#i mean u have to squint in order to see it

[nymphomatique]

Thinking about reader getting rejected by some guy and she gets drunk and loser nerd miguel is there to comfort her and she is like "miggy you are so much better than him!!" (She won't admit she said that when she is sober) and she is crying and saying embarrassing stuff she likes about miguel while he is trying his best to comfort her. Things like "i actually think the glasses are so cute" "i love how smart you are, always so helpful" and it escalates into things like "i love sitting on your face and seeing the glasses fog up" "your dick is big for a nerd, i love sucking you off" etc. And Miguel is like 😳

she is finally here!! had a blast writing this one 🤭

cw: drunk reader, reader gets rejected and gets shitfaced, miguel being a sweetie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, erm like pantie sniffing? 😭 idk, cunnilingus, creampie, squirting (because why wouldn’t there be it’s me whose writing this), slightly drunk sex (can be considered dubcon), switch miguel??, undercover feelings if u squint🕺🏽i think that’s it lmk if i miss smt. and as usual, not proofread ❤️ enjoy my luvvies

wc: 3.0k

your head was pounding. but that’s to be expected with the excessive amount of alcohol in your system paired with the booming bass of whatever song was playing at whatever club you were at.

you felt so disoriented. at the beginning of the night, you wouldn’t have shown up if you had known what was going to happen. you came out tonight with your sorority friends because you had your sights set on hobie brown. tall, lanky, and fucking gorgeous. all night, you had done your best to push your tits up in your skimpy dress and sway your hips to the song that had been playing at the club to no avail. he left you alone, feeling high and dry to hook up with one of your friends instead. seeing him make out with her in the shared booth you had all pitched in for bad made you feel slightly insecure. was there something wrong with you? you had chosen not to dignify that question with a verbal answer but rather with shots of tequila, and that had been 4 shots ago.

your head was spinning, and you felt so so warm in the club. in this moment you found yourself thinking of one thing only, miguel. you hated yourself for it. and when a mysterious double shot of vodka had appeared in front of you, the bartender saying some guy had payed for them with you, you downed them no question. the burn in your throat quieting the burn in your mind. but only temporarily. you can’t stop thinking about him. his curly brown hair, his plump lips, his cut nose, his eyes, and those glasses he wears. you find yourself missing him in this moment, yearning for him to make you feel better. you’re ready to go home.

you push yourself away from the bar counter, and the push sends you reeling backwards and onto your ass with an “oof!”. with the strobe lights, loud music, and moving bodies, you were nothing in the sea of movement and stimulation on the floor. you figure the floor is your best option at regaining some sense of orientation, so you pull your phone out and order yourself an uber home to the best of your ability. through your hazy vision, you open your messages, scrolling through your contacts until you find the one you’re looking for, under the name ‘four eyes’. without thinking, your thumbs start moving, and you’re pressing send periodically.

you figure you’re done, and you brace yourself to get up and navigate through the sea of bodies ahead of the exit.

in his dorm at his desk, miguel sat quietly studying for his upcoming molecular biology quiz, when his phone starts to buzz.

my love <3

1:22 am. — r y awsje

1:22 am. — awake

1:22 am. — my roon in 15

1:23 am. — pls

miguel looks at his phone, trying to decipher whatever gibberish you had been typing. he figures you mean to meet him at your dorm, a little escape between you two at this time of night wasn’t unusual, but never initiated like this. miguel bookmarks his page in his textbook before closing it, grabbing some water and ibuprofen with him before he makes his way to your dorm.

when he arrives, he sees you on the floor leaning against your door, barely awake. you perk up however at miguel’s footsteps, your eyes fluttering open and a small smile plastering across your face. “miguellll,” you exclaim, throwing your hands towards him. “dunno my room code. piggy back me!” you giggle, rather loudly at that. miguel smiles a bit, walking over briskly to shush you. “okay baby, but you gotta be quiet, yeah?” he smiles, taking you in so.. free. happy.

a smile graces your lips, eyes hazy and blinking, hair messy and unkept like the clothes you wore, but to miguel you were as beautiful as ever, even at your most unguarded. he watches you with a smile, knowing this will be the last time for a good while he’s going to see you like this. he kneels, placing an arm at your back, scooping under you arms, the other arm at the back of your knees. with a swiftness, he steps back up with you in his harms with no sweat, and as drunk as you are damn do you find it hot. your face burries itself in miguel’s pectoral, covered by his soft grey sweater.

you breathe him in quietly as your head the buttons to your room door beep and your handle twist somewhere distant. all you can think about is miguel. as drunk as you were, your eyes would always find the time to focus on him. the way butterflies erupted in your stomach as you saw him walk towards you in his plaid pyjama pants and his loose sweater, glasses atop his head. he looked tired as ever, probably busy studying quantum mechanics or something. yet, here you were in his string arms. miguel, miguel, miguel. you look up at him as he walks you to your bed, and you catch a look at his resting face. he naw tense and sharp, lips pursed, brows bushy and furrowed, his brown eyes sharp and attentive. you’ve never seen him like this. you like seeing him like this. your hand creeps up to his jaw, tracing the muscle and vein, in brief brushes as miguel finally sets you down on your bed.

you’re sat with your back parallel to the wall the length of your bed sits along, head leaning back and reeling in the coolness of the painted wall.

“you enjoy yourself back there?” he teases, smiling softly at you, beginning to undo your necklace clasp. you smile sheepishly, feeling warm and embarrassed you let yourself get caught staring and touching him like that. “s’okay. you know i love it when you touch me.”

and there it is. the sharpness and the bite in miguel that you’re not used to seeing, the miguel who makes your stomach burn with a look, makes your chest pound by saying things like ‘i love it when you touch me.’ he’s long gone from your neck, his nimble fingers at your wrists, unclamping your bracelets and slipping off your rings, placing an occasional kiss on your knuckles. and you sit in silence as he takes care of you, stripping you ever so slightly more bare than you were before, not just physically.

you watch and see the attentiveness in his moved, how he’s careful with you. he moves to take your shoes off next, kneeling as he does so. the begins to unbuckle one strap of your heel, focus built in his face as he does so. he pulls your shoe off, massages your foot, up to your ankle, up to your calf, stopping right as the burning you feel on your skin begins to pick up. you break the comfortable silence with the whisper of his name from your lips.

“yes, my love?” he hums, rubbing soft circles in your calves.

“you’re so good to me. make me really happy,” you murmur.

“yeah? you make me happy too.”

“not just that,” you begin, perking up a bit from your slumped posture. “you’re really smart. makes you really attractive.”

he keeps rubbing soft circles into your supple skin, but this time he’s looking up at you, a slight redness to his cheeks. adorable.

“you’re big n’strong too. carryin’ me like that to my bed,” you giggle. you lean forward, your face a few inches closer to miguel’s. “made my pussy fuckin’ wet,” you whisper at him, leaning back against the wall to watch him, a stunned look on his face. “my other shoes not gonna take itself off.”

miguel doesn’t let your comment phase him, at least beyond the physical sense, as he moves to take your other shoe off. and he repeats. unbuckle, massage, foot, ankle, calf, thigh- thigh? you watch miguel quietly, his hands rubbing and kneading into the meat of your lower thigh. higher and higher his hands creep, until they’re sitting right below the rolled-up hem of your dress. miguel looks up at you, waiting for a sign, an order. wordlessly, you let your legs spread apart.

miguel takes heed of your cue, and his hands gently trail up your thigh and split at its junction, each of his large hands latched onto your hips. he abruptly pulls you forward, and you let out a small squeak. miguel pays you no mind, his eyes on the prize present between your legs. he burries his strong nose into your clothed vagina, rubbing at your clit a bit and he inhales, moaning at the smell. your stomach tightens a bit and you feel both embarrassed and aroused at his display.

“smell as good as you taste.”

you bite your lip and snake your hand up to the thick head of hair in between your legs, pushing him closer to your panty covered wetness. “quit teasin’ me, you breathe out, miguel’s strong nose prodding at your clit. at your expression he moves to lick a stripe up your pussy, licking up the taste of you from your soaked underwear. you let out a soft exhale, feeling sated at the kitten licks miguel gives you. he trails up your clothed wetness once more, and moves the gusset of your panty to the side, exposing you to him.

ever anxious, you hold in a breath, ready and waiting for miguel. after a beat he finally places his mouth on you, delving between your folds and training up between them to reach your clit, which he sucks into his mouth hard. you can’t help but let out a moan, praising him for his work. “f-feels so good, migs. keep goin’ for me.”

and he does, licking and sucking and thrusting up into you until you’re writhing writhin his grasp and you find yourself on the cusp of your orgasm. that is until he pulls away. he’s sat on his haunches, mouth wet and face flushed, lust heavy in his eyes at he looks at you.

“please, mistress, can i make you feel good?”

you lean forward and grab him by his sweater collar, pulling him up to your bed, his face inches from yours. your lips ghost his as you whisper, “you always make me feel good.” you pull him in for a kiss, your lips hot and heavy against miguel’s, swirling your tongues between each others. when you feel void of breath, you break up the kiss, taking a moment to look at miguel until you push him back against the bed, throwing your leg over his hips so that you were straddling him.

“wanna know something else?” you begin, leaning your head down to kiss his cheek. “you always make me cum. with that big dick of yours.” you grind your hips against his, feeling him throb against your pussy even through his sweats. “you always make me cum, even make me wet the bed and squirt. no other man has done that to me.” you continue kissing and suckung his neck, being sure to leave the unmistakable mark of hickeys down his jugular.

miguel moans, his arms tensing and hips jerking up at the sensation and you giggle a bit. “want you to fuck me and make me cum with that dick of yours. hard.” you leave him with your words as you get off him, stumbling a bit, the remaining alcohol in your blood making itself present. you watch miguel, still laying against your bed and you strip for him. you pull your tight dress up and over your head, shimmying it off you until you’re only in your panties. you wore no bra.

at the sight, miguel gulps and raises off the bed, ridding himself of his pants and sweater in record time, until he’s naked in front of you. you peel your panties off of you, throwing them at miguel’s face as you walk over to him and push him back into the position the two of you were in once more. you’re sat on top of miguel’s hard length, laughing at his eyes peeking through the gusset of your lacy underwear. “bet you like havin’ my panties on your face,” you tease, running your hands up his chest, ghosting his hard nipples. he lets out a sharp inhale and you roll your eyes, grabbing your underwear off of miguel’s face. “open,” you command, and his jaw unhinges without a spare moment. you ball up the lace fabric in your hands and shove it in his mouth, biting your lip at seeing miguel like this.

“you’re so fucking sexy, especially now that you can’t talk.”

you decide you’re done teasing, ready to finally satisfy yourself, and you lift you hips up. “put it in yourself,” you tell miguel, and a muffled sigh comes out of his mouth as he grabs his cock, aligning it with your wetness. miguel’s eyes close and his hips jerk up, his fat tipping pushing through you. miguel grabs your hips, squeezing and his keeps going, pushing the entirety of his length within you. you moan, the stretch burning so good along with the slight rush of liquor running through you. you feel hot and lightheaded, and good. so good. when miguel is fully sheathed in you, you don’t give him a moments rest before you plant your hands on his soft pecks and push your hips up to slam them back down.

miguel let’s out muffled curses, and your breaths become to come out faster and shorter as your hips keeping going up and down. “fuckin’ love this cock. s’all mine. don’t ever wanna share you,” you moan out. miguel’s feet plant into your bed and he matches your thrusts, his hands pulling your hips down as he thrusts up into you, causing you to squeal. he’s hitting you deep and hard and you don’t know how long you can take it like this. in the midst of it all, one of miguel’s hands leave your hips to make its way to your clit, rubbing your swollen bud. your body tenses and shakes, and your feel your orgasm build itself up quickly.

“g-gonna cum,” you moan out, looking at miguel. you already find him looking at you, his face in utter ecstasy. your underwear in his mouth is darkened from his saliva, his forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat, his hair strewn across your sheets. he makes your stomach clench, and you feel yourself shake from your orgasm. miguel doesn’t let up, he’s still fucking you and prodding your clit. he’s determined to make you squirt, just like you told him to.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, i’m- ah!” you babble, your brain beginning to fog. your first orgasm doesn’t even let up when you feel a second one hit you, and a groan leave miguel at you tightening and leaking around him. “h-hurts to good, please don’t stop baby please please please.”

he has you begging, the pleasure feeling too much. he’s still not done yet, his determination to make you squirt keeping him going. he flips you both, so that you’re laying against the bed, with him kneeling above you. you’re in such a deep haze that you don’t even realize until you hear miguel speak. he took your panties out of his mouth.

“gonna soak me? i need it, baby. you can do it, huh?” you hear him in your ear. your legs are over his shoulders and he’s pistoning into you and you just can’t. your head falls to the side when you feel a pressure build in your abdomen and you think you did it. liquid spurts from you, soaking you sheets and miguel’s stomach, and he lets out the deepest groan at the feeling. he’s still fucking you, hard thrusts and skin slapping. you feel light and you don’t know how much more you can take until miguel comes, and your hand weakly pushes at his stomach.

“move your hand, baby.”

you moan, the overstimulation becoming too much, and miguel assures you he’s close, almost there baby, hold on for me, yeah? and you do, you hold on even though you feel like his dick is in your throat and you’re gonna pass out if he keeps fucking you like this. you swear your prayers are answered when his thrusts slow, his moaning becoming erratic and loud.

“fuck baby, m’cumming. so good for me, mommy, so fuckin’ good.”

his warm seed fills you up and his thrust still, your back arches at the feeling and a small stream of liquid gushes from you again with a heavy moan. “fuck baby, you still squirting f’me” miguel groans. he pulls out of you slowly, the feeling causing you to shake a bit. when he’s finally removed from yoh, you close your eyes, feeling a kiss to your forehead and sleep pulling a cover over you.

the next morning, you wake up with a blistering headache and a soreness to your body that just pisses you off, more than the sun peeking through your blinds. you groan as you get up, your sheets falling off of you and you see you’re in a grey sweater. huh.

you turn to your bedside table and see that it’s 10:37 am, with a glass of water and two white pills next to it. you reach for them when you hear your room door open, and none other than miguel o’hara enters your room. he greets you with a smile and you scowl at him, noticing the bag of fast food in his hands.

“brought breakfast for you. thought you would, um, be hungry.” he says. you look at him, the scowl leaving your face, and you feel the itchings of a smile poking at your face. if miguel notices, he doesn’t say anything, but he drops the fast food bag on your bed and kisses your forehead, before he disappears off into your bathroom somewhere.

you fucking can’t stand him.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel atsv smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #sub miguel o'hara #<nerd!miguel3 #you’ve got mail 💌

[lovebugism]

hi bug! you are one of the best writers on here. I love your work! I was wondering if I could request eddie and shy!reader watching a scary movie? maybe it’s early on in their relationship and she’s afraid that he’ll think she’s a baby if she says no, even though she’s pretty freaked? I love their dynamic!

ty lovie! hope u like it!! — eddie (the local freak) loves you, horror movies, and halloween, in the order. you (the scaredy cat) just love eddie. (new relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort-ish, 1.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Orange lamplight illuminates the dark trailer. You squint at the brightness, still curled up on the couch and missing Eddie’s warmth. He’s too busy rifling through his collection of VHS tapes beneath the TV stand, searching for a scary movie within a sea of scary movies.

He’s giddy like a kid on Christmas despite having seen all of them a thousand times over. But, then again, the Halloween season tends to be like Christmas for metalhead freaks like the one you love so dearly.

“Okay, Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Exorcist?” the boy offers when he rises again, chestnut curls as wild as the bright beam on his face. He stands in front of the small television where red names scroll against a black screen and holds both options in eager hands. “Which one do you wanna watch next?”

You shrink inside yourself at the sight of both tapes. On one, a screaming girl — on the other, a masked man with a weapon. Your organs writhe with a fear most irrational. It runs ice-cold through your veins. 

You pull the woven blanket up to your chin and shrug, feigning a nonchalance despite your tightening chest. “Whichever one—”

“—And don’t say whichever one I want, alright? You always do that,” Eddie interjects, all boyishly harsh compared to how softly you had spoken. His playful grin hasn’t yet left him, though, and even in the dim lighting, his dark eyes still sparkle when they look at you.

You cower again, more visibly and with a different emotion this time. 

The corner of your lip quirks with a poorly hidden smile as you peek at the boy from beneath your lashes. “I don’t mind, Eds. Seriously,” you assure, still quiet in your way.

He pouts like a child, features scrunching in a childlike disdain. “But we always do the stuff I wanna do! You never have an opinion on anything. It’s always just, like, ‘whatever you want, Eds’ or ‘I’m good with whatever, babe—’”

You laugh at his obviously poor imitation of you.

The bubbly sound makes his smile widen.

“—You don’t have to be so sweet all the time, you know? You can be a little mean to me. I won’t mind, I promise.” 

It’s in his nature to make dumb, dirty jokes at arguably the worst times — especially with you, ‘cause he loves watching you get all flustered about it. But he thinks if you ever got the least bit assertive with him, he’d turn into a puddle at your feet.

“It’s because I don’t really care what we do,” you confess, warm with the blushy pink feeling he stirs in your chest. “I just like being with you, you know?”

Eddie’s stomach whirls. He’s too metal to let it turn him to mush.

“As cute as that is, you’re not sweet talkin’ your way outta this one, princess,” the boy retorts with a scrunched nose and twinkling eyes. “Pick.”

Too indecisive and too in love with the boy standing before you, you whine, “Eds…”

“Babe,” he grouses to match your pouty tone. His socked feet scuff against the carpet when he walks the short distance to you. “C’mon. You’re killin’ me here.”

A staring contest ensues, each of you stubborn and playfully serious with it.

It’s embarrassingly brief.

It’s hard for you to stare too long at Eddie before you get completely lost in him. You too quickly realize that he’s real — that he’s looking back at you and that he loves you — and you feel a bit like your feet have been pulled out from under you. 

Stern, but still gentle, you cave. “Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

Eddie beams when he gets his way. 

“See? Was that so hard?” he teases quietly, bending at the waist to kiss you.

You tilt your chin to meet him halfway. It’s instinct at this point, like he’s got his own gravitational pull. His breath smells like warm nicotine and buttery popcorn as it fans against your chin. 

He pulls back before you can reach him, though, and your fluttering eyes widen at the sudden refusal. 

You find Eddie already squinting down at you. 

“Are you just saying that ‘cause you know it’s my favorite?” he interrogates lowly.

“Maybe I like it because you like it,” you argue, too soft to be as serious as you seem. “Ever thought of that?”

“You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that, right?”

Your playfully taunting gaze gives way to a more genuine grin. “Now, I do.”

Eddie leans in to kiss you. For real this time. It’s a fleeting peck that leaves you grieving. His plush lips press pink against yours for one moment, and they’re gone the very next.

The couch dips beneath his weight when he plops down beside you. He coaxes your folded-up legs onto his lap with an urging hand on your knee. 

“Okay, how about this,” he offers with rosy lips so suddenly kissable. “We go down to Family Video — bother Steve for, like, ten minutes — and you get whatever movies you want instead of the old shit we have here. My treat.”

Your chest warms. You’d follow Eddie blindly for the rest of your life if he let you. You’d do whatever he wanted and not think twice about any of it. It feels nice to know he’d do the same for you. 

“Any movie?” you press, soft with a girlish giddiness you fight to keep hidden.

“Yeah,” the boy scoffs like it’s obvious. Then, in a vaguely posh accent, he assures, “What my lady wants, my lady shall get.”

You grow so suddenly sheepish, shrinking inside yourself like you always do when you’ve got something to say but lack the confidence to put it into words. It’s dumb to get nervous about it, and you know this, but you don’t want Eddie to think any differently of you — not for a moment, not even in the most innocent way.

“Does it have to be scary?” you wonder with a scrunched nose and a bashful gaze that doesn’t quite meet his.

Eddie falters for a moment. Not because it’s a big deal, but because he thought you liked horror films — that you both had that in common. 

“Well— I mean— No. It’s just— It’s October, you know? So, I thought scary movies would be more appropriate. ’Tis the season or whatever.”

“I think I just need a break for a bit,” you confess with a wavering smile, picking tiny balls of cotton from the blanket with a fidgeting hand. “Especially after that last one… It was pretty scary…”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. Too clouded by the haze of puppy love, he thought you were having just as much fun as he was. He thought you were clutching his arm and digging your nose into his shoulder because you wanted to be close to him. 

Because he’s an idiot. 

Realizing that you’ve been scared out of your mind for the past several hours feels a little like a knife to the gut. 

“I thought you liked scary movies…” Eddie quavers with pinched brows.

“I like them because you like them—”

“Babe!” he exclaims suddenly, as though offended by how much you love him.

“What?”

“That’s, like— That’s totally not cool!” he gapes in a boyish outrage. “That means I’ve been, like, fucking traumatizing you this whole time!”

You can’t help but giggle at his dramatics. You’d been scared, of course, but it hadn’t been all that extreme to you. “It’s okay, Eds. It’s not that serious—”

“Yes, it is!” he retorts firmly, with wide eyes and a stern nod. “If I knew you weren’t into them, I wouldn’t have forced you to—”

“You didn’t force me.”

“—To come over every weekend and watch them!”

“That’s why I didn’t wanna tell you, Eds,” you admit with a shy, halfway-forced giggle.

He goes quiet again. “…Why?”

“‘Cause I was scared you wouldn’t wanna hang out with me… I mean, what kinda girlfriend would I be if I was too much of a scaredy cat to watch stupid slasher films with my boyfriend?”

“Well, that’s just— that’s just not true. I just meant that we coulda been doing other stuff together,” Eddie affirms, gentle but in the overtly firm Munson way. A chuckle sputters from his lips as his palm squeezes your knee, warm and reassuring. “Stuff that wasn’t scaring the absolute shit outta you, preferably.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just laugh. 

Eddie smiles back at you, mostly because it’s terribly hard not to, but he grows suddenly somber again. 

“Seriously, babe,” he presses, leaning closer so you can’t duck away from his sparkling gaze. His chocolate eyes are dark enough to drown in. They flit between both of yours. “You gotta tell me shit like this, okay? You’re not gonna hurt my feelings— or, like, make me like you less or whatever. That’s pretty much impossible, I think.”

Your stomach does a backflip. It unleashes a thousand butterflies that flutter relentlessly against your ribcage. “Yeah?” you press softly and with a shy smile you try to keep hidden.

“Oh, totally,” he answers without thinking twice. “Our friends are idiots, but they’re right— I’m so fucking whipped for you, it’s not even funny.”

That joke was only halfway gratifying when it spilled from Steve or Dustin’s mouth. Hearing Eddie say it — with his nose mere inches away from your own and with his cigarette smoke and candied breath entwining with yours — it’s that times a thousand. A million, even.

“Well, maybe a little,” you tease quietly in return.

Eddie shrugs with a jutted-out lip. “Just a bit, I guess.”

He might as well be telling you I love you. It feels like he is, in his own special way.

“Are we still gonna go to Family Video?” you wonder aloud when the silence becomes too heavy to bear.

“Oh, yeah. You’re getting whatever the hell you want, alright? I’ll buy out the whole damn store if you want.” 

He only has mere dollars to his name. You know this, too. But he says it with so much hubris that it feels just as real, anyway.

Beaming fully again, you joke. “Are we still gonna bother Steve while we’re there?”

“Yes,” Eddie answers with a single nod and a deadpan, like he’s offended you would even ask. “That answer’s always gonna be yes.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things image #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

[luvring]

PHOTO OF YOU

suna x gn!reader | rin comes home and sees the new photo of him you've gotten

note from nia: if anyone does another character w my idea i am humbly asking u to tag me because i think it's fun and silly

“what the hell is that?”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean why is my face on the back of your phone?” suna asks, laughing in disbelief.

you turn your phone to look at its back with the photo of him sitting in a pink photo holder. he’s mid-laugh, head resting on your lap, and plushie under his chin. your aforementioned boyfriend stands above your spot curled up on the couch, and waits with a tilted head for an explanation. “you don’t like it? it’s a photocard.”

“it—” he snorts before reaching for your phone to inspect it. you hand it over and his lips twitch into a smile. “am i a k-idol now?”

“maybe. you tell me.” you shrug. rin carefully takes off your phone case to look at himself, even moving so the light from outside would give him a better view. you gesture to the photocard with an accomplished grin. “i even got a sleeve and decorated it.”

“mhm, i see that, baby,” he replies breathily. you watch as he rubs the different stickers and tilts the holder, letting the sparkly stickers reflect back at him. if he had passed your desk he would have seen the sticker sheets you bought specifically for this, alongside the different layouts you had planned out. “where’d you even get this printed?” he asks.

“i have my ways.”

rin shakes his head, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before looking at you. “no, i need to know so i can print one of you.”

“what?” he only continues to look at you, a smile growing on his face.

you squint at him in return. "rintarou." he bends down to place your phone and photo on the coffee table, then moves to join you on the couch. if there was something you knew about suna rintarou, it was that he’d always, always go through with a bit. if you didn’t stop him now, he’d start ordering photocards of you and pretend to unbox them, saying something about always managing to pull the rarest ones.

you groan at the new weight on top of you as he shifts to lie down properly. “rin, oh my god, you’re going to smush to me. and also no way are you getting one.”

he hums and wraps his arms around your waist, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his laugh against your skin. “why not? i want a photocard of you.”

“no, you don’t deserve my photocard.”

“but we could match, babe. don't you think we’d be cute? i could decorate my sleeve, too.” rin looks up at you with an exaggerated pout. you pinch his cheek and snicker at his unamused frown. “no, you’d pick an awful photo and i’d have to kill you out of principle.”

“uh-huh, just don’t get blood on my picture then,”—he turns his head to bite onto your finger and grins as you pull it away—“it’ll be the one and only copy, worth your rent in just a year.”

“so you admit you’d pick a terrible photo?”

“no, i’d pick a good one,” he says plainly. the look you give him is so obviously mistrusting that rin laughs loudly. he shifts up to plant a kiss to your jaw and counters softly, “i would, it’d be the one i have as my lockscreen. promise.”

his lockscreen had been the same photo of you for months; it was a selfie you had taken on his phone, close up and face smushed against his pillow. the first time you asked about it, rin had told you he’d look at it when he was away and didn’t want to wake you, and imagined you were there beside him.

he looks at you expectantly, waiting for approval. your own expression softens and after a second, you sigh. “god. yeah, okay. i can’t believe we’re going to have photocards of each other.”

“seriously? you did it first.”

“as a joke, and you’re going with it.”

“yeah, ‘cause you’re cute and i love you.” you stutter and he smirks, deciding to give you the small mercy of not commenting on it. “i’m gonna print a bunch and start a collection, y’know.”

the idea makes you groan. “can you just make your own and sell them so we can be rich?”

you feel his laugh before getting his agreement. “i can do both of those things. i'll even get the team on board and spoil you with our incredible profit.”

“oh, wow. will i get credit?”

“yeah. something, something copyright law or whatever.” you're 100% sure that was bullshit, but hum despite it. “m’kay. that’s the plan, then.”

and you think that’s the end of it, and quietly ask rin to hand you your phone again. even if it was as a joke, you spent more time on decorating the sleeve than expected and wanted it back in your case. he manages to grab and pass it to you but the sight of himself gets rin's mind on his own photocard again. he looks at you sheepishly. “...can i seriously take your stuff to decorate the card sleeve, though?”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtc @kuroaka @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @the-b-u-n-n-y @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt

#haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou #x reader #haikyuu fluff

[princessbrunette]

oh my fuck i just thought of outlaw!jayj and johnbee and them using u as bait!! like ur so pretty n sweet looking so they put u in the forest looking all helpless and hide behind the trees and wait for someone rich to come through… and when someone does obviously they stop to help u because who wouldnt!? while ur sweet talkin the guy, jayj and john bee jump out with the guns and rob them! u don’t particularly like it but they way they fuck u so good after makes up for it 🫶

-☀️

🫧୨ৎ🐻‍❄️ྀིྀི⋆⭒˚｡

doing your job so reluctantly, woeful little pout on your face when the target strolls up to you as expected. you do your part, bat your lashes just the way jj told you to, hold lots of eye contact the way john b advised, and soon — you get to sorrowfully watch the colour drain from the poor suckers face when he feels the cold metal of a pistol against the back of his head, your two lovers having made their entrance.

“yeah, you know what that is dont’cha?” jj asks with a grin— but it’s not the smile that reaches his eyes that he gives you, it’s this cold and scary one. you know it’s closer to a grimace than a smile truly, and you know it means trouble.

“whats going on? just drop the gun, we can talk this out.” they always try to reason, but in order to get their money — the outlaws have to really put the fear of god in him, make this guy think he’s actually gonna die.

“we don’t wanna have to hurt you buddy. turn it around, easy… there you go.” john b instructs, standing back as jj keeps the weapon pointed straight at the strangers head. as advised, you disappear back behind a tree, out of arms reach incase anything does go wrong. they say it’s for your safety, and because a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t see such nasty behaviour from her two fellas.

it gets boring after a while, so you sit down behind a tree, the voice faded to a muffle as you hum to yourself, picking up a ladybug on your finger, entertaining yourself. sometimes they rough the guy up a bit if he’s not complying, beat on him ‘til he does — but the exchange never lasts longer than ten minutes. soon, the guys cleared off and your boys collect you, helping you to stand.

“gonna get dirt on your dress, pup.” john b tsks, patting you down and you stare over at his companion curiously.

“did you get anything good?” you tilt your head to the blonde rifling through the napsack they fill their ‘prizes’ with. he squints one eye when he smiles, and this time you know it’s genuine, and he reaches inside the sack and pulls out gold jewellery he must’ve taken from the man.

“you tell me, this look good to you babydoll?” hes showing teeth now, biting back a chuckle as your jaw drops, bouncing with excitement.

“oh that’ll make you a fortune!”

“all from your help, sweetheart.” that homely rumbly voice that belong to john b cuts through, a warm hand on your waist pulling you into his side. you melt into him, his body on yours always feeling like it could make you fall asleep. he smells like fresh water and embers from last nights camp fire— all warm and daddy-like.

neither of them let you forget how helpful you are later that night, a few drinks down in a shabby motel shack, sandwiched between the two of them, crying and gasping with a dick in each hole.

“f—full!” is all you can say, and the boys chuckle— albeit slightly awkwardly, their faces so close from the position on the bed. john b took your pussy, jj nasty as ever in your ass.

“the…good kind of full?” john b coo’s like none of it’s happening, a hand brushing your cheek. jj kisses the back of your head, letting out a breathy moan momentarily after.

“s—so good!”

“only the best for… goddamnit… only the best for our best girl, right john b?” jj’s barely holding it together.

“you’re damn right, jj. our good little helper.”

🫧୨ৎ🐻‍❄️ྀིྀི⋆⭒˚｡

#☀️ anon #jj x reader x john b #outlaw!jj #outlaw!johnb

[haoboutyou]

Hi! (^3^)/ I really liked the way you wrote "Mornings With You" and I wanted to request if you can make a version with Seungcheol if you want to. Thankies in advance (●•^-^•●) 💜💜💜

fren u r in luck :D

lucky in love | choi seungcheol

fluff | 730 words | no warnings

an: tbh that wonu fic was actually a cheol fic but then i realised… i have way too many… (i need help)

wonu ver. | kwan ver.

Choi Seungcheol knows that he’s loved. He’s loved by his fans, who greet him with resounding cheers every time he comes on stage. He’s loved by his members, whom he has gone through multiple trials and tribulations by each others’ sides. He’s loved by his family, who have given and will continue to give their unwavering support for everything he wishes to pursue. Most of all, he knows that he’s loved by you.

It’s evident in the way you know his coffee order by heart. In the way your pinkies stay connected even while you’re talking to someone else. He sees it when you unknowingly lean into him in crowded spaces. How you nag at him to take better care of himself and eat his meals on time. How your eyes seem to sparkle a billion times more when you see him walking into the room.

He knows just how much he’s loved by you when he arrives home and spots you knocked out on the living room couch. Seungcheol smiles quietly to himself, removing his shoes aside before carefully walking up to you. The television in front of you is still running, but you’re cross-legged with Kkuma snoozing away in your lap. No doubt you were doing some work before Kkuma deemed herself more important – your laptop is tossed to the other side of the couch, screen dark.

He sinks into the couch next to you, hand outstretched as he leans over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear when Kkuma stirs awake in your lap. The little white dog yaps when she realises her father has returned, bounding over to him instead. He giggles as she attempts to lick his face all over. The sudden noise and movement wake you, sleepily turning over only to be greeted by the sight of your lover doused in dog saliva.

“Hey,” a sleepy smile graces your features, greeted by Seungcheol trying to calm the excited puppy down. He turns to you, a fond smile and an eyebrow raised. Understanding his silent question, you stretch your arms up, leaning into his shoulder as you scrunch your nose. “I wanted to wait for you to come home,” a cheeky grin appears. “Welcome home!”

Oh, he feels his heartstrings being pulled, and suddenly he’s overcome with a wave of love and adoration so strong that his eyes start to water. Kkuma jumps off, her little paws padding off elsewhere as Seungcheol pulls you into his arms.

“I’m home,” he murmurs into your hair. His hand engulfs your own, grip tightening with the sudden proclamation. His brows furrow deeper as he inhales deeply, taking in your familiar comforting scent. “Practice was so hard today – missed you a bit more than usual.”

“Aww, my big baby…” You can’t help but coo. Using your free hand, you smooth the wrinkles between his brows with your thumb. “You did well today, do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, choosing instead to bury his slumping figure in the crook of your neck.

“Have you eaten?” He nods, fluffy hair tickling you. “Do you want to take a shower first then? I’ll make some chamomile tea for you.”

You gently guide Seungcheol into the bathroom, leaving him to clean himself up while you prepare his promised tea.

Fresh out of the shower and nighttime routine completed, Seungcheol finds you already tucked into bed and follows suit. He wraps himself around you, arms and legs tangling under the sheets. Seungcheol can feel his entire body relax under your soothing touch as you card gentle fingers through his hair.

He’s fighting sleep, especially with you patting his head like a child, when he remembers something he’d been meaning to say.

“I don’t have to go to the company tomorrow.”

“Hmm?” You squint through the darkness, barely making out the twinkle hidden behind his tired eyes.

He smiles, pressing soft kisses by your collarbone. “I’m all yours tomorrow, do you want to do anything?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You ponder a little bit more before resting your head back down on his chest. “Eh, it’s tomorrow’s problem. ‘m sleepy now.”

Seungcheol lets out a light chuckle. He pulls the covers higher over your bodies, pressing you impossibly closer to him. He knows he’ll spoil you senseless tomorrow anyway.

“Sounds good. Good night, baby.”

“Good night, Cheollie.”

He hopes you know how much he loves you too.

#scoups fluff #seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #svt fluff #scoups #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚ #✩₊˚. mailbox! ⋆☾⋆⁺

[n3ptoonz]

WOULD U BE DOWN TO WRITE BI-HAN IN AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE WITH THE DAUGHTER OF A GRANDMASTER FROM ANOTHER CLAN?

absolutely not are you cra- gunshots

'That Can Be Arranged'

Pairing: Bi Han/F!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: None, angst if you squint, Bi Han sucks at feelings but it's all good, reader has an older brother, reader's father is a cryomancer, reader got jokes, Bi Han in love, sphinx has to stop writing after midnight, 3/4 proofread might be some typos in this mf

Word count: 2.5k+

Bi Han was to accept an arranged marriage to bring peace to the centuries long clan war between the Lin Kuei and Gwanji clan; both have Grandmasters that wield the power of cryomancy. Overwhelmed with stress and self doubt, he ran away to his favorite place to train and meditate and has been going there ever since before time ran out.

You were to be the one to get married in order to bring peace to the two clans. You didn't even know the name of the enemy clan due to your father favoring your older brother more your whole life. Overwhelmed with stress and being fed up with both of them constantly in your ear, you ran away to wander around and see what or who you could find.

You were the rebel between you and your brother. There's no surprise he's favored more, but it's mostly because he's older and has to carry on the title once your father passes. You kept questioning your father, asking why not just find him a wife? And it was always the same old "but war" "but this" "but that", and tried to instill you with fake confidence to believe you were the only way peace could be achieved.

It was a beautiful night with clear skies and shining stars. The world was quiet. The more you walked through the woods, the more you appreciated the outside before you had to be bound to the enemy clan's temple. You stopped in your tracks at the sound of what sounded like someone exercising. There were grunts and shouts only a fighter would have between each move. You quietly got closer, peeking behind a tree to see a tall, handsome man with a defined body under the traditional fighting attire he wore.

You just sat and watched him channel his energy into his punches and kicks. The way his muscles tensed when he wasn't getting a move right was fascinating. You were always sheltered since childhood, so finding another person on without your father's influence was the absolute highlight of your night.

He stopped for a moment, standing straight up and looking in your direction. He saw your shadow move right as you hid behind the tree.

"Can I help you?" he said. His voice was deep and raspy, and he asked that question like you just bothered him. He figured you weren't initially a threat due to the fact that he's usually just attacked by his enemies, while you hid. Also he could see a bit of your flared sleeve.

You peeked from behind the tree before fully stepping out, a sheepish smile on your face.

"Didn't mean to interrupt, I was just admiring the view. Looks like you could use a sparring partner."

You saw his brows furrow at your suggestion. Just who did you think you were? Thinking you could take on the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei?!

"I am not some entertainment for you to watch. And I don't 'spar' with women-"

"-who could whoop your ass? I wouldn't either." you cut him off mid sentence and crossed your arms with a smirk. The only person you've ever sparred with was your brother, otherwise with one guard that you've been close with since a kid. So to take on an outsider was like a rush.

Whatever you were doing worked, cause now he was offended and wanted to put your pride in check.

"Alright," he said, taking a small weapon out his shirt when you put a hand up to decline. You took out your own blade and flipped it in between your fingers.

"May the best one win."

-

You two had been meeting up and sparring for about three weeks now, and with every encounter, you both had just talked more and more about yourselves. You talked about your life as a daughter of a stubborn father who favored your brother all your life, while Bi Han talked about his rift with his brother and the stresses of filling in his late father's position as head of his clan. Neither of you really thought to reveal your roles in your clans, afraid the other would be put off.

"I get married off next month." you said bluntly after you sat in silence. You both had been sitting together and stargazing in the grass. Honestly, you never thought he'd be down for something like this, but you certainly weren't going to complain. "So...I won't be able to come here anymore. I am to prepare to be bound to the enemy's temple and probably bear his children. Ugh, it's probably some old fuck--who I won't be fucking."

Bi Han wore a slight bit of a smile at how crass you were. You laughed it off, but you were dead serious. You looked over at him already looking at the side of your face.

"How our fates aligned like this, I am getting married tomorrow. Also an arranged marriage. I guess we both won't be coming out here anymore." he said, his voice slightly disappointed as he turned his eyes back to the sky.

"Really? I thought the men were still able to do as they please. It's what my brother says."

"He's not entirely wrong, but I am not that kind of man. I wouldn't be that kind of husband. Even though I don't know this woman and I don't know how long it'll be before I actually love her, I would still respect her in some way."

You could tell he was genuine in his response. He couldn't even look you in the eyes upon saying what he really felt. When you first met, he was cold but an odd hint of welcoming, even if you did come off as immature. He didn't want to admit it to you, but he was slowly falling for you. It was wrong, as he's literally about to get married to somebody else, but it's what his heart says.

"Wow..." you muttered, unable to stop looking at him even though he was focused on the stars. "Didn't think you'd be into that sort of thing."

"Marriage?"

"Love."

He looked down at the ground, resting his elbows on his elevated knees and sighing. "I may be cold and reserved, but I am also human. How I choose to express affection is usually the problem. It's why I don't focus on things like that."

You then looked up at the stars, fidgeting with your hands before speaking.

"...Is it wrong to fall in love before an arranged marriage?"

Bi Han's head raised, but he still didn't look at you. He then stood up and dusted off his clothes, choosing not to acknowledge your question.

"It's getting late."

Your heart sank a little as he said that, going back to his cold demeanor. You wanted to apologize if you made him uncomfortable, but like he said, he didn't focus on things like that. You just nodded stood next to him, extending your hand as a farewell.

"This is goodbye." you said, fighting back the urge to shed a single tear. These last three weeks had been the best time of your life, and it was all to dissipate all over again. As he looked at your hand, knowing this was a farewell, he too wanted to shed a tear. He just couldn't do it. He can't shake your hand. He's too afraid he'll end up vulnerable in front of someone he's only known for three weeks, and he hasn't cried since he was a child.

"You should get home." he promptly said, walking past you as he gathered his things and left. Feeling the wind hit the side of your face from how fast he took off made you want to sob and throw a fit. How could he be like this? Ah...remember, he just doesn't focus on things like this. You stood there as your hand just fell to your side, holding back a flood of tears that could flow at any moment.

After five seconds had passed, you turned around just to see that...he was gone.

-

"What?!" you exclaimed. It was 9 in the fucking morning and your father just let you know out of the blue that you were actually getting married today. You stood in his office now fully awake in your sleep attire and angry. Why would he decide now to tell you such a thing? Your brother tried to make sense of it while you just ignored him.

"Father, I am not ready!"

"Sure you are. It's just a 3 week difference, why are you so worked up at this hour?" he sat back in his chair so casually as your brother stood next to him. You got so worked up you stormed towards the door and knocked over some important looking books on a shelf.

"I'm running away!" you shouted, slamming the door behind you. This was beyond belief. He really loved keeping you out of the loop. Right before you were on your way, you saw a pair of gauntlets that your father was going to give to your brother...and they grant the power of cryomancy. Hell, what do you have to lose?

Unfortunately, the guards kept getting to you before you could escape a few times, locking you in your room until it was time. For a few hours all you could do was throw a tantrum and emptily threaten the guards lives.

Eventually, there came a knock at your door. You didn't answer, just sitting in the corner of your room with your face buried in your pillow. It was the same guard you grew up with. You thought aw damn, you couldn't lash out at him.

He simply offered you words of comfort and sat on the edge of your bed, letting you know your father wants you to be ready in 15 minutes. He even offered to help you pick your best outfit.

A long 15 minutes later, you cleaned yourself up and made yourself look presentable. Though, you still stepped out of your room with a scowl, glaring at the guards that were on standby. You slyly hid the braces under your flared sleeves. If you needed to use it, you wouldn't hesitate to. Who cares if you weren't trained to use them? You'll figure it out.

"You look lovely, miss. I know you don't think you're ready, but I trust that the Grandmaster didn't choose someone twice your age. Your mother was actually younger than him by 2 years, if that helps." he said, trying to cheer you up. The corner of your mouth lifted into a half smile, appreciating his efforts.

You escorted yourself to sit with your father and brother before the gates that opened up to the temple. The usual traditional practice had started, and you looked the most uninterested among the rest--even resting your head into your palm.

It was a rather nice day. How convenient that it wasn't snowing to all hell on a day you were pissed off.

The gates finally opened, and here came your supposed future husband. You rolled your eyes and looked away for a moment. As you refused to look at the man walking up to the throne, your father stood up and greeted him.

"Bi Han, Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. My now...former rival. I welcome you to the Gwanji temple."

You froze in place. Did- Did you hear him right?

"Excuse my daughter, she is a little shy. I offer her to you as a gift of peace. We mustn't fight any longer, two cryomancy clans should stick together, not separate."

As your father rambled, you slowly looked over at the man. It was...really Bi Han. He is the man you were arranged to marry...and you were the woman he was arranged to marry today. No wonder your marriage was pushed back.

You quickly stood up and just stared at him. As his eyes fixed onto you, his gaze went from a slight shock to softening. He couldn't believe it himself. It was really you. He was arranged to marry the same woman he fell in love with in a span of 21 days.

"...but, to make this interesting, what do you say to a duel? You and my eldest son, for my daughter's hand?"

It's like you got water splashed into your face after a dream sequence. Did you hear him correctly? A duel?!

Your brother was the fiercest fighter you knew. You never could stand sparring or generally physically fighting him, he would always go low when he thought he was going to lose. Just what is he going to do with a cold Grandmaster who usually only has regard for himself?

"Seriously? For my hand? That's unnecessary, it was neither of our choi-"

"I accept."

Your eyes snapped to Bi Han, whose look of determination was back onto his face.

'I will not lose' he thought, chanting over and over in his head. He will earn your hand to prove he's worthy, even though he didn't need to. He couldn't lose this fight or you.

"Splendid. May the best one win." your father said, sitting back down and gesturing for you to follow. But you just stood there in awe. He was actually doing this.

"Sweetheart, I know you're excited, but let's sit for this. Who knows how long this'll go on for?" he motioned for a guard to push your chair in behind your knees. You decide to comply, truly curious as well.

It's been an hour. Both parties evenly matched and no telling who had the upper hand. However, you watched your brother with close attention. He hadn't done anything suspicious just yet...

...Spoke too soon.

As soon as Bi Han was gaining on him, he pulled a hidden weapon from his pocket, slicing Bi Han's cheek. You just sunk into your chair, in utter disbelief at the sight.

He did another sequence of dirty moves, and the next one was bound to be fatal. You knew this because he has already told you before, this wasn't going to end well for either side. At the next slash before his big move, you got up in fit of rage and used the braces to create a large wall between them two made completely of ice.

"Must you be so damn cowardice?!" you yelled. You turned to your father who had a look of pure confusion. "You raised a fool. And it wasn't me."

You ran down the stairs and over to Bi Han, who had a bunch of cuts on his face and arms.

"Are you alright?" you kneeled in front of him, who was on the ground in pain, but didn't want to make a big deal about it. He looked up at you with such love and respect in his eyes.

"I'm in love with you." he said, shocked at how blunt he was with his own feelings, but he didn't care.

"Thought you'd say that." you smiled. Standing up and looking through the ice, you helped him stand and held his face, mindful of the cuts splayed across his cheek and nose bridge.

"I do. You do. Boom, we're married." you said, kissing him without an ounce shame. Once you heard the clamoring on the other side of the wall, you quickly backed away and took his hand to make a run for it out of the gates. Now this, was now the most fun you've ever had in your life.

As you kept running, Bi Han caught up with you and couldn't help but process everything that just happened in the last two hours.

"Are we going to have a proper wedding?" he asked.

"That can be arranged."

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #bi han #fluff #bi han x you #bi han imagine #bi han x reader #bi han mk #bi han sub zero #bi han mortal kombat #arranged marriage

[estarlias]

i hope requests are open 👀 weirdly specific request but! fatui scara who made a deal with dottore to never go near his partner (aka reader) bc he knows what that man is capable of, given the experiments, and then one day sees reader come out of dottore’s lab with a bandage and jumps to conclusions

UR SO SMART FOR THIS ANON!<33

Warnings: past injury mentioned, maybe possesive scara if u squint, angry scara (momentarily), angst to fluff(?), protective scara

Scaramouche felt whatever synthetic blood he had inside him run cold. There you were, walking so nonchalantly out of Dottore’s office. Archons, you were so stupid.

He stormed over, a furious expression on his face as he gripped your wrist harshly, uncaring at how you winced in pain, and dragged you to his chambers. The door slammed behind him as he practically threw you onto the bed.

“Scara-” You started to speak, a concerned look on your face before he cut you off.

“How many times have I told you to stay away from him. And you didn’t fucking listen. How stupid can you be?!” Scaramouche pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed as he tried to control his temper.

You felt tears well up in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you stared at the floor. “I didn’t mean to.. I got hurt and,” you sniffled, rolling up your sleeve to show him the bandage. “The attendant took me there.. It wasn’t even him, just one of his segments..” You mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Still frowning, Scaramouche sat down next to you on the bed and gently took your arm. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to how he had grabbed you earlier. “Who.”

“What?” You finally met his eyes and nearly flinched from the look of hate he held in them.

“Which attendant took you to him. Clearly, neither of you know how to follow orders.” He continued to glare at you, his eyes narrowed.

You shook your head, grabbing his hands. “It doesn’t matter. I’m okay. He didn’t do anything. I think the attendant freaked out, he was worried you’d kill him for letting me trip in the first place..” You gave a shy smile, kissing his cheek gently.

He huffed, pulling you into a hug. “..I still don’t like that you were over there. What if he took advantage of you, or injected with you with something..” Scaramouche mumbled, his hands gently rubbing your back, almost as if he was afraid you’d shatter like glass.

“Promise me you’ll never go there ever again. If you get hurt, there’s plenty of other doctors here to take care of you.”

a/n: AHH sorry this is so short, finals r this week i’m so busy :((

bonus!!:

“So, how’d you get hurt in the first place?”

“…”

“You did something stupid didn’t you.”

“..I did something stupid😞”

#genshin impact #scaramouche fluff #fatui scaramouche #genshin impact fatui #scara fluff #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #genshin fluff #fatui scaramouche x reader #!! kieran’s fluff ⭐️

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (06)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, kissing (omg k1ss1ng omg WHO IS IT ??? 😦), tbh this is the only warning i wanted u guys to read cuz 6 chapters in and we finally get sum action i feel like that's a win lmaooooo, jimin being Real as fook, unbeta'd cuz uhm i'm a godless menace who should be conked on the head, once again we are severely lacking jk in his own fic lol i'm owning up to this 🤗 BUT! this is probably the last chapter where jk feels like a side character lol apologies my dudes

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.1k (honestly i wrote obs6 just so i could get to obs7 lmao that's why it's a lil bit shorter)

note: my apologies if this sucks. you are legally allowed to stone me if you hate it. but i hope you don't hate it. but if you do hate it don't tell me just stone me lol 🤐 why am i so unhinged with this update

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Exile - Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)

The picture is fucking terrible.

“Jimin, what the fuck,” you grumble, staring at the huge framed photo on the wall, taken on the day of the opening party. You, Taehyung and Jimin are gathered on the floor of the dance studio, with boxes of takeout neatly sitting between the three of you. “I look like ass.”

Jimin barely glances at the wall, just continues to stuff his face with the dumplings that you ordered. “You look fine,” he says absentmindedly, mouth full, continuing to munch on the food despite your little dilemma.

“Bitch, I have my eyes closed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like I’m in the middle of a sneeze.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, squinting at your photographed self again. The more you look at it, the more irritated you become.

Realistically, you know nobody would pay enough attention to notice the immortalized visual of your fluttering eyes, and you yourself wouldn’t care about it that much. Maybe you would even laugh in good spirits and poke fun at yourself as you often do. Make a meme of it for the group chat.

“What’s the big deal?” Jimin asks.

You shrug petulantly. “I told you. I look like ass.”

Yeah, true, but it’s also more than that.

It’s the fact that the person standing next to you looks so good that you must voice your grievances. It’s the fact that he looks so much more than just good. 

The guys stop eating to look at you. You wonder just how much of what you’re feeling is written all over your face. Regardless, they don’t comment on it. 

One of them clears his throat, shaking the whole thing off.

“Did you tell Yoongi anything yet?” Jimin asks.

You poke at a lone dumpling with your chopsticks, popping the ‘p’ when you say, “Nope.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jimin scolds you. “It’s been three weeks. He doesn’t want to push you for an answer but the man has got to be suffering.”

You flick a piece of spring onion garnish at him. It lands on his hair, a single bit of green sitting among golden locks. “I don’t know what to tell him!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jimin shakes the onion piece from his head and chucks it back at you. “Obviously you say yes!”

You exhale through your nose, then take a bite of your dumpling. You nibble on the fried dough, stretching out the silence, delaying your response.

It hasn’t even started, and it might not even start. But you’re already thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Yoong is your friend, first and foremost. He’s a good friend, and you would be crushed if you lose that relationship. 

What if he hurts you, or you hurt him?

Sometimes, people are meant to hurt each other even if they don’t mean to.

Yoongi hasn’t seen your pieces in all of their jagged glory, how they’re only meant to reflect the light but never be healed by it. He’s still blissfully unaware of the ugly thoughts that have a home inside your head, and you’re afraid if you let him in, he’d realize it’s a place he doesn’t want to be. It’s hard to love a broken thing. You wouldn’t want to love you either.

Maybe this is the real reason that’s been holding you back all this time. Maybe it isn’t Jungkook - though he certainly isn’t absolved - but it’s you, and how you just don’t know if you’re someone who deserves to love and be loved. You’ve felt inadequate more times than you can count. You’ve been left before. Who’s to say it isn’t going to happen again?

You’re well aware that this is a bad way to look at things, but can anyone really blame you? You still have a heart, and despite how fragmented it is, you still want to protect it.

“I know that look,” Taehyung says, parting your fog and pulling you back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”

You roll your eyes. He knows you so well, but does he have to call you out every time?

“I’m not overthinking. I’m regular thinking.”

“Right. And to normal people, that’s overthinking.”

“It’s just…” you wonder out loud, gaze on the floor. “What if I go all in, and Yoongi sees me for who I am and thinks that I’m just an utterly sad person who can’t be loved? That I’m too much work when he’s got literally thousands of people throwing themselves at him left and right?”

Taehyung stares at the side of your face as he bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue soothes the spot, his jaw clenching once. “He’s not going to think that.”

“You don’t know that,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging down.

“You’re not unlovable just because one person didn’t love you right. So stop it with that bullshit, because I love you,” he says, voice serious. Even Jimin stays silent as he listens to his friend, his eyes flickering between you and Taehyung. “And Jimin loves you. Hobi loves you.”

You merely blink, because you hate it when he’s right. In all fairness, you understand. This is the same thing you would tell him if the situation were reversed.

You deflect anyway. That’s what you do best.

“You don’t count,” you tell him with an unserious scoff, your tone starkly contrasting his. “You’re my family.”

You taste something bitter as soon as the words leave your mouth. You should know better than anyone, that just because someone’s your family, doesn’t mean they have to love you.

Taehyung reenacts the blinking guy meme before chuckling, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Ouch.”

“You two are getting nowhere,” Jimin interjects. “Just call Yoongi.”

“And say what?” you ask.

“I told you. Say yes. God, you’re so dense sometimes.”

You reach over to jab a finger into his side, making him hiss and shuffle away from you.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble.

“Well, somebody’s gotta say it.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised for a few seconds before he lowers them and grows more stern. “Come on, Y/N. You know you don’t want to say no, or else you would’ve turned him down already. You said you wanted to start dating again. Yoongi is practically on his knees offering himself to you. What are you waiting for?”

There’s a voice in the back of your head - tiny, barely audible - that whispers, Who are you waiting for?

“Fuck it, I’ll say it,” Jimin continues. “It sucks balls that Jungkook hurt you, but you can’t let that affect you for the rest of your life. Not everyone is going to hurt you. You’re not even giving Yoongi a chance just because someone else did you dirty. If you keep always thinking about the worst possible outcome and banking on it to happen, then you’re never going to get anywhere. I love you, dude, but y’know.”

You stare at Jimin with your mouth slightly open, stunned into silence. When you glance at Taehyung, he’s surprised too, though probably not as much as you.

After a couple of minutes, you say, “Wow.”

“Tough love. I have my moments.” Jimin shrugs casually, like he didn’t just drop a truth bomb on your head. “But also…” He picks his phone up and types something in. Your phone instantly buzzes with a notification.

“Open the link I just sent you,” he says.

“You are literally sitting across from me.”

“Just open it! I made you a playlist.”

“Aw, Jimin, that’s so cute,” you coo softly, reaching over to pinch his cheek before he swats your hand away. You unlock your phone to see what Jimin made you, because that is some friendship hall of fame stuff right there. However, when the link redirects you to your music app, your smile immediately drops.

Aaand he’s back.

You stare at the screen for a good ten seconds to try and find your bearings, flabbergasted at something that is quite honestly very on-brand for Jimin if you think about it. “You made me a playlist called Dick Appointment with an eggplant emoji and the tongue out emoji and it’s mostly just Yoongi’s songs. Even the playlist cover is from his Valentino shoot.”

“So you can get it on while Agust D plays in the background!” Jimin grins, and you could just smack it right off his face.

“Park Jimin, who raised you? You are vile.”

“Validate me,” he demands. Oh, you would smack him. You really would. “I spent hours making that playlist.”

“It’s literally just Yoongi’s songs.”

“Yeah, but I had to curate an experience. I can’t just dump every song into a playlist and call it a day. I gotta make sure they fit the vibe.”

“I literally just heard the most profound shit from you not even two minutes ago.” Then, you turn to Taehyung with an exasperated look on your face. “Why would you let him do this?”

He just waves a dismissive hand in the air, like Jimin isn’t even there. “I’m not responsible for the stupid shit he does.”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows raised dramatically as he gapes at you. “You both suck. From now on, you can make your own sexytime playlists.”

“Nobody even asked you to do that!” you cry.

“Yeah! Which makes me an even more considerate friend,” he says. “Ugh. Whatever. Go call Yoongi.”

“You want me to do it now?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll wuss out when you’re alone. You can stay and put him on speakers for us to hear or you can go out into the hallway. Come on, chop chop.”

“No, I have to text him first,” you protest. “What if he’s busy?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, but allows you this after a moment. “Fine.”

You take out your phone from your bag that’s lying carelessly on the floor to draft a quick message to Yoongi. 

[12:59] You: got a minute?

The three of you go back to the food, abandoning the previous topic of conversation in favor of something lighter and meaningless or else you would go crazy waiting for Yoongi’s reply. After you’re finished, you and Taehyung are in the middle of putting away all the empty containers and soda cans when your phone buzzes again. 

You go to grab it to look at the notification, hands already starting to sweat.

[13:17] Yoongi: for you? always :)

You turn back to the guys to find them already looking at you. Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively while Taehyung just stares at you.

“Time to get your whore on,” Jimin says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice.

You turn to Taehyung for help. “He’s bullying me.”

“Ignore him,” your best friend tells you gently. “Go call Yoongi.”

When you take your phone out into the hallway, you make sure to go to the far end of it, near the main entrance so the two dorks can’t eavesdrop. You’ll tell them everything once you come back anyway, but you don’t want them within earshot while you’re in the middle of it.

Yoongi picks up your call on the third ring. In the background, your ear picks up on some chatter.

“Hey, princess,” he greets you. Then he holds the phone away from his ear to tell someone that he’d be back in a bit.

“Hey,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Just at a fitting. I have an ad campaign to film next week,” he answers. “Did you call just to get my whereabouts?”

“No, I… If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“We’re still in the middle of lunch break anyway. What did you want to talk about?”

You briefly regret not taking a minute to psych yourself up before. You suck in a deep breath, which eases your nerves for just a second, long enough for you to say, “Yes.”

You’re met with brief silence from the other end of the line, which only makes your palms more clammy than they already are.

“Yes?” he echoes confusedly. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” you say again. “To…”

The silence commences once more, and lasts longer than you think you can handle. Then, you hear him stop in the middle of a breath.

“Oh.” A subsequent chuckle in response to the lightbulb that must’ve been switched on. “To that?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

It feels like you two have invented a secret language that nobody else could understand. A single syllable, bouncing off the metaphorical walls of your conversation. Two idiots sharing the same brain cell.

“Yes?” he continues to prod, but at this point, you know he’s just teasing you.

“Yes! God, stop making me say it again. We sound so stupid.”

He graces you with a hearty laugh that makes you fight back a sheepish smile, even though there isn’t a single soul in sight to witness it. Yoongi makes you so fucking shy for some reason. Your nerves dissolve momentarily as you lean against the wall, your index finger running along a crack in the paint.

“Hmm, I wish you would’ve told me this in person,” he says, his voice soft.

“I can’t handle you in person. You’d tease me so much.”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered, that’s why.” He waits a second before adding, “You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re being overly confident, Min.”

“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But am I right, though?”

“Shut up.”

When Yoongi said he would cook for you, you almost gasped.

“You can cook?” you had asked. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but you suppose you’d never given much thought to the hidden sides of him. 

“Y/N,” he laughed then. “I’m a great cook. I could probably make a pretty decent career out of being a chef.”

“I didn’t know that,” you told him sheepishly.

“There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me.” It sounded like a promise. Like I’m willing to show you me. Like I’m willing to take the first step if you’d be in this with me too. “Does that sound like a good idea? You, me, dinner at your place?”

“My place?”

“Yeah, so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll come over.”

This one simple gesture shouldn’t affect you that much, but it does. You appreciate that he’s considerate even when it comes to the littlest things. You swell with gratitude for the thought he puts into this, into putting your comfort first. It made you feel a bit better about yourself, calmed your stormy sea of thoughts enough to rationally accept the fact that he genuinely cares.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop you from spending most of the day obsessively cleaning your apartment. Even - and especially - your bedroom, although you’re sure that is not where the night will end. Every surface is spotless, not a single speck of dust to be found. It’s like the goddamn Pope is coming over for a house inspection. 

You haven’t had a first date in… fuck, how long has it been now? Nine years? It’s almost been a fucking decade already? You honestly can’t tell if that’s embarrassing or not.

But you remember the last time.

College, freshman year, with Jungkook. His yellow piece of sticky note that he slipped inside your favorite book. His adorably flustered expression when he timidly stood in front of you in the campus library. The way he was trying so hard to be confident and charming throughout your first dinner together. How he ran back to you after saying goodnight.

No.

You shut your eyes and shake your head, warding off any Jungkook-related thoughts before they could send you spiraling. You can’t reminisce about your ex while waiting for someone else to show. Yoongi deserves better, and that’s what you’re trying to be.

You’re not exactly sure how nice you should dress tonight. Yoongi told you that you could be clad in sweats for all he cares. If the dinner didn’t hold any connotation other than platonic, maybe you would’ve really donned your loungewear like you were merely having Taehyung and Jimin over for pizza.

You’d completely forgotten all the things people worry about in the early stages of dating, when you want to impress the other person but don’t want them to think that you’re trying too hard. 

Calm down. It’s just Yoongi. He’s seen you ugly crying with mascara running down your face, for fuck’s sake.

In the end, you opt for a sweater and a comfortable skirt. Casual. 

Yoongi rings your doorbell about ten minutes later than when he said he’d be there, holding a bag full of groceries. The visual alone makes you bite back a giggle and subsequently fail. You believe this is what people would call husband material.

You take his coat and guide him into your home. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you say shyly, gesturing around as you lead him into the kitchen to show him where everything is. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you. If Taehyung or Jimin could see you right now, they would probably laugh. Hoseok would straight up be rolling on the floor.

You barely breathe as you watch Yoongi take in his surroundings. It’s intimidating, even though you know it’s just Yoongi. 

“I actually don’t know what I expected, but I like it. It’s very you,” he comments, smiling.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s cute,” he says, throwing you a wink as he leans against your kitchen counter.

You avert your gaze immediately. “Oh… Thanks,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “So, uhm, what are you making? How can I help?”

“Just sit down. I got this.”

“Yoongi,” you say his name in protest. “I want to h-”

“I’m trying to romance you here. Let me do that,” Yoongi says, his smile turning lopsided as he starts emptying the contents of his grocery bags. Even though his tone is light, the gentle reminder of tonight being a date shuts you right up.

You take a seat at your dining table, though you can’t really sit still. As Yoongi starts working, you absentmindedly talk to each other about your day, about his campaign, about Seokjin’s album. At one point, you get up to creep over to his side when the smell of whatever he’s making becomes more prominent. You try to peek at the pot, curious, but he just shoos you away by bumping his hip against yours.

When you give him a small pout, you pretend not to notice the way his eyes dart to your mouth. You retract yourself from his personal space, choosing a spot on the other side of your kitchen island, staring at his back as he works.

You watch him expertly navigate your kitchen like he’s been here before. When he’s finished, he makes you sit down, not even letting you help bring the food to the table.

“What is it?” you ask once he’s settled in his seat, everything plated in front of you.

“Kimchi jjigae,” he says, a proud look on his face. “My mom’s recipe.”

It’s endearing, and it makes you smile.

For the most part, Yoongi lets you eat in peace, though there’s still a couple of flirtatious comments here and there. Every time it comes, you bite down on your bottom lip to try and snap out of that daze before you cough, as if that would help tone down the colors adorning your face. There’s no verbal response from you, and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t expect one either, because he just chuckles. You think he must notice the palpable nervousness that radiates off of you, but it’s not like you’re doing a very good job at hiding it.

You’re taking baby steps and he knows it. The fact that you even agreed to this at all is already major progress.

When you’re done eating, he clears the table while he asks you to open the expensive bottle of wine that he brought over. It does wonders for your nerves.

Three glasses in and you’re visibly more relaxed as you both sit on the couch in the living room, facing each other. There’s a small smile on your face that you can’t help, maybe it’s some of your inhibitions wearing off as a side effect of the alcohol. 

You glance around the room, and you take in the sight of Yoongi sitting here, this close to you. He feels bigger than your small world can handle.

“You know,” you start. If the wine didn’t make you more mellow, you probably wouldn’t be saying this. “There are thousands of people thirsting over you every day.”

Yoongi tilts his head, swirling the wine in his glass. “Really?”

“Don’t you look at the internet? I personally know two girls from college who are on the Yoongi Marry Me train,” you say matter-of-factly, like you aren’t borderline tipsy in front of him.

You aren’t an avid Twitter user, but every time you check the damn bird app, Yoongi is almost always trending. In every single one of his posts on social media, there is always an influx of comments asking him to marry them. Not only that, when word first got out about you collaborating with Agust D back then, people you knew - both old friends and acquaintances - practically bombarded your messages to see if it was true, and to ask if you could get them an autograph.

Yoongi stretches out his legs until they brush against yours. Your stomach flips even though it’s only your legs that are barely touching.

“The what train?”

“You seriously don’t know about the Yoongi Marry Me movement? Look it up. It’s a whole thing. People would do anything to, I don’t know, hold your hand or something.”

With an amused look on his face, he holds your gaze. “Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you do all of that just to hold my hand? Because you don’t have to, y’know.” He brings the wine glass to his lips, partially hiding his face from you, and you don’t know whether he’s doing it for your sake or his in preparation for the words he speaks next. “But I would do it to hold yours.”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning bright, your stomach twisted in knots. It’s the wine, but it’s definitely the effect of his words too. You stare at Yoongi in surprise; no matter how many times he openly flirts with you, he’d still elicit the same reaction from you. It’ll be hard to get used to it. He just always seems to know what to say to make you blush like a schoolgirl, which you resent but you can’t deny the sparks of excitement that make your fingertips tingle.

Yoongi is smooth, and it’s even worse - or is it better? You haven’t decided yet - that you know he means every word he says. It makes you feel… wanted. It’s good to know that he’s being genuine, and to know that Yoongi isn’t the type of person who would ever pull the rug out from under you.

Yoongi is… stable.

You suppose, after everything you’ve been through, that stability is what you need. It’s good for you.

You try to swerve around the thoughts, to avoid them at all costs, but deep down you know now that they’re glaringly true.

That love is stored in two bags of groceries, so filled to the brim that some onions almost fall out. Love is stored in every flick of his wrist holding a knife, slicing the sharp blade across your cutboard. Clean cuts, yet he’s never this way when it comes to you.

Love is stored in a fond smile and adoring eyes when he sees how you cradle your expensive dishware like it’s a newborn baby before you set it carefully on the table.

Love is stored in a Yoongi-shaped silhouette, dancing over your countertops with practiced precision in every movement, filling in the cracks of your home. The love in him is reserved because you, like the moon when it crescents, still have a ways to go.

When he stands at your door an hour later with his coat in hand, you wait for him to speak first.

“Performance review?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“I… liked it. It was nice,” you say honestly. But you still feel the wine in your system, and it makes you bold enough to tease him for a change. “But it was my first date in a while, so it’s hard to tell if that opinion is objective.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Do I qualify for a second date then?”

You hum in thought, making him wait on purpose. “Yeah, I guess,” you say, feigning nonchalance, which earns you a hearty laugh.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks, hopeful.

“Don’t know yet,” you answer, though you’ll probably end up going home and catching up on a kdrama. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Just in the morning. I have a shoot in the afternoon.” He shifts to lean his weight on his other leg, tipping his body closer to you. “But I can pick you up after.”

“Yeah? And where would we go?”

Yoongi shrugs in earnest. “Just drive around? Grab a bite?” he thinks out loud, tilting his head slightly to one side for emphasis. “I could take you to that popup store you mentioned.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You would stand in line with me to buy a novelty mug?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to stand in line if I gave them a call,” he says, grinning. “One of the perks of the job, y’know.”

“Must be nice,” you laugh, then shift to lean just a tad closer to him. You look at him for a brief moment before you agree, “Yeah, okay.”

You and Yoongi stand there at the door, each of you on either side of the threshold. This would be an appropriate moment for a kiss, you think. That explosive first kiss, if this were a movie. Exhilaration courses through your veins. You feel it from your head to the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling is rendering you a mere teenager again. 

It’s exciting because it’s new. You have the entire book ahead of you, waiting to be written. At this point, anything could happen. You’re a blank canvas waiting to be drawn, a blank page hoping to be written. 

Wait.

Back up.

A kiss?

A kiss?!

With Yoongi?

You’re thinking about kissing Yoongi?!

Fuck.

Fuck?!

It’s the wine.

Your thoughts knock against each other like bumper cars, echoing loudly in your brain that it almost gives you a headache.

You stay still as Yoongi leans down, your heart racing while your brain just keyboard-smashes. You can’t tell if you want him to kiss you or not, but when he only presses his lips against your cheek, you feel two emotions at once.

The first is disappointment, the second is relief. They press down on you with almost equal force, and you’re not really sure which one weighs heavier.

Baby steps.

You blink when he pulls away, and he just smiles fondly at you as if he can read your mind.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You watch him until he’s in the elevator, until the doors close and the lift descends. Even when you know that he must be on his way to his car and that someone else is making their way up, you stand there, with your hand loosely wrapped around the door handle, your breathing slightly erratic as you process what just happened. 

Déjà vu? 

It’s oddly reminiscent.

You’ve been here before.

Part of you thinks he’ll burst through the elevator doors, or rush up the stairs if the lift is occupied, and come back to grab your face and kiss you senseless.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook knows you’re probably waiting for Yoongi.

He’s seen Yoongi pick you up after work almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and it’s driving him insane. Even on the days that Yoongi comes to the studio during the day, the guy is all over you, so much so that he doesn’t even bother being a nuisance to Jungkook anymore, which just makes him a thousand times more insufferable.

Something is happening.

He can’t weasel shit out of Jimin anymore because Jimin has been especially tight-lipped after accidentally spilling Yoongi’s confession to you.

Because that should be him in Yoongi’s place. Or should he say his place, and Yoongi is just a placeholder. An imposter.

Because it used to be him that you smiled shyly at.

Jimin’s words have been plaguing his every waking hour since he was forced to hear them. If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too. It feels like he’s rewinding all of your memories, retracing them with cautious fingers only to find that his every footstep is being erased to make room for someone else.

An abandoned dirt road, while you walk down a flower-filled path holding someone else’s hand.

Like you’re stamping him out.

Like he was never there at all.

Not only are you denying him a chance, you’re giving it to someone else. When he tries to move at someone else’s pace, all he gets is left behind.

It’s not about Yoongi; or at least, it’s not just about him. Yoongi doesn’t even really matter to Jungkook in this equation. It’s about what Yoongi represents. An idea of a person that Jungkook can never be.

A bigger life. A stable present and an even brighter future. Yoongi is everything better than him.

And that’s his own problem to deal with, not anyone else’s. At the end of the day, no one has to live with his insecurities but himself.

But still, he can’t help it. Whenever he sees you with Yoongi, his eyes burn. Please don’t let him take my place, he wishes every time, you’re the only good thing about me.

It’s jealousy, sure, of course it’s there. 

But what if you realize what everyone else already knows? That Yoongi is better in every single way. That Yoongi is the person who really deserves you.

What if you start to see Jungkook the way he sees himself?

You hating him - despising him with every cell in your body - is a thousand times better than you deeming him unworthy.

“I talked to Jihyo,” he speaks up suddenly, when it’s only the two of you.

“Okay,” you answer, never taking your eyes off the page in front of you. You must have circled the words daisy a thousand times already, wracking your brain for anything that rhymes. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but good for you.”

At this point, you wonder if you should just avoid the studio for the time being. It’s empty here again. You resent Seokjin for drowning in concept photos. You resent Namjoon for leaving Jungkook here to fend for himself, but it’s only fair, because Namjoon was only supposed to give him a helping hand, not take over the whole thing. You even resent Yoongi a bit, for not being here right this second.

“I talked to her,” Jungkook says again, ignoring your sass. “She won’t give you a hard time anymore.”

This makes you look at him. You never asked him to do this. You never asked him to do anything. In fact, you have only ever implored him to sit still and leave things alone.

“She never gave me a hard time,” you say. Sure, you don’t appreciate being given the death glare first thing in the morning, but it’s not something that you can’t ignore. It doesn’t actively affect you, and the only reason Jihyo does it is because of Jungkook.

Because he broke things off with her?

Because he gives you more attention?

Ugh. Attention?

This is the stupidest and most childish thing you have had to think about in ages.

“You said she acts differently toward you.”

“And aren’t you the reason why?” you counter. “Because you two were fucking?”

Jungkook visibly winces at your words, like he did when you mentioned it the first time in the break room. You don’t mean to be snarky; you’re just stating the facts. They were hooking up. 

You don’t harbor any ill will toward any of his past lovers, and that includes Jihyo. You know she doesn’t have anything against you either, at least not on a personal level because you don’t know each other well enough to do so. She’s just someone you pass by every day on your way to the elevator.

“So why did things end?” you ask just for the sake of it, since he was the one who brought it up. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

He hesitates for a moment. “She wanted something more and it wasn’t the same for me.”

It’s stupid that the tiny voice in the back of your head resurfaces, hoping that you were the reason why he couldn’t pursue things with another woman.

Jihyo isn’t you, that much is clear. You never asked for anything more from him, not once from start to finish. He was always the first one to pour love into you. It’s arguable which one of you loved the other more - maybe you loved each other equally, just in different ways - but it was a fact that Jungkook always took the initiative. He made the first move so you wouldn’t have to. He gave you the option to match his affection, and never have to worry about being left out to dry.

He took initiative, right until the very end.

You bite your bottom lip, then give him a curt response, “Okay.”

Your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi but you don’t open it just yet. You look at Jungkook, who only looks back at you. His lips part slightly as he searches for the right words, or any word at all. It’s like you’re asking him to navigate a minefield when all he has to do is be honest. Even if he told you that he fell out of love with you, it wouldn’t be that bad. You would be hurt, yes, but you wouldn’t blame him. You would understand. It would be a reason.

Silence fills the room, save for the continuous tapping of your pen on paper.

He says your name, pleading. “I’m trying here.”

At Jimin’s party, Jungkook said you were someone important to him. You don’t doubt that he meant it, and that’s what infuriates you the most. You’re important, but he keeps running circles around you and making your head spin. You’re important, but everything he’s done makes you think that you’re the opposite. You’re important, just not important enough to get an explanation.

You know he’s genuine about everything he says, but that’s not enough. You can’t sustain yourself on just his words alone.

It’s another cycle of the same conversation, running over and over and over again. He’s reaching out but he’s holding back. You’re still getting nowhere. You don’t know how many times he has to make you ask this, only to not give you any clarity at all.

If there is a trait of Jungkook’s that you both love and hate at the same time, it is that he doesn’t know when to quit.

He texts you every day even when you don’t reply - one for good morning, and one for goodnight. He gets you a chai latte every day, which doesn’t do shit for your concentration because there’s not enough caffeine in it. He gets the door for you whenever you go into the same room together. He hounds your every waking moment. He makes sure that he’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thought that crosses your mind before you go to sleep.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

You suppose this is him, showing up again. In a lot of ways, it’s selfish. But it’s an effort too. Now your phone is full of meaningless messages that remain unread.

You barely glance at him. It’s routine at this point. He tries in ways that you don’t bother acknowledging anymore, because you figured that the best course of action is to let him wear himself out.  When he has had enough of it, when he deems his efforts to be enough to absolve his guilt, he’ll stop. He has to.

But at what point does it stop?

At what point will you stop wanting to give in to him? Your mind rages wars with itself every time you feel his eyes on you, and you have to kill the urge to not turn your head and look at him too. At what point will you stop wanting to go to him and let him in again? At what point will you stop unconsciously making him a priority?

All of this, you supposed, is to say: Do you still love him?

You know that if you sit down and get to the root of it, you’ll find an answer you don’t like. Even in this moment, you want him to tell you just a fraction of the truth, because that would probably be enough to reel you back in.

Your own heart claws at your chest but this is how it has to be for a while. All you can do is take it one day at a time, gently nudge your heart in one direction like a child that needs to be goaded, until he doesn’t live on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until someone else does.

“No, you’re not.” You stand up then, closing your notebook with more force than necessary. “If you’re really trying, then I wouldn’t still be wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

Even then, you’re still hoping that he’d say something else. But when you’re only met with silence, the anticipated disappointment in you bubbles, boiling. His reluctance to clue you in makes it easier for you to decide.

There's someone else who's willing to give you things that you don't even need to ask for.

In your mind, it's clear who you should choose.

Jungkook clenches his teeth, holding his breath as he watches you shove your things into your bag. “Are you going home?” he asks after a minute.

You could say yes and let the conversation die a swift and simple death. But for some reason, you choose to kill it violently. You bite the inside of your cheek before you tell him, “I don’t know. Yoongi’s picking me up.”

The chagrinned look that takes over his features for a split second is one that you immediately catch. Maybe it’s because he wants to make sure you know how he feels about this, or maybe you still have a way of reading him somehow. Regardless of what his face tells you, he doesn’t prod any further.

Your phone vibrates on the table, the sound ten times more thunderous amidst the silence that’s befallen the both of you. You don’t need to check the screen to know who’s calling, and neither does he. When you leave, the sound of your fading footsteps ricochets off the walls. It shoots right through him.

He hears every word of that conversation ringing in his ears then. He recalls that afternoon’s sunset; it was the most beautiful sunset he saw that year, despite the sun overhead mocking him with every magnificent glint of light. He sees the look on your face when his words finally register in your mind, the Oh moment when you understood what he was saying, when the smile you wore sunk helplessly to the floor because even though you knew that love had an expiration date, you hoped your love would be the exception. 

That memory fades, only to be replaced by something much worse. He sits there with Jimin’s words, echoing in his mind, reverberating around the room.

Technically, you and Yoongi haven’t been on a second date. You think.

You’ve seen him almost every night since the dinner, when he picks you up at the studio. Sometimes, you two just drive around. Sometimes, you sit by the river in the cold, eating hot ramen cups and giggling over nothing. Sometimes, he just takes you straight to your home if he has a packed schedule the next day.

These days, you see Yoongi even more than you see Taehyung. Even though he hasn’t explicitly implied that any of these outings is a date, you know you aren’t hanging out as just friends anymore.

It feels good to be wanted. The feeling is reinforced tenfold because it’s been so long that it’s like you’re experiencing it for the first time in a new body, as a different person.

But even after all of that, you two can still go back to being friends like nothing ever happened. Because in a way, maybe nothing did happen. Maybe things have always been like this between you, the only difference is now you’re noticing the meaning behind his words and glances.

You two can still go back, because technically, no line has been crossed.

But tonight, something feels different. It’s colder, but Yoongi keeps you warm with all the looks he’s been giving you all night.

It feels like you’re both toeing that line right now. 

You know that once you cross it, things can’t revert back to the way they were anymore.

You know that it will happen eventually, because Yoongi isn’t doing this just to half-ass it. He won’t back out, and he has made it crystal clear from the start. 

Usually, this is the part where he tells you goodnight and you have to pretend not to freak out when he kisses you on the cheek in goodbye.

He takes a step closer, you take no step back. 

“You know what I’m about to do, right?”

You do. You could say you’re even hopeful.

“I might have an idea…”

“Okay,” he says easily. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer. The way the corner of his mouth tugs upward tells you that he’s pleased, that you know what’s about to come and you’re letting it happen. Still, he asks, “Can I?”

You nod. That glowing sensation washes over you in waves.

“Words, princess,” he reminds you. 

Your hands land on the lapel of his coat. “Yes, you can.”

He chuckles, and squeezes you a little tighter. 

Then it happens.

The line you clumsily drew in the sand has been erased.

Yoongi is kissing you.

You’re kissing him back. 

He’s soft and warm and he holds you like you’re delicate. His sincerity, you can feel it in his kiss, and it’s only a fraction of it. Regardless, there is still life that blooms this winter. Inside of you, small and fragile, but it’s there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling completely limbless if not for him holding your body upright. One of his arms wounds itself tighter around your middle while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek more easily. Yoongi tilts his head further to one side to deepen the kiss. You feel something in his kiss that you have never heard in his words, something soft and pleading. Wanting but still contained. Out of fear that you might run away, perhaps? You can’t blame him though. You are a bit of a flight risk.

The wind dances past like a nosy bystander, pressing you further into him like it wants you to be more sure in the way you move, in how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him. Instead, the cold just makes you shiver.

When you break away, his hand on your face moves to hold the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t look half as flushed as you think you do, though his cheeks are slightly rosy.

Through a thin veil of clouds, the moon still shines down on his profile. 

The chill in the air, the mesmerizing view of moonlight dancing across his features, and most of all, the way you’re still lost in the kiss, in the feeling of being wanted.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you up,” he says, after you stay silent for a beat too long, hooded eyes basking in the warmth of a heart chasing your own. You want to want him. You do want him, but there’s still something missing. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but for now, you try not to dwell on it too much. Just let it be. Maybe in time, that void will inevitably fill.

Yoongi holds your hand through the lobby and on the whole way up even if neither of you says anything, just shy glances in the elevator and bashful half-hidden smiles. You don’t invite him in once you get to your door - because an invite now insinuates something that you just aren’t ready for - but he does kiss you again. If the kiss you shared downstairs is a proper goodnight kiss, then this one means see you later and doesn’t last half as long, but it makes you tingle just the same.

He pulls back, only to dive in again, and again, and again, until one chaste kiss turns into five and you have to push him away with a giggle so you can breathe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still set on your mouth. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yoongi,” you say, a little breathily, like oxygen hasn’t sufficiently made its way into your lungs since downstairs.

He rests his forehead against yours. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he sighs.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you again.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth and pretend to consider this even though you know you would like to be kissed again. “Maybe I do,” you say after a beat, bravely. “Just one more.”

He gives you your final kiss of the night then, one that lasts a second longer than the others, like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You head in once Yoongi is out of sight. You lean your body against the door the second you snap the lock shut. You touch your lips lightly, reliving those moments again even though they happened mere seconds ago. You’re buzzing with excitement like a schoolgirl, every feeling coursing through your body all at once. 

You’re familiar with this. It’s the stage right before every love song you listen to suddenly reminds you of that one person.

You go through your regular evening routine with a pep in your step, thanks to a certain person tonight. You take off your carefully applied makeup and take a nice, hot shower. You think the heat would help melt away the high that you’re riding - like you’ve had too much coffee to drink and now your senses are beyond heightened - but it doesn’t. Once you’re fresh and comfortable in your PJs, you still feel that jittery feeling seeping through your pores, keeping you awake. There’s a message from Yoongi that tells you he has made it home safely.

It’s still early, and you’re far too restless to go to bed. You decided to brew yourself a mug of chamomile tea, even though you don’t even like chamomile and you can’t remember why you even have it, but they say that apparently chamomile is good for sleep. You decide to take the mug into the living room to sort through your mini mountain of mail that should’ve been dealt with days ago.

Sitting underneath that pile of junk mail and letters addressed to the previous tenant even though you’ve lived here for nearly two years, is a cream-colored card addressed to you. The material feels smooth under your fingertips, like velvet if that’s even possible. Inside, there are two names - one you recognize and another you don’t - typed out in a fancy calligraphy font and encircled by pretty flowers, all pinks and whites and romantic.

The saccharine sensation associated with the thought of Yoongi dissipates instantly. Instead, your mind blanks, only to buzz to life again momentarily with a newfound sinking feeling dragging you down.

You suddenly realize that Jungkook hasn’t crossed your mind once tonight. Not until now. That crestfallen look in his eyes from the other night appears in your mind again, clear as day.

You are, quite literally, holding someone’s declaration of love and yet, it’s not joy that you feel, having been asked to join them on their special day. 

You never thought you would see Jungkook’s family again - even though you always adored his parents and you felt that they loved you too - let alone receive an invitation to his brother’s wedding.

remember when y'all said u wanted a wedding?? well u didn't say whose wedding 😌

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted march 27, 2023]

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bangtanbathhouse #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #clubzerooclock #52hertz #fic: our beloved summer

[custardcrazy]

Hi! If ur still taking requests for Ted Logan atm can I ask for super fluffy headcanons or a oneshot where he has a s/o who’s his exact opposite personality-wise (like they’re grumpy, sarcastic, cynical, and just has that “I hate everyone but you” attitude with Ted). Basically the black cat to his golden retriever. Thank u if u decide to do this!!

we've a star

summary: opposites do attract. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 1.2k

A/N: whoops, I think I projected a little. thanks for requesting!!

It was comical, how different you and your adoring boyfriend were. 

It was a comparison that many pointed out, if they didn't know either of you too well. Ted was generally optimistic to the point of obliviousness. He was cheerful, goofy, and was physically incapable of being rude to anybody; it wasn't hard to see that he was an all-around good guy. And the complete and utter truth was that you weren't any of those things. Blunt, pessimistic, always having a hard edge to your words. 

To an outsider, it seemed impossible that people who were completely diametrically opposed in terms of personality and demeanor could be in a relationship in the first place. After all, there was that old saying: "opposites attract", but that usually didn't work outside of the movies. Differences brought conflict, and the more things people had in common, the better. 

However, any of your mutual close friends would know of your insane, ridiculous soft spot for your partner-in-crime. 

Maybe the fact that Ted was so sweet was why you couldn't bring yourself to be truly mean to him. Maybe it was why you were still so incredibly attracted to him. Usually people who weren't so bright just got on your nerves, and you didn't have much patience for morons. But Ted was a special case. Sure, you teased him, but it was never anything more than that. And somehow, every time he screwed up doing something it was just cute. Nothing else. 

At first, it caught you off-guard. And it still did, but you were kinda used to it by now. 

Speaking of now. 

Your legs were propped up in his lap, and he was hunched over somewhat, scribbling on a legal pad that he probably had taken from his dad's office before he and Bill moved in together. His bangs kind of obscured his eyes, and you observed admiringly how now and then he flipped his head back in order to get them out of the way. He always had nice hair. And yes, it was as soft as it looked. 

Bill wasn't in their apartment at the moment, as he had left maybe two hours ago to go hang out with some buddies. He'd asked you and Ted if you wanted to go -- you liked Bill, of course, but the same couldn't be said for that particular group of people. The thing you wanted to do the least right now was talk to people. Or socialize with people at all. 

Ted wasn't people. 

Reclining back on the sort of disheveled green couch, which was probably suffocating under all the pillows, you briefly turned your attention to the TV. But you only got a quick glimpse of whatever cheesy sitcom was on before Ted broke the companionable silence. 

"Babe?" He turned the legal pad towards you, and the page he was using was covered in the chicken scratch otherwise known as his handwriting. Oh, he was brainstorming lyrics again. "Does this phrase in particular come off as too … crazy?" Brow furrowed, he pointed to a sentence. "I know you know that this song is supposed to be most ludicrous, but I don't wanna cross a certain line." 

"Duh, you and Bill decided to call it Trapped In Clown Land," you pointed out.

"It's a metaphor, babe!" He announced cheerfully, unphased by your dry remark. 

Sitting up to squint at the page, you realized that with how fast he'd been writing, his usual scrawl had degraded even further. Normally, you could pick out a couple letters and move from there, but it was impossible this time. 

"Uh, Ted, I can't read that." You poked him in the side with your toe. "Translation, please." 

He smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry, babe." Lowering the pad, you noticed that even he had to focus a little to read what he'd written. 

"Shoes too big to fill / Out of fashion, but he's coming in for the kill," he recited slowly. "Something like that. Might reword it later, but I'm usually no good at rhyming stuff." The aura of self-pride radiating from him was palpable, and you reached out to ruffle his hair. He didn't protest, beaming a little. 

"I think it's fine." Shrugging, you leaned backwards again. "The big clown shoes reference is kinda direct, but just enough so it comes off as clever." For a guy who'd almost flunked English, Ted wasn't too bad at songwriting. Well, maybe you were a little biased, but you'd seen your fair share of awkward local bands to know what worked and what didn't. (Suddenly struck by a wave of intense secondhand embarrassment, you tried to suppress the memory of that one time the vocalist screwed up on stage.) 

But, thankfully, Ted intervened. "Your input is totally appreciated, babe." He leaned over, kissing you softly; it was over too soon, and he was right back to work. 

All of your efforts to dispel the cringe-worthy recollections were promptly diverted to trying to preserve your dignity and not melt into a puddle. Which was funny, because usually he was the one blushing and hiding his face. 

"Obviously," you managed to supply, and the TV suddenly looked very interesting. 

It was a little while longer before the legal pad got placed delicately (thrown) onto Ted's bed, and his arm was wound comfortably about your shoulders, his other hand in yours. Even before you started dating, something about his very, very good bear hugs was incredibly tempting. And now that you were, Ted's habit of being a cuddler had increased tenfold. 

You weren't one to break some nice peace and quiet, but this time you had a valid reason. Surprisingly. 

"Thanks for staying with me," you murmured into the crook of his neck, and even though you were used to being honest, you still felt your face heat up ever so slightly. "I know you and Bill always hang out, and you have a lot in common with those guys, too. You could've gone with them." 

" 'S really nothing," came his reply, sounding so easy and genuine. Warm. "I know that you didn't wanna go out today. Especially after you ranted about Jenna being most bothersome at work. It's totally understandable." 

You scoffed, unable to help your natural urges to make at least one venomous comment when prompted. Still, the mushy feelings in your heart didn't dissipate. "Like she always has. Isn't it a requirement for someone who works at Claire's to at least have the capacity to put up with whining tween girls?" 

"It should be," agreed Ted, his thumb running over your knuckles in a slow, gentle motion. "But don't pay too much mind to it, babe. You only gotta deal with her for, like, a couple hours." 

"It's still too long." You softened, tone growing more affectionate rather than irritated. "Not everyone has your patience." 

"But -- " 

He opened his mouth, probably to protest or deflect -- most likely at the same time, but this time you were the one who leaned up to kiss him. Unsurprisingly, it took him a second, but he quickly reciprocated, turning his body to face you more in order to make things more comfortable. 

Satisfyingly, when you parted, he was the flustered one, too distracted to continue his previous statement. 

#ted logan x reader #ted logan x you #ted logan imagine #ted logan imagines #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #bill and ted imagine

[loveywon]

are you planning to do enha soulmate dynamics? i saw ur jeongin one and i think it would be so cool with an enha member like hee or niki 😭

— 🍓•🥛

♡𓂃 SO SERIOUS !

a/n: hiii i originally didn't have any other soulmate au's planned with enha but with my recent angst fic and part two coming up... i think we deserve some riki fluff hehe pairing: riki x gn!reader wc: 2k+ synopis: you and your soulmate have matching freckle spots, and unfortunately for you, you're not really fond of your soulmate. warnings: fluff!! angst if u squint reallll hard, college au, soulmate au, reader wears concealer, reader drinks (riki doesn't), alcohol mentions, jungwon and eunchae mentioned, not proofread

You know that Niki is your soulmate. 

He doesn’t know it yet, and you’re unsure if you ever want him to know. It’s not like you disliked him, you didn’t even know enough about him to really dislike him, but there was always something off about the way he carried himself. Your friends always asked you why you had a distaste for him, and you could never answer it. You can’t point out why, you just feel it in your bones, and it’s the best answer you can provide. 

You and Niki have mutual friends, and it’s the whole reason why you even know him in the first place. You briefly remember how you met him, but it really was all a blur if you were being honest, because you didn’t think it was a big deal meeting someone new. That is, until your friend spent the night one time at your dorm, pointing out the freckle that is under your eye, right beneath your pupil. 

“Hey, since when did you ever have that freckle there?” Eunchae asked, her finger pointing at your eye as she laid on her stomach on top of your bed. You simply shrug, sitting in front of your mirror as you braid your hair into a loose braid so you can sleep. 

“Since I was born, what are you talking about? And what’s the big deal about it?” You tie off your braid, getting on your bed with her and slapping your pillow for it to puff up for bed. 

“What do you mean, what's the big deal? Riki has the same exact freckle under his eye! Oh my god, you guys are soulmates! Shut up!” Eunchae slapped your arm out of excitement, causing you to wince with a sharp “ow!” leaving your lips. 

“Okay? And?” You grumbled, lifting the covers over you as you lay on your pillow, still facing Eunchae as she’s sitting up criss-crossed on your bed, too excited to lay back down. 

Eunchae rolled her eyes at your nonchalance, “You should really get to know him. He’s not as bad as you think, I still don’t understand why you don’t like him.” 

“I do not not like him!” You argue, “But he’s just…I don’t know. Can we not talk about him when I’m literally about to go to bed. You’re gonna make me dream of him and the last thing I need is him to appear in my dreams!” You huffed dramatically, turning over onto the other side so that your back is facing Eunchae. 

She only sighed, getting under the covers with you and patting your shoulder to make you turn over again. “Did you already know?” She asked out of curiosity.

“No, and I kinda wish that I didn’t.” 

You always wore concealer under your eyes as the bare minimum before leaving the house, only because your under eye bags were quite literally the bane of your existence. It’s not like you meant to also cover up your freckle at the same time, but there wasn’t much you could do and you didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

The next time you see Niki after that night with Eunchae, you do notice the freckle that’s underneath his eye, and you sigh exasperatedly in defeat. Your friends turn to you, giving you a weird look because you had just sighed out of nowhere, right upon seeing Niki walk up to your group. 

It was pretty clear to all your friends that you weren’t fond of Niki, and you’re pretty sure that Niki is aware of it or that he is either just dense. You think it’s the second one. 

You and your friends are all in a cafe, ordering drinks and chatting just to catch up after a week of painful classes. “Y/n-ah, are you going to the party tomorrow night?” Jungwon asks, head tilting to the side as he gives you a small smile. He’s always there to air out any weird tension between you and Niki whenever you two do interact (which is very rarely, but it happens from time to time).

You nod, returning his smile, “Of course! Where else would I be?” You laugh light-heartedly, taking a sip of your matcha. Jungwon claps his hands together excitedly, in which Eunchae giggles beside you. Niki then takes his seat next to Jungwon, sitting diagonally across from you, and he doesn't spare you a glance, but it’s not like you would have cared if he did. 

This was one thing that you couldn’t explain to your friends why you didn’t like Niki. He always ignored your presence, you would claim, but you don’t notice the stolen glances he takes whenever he looks up at his phone, his ears perking up whenever your voice reaches him even though he looks distracted on his phone or in another conversation with someone. You don’t notice that he knows that you prefer cats over dogs, and that you want an orange tabby specifically, and he thinks an orange tabby fits you so well. You also don’t notice that he has adapted some of your talking mannerisms, but the only reason why you don’t notice is because he doesn’t really speak around you, but Jungwon knows. He’s picked up on Niki’s newly formed habits because of you, but chooses to stay silent because of what he’s aware of, you’re not fond of Niki, and he doesn’t have the heart to break it to him. 

Niki originally wasn’t planning on going to the party, and he really is a party goer, but he wanted tomorrow night to be a little self-care night for himself. However, upon hearing that you’re also going to the party, his mind is immediately changed. 

Five drinks in, and you’re already wobbling, leaning against Eunchae for support. “Y/n~ I don’t know if I can keep holding you up like this!” She complains, trying to straighten you up, an arm around your shoulder as she walks you to the couch.

You only groan in response, head rolling back as you stumble on your feet, “I don’t wanna sit,” you slur when Eunchae sits you down on the couch (more like throws, her arms were getting weak from holding you up all night). 

“Okay, well that’s too bad, stay seated, okay? I’ll get you some water,” she says before running off into the kitchen. 

You sigh, slouching on the comfy couch as you look around. The dance floor is in front of you, and you’re simply watching mindlessly at the crowd dancing like chickens. You laugh a little when you see someone almost trip.

“What’s so funny?” A voice perks up beside you, and you jump slightly, head turning in a dramatic manner, and unfortunately, you’re met with the sight of Niki. 

“Nunna your business!” You huff, arms crossing against your chest, turning your entire body away from him. 

“Okay, well, are you having fun at least?” He asks, head tilting a little to see your face, because you didn’t actually successfully turn away from him. Whether it was a subconscious move or a drunken mistake, you turn over to him again. 

“Yeah,” you smile a little, but then your eyes drift over to his face once more and your smile drops into a deep frown when you see the freckle that’s placed so delicately underneath his eye. You feel a little guilty. Everyone should know who their soulmate is, and it’s something that many people anticipate and notice whenever they meet someone new. You think Niki deserves to know at least, and maybe you should treat him a little better because, as far as you know, you’ll be spending your life with him. 

Upon seeing you frown, Niki feels a tug at his chest. He rests his cheek against his hand, “Why do you hate me?”

The heavy words of do you hate me almost makes you sober, and you sit up straighter, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “I… I don’t…” you stumble on your words, because how in the world are you supposed to answer such a loaded question?

“I know you don’t like me. I just wanna know what I did…” he said, eyes dropping down to his other hand that is playing with his rings, a nervous habit that you noticed on your second time meeting him. 

You gaped. He knew this entire time? Now you feel really bad, because again, you never disliked him, you just got a weird vibe since the first time you two met, and you could never place it. “Sorry, I, um…” you again, stumble on your words. You’re too drunk for this, you think, even though you feel more sober than you did two minutes ago. 

Niki’s lips curve into a frown, and you think it’s the first time he’s actually shown any form of emotion in front of you. You panic a little, because this is so out of the norm for you, and you wish you never came to the party in the first place.

“What…what made you think that I hate you?” You ask, avoiding his question. You didn’t think it was that obvious, in fact, you almost think that it was mutual because of the way he always pretended that you weren’t there whenever your friends would hang out. 

“You never talk to me, and you always avoid looking at me. I mean, I don’t think I’m that ugly, am I? Actually, I kind of started to dress like you, so maybe you’d find me more attractive and talk to me…but I don’t know. Maybe I got it all wrong, sorry,” He starts to ramble, interrupting himself as he shakes his head. 

You think the alcohol in your system has just flowed out of you, because what. “Did you just…” You’re at a loss for words,  head still not wrapping around the fact that Niki basically confessed to you. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes quickly before you can get any more words out (not like you had any in the first place). “I know we live in a world of soulmates, and you don’t have one under your eye like me, I just thought, like, I don’t know, we could be a little blissfully ignorant for a bit, but you don’t like me, and that’s okay, you don’t have to, just thought that you should know…I’ll leave now.” He rambles, and you’re not listening to a single word that he’s saying because you feel painfully guilty for hiding your freckle for so long. 

You quickly wipe the concealer under your eye, and Niki’s eyes widen in shock because he thinks you’re crying from what he said. “Wait, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry, are you okay? Sorry!” He doesn’t even know what he said to make you ‘cry’, but he still rushes to hold the sides of your arms. He’s never seen you cry before, so his first time seeing you cry being because of him makes him feel absolutely horrible. 

You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? I’m not crying. Look.” You say, pointing your finger to the freckle that rests underneath your pupil, the same exact one that he has. 

He looks at you confused before seeing his freckle on your own features, and he almost recoils from the shock. “W-wait what? You…you knew this whole time?” He asks, his own brows scrunching together as he tries to comprehend what’s happening. 

You frown, “yeah… sorry. It’s not like I purposely meant to hide it…I just, I don’t know. Sorry. I don’t really know what to say…” you mumble, and Niki shakes his head in return.

“No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry,” He says, offering you a reassuring smile, and he honestly could care less that you told him now instead of earlier, because now he gets to spend his life with you, living his dreams in real life. “But are you serious?” He asks, a little unsure. This all seemed too surreal. 

You nod, and you reach for his hand that’s resting on your arm, bringing it up to your face. You swipe his thumb underneath your eye for him, the freckle not wiping off. He giggles cutely, and you forget about any bad feelings you had for him. 

“I am so serious.” 

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[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 12 - Bystander Effect▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤He fucking groans. “See, you could be so good for me, but you always choose to be a mean little bitch instead.”

You shoot him a contempt-filled glare and he just chuckles in return. Shigaraki slips his fingers out of your mouth and wipes your drool against the side of your reddened cheeks in order to further humiliate you.

“Monster,” you croak a whisper and try to look away, but he grabs your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze back on him.

“I thought we already established that?”◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Very Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Past Child Abuse, Bullying, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven • Twelve • Thirteen Updates every Monday!

Chapter 12 - Bystander Effect

So far, tonight has only been two things—boring and incredibly annoying.

Maybe it was the lack of alcohol in your system and you ought to fix that.

Abandoning the idea of going back to the bar entirely, you head out for the open drinks in the living room, the ones that were available for anyone to roofie. You find a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of coke, and you pour those motherfuckers into a big cup, praying you’ll have a well-deserved blackout in the morning.

You weren’t planning to get wasted before, but you don’t think you can stomach waiting for Taylor to go home without being highly intoxicated anymore and you weren’t about to cut their fun short over some toxic bitches from high school.

Some time passes, allowing the alcohol to properly loosen you up and making the music sound decent enough in the dark room for you to sway your hips next to other strangers. You get lost in the rhythm until you take out your phone, checking for updates from your friend and only seeing random strings of letters they spammed you with.

Taytay – dd ykn w ur th best [Sent 10:19 PM]

Taytay – I f knig lov u nbitch’;’2134 &lt;5 [Sent 10:23 PM]

The stupid messages from your already wasted friend brought warmth to your chest, making you genuinely smile—until someone accidentally bumps into you and knocks you away from the dancing mass, where you caught a glimpse of a strangely familiar looking group, hanging out on the couch not too far away from where you stood.

Feeling dizzy, you try squinting to see better through the flickering party lights, when you finally realize that the person you’re looking at was—Shigaraki?

You swallow. Why was he here?

Next to Shigaraki who was manspreading on the couch, sat Dabi, the Dabi–that you’re semi-sure appeared only because of you manifesting his existence earlier. You’re now ninety percent convinced that he’s the one Mina’s purple haired arm candy downloaded his style and personality from.

But they weren’t alone, no.

Dabi was getting the equivalent of a lap dance from some slutty girl, who in the process of basically riding him, was sinking her hand into Shigaraki’s shoulder, fingers gripping him tightly and him just staring at her grip in a daze. She looked exactly like the type of girl you’d speculated he’d be into, back when you only thought of him as a creep.

Something indescribable courses through your blood, clawing at your heart and twisting in your chest, making you shift your gaze from him to the rest of his group—three more dudes and a blonde chick that looked to be too young to be here—passing blunts and alcohol between the six of them.

All of them were enjoying themselves drinking, smoking, getting high and laughing.

He was laughing.

You’re positive you’ve never seen Shigaraki laugh so freely before, the thought nagging at you for some reason.

He’d seem to snap out of something, grabbing the girl’s hand that was casually sliding closer to his chest, forcefully pulling her into him and whispering something into the girl’s ear with a creepy smile, her almost losing balance off Dabi’s lap if not for the fuckboy’s hands on her hips holding her closer and him angrily shouting something at Shigaraki in return.

It wasn’t a surprise for you to figure out you weren’t special to him, but seeing it in front of your eyes ended up burning like acid. It bothered you enough to look away, emptying the remaining contents of your plastic cup, crumpling it in the process and missing the look of horror on her gorgeous fucking face as you chuck the offending piece of garbage at the floor.

Why would he lie to you? Why go through the trouble of confessing to you, of attempting to fix things with you?

And why the fuck do you care who he fucking toys with?! Shouldn’t you be happy?!

You snap out of your bubbling betrayal when you notice someone from the group waving excitedly in your direction. He shouts something at his friends, handing his smoke and his drink to the blonde chick while you squint to understand what’s going on. Six pairs of eyes start scanning the room until their gaze finally lands in your direction.

Shigaraki’s eyes visibly widen the second he sees you and you look around yourself feeling flustered, counting on a miracle that it wasn’t you they were all fucking looking at.

When you see your arcade friend quickly rushing to get to you, swerving through the mass of bodies, you quickly realize how morbidly wrong you are.

Fuck.

You don’t think you’re ready for another bout of trouble tonight, so you try getting away before your new friend reaches you, hoping—praying, to melt with the crowd and lose them, to pretend like there weren’t two pairs of eyes, angry crimson and amused cerulean, that stared holes through your body.

Unfortunately, your hopes of an escape are cut extremely short when a strong buff arm grabs you by your shoulder, effectively spinning you around and pulling you into a sweaty bear hug.

“Sorry, ‘m tipsy, but I can’t believe I got to see you here!” Iguchi shouts happily through the music and closely into your ear, making you nod your drunk head and trying to make sense of what was happening to you.

You couldn’t return a proper greeting to him, because you spot Shigaraki swiftly cutting through half the room in the blink of an eye, angrily pushing bodies away from him while the rest of his flock hurries to follow behind. Iguchi leans into your vision, pink color spreading over his cheeks and says something to you, but you struggle to focus when you feel the knot in your stomach growing.

When Shigaraki finally reaches you, he violently shoves his own friend to the side, looking angrier than you’ve ever seen him be.

“Fucking my friends now too, huh? Disgusting whore.” He actually spits right in front of your feet and you have to take a step back, nearly getting hit and scrunching your nose in the process.

You look around and see that you’re now surrounded by his circle, people you’ve only heard of from the insane fucking rumors circulating around Shigaraki.

Iguchi looked absolutely bewildered when he regained his balance. “Y-You guys know each other?” was all he could ask.

Shigaraki finally broke the intense eye contact with you and snapped his head to his friend.

“Know each other?” he growled through clenched teeth.

The blonde girl starts jumping excitedly, a sort of unsettling manic look coloring her face. Dabi only smiled at you slyly, standing there, arms crossed and enjoying the show, his little slut in tow.

The fuck? Were all his friends as insane as he was? Surely they could tell a fight was about to break out, and knowing Shigaraki, it was bound to be ugly. Were they not concerned at all? Unless–

Unless that’s exactly the kind of thing they were looking forward to.

You can’t help but feel a tremor in your bones. This was not high school and you weren’t fighting teenagers anymore. These were very much possibly convicted adult criminals standing around you and waiting sadistically for something bad to happen.

And you cannot take Shigaraki in a real fight.

Random people were now also turning their heads, trying to figure out what was going on, eventually pulling out their phones to either text or film the potential shit-show. You realize how badly you’d fucked up to get drunk.

“Answer me, bitch. Are you fucking my friends?” he hissed the question at you, grabbing the fabric of your clothes and pulling you to him, red eyes full of contempt.

“Can you blame her, boss?” a rough low voice spoke up before you could reply and adds, “She was so fucking cute in the store last time, lookin’ at me all starry eyed, weren’t you doll? Let me have her after you.” Dabi coos, sending you a kiss and unnecessarily fanning the flames to stir trouble, completely ignoring the obvious disappointment on his partner for the night.

And it worked like a fucking charm, because Shigaraki looked at you, white knuckling the fabric of your top like he was about to burn this entire building down, together with you in it.

Your head spun so fast—too many voices, too many people, too much shit going wrong tonight.

You’re anxious. You’re pissed. You wanna go home.

You’re tired, you’re tired, you’re tired. You miss your—

He snarls at you, red eyes narrowing and you snap.

“Fucking—ENOUGH!” you scream at the top of your lungs and straight into Shigaraki’s face, making him flinch and loosen his grip. Then you do the only thing your drunk overwhelmed brain could think of—

You slap the absolute living shit out of Shigaraki Tomura.

The entire room—including yourself, gasped in unison.

He completely froze, placing one hand on the burning and rapidly reddening cheek, staring off into space.

You heard his friends giggle and Dabi toppling over in laughter. The only person who was more unamused than yourself and the guy you just humiliated in front of an entire party of people, was Iguchi.

Not only was he unamused, he was shaking, looking absolutely horrified at what you’ve done to his friend.

The music died down completely by now, and you unwillingly became the protagonist of this room.

You try to step away, but your back hits the front of one of Shigaraki’s taller dark-haired friends, who was sporting a smug look that told you, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Uh oh, the creep is gonna snap her neck!” you hear someone shout from the peanut gallery. That comment seemed to wake him up because he lunged forward to grab your arm and started dragging you away with him somewhere—until Taylor drunkenly stepped in to break up whatever this mess was that you got yourself tangled into.

“Ya, okay, enough of that, Crusty!” They clap their hands twice like they were talking to a servant, grabbing Shigaraki’s arm to get him to let go of you.

He forcefully pushes them out of the way, causing your drunk friend to lose their footing and hit the floor hard.

You screeched at him again, kneeing him in the stomach as hard as you could, hearing him groan and finally freeing yourself. Your brain barely registered the blonde chick reaching for something and you saw a glint of familiar shaped metal as you stumbled to get to your friend who was kneeling on the floor, tears running down their face.

Shigaraki looked at his own friend who was gearing up for something and signaling her to stop whatever she was going to do.

Only for you to belatedly realize that she was just about to fucking stab you, had he not intervened.

You swallow emptily, feeling yourself shake and all color draining from your face.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch them again, you—you s-sick, depraved—fucking—fucking assholes!” you sobbed, struggling to help your friend up.

Where were all of Taylor’s useless fucking friends to help when they needed them?

You looked around but all you could see were cold stares everywhere you looked. Nobody lifted a finger.

Nobody dared to cross him.

A familiar sound of a deranged giggle cut straight through the silence like a knife. Your eyes shifted to the direction of the sound only to find red irises filled to the brim with unadulterated glee, staring right back at you.

Shigaraki felt something going off in his brain the moment he saw your adorably lost and confused face looking for help.

You’re finally, finally realizing it, aren’t you?

He walked over to you, sinking on one knee and you cursed yourself for wearing this stupid fucking outfit and leaving your pepper spray at home. You consider opting to violence for a second, but one look into his terrifying eyes has you second-guessing yourself long enough that he reaches forward first.

Shigaraki grabs you by your hair and gets up, forcing you to let go of your friend as you were dragged on your feet. Taylor whimpered from somewhere beneath you, but his tense grip wouldn’t allow you to turn your head and look.

You’ve never seen him look like this. He didn’t just look angry, he looked fucking savage.

The speechless crowd and his cruel but amused friends, split and made way for him with you in tow as if it was Moses himself, parting the red fucking sea.

You were too dizzy from the alcohol and the roots in your head burned too hard to be able to tell exactly, but you think you climbed a few stairs, walked a little more and suddenly you were shoved into a room with him right behind you.

Two strangers were caught in the act, but a quick look of recognition over Shigaraki’s form and a short barked order from him were enough for them to fuck off faster than you could yell for help.

He was right. You did finally realize.

You finally realized why everyone was so incredibly terrified of him. Why people whispered behind his back whenever he was around, but cowered if he were to give them a dirty look. Why there were so many insane rumors surrounding him and his shitty friends.

You finally realized that… those weren’t fucking rumors.

Hearing the telltale click of a door locking and seeing him turning to you has your brain beginning to sober up quickly. The only light that was barely illuminating this room came from a yellow colored bedside lamp.

“Let’s talk, hm?”

“You literally said—No, you promised!” you choked out, “You fucking promised you wouldn’t try to hurt me anymore,” you say, sobbing, fat fucking tears rolling down your cheeks, leaving behind dark trails of ruined mascara.

“So I lied. Now answer my fucking questions,” he growls, patience running thin. ”Did you think it was fun, telling me you liked me? Making me run around like some idiot?”

Shigaraki steps forward.

What? When did you ever tell him—

The phone call.

“What the hell are you talking—You! You’re ruining any chances of reconciliation with me, with every fucking second—” your voice cracks, “W-With every second that I’m locked in this fucking room with you, Shigaraki.”

He chooses to ignore you at first, taking another step in your direction.

“That’s fine.” He smiled. “Maybe you were right for once.” His fingers reached the back of his neck, rubbing it thoughtfully and humming as he moved in your direction, more self-assured than you’ve ever seen him be.

“Maybe I am done playing nice.”

“That so? Color me surprised.” You roll your eyes, unable to push your growing anxiety away.

He however doesn’t stop stalking towards you so you begin stepping back, but the back of your knees meet with the edge of someone’s bed.

You glanced behind you nervously.

“S-So what now,” you look back at him and huff. “Gonna rape me? Teach me a lesson?”

He chuckles, amused by your stupid question.

“No,” he clicks his tongue disapprovingly, placing a hand squarely on your sternum and effortlessly shoves you back.

You fall gracelessly on top of the bed, immediately grimacing knowing that someone else’s bare, sweaty ass was exactly where the back of your head now rested.

“Now, we’re going to talk.”

“Yeah? Well you better talk fast, because people—” you stuttered, feeling angry, scared and ashamed, “B-Because people—Because Taylor will call the fucking cops on you.”

And the fucking second you finish babbling your empty threats, you hear the party come alive once again, music blaring and vibrating through however many layers of brick separated you from the main room.

You cursed under your breath.

“Are they now?”

“Shigaraki, stop.”

“You look fucking adorable when you’re scared of me, did you know? Gets me reaaally hard,” he fucking moans as he shamelessly starts palming himself through his jeans. You couldn’t help but glance at his hand anxiously.

The warm dim light made him look nothing short of a beautiful, ethereal monster.

“Stop, stop, stop. Don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me,” you chant uselessly as you screwed your wet eyes shut, trying to get away from him as much as possible, but he only reveled at the sound of your desperate pleas.

Yes—fucking yes, at last.

He cracked a wide grin. The only regret on his mind is not doing this to you sooner. It was so much more efficient using terror to break you down and make you his, compared to the previous pathetic attempts at getting you to want to be with him.

He could barely hold back his delight. You were so close.

Shigaraki climbs up your legs, effectively straddling you and patiently observing your reaction.

“I said relax, idiot,” he rasps, but the way he reached his hand out and used his dry, rough knuckles to slowly brush the side of your cheek, did absolutely nothing to help you relax. The touch felt like warm sandpaper and you couldn’t help but squirm under it. “We’re just going to talk.”

His fingers uncurl, exploring the planes of your soft face, the pads running gently over the bridge of your nose all the way to your lips—and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was admiring you by the slightly dazed look in his eyes. The same dazed look he gave that whore.

Shigaraki pushes his index finger into your mouth and you go ahead and bite it hard enough to leave a deep reddened dent. He just smiles and forces a second one in.

“Sho fuhkin’ tawk then,” you mumble around his salty fingers, words coming out funny and making you feel even more humiliated. You placed both of your hands against his firm chest, looking for a semblance of separation from him—any sort of false security.

His sinister smile spread even wider before he leaned in so close to your ear that you could feel his breath fanning against it. “Did you know that you have a lot of weak exploitable points?” he asks, biting his lower lip and pulling back just enough for you to look him in the eyes.

Gone were any traces of his softness from the time before tonight—all replaced by what looked like honest malice and bitter spite towards you.

The only thing you could reply with was a pathetic whimper.

“Your scholarship, the filthy fucking videos of you letting some lowlife scumbag fuck you.” He grimaced while he spat out the second part, but his wicked smile quickly returned to his lips. “Your…past,” Shigaraki says with an upward lilt in his tone, taking his fingers out and resting them on the top of your lips, allowing for your reaction.

“What?! How did you—”

His giggles cut you off. “People talk. You’d be surprised how easily they give me what I want, once they feel threatened,” he tells you, voice dark and foreboding.

You wanted to rebuke him, but the second your mouth opened again, he slipped his spit-covered fingers all the way to the back of your throat, the brusqueness prompting you to gag ugly around them.

Your hands try to reach for his wrist and push it away, but he was stronger and he was faster. He clicks his tongue at your disobedience, using his free grip to grab both of your hands, effortlessly pinning them to the side of your head in an uncomfortably forced position.

Was every time you could push him around just for show? And are you seriously only realizing that now?

Shigaraki waits for your breathing to slow, before he begins tormenting you by pumping his long bony fingers in and out of your mouth in a sickeningly slow manner. The sound of you gagging over and over and the wet sloppy squelches of your mouth were echoing in the room, complemented by the dampened party music and the sounds of his feral breathing.

“Ugh!” You try to get away from him, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Shhh, I’ve seen you take worse. Good girl,” he cooed with his face close to yours, gaze fixated on the way your mouth clung to his fingers. You cringed when you felt him lick a long disgusting stripe from the bottom of your cheek all the way to the source of the trail of bitter tears.

He fucking groans. “See, you could be so good for me, but you always choose to be a mean little bitch instead.”

You shoot him a contempt-filled glare and he just chuckles in return. Shigaraki slips his fingers out of your mouth and wipes your drool against the side of your reddened cheeks in order to further humiliate you.

“Monster,” you croak a whisper and try to look away, but he grabs your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze back on him.

“I thought we already established that?”

You spit in his face, making him flinch.

Catching him off-guard seemed like a privilege today, so you quickly free yourself from his grip the moment his hand was loose enough.

Before he can take that freedom away, you grab his shirt with one hand and your fist flies towards his face using whatever leverage you had in this position.

Now or never.

“You little–!” he growls at you, unfortunately dropping his entire weight on top of your body before your punch could connect, causing you to only be able to uselessly smack the top part of his shoulder.

He slides his arms to grab yours and uses bruising force to render them useless at the sides of your head. “Are you trying to piss me off today?” he barks at you angrily, getting halfway up to shift one of his knees on top of your stomach and pressing his weight into it.

“Urk—” you almost literally vomit from the pressure, but he lets up before you can.

“Are you going to behave now and listen to what I say, or are you going to keep being difficult?”

Difficult? You were being difficult? You’d laugh if this wasn’t quickly going up the ranks as one of the worst nights of your life. Instead, you just roll your eyes, as if you weren’t a quivering mess. As if he wasn’t scaring you.

Shigaraki’s gaze narrows. He thought he was closer to breaking you, but you obviously still had a lot of fight left in you. He supposes you’ve been through worse, so maybe he had to truly outmatch your greatest monsters.

He decided he’ll start easy.

“Answer my question, slut. The next time you don’t answer me, I’ll have to start punishing you,” he grunted but you remained defiantly quiet.

Shigaraki huffed, lifting his knee away from your sensitive stomach, earning him a relieved exhale from you—that quickly turned into alarm the moment he wedged it between your thighs instead, inches away from your cunt.

He smirked at your horrified expression and began pressing it against you experimentally, drawing out a pathetic whimper.

“Oh?” he breathes into your ear, bending his body to press his knee against your core again.

That, unfortunately, wins him another distressed gasp from you.

“Fuuuck,” he groans in response, momentarily forgetting that this was supposed to be your punishment and reminding you just how much of a depraved virgin he really was.

Which gives you an idea.

You close your eyes and softly grind yourself up against his thigh, all while pretending you didn’t want him to notice. It slightly backfires when you start feeling a little hot, your face slightly scrunching up in pleasure.

When you opened your eyes again, Shigaraki looked a little more disheveled than before.

His vindictive demeanor from seconds ago slightly softened.

“I thought you didn’t want to fuck me?” he throws you a playful grin and you snort.

“You call getting myself off on your leg ‘fucking’ you?”

Something dangerous sparked in his red, obsessive eyes, the moment those words left your mouth, sending a jolt through your spine all the way to your core and it made you swallow. Hard.

“Okay,” he resolves, pressing his forehead against yours and chuckling darkly.

“Huh?”

“Go ahead, get yourself off,” Shigaraki offers, putting more pressure against your heat.

You try moving away, glaring at him.

“You’re a fucking freak,” you finally conclude, despite the blush spreading on your cheeks, the growing warmth between your legs and your stupid little plan falling apart.

“What’s wrong? Thought you wanted to get off?” He leaned in looking smugly and his nose brushed yours, breath smelling like cigarettes and gin. You roll your eyes and he’s slightly disappointed that you don’t give him what he wants.

Your gaze falls onto his chapped lips for just a second, but even that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you want to kiss me instead?” he whispers tilting his head and his grin spreads.

“In your dreams,” you lie. “Now let go of me.”

“Why, I think you quite like this position.” He lowers his head to the junction between your neck and your shoulder, deeply inhaling your scent like a depraved pervert.

You wouldn’t understand the level of patience he was exerting with you. You probably thought he was incredibly cruel, but he was still holding back.

Burning with the desire to mark you, he let go of one of your arms and slid his hand all the way to your neck, spindly fingers wrapping around it, then squeezing experimentally.

“Why…do you act so—” he tightened his grip some more, making you struggle to breathe the words out, “fu—fuh—cked…up?”

The sight of you made his hard cock twitch in his pants.

“Because I want you,” he admits completely unapologetically, pressing his dry, cracked lips to the side of your neck and kissing it softly. The rough texture in contrast to the odd gentleness of the kiss made you shiver. “—and I’ve decided that I’m gonna have you.”

The audacity makes you burst into hysterical laughter, but he immediately cuts off your airway using the hand that still rested on your neck, making you gasp soundlessly.

“Is it that funny?” His teeth graze the sensitive skin on your neck. “Did you fuck Spinner?” Shigaraki growls at you suddenly and forgets you can’t breathe. Only when your body starts convulsing slightly from the tight grip, does he let up.

“Who?” you coughed.

“Don’t act stupid now,” he hisses, “The fucking nerd with long purple hair.”

“Oh, him?” You grinned angrily, taunting him, “That’s too bad, because it’s really none of your business.”

—was the wrong thing to say apparently, because he punches the bed with brutal force right next to your head, making you yelp.

“Fucking, ANSWER ME!” he screams and you flinch again.

“N-No, you asshole. I didn’t fuck any your friends, fuck.” you whisper submissively, feeling a familiar burn in your chest.

“Then why—!” he chokes, his face remaining partially hidden from behind his white hair, as you were staring at the ceiling with a fresh round of tears brimming in your eyes.

Shigaraki slowly sits up to look down at you and your gaze follows him as his whole body weight finally lifts from you. On your neck, he could see the faint red outline of his hand. His handprint.

His gaze hardens, going back to his stiff, unemotional self.

“It doesn’t matter,” he resolves in a tone so cold, it sends another chill down your spine.

“W-What do you mean?”

“I mean, that starting tonight you’ll become my bitch.” He pushes himself off of the bed, fixing his clothes and you couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. “You’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do, and if you don’t—” He smirked sadistically before he continued, “I’ll just destroy everything you’ve ever held dear.” Shigaraki says, patting down his arms and his clothes as if to dust your filthy presence off.

You lie motionless at first until the words finally register into your alcohol addled brain. Sitting up, your face contorts in anger and you go off.

“You’re absolutely fucking nuts if you think—”

A sharp crack echoed in the room and judging by the position of your head, you realize Shigaraki had hit you across the face. Hard.

You don’t hold back the violent sobs that escape you. It really fucking hurts.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” he growled, grabbing you by the roots of your hair and turning your head to him. His jaw was clenched tight. “You’re a pathetic, self-destructive, little, fucking whore,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “And you should’ve taken the chance to kill yourself right after I showed your cute little ass to everyone. But do you know what?” You felt the warmth of his breath brushing over your cheek.

“Now you belong to me. So go ahead and try blowing your brains out, because not only will I make true on everything I told you, but your precious little friend, your coworkers, your boss—even your fucking therapist will regret the day you were fucking born.”

“No…” your breath came out as shaky, and the following words that came out of his mouth completely shattered you.

“Just like your mommy did. That’s why she killed your brother and shot herself up with heroin until she fucking died too. Just like your brother always will, from under his cozy little grav–”

You remember a loud howl but you don’t remember how you landed in the middle of the street, shoes and your jacket long forgotten.

You don’t remember how long you’ve been walking for, or where you were right now.

You don’t remember, you can’t stop trembling or crying hysterically and you don’t know what to do.

You don’t know what to do.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

— NEW MESSAGES —

Psycho – i’m nice to my toys so i’ll look past your little tantrum this time [Sent 2:34 AM]

Psycho – you better show 2 class tmr otherwise i promise u really won’t like what will happen if you dont. [Sent 2:35 AM]

Psycho – sweet dreams :) [Sent 2:35 AM]

It was game over.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #emotional hurt/comfort #shigaraki tomura #unhealthy relationships #dead dove do not eat #trigger warnings #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #college au #reader is female #tomura shigaraki x reader

[punsmaster69]

19/JAN/20XX

playing horror games with undyne and alphys was a mistake. they can't figure out the puzzles, so they're just following the creature around and commenting on the size of its butt.

"it is a. creature."

"With an absolute DUMP TRUCK ASS dude!!"

"Sans, come look at this. It really does."

"one of us has to progress."

"Nonono it'll be fast, come-"

(sounds of undyne's character dying)

——

there was a bad thing in the distance and undyne chased after it. brought it back, got us all killed. the utter lack of self preservation skills may have not ended well for us, but it was funny.

——

continuing the trend of bad survival skills, undyne consistently charges into the dark because she 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 to see the jumpscares and creatures.

in case you were wondering, apparently none of them had the same "dump truck ass" the first one did.

——

[Slightly rushed handwriting.]

writing this through squinted sockets. after a nearly three hour match of cards, my eyes are strained enough to spread the pain around the rest of my head.

one can only die so many times in the same way before throwing in the towel, so we switched to cards.

it started off normal, but too many reverses combined with the loudest conversation i've had in a long time resulted in us not being sure who's turn it was even really supposed to be. had to pick an order at random.

"i've got the front lawn."

"What?"

" 's all green."

"DO NOT change it green, Alphy."

"do it."

"U-Um."

"do itt."

"I've ONLY got PISS cards PLEASE make it YELLOW!!"

"W-Well. Sans has all the green, and you have yellow."

"Which means I have b-basically neither of either color."

"Red."

"Damn it."

"draw your cards, undyne."

"I'm gonna end up with the whole deck at this rate!"

who owned more of the deck swapped around, mostly between me and undyne.

"that's it."

standing up from the floor.

"i win. i'm outta here."

dramatic bow.

"that's all for me, folks."

"Dang."

"good luck, you two."

i may have won, but second place was yet to be decided.

unfortunately, i wasn't sticking around long enough to find out who it'd be.

i'll probably hear about who it was later, probably via my phone blowing up with victorious calls and messages, or complete silence.

#undertale #journal #sans #undyne #alphys #alphyne #they are stupids :)

[vampcubus]

h-have you seen those shots where they splash water in ur face and then slap u on tiktok? 😳 y-yeah… that with modern!kyojuro.

You hop onto the bar’s edge in front of the blond stranger that had drunkenly introduced himself as Kyojuro. You were nursing a plastic cup of water you were still hyping yourself up to splash into his face.

Kyojuro had all but talked your ear off from the other side of the bar as you mixed drinks, but he went dead silent when he saw you deliver a mighty slap to a man to his right. When questioned, you sheepishly explained that it was a unique type of drink customers could order.

He hid his interest behind flirtatious banter until he mustered up the courage to ask for one of these “slapshots” himself.

Which brings you back to your current predicament.

You test your hand against his cheek, preparing for the blow. You couldn’t help but crumple under his honey-colored gaze. He was looking up at you like a golden retriever would, smiling widely and eyes all shiny like there wasn’t a thought behind them. Like he was just happy to be there.

“I can’t hit you when you look at me like that,” you whined, leaning forward with a hand on his shoulder to gather yourself.

“Like what?” he asks, brows creased in concern and your heart squeezes even more.

��Like a puppy! how am I supposed to slap you?” Another part of it might have been the fact that this man was devastatingly gorgeous, and the thought of marring such a pretty face caused you physical pain.

“I assure you I can handle it!” he shouts, arms crossed over his chest proudly. He draws your hand back against his hot cheek. When did the blush get there? “So please, give me your best!”

You put on a determined face and wind back your open palm. Kyojuro resists the urge to squint his eyes shut, though his body tenses up in anticipation.

“You have to drink the shot first, Kyojuro.” you remind him with a chuckle.

“O-oh, right! Shot first then slap- alright I got it!” he downs the shot without a problem, and you do your best to ignore the way his Adam's apple bobs with the motion, already pitifully attracted to this beautiful stranger's enthusiasm.

You’d likely never see him again after all, and that thought alone wills you to suck in a breath and continue.

You release your breath at the same time you splash the water in his face and strike him so hard across the face your hand stings after, a loud resounding slap filling the crowded bar.

The force of the blow jerks his head to the side but his cock throbs in his pants, a confusing mix of pleasure and pain washing over him. He stares open-mouthed at nothing for a moment until soft fingers under his chin draw his gaze back to yours. It's a gentle touch you wouldn't spare for other customers, but nothing about this interaction was professional anymore, so why not?

Your cool fingertips smooth over the red welt forming where you struck him, a glance downward confirming your suspicions that he was sporting quite the tent in his pants.

"Even with a welt like that, you're stunning. It's really not fair." You don't mean to say that out loud, but the shiver you receive and the fluttering of his dewy blond eyelashes make it oh-so worth it.

He’s looking up at you with a dark blush and half-lidded golden eyes, that ring of carmine bleeding further into his iris as his pupils dilate.

His reaction makes you curious. Makes you wonder how else you could make him squirm, what pretty noises and faces he would make. Maybe he’d even let you slap him around some more as you bounced on his-

“Another!” He exclaims, startling you as he slaps a bill onto the counter.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #i'm so normal about him i promise [lying] #i was debating whether or not i should post this one but you might as well have it 😳 #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #n/sfw #sub kyojuro #sub rengoku

[skymoral]

◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿

TEACHERS

Bi-Han x B!F Wife Reader W/ Children (Ep 1)

Summary: This episode of Mortal Kombat is called Teachers

Tags: Family & Fun

A/N: I will make a series out of this, and comic it into the OC! It helps with ideas and Bluey inspired, but I hope you ladies still like it 💅🏾

◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿

“Daddy are you sure you’re alright watching the girls by yourself. While I take the boys to see there cousins match.” You already had your coat and everything on, along with the boys.

Bi-Han and the girls were seeing them off at the entrance. “The fact you question my ability to watch my own children, offends me.” He said with a bit of agitation.

The Girls Giggled at him, “Aww my ice king, you know that’s not what I mean. It’s because my cousin was hoping you could watch your favorite little person. When my cuz come pick us up.”

“Who is the favorite person, you speak of?” As soon as those words left his mouth, a little girl came storming in. Arms wide and glasses almost falling off.

“BIHANNNNNNNNNNN!” She yelled jumping in his arms.

“Angelica!?”

“HOORAY! The girls cheered.

He put her down, she took a step back bowing to him formal. “It’s nice to see you again Grandmaster! COUSINS!”

The girls ran and hugged each other. Bi Han went his attention to you and your cousin quickly leaving before he can complain.

“Thank you babe, love u!”

“Thanks Bi-Han!”

You and your cousin yelled out to him before she drove off with her and the boys.

Bi-Han only sighed looking down at the girls, “So what is it my little princesses and student like to do.”

They smirked at each other, “TEACHERS!” They yelled in unison.

Bi-Han was trying to fight off so many demons, because denying them of any fun would cause havoc. Although he will not suffer alone.

◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿

*tap* *tap* *tap* *tap* *tap* *tap*

Angelica tapping the board with a ruler, “Attention students! I will be your teacher for today. My name is Ms. Um… uh… Ms. POPSICLE!” She said in an old lady voice, The girls laughed.

Angelica was dressed in oversized clothes and glasses with strings on it and hanging at her nose. Someone raised there hand.

“Yes um…” she looked and squinted at her clip board. “Mr. Vrbada”

“Do we have to call you that? May we just call you Ms. Angel-OW!” Angelica smacked his hand with a ruler.

“No! It’s Ms. Popsicle and you will refer me as such or you’ll be put in a timeout young man with your head down like your siblings, understand?”

“Yes Ms… popsicle.” He said quietly at the end. Kuai and Bi-Han snickering, trying hold in a laugh with there head down on the desks

“Good! Now who’s ready for gym class!?” Angelica shouted. The girls cheered, but the brothers and Lin Kuei had their resentment for it. Although they didn’t say anything.

The girls were really happy with there family was playing with them. It’s always fun when there father joins it. They were playing jump rope for gym, one of the Lin Kuei were reluctant.

Till they felt a coldness run down there spine, “You heard Miss Popsicle J U M P.” Bi-Han order him, giving him the tone of do it or else.

They did many school type activities, as it was getting close to there mother and brothers returning home.

There last activity was arts & crafts, which some of the Lin Kuei was enjoying. Along with the two brothers. “Are you enjoying yourself brother?” Kuai Liang asked sitting next Bi-Han.

“Define F U N Kuai Liang.” Bi-Han responded unhappily. Kuai Liang just smiled at his brother. Because despite his denial, he definitely is taking it seriously.

He didn’t know his brother had a skill in arts in crafts, as he made art folds of different animals.

“Attention students! As we conclude today’s class. I would like to announce that, EVERYONE HAS PASSED!” Angelica put her hands up happy, then Lin Kuei cheered. Mainly due to the fact it’ll be over.

“As a special graduation, these four girls made all of you a special piece.”

It was Bi-Han’s daughters that made cute little cards for the Lin Kuei attending the class. As well as her uncles and father.

They made a very special one together for there father. It was skillfully decorated and written, with a picture of the family, “Do you like it?” One of his daughters asked nervously.

“Of course I love it, thank you my daughters.” He hugged all four of them tightly.

“I actually have something for you four and your cousin. From what I learned in art and crafts.” Bi-Han showed them the little animal folds he’s made for them.

Which they really loved, and when the game finally ended he gave Angelica hers. She bounced from Joy and thought it was so cool and amazing.

“I’m sure my girls are hungry?” He asked them.

“Yes!”

He had the Lin Kuei prepare a meal, which they obeyed happily. They were a bit emotional from the cards they gave them. Each one was special.

◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿

“Bi-Han we’re back!” You shouted, you noticed it was very silent.

Making the boys go on full alert scouting the premise. Before giving their mother and cousin the okay.

“You hey cuz you hear that?” Your cousin asked, you stopped to listen. Then heard a tv on in the girls room.

All of you went towards the sound and peaked in the room. Your heart melt so hard, Bi-Han was sleep with all the girls cuddled around on the bed. Including Angelica in the pile, a lil snore coming from her mouth. They fell asleep watching a movie.

“You don’t mind if Angelica spent the night do you?”

“Girl please, call me when she’s ready to go home. Bye boo, by boys.” Your cousin whispered her farewells.

“I guess you boys are sleeping with mommy tonight. I may need protecting.” You smirked at them. As you all left them be and asleep, you guessed they must of had a very eventful day.

◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿◉●•◦◦•●◉✿✿

A/N: I really like doing the softer stories :>

Side Note: So an extra tidbit I still try to keep some of the characteristics and personality of the characters from MK1 or how I believe they are. Bi-Han is still a bit mean and attitude issues. With a superiority complex.

For me instead of making him evil he’s really like an anti-hero he’ll do what he sees fit, but he does care for his family and is gentle when it comes to them. If anyone questions how I write them :>

#mortal kombat #bi han sub zero #reader insert #fanfic #black fanfic writer #black family #tomas vrbada #kuai liang #lin kuei #family fanfic #family fun time #bi han loves his daughters #bi han and his children

[annoyingenthusiastperfection]

☆●○☆Summary:Miles (1610!) Milo (42!) Twins Au introduce themselved to a new neighbor.

Introduction

You open the door to see a pai of twins carrying tupper wear filled with food.

"I didnt order food panda I think your in the wrong door." The one who had barids face retorted. "Were not fast food drivers we're ya next door neighbor" The other nervously smiled. "Our Mom wanted us to welcome you to our building! We hope you like empanadas!" You nodded in respect "Thank you" taking the tupper wears they left immediately.

"They were kinda pretty " Miles said scartching his neck. "For you" Milo snarled as he rolled his eyes. "HEY!"

Body

You were in the park playing with your bubble gun that you bought for yourself. It was fun on how the bubbles look and pop or when they just stick to your finger. The raindbow that they sometimes make or the wobbly reflection you can see when u squint. Bubbles are so fun.

"Hey! What are you doing??" A weird suited man asked. "Why are you dressed like that?" You asked as you continue to shoot more bubbles." I am spiderman" His eyes thingy lowered. "Why?" He froze at that answer.

"What do you mean "why"?"

"It sounds weird and you dont really look like a spider"

And thats how you became friends with a bootleg sorry weird bettle thats suppose to be spider theme superhero. It wasnt really eventful just you explaining why you like bubbles so much. It reminded you of childhood , home ,and happy things.

"So why are you playing alone? I am sure your friends will love to have turn with your bubble gun!" Beetleman asked. "I dont have friends here" you layed down in the grass shooting bubbles in the air. The beetle man more than average eyemask thingy rose. "What do you mean?" "I moved here from somewhere faraway" you dropped your hand holding the bubble gun. "Well I can be your fr-" Before he can respond his spidersense heard the sound of police sirens. "SHIT I GOTTA GO" he swinged away without hesitation leaving you behind .

Shrugging at the beetle man you continue playing with bubbles happily alone.

When Miles little run in with robbers was finish he slapped his head. "SHIT I DIDNT GET HER NAME!" he swunged back to the park spot you were at but to see it empty. "Fuck she must have thought I was an asshole for leaving her ,here " Slapping his head again. Internally screaming at himself for being insensative he begrudgingly swinged himself back to his room.

"MILES GET UP MA FORCING US TO TALK TO THE HER AGAIN" Milo stormed himself in groaning. "Why is she so worried about a stranger" he rolled his eyes , Miles gave an awkward laugh. "I mean she kinda is lonely?" Milo rolled his eyes again. "Not our problem" "Dont be like , lo" "Whatever let's get this done already."

Hearing a knock from your door you lazily walked to it. "Hello , again " The braid one "tch" looking at you as Miles smacked him. "Sorry about this but we never got your name and our Mom just worried about you seemingly living alone?" You blinked at his response. "Oh , I didnt say my name? (Y/n) (l/n) and I am a international student but I do live with my older brother he just works alot." Miles seem relived at the information as Milo just wanted to leave. "Well I am Miles and this is Milo." Miles gestured to Milo to respond which he simply "sup" you.

"Sooooo our Mom wanted us to invite you over and your brother can come since your new and all-" Milo cutted him off. "Just come at 5 sharp dont be late" dragging Miles back to their home.

"Oi , Shobe who are they?" Your older brother shouted across the sofa. "They invited us dinner next door." Your brother perked up. "Finally YOU CAN MAKE FRIENDS" you glared at him throwing your slippers in his ugly face.

Ending

You and your brother mostly you holding out tupperware to give to the neighbors. Leche plan and egg pie.

A wonderful women opened the door her face brightening at them. "Oh WELCOME!You two were just in time!" She took the tupperwear of food. "MILES MILO COME DOWN HERE!!!" she shouted.

As everyone sat down for food . The tough man , next to the bright woman , miles next milo ,next to your brother ,and you after.

"So I am Rio and this my husband jeff" the bright woman introduced as your brother smiled. "I am Lucas this my shobe (y/n) and its amazing to meet you!" Your brother elbowed you "Salamat , po" you said. "We're immagrants sorry about Shobe she's shy" Lucas held your shoulders ,Rio waved her hand. "No dont apologize its not bad. It must have been hard leaving your home behind"

And for the entire dinner it was just Rio and lucas talking well Jeff came in conversation time to time but not word from any of the three teens.

"How about the two of you show (y/n) you guys room? " Jeff said to the twins. Miles nodded as Milo rolled his eyes but still agreed.

As the two led you to there room it was just an average teen boys room. "Your room is.... comfortable" You drop to sit on the floor. The duo looked confuse on what to say or do since you looked unintrested in anything and everything. "So why you moved here" Milo asked for once not beeing rude just wanting to cut the silence. "Scholarship " This perked the intrest on the boys sitting down on Miles bed across you. "From what school?" Miles asked. "Vision something" you played with ur hands. "That's cool we go there too!" Miles smiled and Milo looking impressed. "You must be smart to get a scholarship" Milo arm crossed. You simply nodded.

Milo was not impress with you but at the same he is. He doesnt like your somewhat ignorant attitude and his first impression was not the best but he can't deny. You look "cute" playing with your hands. You seem to not like eye contact much.

"Why does your brother call you Shobe? Its not even close to what your name sounds like." Milo said a hint of an attitude expecting you to react or something but nothing again. "It just means little sister nothing to it" Miles then asked "So what do you call your brother?" "Kuya" It kinda annoys them on how straightforward your answers where like just one word they just wanted to know a little bit more.

"(Y/n) do you like art?" Miles asked hoping for a longer reaction. "I do I like painting and I like musicals" You smiled softly. Jackpot. "Musicals? I was never really into dear even hansen or just chill to be honest" Milo shrugged. You perked up "Well have you tried Ride of cyclone or the aladin musical? Theyre my favorite" eyes sparkling so bright that they felt like beeing blinded. "How about the first one? We still have time..." Miles looked at the clock. Your eyes sparkled sparkled harder like what the fuck please stop your scaring them.

Lucas knocking at the door to see two boys crying as you look at them patheticly. "It's not that bad-" "THE STUPID DOLL'S SONG HITS HARD FOR WHAT?!"Milo wiped his snot. "OCEAN CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT WAS MWAH" Miles sobbed.

"Shobe" Lucas called you , smilling. "Kauban nimo sila ?" You nodded to him as you took your phone and stood up to leave. "We'l watch Aladin the musical next its more into comedy dont worry."

Hey , I kinda just wanted to make this cause its 10 pm and whatever and want like a slowburn friendship type I kinda know its mid and (y/n) isnt eccentric and full of personality but I kinda wanted to show a version which I dont see often is a (y/n) who just seems emotionaly distant with themselves cause that is alot of teen exp and kinda wanted to make sense with her moving from another country. Also I kinda wanted to represent chinese-filipino since I dont really see it often. "Shobe" is from fukien/hokkien. Also hokkien is popular in other countries such as singapore. Srry this is stupid long just wanted to explain.

#miles morales twins au #miles 1610 #miles 42 #miles morales x reader #friendship #fluff

[bejeweledraven]

snow on the beach

and it's like snow at the beach weird but fucking beautiful flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful you wanting me tonight feels impossible

kylo ren with a s/o

parring: kylo ren x gn!reader 

genre: fluff, slight angst if u squint 

warnings: very brief mention of injuries (no graphic descriptions)

requested?: yes

request: anon: I’d like to see how Kylo Ren would treat his s/o. Do you think he’d be soft to you? Or he just as cold as he fronts? 

song prompt: snow on the beach by taylor swift feat. lana del rey

word count: 767 

(i could definitely work something out for either part 2 or expand it into an actual fic so let me know if it’s something you’d want to see :))

first of all, I think that there would be two sides when it comes to kylo and his s/o

there would be the public side, the one he shows in front of everyone, especially around the first order  

and the one that only very few people, including you, get to see

he definitely works hard to upkeep his tough image, he wants to appear strong and intimidating 

but that takes a great toll on a person, especially one under as much pressure as him 

so only behind closed doors, you can really see how much that weighs on him 

so in public, i feel like he would be very restrained, especially at first 

definitely a lot of stolen glances (mostly on his part, the mask makes it pretty easy, but even with that i think he would sometimes forget people can see him turn his head)

and he would also definitely forget he’s not wearing a mask sometimes and full-on stare, which you would endearing, he would find embarrassing, and hux would find straight-up repulsive (”oh get it together ren” with his classic disgusted hux frown)

the public relationship with kylo is very much based on subtlety, he won't hold your hand, but he will definitely ‘accidentally’ touch your hand on numerous occasions 

he most definitely has a soft spot for you, i think the first one of his love languages you get to know is gifts 

little gestures that mean so much 

a book you were talking about? on your nightstand the next day 

a childhood favorite food you casually mentioned? suddenly available in the dining hall 

and he would never admit to any of it, but you know it was him 

another thing he would never do is admit how happy it makes him,when you appreciate all he does 

admitting his feelings is not his strongest suit 

working through that took some time 

like most things in a relationship with him 

another love language of his is words of affirmation 

but you don't realize it at first (neither does he i feel like)

it takes time for you to see how happy it makes him to hear how much you care about him 

and him saying it back for the first time definitely felt really special 

he admitted how much he cares about you after he almost died, trying to take down of resistance’s bases 

and were really upset with how careless he was 

you were cleaning his wounds in silence, because of course he didn't let anyone else touch him 

you were focused on cleaning a deep cut on his cheekbone, him sitting down and you standing, leaning in 

you felt him shift in his seat uncomfortably when you pressed the gauze against the wound 

“stop moving.” was all you could get out, even though still upset with him  you felt bad hurting him 

 the silence after that didn't last long, this time interrupted by him 

“i'm sorry.” was all he said

“it’s fine, i’ll try to be more gentle”

“that’s not what i meant. i'm sorry that you had to worry about me.” 

it made u stop dead in your tracks, and you lowered your hand from his face, looking at him, unsure of what to say

and although it might have seemed like an odd way to say that he cares about you, you knew how much it mattered 

it was the first time you felt like he was breaking through his cold and guarded attitude like he was letting down his defenses 

for you. 

it was a start for a long and sometimes difficult process of him opening-up

there are definitely moments when it feels like he's going back to his old habits of bottling up and distancing himself from you 

and it's definitely a challenge to find the balance between giving him space and getting him to open up 

it’s hard work for both of you, but it’s so worth it in the end 

i definitely see it as a “you fall first, he falls harder” trope 

his also very protective 

it takes as much as someone looking at you the wrong way 

but god forbid someone actually hurts you 

he will do anything to keep one of the very few good things in his life safe 

overall, i think he still pretty much keeps to himself in public, especially with the first order around 

but behind closed doors, he tries to open up more 

and although it takes time, you can see the change slowly happening 

let’s just say usually a lot of good things happen behind closed doors. 

#kylo ren x reader #star wars x reader #star wars headcanon #ben solo x reader #the force awakens #the last jedi #x reader #reader insert #star wars reader insert