow and picking up pace when you start to squirm. The blossoms painted across his skin decorate the arms that hold you down while his pillowy lips envelop the bud, suckling lewdly.

"O-oh, oh fu-mmm." You're already blubbering, lost and falling into the sensation of everything all at once. You've no doubt that he's had years of experience but this, you're not sure you've felt pleasure like this before.

"Feels good?" He mumbles between the flick of his tongue, hands traveling up the length of your body to grip your waist, kneading your skin. You almost laugh at the question, assuming your trembling body and the way you're involuntarily bucking against his mouth would suffice as an answer. Still, you humour him.

"Mmhm, feels- ohh, mhm feels good." Your voice is barely there, strained and whiny but he feeds off of your every utterance as if it's something he so desperately needs. The smacking between your legs becomes louder and like a magnet, you're drawn to the sight again, coil in your belly tightening impossibly.

He's a muss of hair, the dark strands tickling your thighs when his head moves from side to side. Your thighs attempt to clamp shut but then he's looking up at you again - purposeful in the way he maintains eye contact while he dives down and licks a stripe over your entrance.

You're not going to last long, and he knows this, from every twitch and squirm and whimper - he's preparing for your demise, humming in contentment while the lewd sounds of slickness continue.

He slips a finger inside of you, and then another once he realizes how soaked you are, and this proves to be the beginning of the end. You grip onto his forearms, needing to be grounded to something while he buries the digits inside of you, curling in a come hither motion.

It's all beyond what you thought pleasure could be, it's violet and red and all things euphoric behind your eyelids and the sound of his pleased groans are what finally have you giving out, melting against the couch cushions.

You're not sure if you're making any sound at all, honestly. It comes so quick, violent in it's force and you're hazy headed - tears welling in your eyes from the way he's still massaging you, licking you while your walls squeeze and contract around his fingers.

"That's it baby, mmm, let go."

The velvet voice is warm against your sensitive sex and you're still twitching as you peel your eyes open to peer down between your legs and see him there, staring up at you like you're the sun, slowing his movements while the aftershock of your orgasm seeps through you.

His knuckles are buried to the hilt inside of you and he pulls them out slowly, petal pink lips kissing your clit gently, adoringly. With your brain still foggy and embarrassment no longer present, you grab his wrist, bringing his slick soaked fingers to your mouth and wrapping your lips around them.

He moans an expletive and then he's hovering over you again, watching with a soaring heart as you suckle your juices clean from his digits, lashes fluttering when you open your eyes.

For once in his life, he's speechless. You have to pull him down to kiss you in order to breaks him from his reverie and it's now that he's realizing how excruciatingly hard he is. He doesn't remember the last time he's ever been this worked up without his dick even being touched for more than five minutes.

It's safe to say he's taken by surprise when your hand slips into his bottoms and briefs to palm him this time, and his body lurches against you while a desperate sound bellows in his throat.

"Baby." he coos, relishing in the softness of your palm, the difference in size of his own. He wants to protest when the intense bliss of it is gone, momentarily, only to feel your fingers attempting to pull his sweats down.

You're still buzzing from your orgasm but you've never been more positive about something; about someone. Your whole body feels as though it can't be satiated, not until you have all of him after having such a sweet taste.

"Please, now, want you now." You nibble on his bottom lip and he has to pull himself away or else he'll get too caught up in your mouth by itself, but he's on a mission - searching for his wallet and scrambling for it when he sees the leather square sitting on the floor.

The tips of your fingers and toes tingle with a mixture of unbearable anticipation, and nerves for what's about to come when he pulls the condom from his wallet and tears the corner of the foil.

It's just a second but it's enough to admire him silently, the twitch of his mouth, the elegance of his fingers even when they're eager and uncoordinated. A part of you feels overcome by the need to be encapsulated by his presence, for his skin to be a permanent silkiness against your lips.

He catches you in the midst of staring and it's like he's glowing from the inside out, pulling his pants down his thick thighs along with his black briefs, kicking them to the floor.

Without thinking your arms are reaching forward, gripping the small of his waist as if to still him, and he pauses at your will. He's cupping your chin with one hand while your fingertips explore underneath the hem of his shirt, and you're grateful that he's allowing you to soak this in, that he's not rushing despite the fact that both of you are like exposed lit wires.

"Here, let me take it off." His arms are reaching behind him before you can blink, biceps curling as he pulls his shirt off of his broad shoulders before discarding it with the rest of his clothing.

Your breath is audible, pupils blown wide while you examine the length of his torso and the permanent shapes that are marked there. Only patches of his honey skin peek through the array of tattoos he's got climbing his sides, over his chest, and you swear you've never seen someone so beautiful.

"Take mine off too." You barely manage to get out, and he's kissing your lips again with a soft sort of fondness, while his knuckles graze your skin and your shirt is being stripped from your body. He's back to kissing you and your naked chests meet for the first time, a fierceness gripping you by the throat when when when the shaft of his cock nudges your clit.

"You're sure about this?" He asks, gentle in the way he strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, pecking your mouth between glances at your nipples where they rub against him. His touch travels to your jaw and down your neck, before he's tweaking the buds between his fingers, and your legs wrap around his middle in an effort to solidify your answer.

"Yes, I'm sure," you run your fingers through his hair. "very sure."

Lips press against your cheek and then you're presented with the sight of him again, bare in front of you, just a few inches away. It's now that you really find the courage to look at him, not expecting to be out of breath and shock stricken once you lay your eyes upon his dick.

It's pretty, as pretty as you knew it had to be; curved just slightly, the tip swollen with arousal and a shade deeper than that of his lips that you've come to have photographically memorized.

You watch with probably more fascination than most while his slim fingers roll the condom onto his length, down the shaft that protrudes with a small vein right in the middle, until it's snug and securing the fact that you and Johnny Seo are about to have sex.

As always, here there right when you need him most, aiding you in forgetting about anything that isn't crucial to right now. His arms are wrapping around your thighs and pulling you closer - your small gasp doesn't go unnoticed.

And then, there's also the way he's looking at you, again. It's like he's compacted every emotion you could feel in a moment like this, and somehow managed to reflect it's opacity back at you through the glimmer of his irises.

You jerk your hips against him and he grins at your urgency, diverting his attention to the space between your legs and holding you steady by the hips with one hand while the other goes to grip his cock.

He levels his pelvis with yours and brings the pink head down to your entrance where it leaks for him, gathering the slickness and smearing it through your folds, around your clit.

His fingers search for yours and suddenly he's interlocking them while you feel the initial stretch of his dick finally entering you, a soft expletive leaving his mouth while he pushes himself into you halfway, peering down with half lidded eyes as a silent affirmation.

Your expression must be as expressive as the soft mewls that involuntarily fall from your lips, and he bottoms out while leaning down to kiss you as he's come to realize that this action is single handedly way more addictive than it should be.

You feel so full it's impossible not whine, and within seconds he's pulling himself out of you nearly all the way - mouth hovering over yours so he can watch your features contort when he sheathes himself back in with a snap of his hips.

With the need to hold on to something becoming incessant, he allows you to throw your arms around his neck while your thighs tremble around him, his hips creating a slow but steady pace that draws lewd sounds from between your bodies with every slow drag of his thick cock.

It's strange, how you provoke such tenderness within him when you shudder and pant beneath him despite the fact that he's barely done anything yet- a juxtaposition to the feral, nagging type of ache that brews in the center of his belly to have you even more a mess.

It's not that he's fairing any better, though. Even you can see that, feel it in the way he keeps his lips on your skin, trying and failing miserably to hold back his groans while your nails create crescent moons on the broad of his back.

"You - f-fuck you feel s-so good." He stutters, and if you could find your words maybe you'd even have the confidence to tease him, but right now all you can comprehend is the feeling in which he's providing, the nudge of his tip so deep inside of you.

"Faster, can you - oh yes, yes." It's like he knows what you want before you get it out all the way, and his tongue is warm against your throat while he obliges your request, furthering your haziness.

You're quick to realize that Johnny is a generous lover. Despite the fact that he's holding himself together on the edge of his coherency, he's already atuned to each tense of your muscles, the strain of sweet sounds you coo in his ear. He uses this as a guide, working his hips skillfully, circling when he pushes himself back in.

The fact that you're sopping wet helps as well, audibly soaked and your walls are taking him in so generously he doesn't know what to do with himself. Your hands are in his hair and tug at the dark strands without thinking, drawing a sweet, serene moan from the back of his throat.

"Mm, feels good?" He asks despite knowing the answer, your countenance painted with the colors of bliss. He peers down in between your bodies and almost regrets it due to the pulse it sends through his groin - threatening to send him over the edge too soon.

But it's a sight too mesmerizing, his entire length disappearing inside of you with an easy glide, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs and your clit waiting to be played with. You're just as taken by the sight, surrounded by only him, inside of you and around you like a life force. Your hands travel over anywhere and everywhere, down to his belly where the muscles flex underneath the painted skin with every thrust.

"So good, you feel s-so good Johnny." You're becoming even more petulant but he doesn't mind, not when you're clinging onto his biceps and mewling his name. He slips his tongue into your mouth while his hands cup the back of your knees, hiking your thighs up higher around his middle.

Your skin burns where he touches, his pace increasing and now you wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors knew exactly what it is that the two of you are doing, skin against skin and coos of pleasure echoing through your small apartment. You have a hard time forming thoughts that make sense.

"M' all the way up there baby," his voice is deceivingly sweet, hips dangerous and borderline ruthless now that you two are drenched in the essence of lust and desire, driven by your need to come undone. "such a sweet pussy."

He means it, too. Maybe that's what makes this all so much more enthralling. From the clench of his taut jaw, to the way his dark eyebrows are furrowed, even the crimson of his lips from the way he's been biting down on them - Johnny is nothing but honest. It's somehow stripped you of the shyness you'd normally be harboring, compelling your mouth to speak without a filter.

"It's all yours, I'm yours."

This seems to spur him on, more than you thought because now he's all but cradling you in his arms, mouthing his words against your lips, not allowing even a centimeter of space to reside between the two of your bodies. It feels whole, complete.

"Mm, yeah sweetheart? Mine. Fuck, you're all mine."

It's a growled statement and you quiver against his solid form, warmed from the inside out like a furnace and set ablaze. You're still sensitive from his mouth but that doesn't change the orb of pressure within your belly, or the waves of pleasure that spread through your thighs and up your spine from the way your clit is rubbing against his pelvis while his cock reaches new depths.

You should've known his mouth would be filthy, and it's really ticking every box you've literally ever needed to be ticked and you're sort of embarrassed by how far gone you are already, properly mewling with your fingers gripping onto his bulged biceps where he uses them to hold himself up.

His face is a sight to behold in itself, as well - plush lips parted, cheeks hot and a shade of deep, ravishing plum. If he weren't steadily hitting that sweet spot inside of you maybe you'd actually be able to keep your eyes open long enough to admire it more - but it's obvious it won't be long until you're unraveling.

He's thankful, in a way. Because you're sighing out sweet words that profess how good he's doing, and he swears that he's never felt anything as good as this. Through and through. You're made for him, wrapped around his being, tight like cellophane and it's silly but this is all he's dreamed of for months.

"Open your eyes sweetheart," his hips stutter at the same time you involuntarily squeeze around the tip of his cock as he goes to seep back into you and you're drawn to the plead of his voice. "let me - fuck, let me be yours, please?"

His voice is honey, coating you in it's sweetness and you're teetering on the edge of your release. It beckons you soothingly, like a siren in the wake of a wave and it doesn't calm when you pull him down to your mouth by the nape of his neck, your shared groans being swallowed by the other. Your thighs are a vice around his waist, keeping him locked against you as he grinds his cock into you.

"You're mine, J-John- oh, oh please." His fingers have reached down in the limited space between your shared skin to rub your clit in circles and you know this is it - mind and body completely encircled by everything he's made of, the scent of his skin and the heat of his body and even the way he says your name.

"Want you to cum for me, please, please cum for me baby." His breath is warm against your ear, a vibration that wracks through all of your senses and your body knows it's coming before you do - instantly under the influence of his begs and pleas.

You're descending, voice nothing but a gasp and an echo of an expletive when the dam inside of you finally bursts - leaving you to tremble like a leaf beneath him while the feeling threatens to consume you inch by inch, nerve by nerve. 

You've all but gone limp, bright dots of light flitting through your vision and you feel his mouth everywhere, like a soft, warm reassurance that he's not going anywhere while you spasm around him.

"Just like that, oh fuck, yeah just like that."

In this place of completeness, you bask in the rise in octave of his usually low timbred voice, in the way he's holding you so firmly in his arms, as if scared to let go and put even an inch of separation between the two of you.

You're still twitching when you feel him throb inside of you, your name a warm whisper against the side of your neck while he pumps himself into you with no real rhythm; filling the condom with spurts of his cum while your fingers gently scratch the back of his scalp, through his hair.

Your breaths are ragged and have only that in common, his weight comforting despite the fact that both of you are in such a fragile state. It all feels surreal, like maybe you’ll wake up soon even with his cock still buried inside of you, half hard. More than anything, it feels right. Apprehension nor guilt nor worry brews underneath your skin, instead overshadowed by pure elation.

Wet pecks travel across your throat like marks of gratitude and your smile is automatic, involuntary.

"I meant it, you know," he's out of breath but concise, palm cupping the side of your face as he makes his way to your mouth and kisses you there, afraid to look you in the eyes. "about...about what I want. About wanting you."

You actually do laugh this time, suddenly outrageously giddy at the words leaving his pretty mouth, mildly entertained by the fact that someone could be almost as oblivious as you are. Almost.

He looks worried for only a split second until you're kissing his face, over his nose and fuchsia cheeks, a feather against the soft autumn ground.

"I meant it too," your voice is light, airy and he swears he'd believe anything you told him, even if it weren't as absolutely resolute as it is right now; your smile against his lips like a seal of promise. He meets your gaze, and everything within him calms, settles.

"I'm yours. And you're mine."

This, he thinks to himself, is all he's wanted to hear since the day you looked up at him with all the stars in your eyes.

Completely worth Jaehyun stealing his Armani denim jacket, honestly.

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[imaginedxlan]

loverboy (neville longbottom)

a/n: i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again, i am a SIMP for neville longbottom. also yall...  one away from 1k, how’d that happen? you guys rock my socks and i love you the absolutely most! sorry this one is kind of short i just liked the concept.

you’ve been friends with neville longbottom since first year. becoming comfortable with the shy boy and his frog over the years, you began calling him a nickname that makes him wish you would see him as anything other than your best friend.

warnings: zero baby just pure fluff

neville doesn’t open up to just anyone. after years of being shut down in every conversation, left out of nearly every house activity, he’s built a wall to protect himself from the people of hogwarts who constantly make him feel less than. you’re one of the lucky ones. you’ve seen beyond his high walls, he’s opened up to you about his parents, his insecurities and eventually pulled him out of his shell to talk about girls with you.

the nickname started when he told you about his small crush on luna lovegood. he seemed so entranced by her, he kissed the ground he walked on. once you caught on to his pining, you’ve called him loverboy ever since. it’s not to be mean or tease him, you actually admired how much he devoted his time to thinking about her.

what you didn’t know, however, is that it was never luna lovegood he was talking about. when he would describe his feelings for luna her name was only a placeholder for yours. he’d loved you since the moment he laid eyes on you, thinking even your crooked teeth, frizzy haired eleven year old self was the most beautiful creature he’d ever see.

“good morning loverboy,” you call sweetly as you sit next to the dark haired boy in potions class. you never found this class particularly interesting, but being able to sit next to neville made it at least slightly more fun. his heart aches at the nickname, trying to conceal the blush that is creeping on his cheeks. “sleep well?”

“hardly,” he replies, still keeping up his façade. “harry talks in his sleep all through the night. keeps me and trevor awake for hours.”

you smile at the mention of his beloved frog. “oh my dear trevor! how is my favorite amphibian?”

neville can’t contain his smile or his heart that hammering in his chest. you’re the only person who’s ever shown interest in the things he likes, the things he goes on and on about for hours. you’ve never once stopped him from going off on a tangent about his mimbulus mimbletonia or how he’s lost trevor for the tenth time that week. you’ve never rolled your eyes when he comes to sit with you in the library. you’ve never shied away from sitting next to him in herbology though many students find his chiming in rather annoying.

“he’s good,” he replies, trying to stop himself from gazing at you for too long. “i think he misses you.”

you laugh at his response, you really do love that frog. “you better make sure i’m not replaced as trevor’s favorite girl when you finally make a move on luna,” you tease but his heart drops. he knows it’s only a joke but he can’t imagine loving anyone other than you. “if i’m losing one of my loverboys i don’t think my heart could take losing the other as well.”

except you could never lose him. he can’t think of a time when his heart would belong to anyone else. he couldn’t say the same for you. as much as he wants to be around you and knows the nickname isn’t meant to make him sad, it only reminds him of the fact that he’ll never truly be your loverboy. the time will come when you go for a weasley or maybe even that ravenclaw boy you’ve talked about in defends against the dark arts with you and neville isn’t quite sure his heart will survive it.

as professor snape opened his book at the front of the class, the class quieted down. veritaserum. you had heard about the potion, mostly from the weasley twins slipping it in their younger brother’s drink once or twice, but you’d never used it. neville begins to fidget nervously beside you, and you think you know why. privacy has always been very important to the boy and something forcing him to talk about his deepest darkest fears or worse, his parents, is probably eating away at him.

you’re wrong. he’s so nervous because he’s afraid he’ll slip up if he takes it and someone will accidentally ask him about you. he won’t be able to keep his secret anymore.

“s’alright nev,” you whisper to him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it slightly. an act of intended comfort made him nauseous. “i won’t let anyone pull any secrets from my loverboy, promise.”

you give him a sweet smile which only makes his heart race more. you’re so beautiful, even without the potion he could’ve let that thought slip to you if he wasn’t too careful. as class goes on, he thanks his lucky stars he isn’t chosen for the demonstration. watching you brew the potion to perfection surely would have made it difficult for him to keep back all the feelings he has for you.

later in the evening, however, he did not get so lucky. the twins somehow convinced seamus and dean to slip a few drops of the potion they’d learned to make that morning into neville’s pumpkin juice at dinner. you didn’t notice or surely you would have taken it from them and scolded them for picking on the boy, but you were to engrossed in a conversation with hermione to catch it. neville almost immediately realizes what’s happened when seamus begins asking him questions.

“how your feeling, longbottom?”

“tired, honestly kind of sweaty, really think i need a shower after dinner,” he says before he can stop himself, he smacks his hand to him mouth and his cheeks go red. dean and seamus burst out laughing making all of you turn to the three of them.

“sweaty? why would you possibly be sweaty neville?” dean continues the interrogation.

“been nervous all day, especially in potions. couldn’t get my mind off the stupid veritaserum and if anyone would ask me about y/n,” neville replies with his cheeks turning more red by the minute. you now had your full attention in the boy and he couldn’t stop the word vomit spilling from his lips. “you should have seen her, she brewed the potion perfectly. she’s so smart. godric and beautiful, i-”

you immediately stop him by smacking your own hand to his mouth. “merlin’s sake what did the two of you do?”

dean and seamus have a cheeky grin spread across their lips. “fred and george gave us veritaserum to put in his juice, didn’t think this would happen.”

without a second thought you pull your best friend from the table and out of the great hall to spare him of any more embarrassment he would have to endure. neville follows you blindly, grateful that you didn’t sit there and start laughing at him. when you get to the common room it’s empty, everyone being at dinner. you pull him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you look in the glowing flame.

“are you okay?” you ask, pulling your hand from his to look into his eyes. “i’m sorry they did that nev, you didn’t deserve that.”

“i’m more than okay,” he replies with a lazy grin on his face before switching back to his stone cold face full of nerves. “i like it when we’re by ourselves, wish it happened more often.”

“what do you mean, loverboy?”

“i wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he snaps but immediately regrets his tone. “not if you don’t mean it.”

“what are you on about? i mean it.”

“not in the way i want you to mean it...”

you’re trying to wrap you’re mind around what’s happening. sure you and neville have always been close and you compliment eachother here and there but this is different. you don’t want to take advantage of him, not when he’ll tell you everything you want to know while you can sit back and enjoy the show. you swiftly get up and tell him you’ll be right back. he sits on the couch confused as he watches you run out of the room. you make it to the great hall and everyone is looking at you as if you’ve gotten answers out of him that they’d want to know but you ignore him. you lift the tainted cup that neville had drank out of just minutes ago and take a swig.

“y/n!” hermione shrieks and you swallow the liquid. “what do you think you’re doing!”

“getting answers.” you say simply before running out of the room. you don’t feel any different, maybe it hadn’t worked. once you reach the common room again neville is exactly where you left him. “back.”

“what’d you do?”

“i drank the veritserum too,” you tell him and his eyes go wide. “this is going to be a fair conversation.”

neville swallows the lump in his throat at the thought of the two of you being completely honest with each other. he’s partly afraid the truth he’s about to hear is that you only want to be his friend, or that him confessing his feeling for you will only push you away. but there’s another part of him that’s hopeful, you took the veritaserum so this would be “fair,” that has to mean something.

“what were you doing to say when i stopped you earlier?” you ask him. “you said ‘i’ but i stopped you.”

he tries his best to push down the answer but it keeps making its way up his throat. “i was going to say i couldn’t keep my eyes off you all class.”

blush creeps onto your cheeks but you’re not certain why. you noticed him looking at you in potions but you assumed he was trying to understand how to make the potion.

“you’re turn.”

he thinks for a while, unsure of what he should ask you. “do you like matthew, the boy you talk about in ravenclaw, like like him?”

“i like him as a friend, nothing else,” you say back, your heart beginning to race. “do you like luna?”

“i never did, i like someone else.” he answers. you wish it was your turn again, you want to ask him who, part of you knows he’s going to say you given what you’ve learned this evening. you reach out to hold his hand and his touch makes your skin burn. “have you ever thought of us as more than friends?”

you want to say yes, you know it the answer he wants to hear, but it’s not the truth. you can’t lie to him even if you wanted to. before this moment, you only thought of him as a friend. not because you dislike him or think he’s unattractive, it’s just all he’s ever been to you. you take a deep breath and turn your eyes down to the floor.

“honestly, no,” you say back, neville swears he can hear his heart break within him rib cage. his heart burns at your response. he’s gotten his answer. “when did you start to think of me as more than a friend.”

he never came out and said he had feelings for you, but you’ve connected the dots. everything he’s answered, all the questions he’s asked points to him looking at you as more than just his friend. you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“first year, the minute you spoke to me i couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl i’d ever seen, i still do, ” his words make your heart burst. you turn your head to meet his eyes again. they’re burning into you’re gaze. “what is it about me that’s made you only think of me as a friend, do you think i’m ugly?”

“godric no!” you say a bit too quickly for your own liking. “i never thought of you that way because that’s all we ever were neville, friends. i noticed how handsome you were last year, the long hair suited you, but i think you look nice any way you are. i had a dream about you at the christmas last year, i think that’s when i noticed how handsome you were. i guess i just never entertained the thought because you never gave me the impression you wanted anything more than this.”

he feels less shattered, less like you just ripped his heart out with your bare hands. hearing that you think he’s handsome sent butterflies to stomach. he’s quiet and so are you.

“do you want to stop?”

“no, i have another question,” he replies, pulling his hands from yours and backing away from you. you miss his touch already. maybe you did like him a little more than you thought. he braces himself for what’s about to come out of his mouth, for your reaction to what’s about to come out of his mouth. “if i asked to kiss you would you say no?”

“no.” you tell him quietly, if you thought your heart couldn’t pound any faster, it did. it feels like it’s about to jump from your chest. “do you want to kiss me?”

“merlin yes,” he almost whispers. he doesn’t move from his spot, eyes avoiding yours at all costs. always being the braver of the two of you, you take matters into your own hands. you pull yourself closer to him and rest your hand upon his cheek, forcing him to make eye contact with you again. you suck in a breath, the closest the two of you had ever been. “i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“i know.”

you lean forward only a few centimeters until your lips are barely touching. you hesitate only because you know after this moment you can’t go back to being just friends again, this is going to change everything. even so, there’s like a magnetic pull between you too, you’re craving the feeling of his lips against yours.

while still deep in your thought and hesitations, your eyes drilled shut as you try and decide what to do, you feel his lips press against yours and you melt. it’s better than either of you could have imagined. while neville had be dreaming of this moment for six years, you had only just begun thinking about him in this way minutes ago. you place your free hand on the side of his neck and he places his on the small of your back, pulling you closer into him. You move yourself so that your sat on top of his thighs, attempting to expel any space between the two of you. his hands rest on your hips just before you pull away from him to catch your breath. his eyes flicker between yours, looking for an answer to what you’re feeling.

“i’m sorry,” he says sheepishly, thinking the worst. “do you want to stop? we can pretend this never happened.”

“i never want to stop.”

you connect your lips with his again, slinging your arms around his neck to feel the closeness again. you know he’s never done anything like this before, he’s probably nervous out of his mind, so you attempt to ease his worries by guiding his actions. in just the few minutes you’ve spent with your lips on his, you’ve because obsessed with the feeling. you can hear how heavily he’s breathing as his hand moves from your side to be entangled in your hair. you can’t help but smile, this moment is pure bliss.

you eventually pull away from each other, you decide it’s best to keep this night to just his first kiss. you lean forward and plant a soft kiss to the side of his neck before burying your face in the soft skin. eventually his breath evens out, and he moves his arms to wrap around you.

“what happens now?” he asks, hoping the veritaserum can give him some sort of clear view into your brain.

“i don’t know,” you reply, it’s honest, you have no idea what happens from here on out. “what do you want to happen?”

“i want to kiss you like that a million more times,” he breathes out which makes you laugh into his neck. looks like ther veritaserum hasn’t worn off just yet. “can we just sit here for a minute so we don’t have to think about what’s gonna come?”

“you read my mind, loverboy.”

#neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom #neville x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter

[dear-yandere]

& just drown with me.

yandere! beidou x reader. general headcanons. tw: kidnapping, implied dubcon. disclaimer: this is not a healthy relationship.

art belongs to jay ash (pixiv).

“come out, come out to the sea, my love and just drown with me...”

beidou is...

reverent, delusional, honest, lenient (RDHL) + doting, protective, clingy

— reverent is she the moment she sets eyes on you, her heart skips a beat. she doesn’t mince words or skirt along bushes; she’s enamored the moment she sees you, and she ensures that you’re well aware of her attraction. you’re quick to pick up that she is terribly handsy—and perhaps a little touch-starved—especially when it comes to you. her hands are on you at all times, sometimes friendly, sometimes on the cusp of something more.

she wants to hold you close and never let go, she knows that much. you’re just so frail, so easy to break if the slightest wind were to brush your sides a little too harshly. in contrast, she’s strong beyond compare, able to best sea beasts and part mountains with only her sword; and yet, gentleness is not lost on her. she takes extra care in handling you, beyond scared that you’ll break apart between her fingers if she’s the slightest bit too rough.

and letting go quickly becomes difficult.

she likes feeling your skin against hers. your hand entangled with hers, your fingers delicate and unused to combat; she is forever fascinated by the soft swell of your palm, the way your hand looks as if it can hardly hold itself against the world. your skin is devoid of callouses and tears unlike her own which carries the sword as big as her stature. your hair’s disheveled and knotty, and your clothes carelessly strewn across the floor. she likes you best this way; completely without covers, so that she may take you in to your fullest, so that she may hold all of you within her grasp and never let go. her fingers are always wrapped around your waist, lips pressing kisses onto your head.

you are a treasure beyond compare. 

— her thinking, you soon come to learn, lies upon the border of delusion, and yet her eyes hold an assurity when they look at you. you’re never allowed off her ship unsupervised. the decision was quick and painless, her voice doubtless and her intentions clear as the sea. she wants to flaunt you by her side, as she enjoys the way your body will grow warm with embarrassment when she walks into town with a pretty little thing by her side. pirates are known for their nonchalant approach to life, so for the great captain of the crux to show up in public with anything—or anyone—by her side apart from her trusty claymore is a curious sight. captain beidou isn’t known for her ability to settle in one place or with one person; the sea’s always been her true calling, after all. but to see her fingers gently settle on your shoulder as she pulls you close, the smirk on her reddened lips will quickly twist into a full-blown grin as the crowd she’s drawn erupts into cheers.

you know better than to make a scene in front of these people—people who look up to captain beidou, people who wouldn’t take you seriously if you explained the way she keeps you captive on her ship. you’re nothing more than a victim, you’ll say to them, and they’ll only laugh you off with a wave of their hand, certain this whole charade is some roundabout way for beidou to entertain herself. the sea must drive a man delirious, after all. no one can fault her.

and for that reason, no one can believe your pleads.

beidou is a free spirit enamored by the call of adventure, and yet her actions are anything but.

— dishonesty is something beidou hasn’t the time nor patience for. her words hold no lie when directed at anyone, but especially when directed at you. she couldn’t dream of lying to you—and she has, unfortunately. the moment she woke up from that terrible dream was the moment she shook you awake to apologize profusely, even if the language was colored with her own vulgar vernacular. yes... she apologized for a futile little lie she told in a dream.

dishonesty simply isn’t on the table.

she goes to great lengths to explain her day to you, taking the utmost care to not leave the slightest detail out. the main reason being her guilty conscience, really. there’s not much to do cooped up on a musty ship cabin—even if her quarters are decked out to the nines just for your liking. you weren’t keen on the idea at first, feeling more like a child being told stories before bedtime, rather than a fellow sailor and her beloved first mate. but her eyes will light up all the same, and she’ll tell you of her day and the new things she’s seen as if you were right there with her. you quickly learn to nod along and acknowledge her every so often, as the only alternative is to mope around in her cabin or on the deck—the few times she’ll let you accompany her out there. there’s only so many thoughts to think by yourself, and at some point, you grow to look forward to these fantastical stories every night.

— she doesn’t know fear—freedoms are yours for the choosing if you’re brave enough to set your sights on them. lenient and all too unfussed by the chance you’ll make it any further than the twenty feet from her person at all times, she’s well aware you won’t make it rather far. you wouldn’t call it much in the way of “freedom” really—and you start to envy the citizens of the ever-free mondstadt a few regions over. all freedoms are your for the taking; that is, all freedoms except a dismissal from her side. it’s where any good luck charm belongs, she’ll laugh and plant a wet kiss atop your lips. her good luck charm... she doesn’t need luck—not with strength rivaling a god’s—and yet she refuses to go anywhere without you close behind. 

it’s no surprise that her crew had once joked that you follow her around like a lost seadog—unaware that you do so per her directions—only for the poor lads to regret ever having said anything. their captain’s eyes are dark when she pipes up behind them.

“haven’t you got better jobs to do than mess with my lass?” she jeers, that usual smirk not quite reaching her eyes. from your position behind the crew—the men now all lined up in terror before the captain of the crux—even you start to break into sweat. it’s clear from her tone that she’s irritated, and the fact she’s clutching onto her claymore as if its the anchor on her anger scares even you. 

they were poking fun at you only moments ago, and now you can’t help but feel sorry for them.

“i’ll let you off the hook ‘cause you’re my dear brothers.“ despite her clemency, her expression tightens and not one man dares to let his tense muscles relax. “but i’ll only say this once, lads.” she explains, stepping down from the raised deck to saunter over to your side. all eyes turn to you two, a pair they’ve grown used to seeing day in and day out. beidou slings her arm around your shoulders, the curves of her body pressing into yours perfectly. “this here is my first mate; a jab at them is no better than a jab at me. the next time i hear a jab at them, i’ll do far worse than have you swimming with the fishes.”

— she loves drinking with you by her side, even if you can’t hold liquor down to save your life. her cheeks are quick to flush shades of pinks and reds, and you can never stop yourself from staring in awe, even when she slings an arm around your waist and pulls you close. her lips catch yours as if they belong there, a puzzle piece filled by its other half. her kisses are a hazy fire, fiercely warm and dangerously untamed; they always taste like strong beer, the beverage steeped in various spices that sit nicely on her lips.

you only wish she wouldn’t do so in public. her boisterous laughter and charisma draws the attention of the tavern-goers, most of whom know better than to interrupt beidou when she’s chugging down jugs of alcohol. her crew doesn’t mind the sight, nor do they mind your presence at the table—though, it’s not like they have much of a choice in protesting; although they don’t fully recognize you as a bonafide crew member of the alcor, it’s clear that captain beidou has something of a sweet spot for you.

still, they feel like they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t when she captures your lips with hers, her fingers drunkenly playing with the thin strap keeping your outfit intact. 

— captain beidou carries her heart on her sleeves and her riches in each hand. riches and spoils are fully within your grasp at all times, sometimes to the point of annoyance when she insists on adorning you with a piece of jewelry she picked up at port. ‘it reminded me of you, s’all,’ she’ll laugh sheepishly, already unclasping the necklace to set it around your neck. ‘wear it and think of me, yea?’

it’s an order more than a romantic sentiment; you have no choice but to think of her at all times.

it’s only when you learn of her past that you come to understand her near-obsession with providing you with the best of the best. from the moment she opened her eyes as a newborn, her life had been mired by misfortune, as if the gods themselves were curious how long she’d survive a life of ordeals. as confident as she is now, you would’ve never guess that beneath the surface, she is forever humbled by her past. having grown up in a family with little money and even less to eat, she was to pick up on the way of thieves, learning the schedules and habits of merchants at the local market so that she could swoop in to steal fruits and veggies from their unattended stands.

“don’t worry about it too much, lass; me telling you such stories is merely for your amusement,” she’ll laugh as she explains this to you, sparing you the grisly details of starvation and malaise. she doesn’t tell you how her skin would cling to her ribs for years on end, hanging from her skeleton as if life had given up on it. she’s been on hard times for most of her life, and yet the only side you ever see is the one blessed by fortune and power.

“life and i have never gotten along, so i had to climb my way up in this world.” her tone is cheerful; you see right through it. “my life’s been tough, i’ll admit that much, but i have no intention of making you live through that too.” 

— as much as she tries to run from it, she cannot outsail truth. as much as she’d prefer to keep you on her ship—where she can keep an eye on you, where you’re always free to join her in her quest for adventure and thrill—she’s aware that all things must come to an end; even the sea has an edge and an end.

this is just one of them.

 “hey... if you really don’t want to be here, i won’t stop you. it’s your choice, and whatever you decide is set in stone. i can’t change that no matter how hard i try, but... could you do me a favor?... just, could you at least give me a chance? 

i don’t like overstepping my boundaries where i’m not needed, but this is all i’ll ask of you. think long and hard about your decision. what you decide is up to you—and if you’re set on the idea, i’ll let you leave, no repercussions. sound like a deal?”

bonus.

— she isn’t herself at night. gone is the boisterous laughter that could raise the hair on a man’s arms. gone is the domineering aura she carries like a shield, its front aimed at a world that tries to hold her down. she craves adventure, but the moment night falls and she pulls you into the cot with her, she’s out like a light. the only time you manage to catch yourself every day is when she’s by your side rather than the other way around, her person quiet and gently breathing the sea-stained air.

the ship creaks, and you can hear it clear as night now that the crew is snuggled into their cabins and warm cots, and now that their even-louder captain has fallen asleep. you can finally hear your own thoughts. you have much to think about, having been spirited away to “adventure” against your will... and yet you only think of her.

you turn on your side and settle your weary eyes on your lover. her features are no longer sharp, no longer laden with the responsibility of power and might. nestled between a lavish blanket and the warmth of your body, she is no longer a paragon of otherwordly strength; she’s just human. this is just another side of the captain, just another beidou intended only for your eyes.

and it’s in these quiet moments that you realize you’re in love.

dear-yandere, all rights reserved.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere beidou x reader #yandere beidou #beidou x reader #genshin impact x reader #*headcanons #tw kidnapping #tw dubcon #genshin impact #beidou #[ really hope she isnt ooc ] #[ i havent even met her yet smh .. . im bobo the clown ]

[writersblog20]

Everybody has a hard time, from time to time

Tom Hiddleston x Freader

Warnings: reader being drunk, little bit of anxiety but disguised as nervousness.Angst but not too much. Language. And feeling worthless. Readers boss gaslighting her but it’s not much. age-gap reader is 25. Implied smut sort of? But also not really

Words: 3470

Summary: The reader meets Tom Hiddleston and he asked her out on a date. But on the date she gets a call from her extremely drunken best friend….

A/N: I just went with it and I don’t even know what it turned out hahaha I'm also sorry for the spelling mistakes and stuff

Everybody has a hard time from time to time

Y/N was walking down the streets. Headphones in and 4 coffees on a tray. She sighed and started walking faster back to her stupid job. Her boss gave her a really hard time but lately it had gotten worse. She tried to calm down and take a minute but balancing lunch and coffee was definitely not on her resume. She was so lost in her thought that she got back to it until her butt hit the pavement pretty hard.

Everything went so fast and she felt the very hot coffee on her chest soaking her blouse. “Fuck!” she cursed out. “oh my god I’m so sorry” the man said who was kneeling besides her now trying to help her. “it’s fine. Just going to get fired now. but honestly it’s fine” you said in anger.

You looked up and to your surprise you saw it was your favorite actor Tom Hiddleston. Worry filled his pool blue eyes. you wanted to freak out but honestly you were more freaking out about your boss right now. “God I really am sorry ma’am. Let me pay for some new coffee!” he told you kindly. You carefully tried to dry your blouse. Tom got a dry sweater from his bag.

“please take it, god I’m so sorry” He told you with actual more worry in his eyes. “is there anything I can do for you? I can walk with you to your boss to explain what happened” he told you a little panicked. You chuckled at the sweet gesture and started to feel sorry for him because how bad he felt.

“It’s okay. I doubt that would change much.” He nodded. “are you hurt?” he asked you helping you up. “eh no I’m fine I think.” You told him. “I’m really sorry please take my jumper. I know it isn’t much but at least it’s dry” he told you and almost shove it in your hands. “thank you!” you told him and he looked a little more relaxed that he at least could do something for you.

“well I should go now.” you told him. “I do need that jumper back” he told you with a grin and you started to feel flustered. “right I’m sorry I….” he cut you off before you could finish that sentence. “I ehm never really do this but how about you give it back on our date? If you would gladly accept of course. My treat for what happened.” You were starstruck but you thought he wanted to take you on a date out of pity. “ you don’t have to do that Tom, you don’t have to take me on a date because you feel bad. Gives off the wrong signals.” You told him while cleaning your pants from the dirt on the ground.

“I’m eh Tom” he told you. You chuckled “yeah I know. Big fan” you said still chuckling and he giggled a little. He waited for you to say your name but you were lost in thoughts again. “oh I’m sorry I’m Y/N” he giggled and gently took your hand and placed a kiss on the top of it. “it’s really nice to meet you. And again I’m very sorry how we met” he said scratching his head. “it’s not all your fault. I was very lost in thought so I should've looked where i was walking” you told him.

“I want to take you out on a date because you are magnificently beautiful and now I have more of a reason to make it up to you. That’s why I want to take you out.” He told you with a gentle smile. “oh ehm well then I would love to go on a date with you” you told him flustered feeling extremely dumb at the moment. “Are you free this Saturday evening?” he asked you. “yeah absolutely” you told him. he gave you his phone and you put your number in it. “I’ll text you.” He said with a wink. “okay” was all you could say. You stood there for a minute before going back.

On your way you changed into Tom’s jumper and got new coffee and lunch. You made your way back to your job. You obvious got shit from your boss and you told her what happened but she wasn’t taking it. “you are absolutely worthless! You can’t even get some fucking coffee! I don’t even know why I hired you in the first place. You can go and you don’t have to come back” she told you

It made you furies. There was no way she would take you back and honestly you wouldn’t even want that. “That’s fine cause I wanted to quit either way. You are one horrible person and treat people like shit but honestly you are the biggest piece of shit in this whole building. Probably even in this whole city. So I don’t mind. Bye!!!” you told her and she looked dumbfounded by your sudden outburst.

You walked out of the building with your head up high and a big smile on your face. You really felt more alive at this moment. You got back home and that’s when it hit you that you still had to pay your rent. You started cursing and kicked a chair. You called one of your friends and he came right away to you. “Girl! You got some bad bitch energy! How you stood up against her… I mean damn. That and you have a date with The hot Tom Fucking Hiddleston! Girl you’re so lucky!” he told you while shaking a cocktail for you both.

You chuckled “I’m not gonna drink right now” you told him. “Girl you have better plans? You just got fired and you have nowhere to be right now so just take that drink and live a little! You’re 25 for god’s sake!” You chuckled again and took the drink from him. “you know what you should do? Sell your art! Finish that book that you were writing! I mean I’ve seen your work and it’s absolutely amazing! And since I’m in the art business I might be able to help you out in that and give you an exposition! ” He told you. “let me think about it okay?” you told him a little sad.

“babe you’ve got to stop being scared! You are absolutely amazing on every front! Everyone can see that except for you. So please let me do this for you” He told you. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up and be declined like almost always. I don’t feel good enough and I don’t think I can take another rejection again” you told him honestly.

“it’s life babes…. There will be times where you’re still going to get rejected but don’t let that bring you down. You have to keep fighting for it. And your art is worth fighting for. Believe me! I’m your most honest friend and I’m telling you this from the bottom of my heart. You are good enough! Hell you are more than that! You just have to believe in yourself!” you smiled at his kindness and thought about it. “you know what? Fuck it! Let’s do it!” you told him feeling strong! “yes queen! that’s my girl! Bad bitch energy!” you giggled and got immensely drunk to celebrate it.

~time skip~

The week got by pretty quick and as Luke told you, you got accepted and they were more excited to give you an exposition. You started to search for jobs that you would actually like and started writing again. Life was going good again and you felt so strong and confident until you had the date which would be tomorrow.

You were so nervous. Tom didn’t text you yet and you didn’t have his phone number so it was hard to get in touch with him. Anxiety got the best of you. What if he forgot? What if he forgot about you or changed his mind? Just when your mind got into overdrive you heard your phone pinged. You quickly got it and saw an unknown number. You felt your heart pound in your chest. You opened the text.

“Hello Love, It’s Tom. Are you still up for tomorrow? I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner, it was a chaotic week.” It felt like you could breathe again and texted him back immediately. “Hey Tom, Yes I’m still up for tomorrow. Can’t wait!” You send the message and immediately thought you should texted him a different message. Your phone went off again. But this time he called you. You drowned your wine for some confident.

“Hey Tom.” You said a little nervous. He chuckled. “hello darling” your heart skipped a beat at the nickname and you felt butterflies I mean it was Tom Hiddleston for god’s sake! “I’ll pick you up around 5. Is that okay?” he asked you. “eh yeah of course sure! I ehm am looking forward to it!” you told him honestly. “me too darling” he told you with a chuckle. You both said your goodbyes and you put your phone down.

You tried to watch a movie to get your mind of off your anxiety. When the movie was over you tried to go to bed but you kept staring at your ceiling. I’m not like the other girls he dated. You thought to yourself. But then tried to set it straight by saying maybe that’s the point but then other thoughts consumed you. You tried to fight all the thought by positives one until the early hours of the morning. You finally fell asleep around 5 AM.

Once you woke up you got very excited. It was already 2 in the afternoon since you slept so crappy. You texted your Luke but got no response. You figured he was still asleep. You picked your clothes and 5 PM got around faster then you thought it would. You heard your doorbell and opened up. There he was standing Tom Hiddleston. Alongside with some flowers. No other date had given you flowers. He checked you out with his lips slightly parted. He chuckled: “wow you look amazing!” he said with a small blush creeping up on his cheeks. You giggled. “you too mister Hiddleston” you said boldly which made him chuckle again. He really did look great. He wore a small blouse and a blue blazer over it and jeans. “oh eh these are for you” he told you. You could tell he was nervous as hell which made you feel a little bit more at peace knowing that you weren’t the only one.

“come inside. I’m just going to put these in some water.” You told him and he followed you inside. He loved your apartment. It gave off such a warm cozy vibe. It felt like home. He looked at your art work on the wall. “I adore your apartment.” He told you which made you smile. “thank you” you told him kindly. “I’m ready to go” you told him with a chuckle. You got your coat of the hanger. “Here let me, please.” He told you and got the coat out of your hands and helped you in your coat. It made you flustered and swoon. God you were already falling head over heels for this men.

You both walked into a restaurant but it wasn’t a fancy one but more cozy. You loved it. You talked for hours and both drank some red wine. You both hit it off so well and you were absolutely smitten. And he was too if not more. You both were so much on one line it was amazing. You knew you would never find this again and it kind of scared you. You told him about your boss since he asked if you got trouble that day you first met him and you told the story until you got a call from Luke.

You frowned a little. He knew you were on a date and he would never interrupt you unless it was an emergency. “everything okay?” Tom asked you. “Yeah I just have to take this. I am so sorry!” He chuckled it’s fine” he told you reassuring. You nodded and walked off to the bathroom and picked up. “Luke? What’s wrong?” you asked when you heard him sobbing on the phone. You could tell he was absolutely smashed. “Can you please come to my place? I really need you right now. you can even take Tom with you but please” He begged you with an obvious slur. You felt your heart break for him. You sighed. “alright I’m on my way. Can you hang on?” you asked him. “yeah” he told you still crying. “Thank you so much Y/N I’m so sorry” he told you. “I know it’s okay. I’m on my way okay?”

You hang up the phone and went back to Tom. “everything alright?” he asked you and you felt so guilty. “I eh my friend he needs me right now. he is absolutely smashed and crying and I don’t know what is wrong but he asked me to come to him.” Tom looked at the table “I’m so sorry! I had a lovely time and I would love to do this some time again! If you still want to of course…” You said the last part a little softer. He smiled at you. “I eh could go with you if you’d like and if it’s okay with your friend.” Tom told you. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to” you told him. “I’m going to be honest with you. I really like you and I don’t want this evening to stop…. So if that means taking care of your drunken friend to be with you, I will. But I understand if you feel different.” This time Tom said the last part a little softer. You chuckled and felt your body filling up with love. “I really like you too Tom and in that case… Let’s go” you chuckled. He looked a little surprised but happy.

Tom paid the bill even when you tried to intervene but he wasn’t having it. “next time you can pay” he told you with a wink. You were flustered. He helped you to get your coat on and you both made your way. You slightly touched his hand and put yours in his. He looked a little surprised down at you. “I eh is this okay?” you asked him a little nervous. “it is, love.” You looked down a little with a smile. His thumb caressing the back of your hand softly. “I’m really sorry about this.” You told him honestly. “really it’s okay. I totally understand!” he told you truthfully.

You got to Luke’s house and you used your keys. “Luke? It’s me, where are you?” you asked him. you heard Abba blasting through the speakers. You immediately turned it down a bit. Empty bottles were laying everywhere. “Y/N?” Luke called out to you. You followed the sound and saw him laying by the toilet. You took of your coat and walked over to him and sat him down by the toilet. “What happened?” you asked him. he sniffled a little. “Cooper broke up with me and even over a text message” you looked at him a little sad for him. you went with your hands through his hair. Tom stood behind you but Luke didn’t notice yet. Luke started to laugh. Great mood swings you thought. Tom gave you a glass of water and you smiled a little at him. You gave the water to Luke. He looked up and saw Tom. Tom waved at him a little. “oh he’s so cute and hot!” he told you like Tom wouldn’t hear it. You started to laugh. You looked at Tom and he chuckled.

“I’m sorry I ruined your date” he looked at you and Tom. “we’ll there’s going to be a second so don’t worry too much about it” you told him and you looked at Tom who winked at you. Luke started to throw up and you both looked away. You softly touched Luke’s back to let him know you weren’t going anywhere. “you okay?” you asked after he was done. “yeah I think I can get up now.” he told you. “okay good let’s get you upstairs then.” You helped Luke up which was a challenge on its own. “here let me” Tom said and took Luke over from you. He put Luke’s arm over his shoulders and helped him upstairs. Luke started to stare at Tom.

“Luke…. You’re staring.” You told him. “I know.” Luke told you serious and furrowed his eyebrows at Tom. “Look. I’m thankful you help me but you better take care of my best friend alright! She’s an angel and don’t you dare to hurt her!” he slurred at Tom while you were already in Luke’s bedroom. “I’m not planning on it mate. I promise.” He told Luke. He narrowed his eyebrows. “yeah I believe that. Finally a good guy Y/N!” he yelled happy at you. You flustered again. You mouthed: “I’m sorry” at Tom and he just gave you a reassuring smile. You both put Luke into bed. You put an extra pillow under his head for the nausea. You put down a bucket and a glass of water beside him.

“please stay the night. I don’t want to be alone and your boyfriend can stay too” you were both flustered at the last part Luke said. “I’ll stay don’t worry. But you need some sleep now.” Luke nodded and turned around. “I love you” Luke told you sleepy. “I love you too” you told him and closed the door and leaned against it. “I’m really sorry about this. Normally it doesn’t happen” you told Tom a little embarrassed. He put a hand on your cheek “it’s okay love. Really we all have moments like this” you nodded. “well I need a drink now…. You want one?” you asked and chuckled. “yeah sounds good” he said and chuckled as well.

You both went downstairs and took out the empty bottles and after that made you both a drink. You sat down on the couch and Tom next to you. You both talked into the late hours and started to get drunk. You were leaning against Tom by now. you looked up at him and he looked down at you with love and adoration in his eyes. “please stay tonight.” You kind of asked him. “only if you want me to” he told you. “yeah I do. But just to clarify I never took a guy back home (or well my friends house) to stay the night” You told him with a chuckle. He laughed as well. When it got silence you just stared at each other.

His face ,slowly, started to get closer to you giving you enough time to pull away but instead you softly put your lips on his. His hand caressing your cheek and your hand in his hair slightly pulling at it as the kiss started to get heated. He pulled you on his lap, both of your legs on either side of him. His hands going under your shirt and stayed on your back. He slowly got up and laid you down on the couch with your legs around his waist. You broke from the kiss and put your hand on his chest. “Tom…. I don’t want to do it on the first date and definitely not here” you chuckled which made him giggle as well. “totally understandable!” He told you.

“I can go I you want me to” he told you. “no, please stay.” He gave you a warm smile that made your heart melt. You made some space so Tom could lay down as well. You laid your head on his chest and he went with his hands through your hair. Well this was definitely not the perfect date…. But luckily it was with the perfect guy.

#tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfic #loki fanfic

[pillage-and-lute]

Pins and Needles: Part 2

Part 1, (here)

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

“Oh my gods,” came a voice from over the counter that Geralt was currently under, sweeping up leaves.

“Uncle Lambert was right!” Ciri said, draping herself over the top of the counter so she could smirk at her dad. “You’re totally hiding from the twink tattoo artist.”

“He’s not a twink,” Geralt said, straightening up, dustpan in hand.

“Not what Uncle Lambert said.”

“Bertie hasn’t even seen him,” Geralt said, scowling. 

Unbidden, the memory of just how solid Jaskier had felt in his arms. How low his shirt was unbuttoned and how delightfully hairy his chest was. Not a twink.

“I should be concerned about how invested you are in my dating life,” he told Ciri. She was sitting on the counter now, battered combat boots thumping against the side.

Geralt didn’t exactly have a conventional relationship with his daughter. He’d been friends, although not terribly close, with her parents, and when they died and there was no one to take Ciri, he had. Lambert joked that it had been temporary insanity. Eskel said that Geralt had just experienced a bout of baby fever. Vesemir just smiled knowingly.

They all knew the real answer. It was orphan syndrome. A nasty mix of abandonment issues, trust issues, and the inability to leave other orphans to social services. All three of Vesemir’s boys had it, because he’d become their dad only after they’d each individually been kicked from every home the state could place them in. 

So Geralt had taken one look at the squalling, tiny baby, with hair so blonde it almost looked like his own. Geralt had gotten stiffed on the genetic spectrum, and through no fault or deficiency his doctor could find, had entirely white hair by 23.

Now, Ciri was sixteen, captain of her hockey team, and raking in the medals for Judo. Geralt took great pleasure in bragging about her at every PTA meeting, especially since it meant rubbing it in Suzanne ‘My daughter’s a piano prodigy’ Delmore’s face.

“If you’d been on a date since Aunt Yen then maybe I wouldn’t be so concerned,” Ciri said, popping her gum. 

Geralt winced. His relationship with the used bookseller down the street had been disasterous and short, but in the end, Ciri had been able to tack yet another name to her list of non-blood-relative aunts and uncles.

“We’re better as friends,” he said. “Move your foot, I need to get into that cabinet.”

Ciri obediently swung her foot aside so he could grab the florist’s foam. “That’s why you should go ask out someone else...like the cute tattoo artist.” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, can I get a tattoo.”

“Absolutely not. Wait until you’re nineteen.”

“But I can get one at sixteen with parent’s permission,” she made puppy eyes. “Dad, it’d be so cool.”

“Nope.”

“C’mon, why not? And why nineteen, why not eighteen?”

Geralt smirked. “Did you know that your Uncle Eskel has a tattoo?”

“No,” Ciri said, leaning forward.

“Mmhm,” Geralt said. He began selecting flowers from buckets for his next arrangement. Something nice, maybe with some tea roses.”

“Oh, c’mon Dad, you have to tell me now!” Ciri hopped off the counter and got her apron off the peg. It had been a gift from Lambert. Geralt’s own was a simple denim apron, and her’s was the same, except it had “Don’t flirt, I’m a minor” embroidered on the chest.

“Well,” Geralt said, handing her her own block of florist’s foam. “He was eighteen, and he was really into Gwent.”

“That card game? The one that used to have that super weird animated tv show?”

“Oh yeah, we all were huge fans, but Eskel was the biggest. Which was funny, because Bertie and I beat him every time.”

“Oh my gods,” Ciri said. “Does Uncle Eskel have a Gwent tattoo?”

“Yep,” Geralt said, snipping off a too-long stem. “On his thigh. It’s pretty big, too, that’s why he only ever wears those ugly cargo shorts or long pants.”

“That’s hilarious!” Ciri said. “But what does it have to do with me?”

“There’s a lot of personal growth done between eighteen and nineteen,” Geralt said, trimming a leaf. “And I don’t want you to get something you regret. But when you are nineteen, I will happily pay for your first tattoo.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. I don’t want you going to a cheap placing and getting some horrible blood disease.”

Ciri beamed at him and Geralt smiled to himself. He was a very cool dad.

“Why don’t you get a tattoo?” Ciri asked.

“Why would I?”

“It would look totally cool.”

“I don’t even know what I’d get,” Geralt said. He examined the flower placement. It was even, but maybe too even, he swapped a couple of the taller flowers around.

“You’d get to talk to the cute tattoo artist, I bet he’d have some suggestions.”

“I like wolves,” Geralt said. 

Ciri rolled her eyes. “Dad, like every guy with a tattoo get’s a wolf. Be original.”

“Trees are nice,” Geralt said.

Ciri groaned. “Even worse than the wolf. Maybe you should go over to the shop, see what sort of art he does. Can I get a piercing?”

“What? Oh, yeah, if you want. What sort?” Geralt was a little taken aback by the quick switch, but Ciri was sixteen and had ADHD, so he was pretty used to it.

“I want an industrial.”

“Which one’s that?”

“The bar, through the top,” Ciri gestured. 

Geralt fluffed out some petals. “Yeah, definitely. I’d much rather you get any cartiledge piercings done by a professional.”

Geralt, in his moody teenager phase, had gotten plenty of piercings, several on his right ear and all the way up his left. Most of which he’d done himself with a needle he’d boiled to sterilize it. He shuddered to think of Ciri trying it. Geralt had lucked out and not shattered his cartiledge, but there would be no risks taken with Ciri’s perfect ears.

“Cool,” she said. “Can we go right now? We usually close for lunch about now anyway.”

“I’m not sure they take walk ins,” Geralt said. He did not look cute enough to go see Jaskier right now. 

“We can ask,” Ciri said. Taking his hand and tugging him across the street.

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

I imagine that in this world Gwent is like a mix of Yugioh and Magic The Gathering. 

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#eventual geraskier #Dad! Geralt #Ciri #modern au #tattoo florist au