#like any sane person would be like okay if were having problems now maybe we shouldn’t live together but for me it was like at least I know

[gyuswhore]

joking (not really) but if u can ... a fluffly hao drabble and it's just rly domestic idk?! maybe something w cats and early mornings IDK. i'm crazy i just need him sorry

I LOVED WRITING THIS SM EKFJEJREJKRF

masterlist

Minghao brought Fish home with the notion that this cat would become the light of his life (after you, maybe). But this Scottish Fold's personality would destine another kind of raging emotion.

Fish instead became the bane of Minghao's existence.

When he would buy the most expensive cat toys, climbing walls, collars, and food, all he would get was a private showing of his tail in the air. But when you'd throw a piece of chicken from your own plate, it was all Fish wanted to indulge in.

He doesn't understand where the hatred stems from, losing visions of calm sit-downs with you and your furbaby in between. Reality kicks him with scratches on his hands and knuckles, his presence on your other side where your cat wouldn't need to perceive him.

"Hao, he doesn't hate you" you reason with a particularly fussy Minghao. He's not having it though.

"Any sane person that sees me interact with that demon knows there's a rift in this house. You're just too preoccupied with his...his ass-kissery to notice!"

It takes a moment for you to collect the bubbling giggles in your chest. He was genuinely upset.

"But he's like this with every person, you know he's picky with his people" you try again, even moving forward to put your chin on his shoulder as he leaned against the headboard.

"I'm his father!" he says in a louder voice. "I brought him here and he does all this like I'm— speak of the devil"

Fish has poked the door open with his head to enter your room, bounding up to the bed to curl up on your lap.

"Okay, let's talk about this in the morning, hm? You're tired right now and this is just heating you up even more. Maybe we can get a pet therapist or something to work on your father-son relationship." The snort leaves you before you can stop it, to which Minghao can only roll his eyes.

You watch as he slithers down into bed properly, turning away from you to fall asleep. Moving Fish off your lap, you stroke your boyfriend's hair, leaving a couple kisses on his temple before moving to your side of the bed. He doesn't respond.

Minghao wakes up the next morning to Fish having taken his place, cuddled by your side sound asleep.

As much of an issue he has with your cat, he can't help but admire the scene in front of him, both of you calm as ever. Fish suddenly looks adorable to him, taken back to the day at the shelter when he'd found him as a kitten.

The owners told him he was a shy baby, more reserved than his brothers and sisters of the same litter. Hao thought it was a match made in heaven, the love pouring the second he laid eyes on him, knowing you'd love him just the same.

It wasn't until the cat's apparent disdain for him that the problems began to sprout, appearing to grow colder as he grew instead of the usual playful personality of growing cats.

His huffing and puffing from last night suddenly felt childish, thinking back to your suggestion to find someone who could help with his apprehension towards him.

Hao wonders if he may be the problem.

But right now, as he scooches to your side of the bed, where he belongs, and envelopes the both of you in his arms, he cuddles and kisses to his heart's content knowing neither of you were about to stop him.

#svt #svt fluff #svt angst #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fics #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fics #seventeen masterlists #minghao #minghao fluff #minghao angst #minghao scenarios #minghao imagines #minghao x reader #minghao fic #minghao masterlist #the8 #the8 fluff #the8 angst #the8 imagines #em.writes #em.mika

[cookies-over-yonder]

seven minutes in hell

Normal and Taylor won't stop arguing, so Scary does what any sane person would do, and shoves them into a closet.

gift for @officialgleamstar and @llumimoon :3c

ao3

“I’m gonna go pick up the pizza.”

Taylor grabs his cane and gets up from the couch.

Normal isn’t all that hungry, and besides, the vegan pizza options mostly suck anyway, so he let everyone else order whatever they wanted.

Link gets up too. “I’ll come with.”

And Link is going with him. Of course. Normal scoffs.

“What was that?” Taylor asks, with a slight edge to his voice.

“Oh, nothing, I just figured you two were going off alone again. Ignore me,” Normal cuts back with the wave of his hand.

“What’s your problem, Normal?” Taylor steps closer, and rather than glaring back, Normal locks his gaze on Taylor’s dangling and sparkly heart earring, scarlet like the streaks in his hair.

“I don’t have a problem,” Normal mumbles.

“ Yes , you do,” Taylor lifts an arm to point an accusatory finger, and the movement makes the earring sway backward and forward. Normal didn’t initially know Taylor to wear flashy accessories, but it seems like the survivalism paired with mandatory camouflage has worn off a little. “You’re always weird with me.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that everybody loves you even though they hate me!”

“Huh?”

Taylor’s eyeshadow matches his earrings too, scarlet and sparkling. Normal thinks he’s only started wearing eyeshadow recently, though he’s worn the same black cat-eye eyeliner for as long as Normal can remember.

“Just…”

Well. Now he’s looking into Taylor’s eyes.

And they’re confused.

And Normal can feel the explanation bubbling up and his filter fails him, but maybe that’s fine. Maybe everyone will see his side.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Normal stands up to reach a level playing ground with Taylor. “You’re not taunted. You’re not shunned. You’re not bullied. You’re not ignored. Everyone loves you even though you’re just as annoying as me! ” Normal sucks in a breath. “No. Even more. You’re even more annoying than me. You’re so full of yourself even though you’re a loser too, and I can’t wrap my head around why everyone likes you when they can’t like me.”

Normal huffs, cheeks hot.

Taylor stares back, eyes glassy.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?” Taylor’s voice remains strong as ever despite the tears in his eyes. “If you hate me so much, then why are we even here? It’s not my fault that you’re just a jealous bitch! We’re getting the fucking food!”

He grabs Link by the arm and starts marching toward the door.

“ Hey. ”

A sharp voice cuts through the tension in the air like a knife.

Scary.

The look in her eyes means business, and Normal feels he can’t say a word.

“ What. ”

Ah, leave it to Taylor to fill the silence.

“You two,” she grabs Taylor and Normal each by the wrists. Taylor yelps and she whispers a quick apology before dragging the both of them down the hallway.

Next thing Normal knows, he’s thrown into a closet with Taylor.

“Don’t come out until you’ve figured out your shit!” Scary shouts from outside the door.

“Scary, are you sure—”

“This is their fucking problem, Link, and they’re going to fix it. I’m sick of it.”

“Okay, okay.”

Normal hears Scary grumble something about pizza, and then two sets of footsteps trailing away.

“Is she serious?” Normal huffs, staring at the closet door. It’s not like it has a lock.

“Are you serious?” Taylor snaps, and Normal locks eyes with his, and suddenly he can’t pull away.

The strand of jet black hair that lands just over his left eye is backlit.

“Your eyes are glowing,” Normal breathes out despite himself.

“Dude.”

“Right.”

“You know you don’t know everything, right?” Taylor asks, voice a lot softer than before. Shakier too.

Fuck.

It finally sets in.

Normal barely processed what he was saying in the moment, and now, well.

He thinks he might be sick.

“Look, Taylor, I’m sorr—”

“Stop. Just stop. You apologize every time I make you pissed. I get it.”

“It’s not—”

“And I also get that your jealousy is why you keep projecting everything you hate about yourself onto me.”

Taylor clears his throat.

Normal swallows.

“Honestly, I don’t get why you hate yourself so much. You’re not a loser. You’re on the fucking cheerleading team. I think I’d collapse and die if I tried doing one of those routines,” Taylor swipes a hand through his hair.

“You wouldn’t die.”

“Let’s not test that theory.”

“Right.”

“Also, not everyone hates you. There’s at least us, your friends,” Taylor says, with his hand landing on Normal’s shoulder, sending shivers down his spine.

“You don’t hate me after I said all that stuff to you?” he asks, shutting his eyes.

“Do you hate me for calling you a jealous bitch?”

“No. I deserved it.”

“That’s another thing I don’t get.”

“Huh?”

Normal looks back up at Taylor’s glowing eyes, startlingly sincere.

“You said everyone loves me. That’s not true.”

“Really?”

He nods.

“You wanna know why I took up martial arts?”

“Why?”

“To defend myself.”

“Well, yeah—”

“Against bullies .”

“Oh.”

“I have haters too. They just can’t handle T. Swift. But that’s their problem. And the same thing goes for you,” Taylor moves his hand from Normal’s shoulder to press a finger to his chest, and Normal sucks in a breath. His long, claw-like nails are painted with a red to match the rest of his look. “It’s their problem. Not yours.”

All Normal can do is nod.

“And I’m sorry too. For excluding you, I mean.”

“No, that’s—I was just reading into it.”

“Well, either way, you’re always welcome to join in.”

“Thanks, Taylor.”

“No problem, Normie.”

The nickname makes his stomach flutter a little.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re a pretty cool dude,” he adds.

“I think you’re cool too.”

Next thing Normal knows, Taylor’s wrapping him up in a tight hug, one where he’d usually suspect Taylor’s knowledge of pressure points to come into play, but this isn’t an attack.

Still, he can feel his heart thudding.

And Taylor smells nice. Like flowers. That’s the last thing he’d expect.

After a few seconds, he pulls away, though hesitantly.

“When did you start wearing eyeshadow?” Normal asks. Though it’s dark, he can still see the contrast of red against his olive skin.

“Oh, like, a few weeks ago? You like it?”

“It’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” Taylor bites his lip.

Cherry red lipstick.

He really did coordinate well.

“... heaven.”

Taylor was saying something.

Fuck.

He got distracted.

“What was that?” Normal asks, eyes still on Taylor’s lips. Despite the dark closet, it’s a red so bright. Pretty colour.

“I said it’s funny how Scary sent us into seven minutes in heaven.”

“Pfft, more like seven minutes in hell,” Normal replies, though the thought of that game is enough to tear his gaze away and bring it back to Taylor’s eyes.

“Oh, what, ‘cause I’m a demon?”

“Mhm!”

“You write fanfiction, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You ever written a seven minutes in heaven fic?”

“It’s kinda hard to fit two mascots into a closet.”

“I’d say that makes it even steamier.”

“Taylor!”

Taylor giggles, and man, it’s insufferably cute. Whatever. Taylor’s always been cute, and Normal’s sure everyone knows it.

“I’m just saying! It’s a fun trope. I’ve written it.”

“I knew you were a fanfic writer!”

“How did you?”

“Author recognizes author, I suppose.”

Taylor bites his lip again, grinning like mad.

“What are you smiling about?”

“I don’t know, I missed you.”

“Missed me?”

“Like…” Taylor grabs Normal’s hand and holds their interlocked grasp between their chests. “We were never super close, but we used to actually talk. I don’t know how the fighting started, but can we make a truce or something? Like is it over?”

God.

Taylor is so sweet.

He might be one of the most loyal people Normal knows.

“Yeah. It’s over,” Normal smiles back at him.

“I guess Scary was right, all we needed was a makeout session to solve our problems.”

“ What? ”

“Because it’s seven minutes in heaven.”

“It’s not.”

“Well, my fics often start with bickering too,” Taylor smirks.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“I’m telling you about my writing habits,” Taylor says, leaning in closer. He’s definitely trying to fluster Normal with his fluttering eyelids and glittering blush and cherry red lips that have some sort of magnetic pull luring him in.

And it’s working.

“This is seven minutes in hell.”

“Oh please,” Taylor leans away, and starts pushing the door open, “you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupi—”

Normal is the type to get what he wants.

Normal is the type to follow his heart.

He’s impulsive.

And yes, that impulse has led to danger.

And yes, that impulse has led to hurt feelings.

That impulse may be why some hate him.

Chasing his desires may be why some hate him.

His desires themselves may be why some hate him.

But that’s their problem.

Because right now, he finds himself lip-locked in the closet with Taylor Swift, hands on his cheeks.

And Taylor’s hands make purchase on the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

When they part for air, Taylor gasps, looking back at Normal dazed, before his eyes float back to his lips. And he leans in again, but before he can close the gap—

“It made you look pretty stupid too.”

“Yeah,” Taylor breathes out, before pulling him back in.

Kissing Taylor is like having your soul sucked out of you and replaced with lava. The desperation and craving that he exhibits makes Normal wonder how long he’d been wanting.

And Normal doesn’t know when, but Taylor pins him against the closet wall, breathing heavy before taking more of Normal’s air.

And Taylor’s tail coils around Normal’s wrist and pulls, like it’ll never let go again.

An involuntary whine escapes Normal’s throat, and Taylor freezes before backing away.

Normal misses the heat of his lips immediately.

“You okay?” Taylor asks, breathless, licking lipstick off his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, I… I… holy shit …”

Taylor nods and his head dips down. His cheeks are flushed bright red and Normal can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Hey, are you okay? You’re really warm,” Normal says, holding him steady by the arm.

“‘M good. Just need something to drink.”

“Okay, I just don’t want you to pass out or anything.”

“Still would’a been worth it.”

And almost as if on cue, the voice of Scary rings through the hall:

“We got pizza and drinks! You guys done yet?”

“I’d still say this was seven minutes in hell,” Normal whispers, “because you ,” he presses a finger against Taylor’s chest, “are an insatiable demon.”

Taylor looks back with a mischievous glint in his eye and a fangy grin on his face.

(*˘︶˘*).｡*♡✧*(◍•ᴗ•◍)✧

#tayloak #dndads #fic #cookies writes and cookies wrongs #cookies fix #dungeons and daddies #taylor swift dndads #normal oak #angst #fluff #seven minutes in heaven

[majaloveschris]

I don’t keep coming back you dumbasses, I am just not chronically online and have a life outside this “digging thru strangers lives” that you do, and I follow you only because I enjoy your derangement and how you and your followers think that you are in the right or sane

And Christmas was just another day for me because not everyone celebrates Christmas or is Christian

The fact that you think that just because you don’t want to sleep with him makes any of the psychotic shit that you do “okay” is hilarious honestly

The drama doesn’t just exist you psychotic shits you are creating the drama, you think if you were famous and someone literally combed thru your pathetic lives they wouldn’t find shut that you would be demonised for? You think you are so perfect?

Being on tue internet has made you loose touch with reality

Also You are literally the rabid deranged fans anon was talking about

And Chris evans is a bad person and he very much deserves all the hate he is getting now.

Also anon it’s funny that you think that only one person has a problem with the insanity that happens on gossip blogs, believe me there are groups about it lmao

Sorry, but if you follow someone you despise this much and you get this angry at me because I have an opinion, I don't think you're okay. You only make yourself angry, because if you think your words have any affect on me, you're wrong. I answer this question, and then I go on with my day without thinking about it. I could block you, but if you're such a big fan of us, why keep you away from your entertainment?

The drama does exist; maybe visit Twitter or read a few Instagram comments.

I also don't really understand why you are here; if you don't like Chris, I think my name says it all. I guess you like making problems for yourself.

You say we lost touch with reality, but you're the person who talks on the internet like this, so...

We all know you aren't the only one who has problems with people who believe in PR, but at least they don't come here and talk to people like this. 

#cevans-love #majaloveschris

[sadieshavingsex]

purity culture is so funny

because of the way it makes literally everything about sex. It's like a flowchart where the answer to every single query returns sex.

What is good? Sex. What is bad? Sex. What is a natural human function? Sex. What needs to be controlled at all costs? Sex. What would make me happier than anything? Sex. What is ruining things in my life? Sex.

I only really noticed the power of this conceptualization when I started to actually experience sex. Turns out that avoiding it is just the tip of the iceberg. When you start having it after swearing it off for so long... that's where things really get interesting.

I've realized that, for me, while sex can trigger my anxiety, it also works the opposite way, with my anxiety often pivoting any nervous thought toward sex for seemingly no reason. As a result, sex begins to infiltrate all kinds of serious conversations where it might not even actually be relevant. Read on for some thoughts on the ways anxiety and sex influence each other in an exvangelical life.

ps: to be perfectly honest, I'm no expert and I'm not a therapist. I write these mostly to keep myself sane, so please take my musings with a grain of salt.

Let's start with the obvious. When I first got into a sexual relationship, there was the classic thought loop: I'm anxious or something is going wrong in the relationship. The only difference between now and the past is that I'm having sex. Therefore, the sex must be the underlying problem. Even if I can't pinpoint how sex is related to the actual anxiety or the relational issue occurring, it's definitely the variable that has changed, and it's causing the problem.

This kind of thinking is so funny because of course it reinforces and heightens the anxiety around sex that is already present in purity culture. There's an obvious neural pathway being worn here. Sex is understood as something exceptionally special and unique, never before experienced, a total gamechanger that already makes a person nervous, and that game changer begins to get perceived in an increasingly negative way. A person starts to think things like, "If I'm anxious about sex, it must be worth being anxious about. The things I was taught were true. Sex is extremely important. It has a hold over me and makes me act in irrational ways that I don't understand. It is also obviously very frightening and negative if not experienced in exactly the right way. Maybe I am doing it wrong. Maybe I am not ready for this huge responsibility." And on and on. Not only does purity culture accomplish the heightening of anxiety around having sex, but it also very easily creates a link between anxiety and sex; rather than just "I get anxious about sex," there becomes an association where "If I am anxious at all, it must be about sex" and "If I am having sex, it must make me anxious."

This ever-strengthening link between anxiety and sex, along with the purity culture messaging that sex is the most important "gift" a person can give their partner, created for me another difficult thought pattern: Whenever I got into a serious argument with my partner, no matter what the discussion was actually about, I would find myself sooner or later resorting to the same core thought. "I love them, but we should probably stop having sex. I'm giving them everything! Sex is the biggest thing I have to give. It's the most committed I can get. Am I really okay with allowing myself to have sex with a person who _________?"

The actual argument was often about commitment levels and working through barriers to a long term relationship. It might have been about one of us not being able to effectively communicate or meet the other's needs, or it might be about some more specific tiff that we were having at the moment. Nonetheless, the content of the actual argument never felt like the constant. In my own mind, the constant was that we were having sex, the most sacred thing that could not be performed without the utmost commitment or the promise of forever. My own narrative about the situation, no matter what it was, eventually devolved not into "I am frustrated with them because _________" or "I really wish we could change ___________." The narrative I spoke to myself was inherently about sex and the idea that, by having sex, I was giving up too much of myself and committing to this person in too large a way before I should have. The ultimate implication was that I could put up with whatever frustrated me if I thought of myself as a friend or a lover or even a roommate, but I could not tolerate that behavior as a sex partner, because having sex was the most committed we could ever possibly be. It was the most intimate act and I could not believe that I would ever let a normal partner access it with me. I had to save it for someone I was more compatible with or more committed to. I couldn't conceptualize sex as simply a part of most adult relationships; I always devolved into the purity culture attitude that I had to withhold sex until a point of greater commitment.

Oftentimes, the arguments and anxieties were about commitment, but they simply became arguments and anxieties about sex. Sex was synonymous with commitment to me. It was the symbol of the greatest commitment, not something I could do with simply "a loving and committed partner." I had to stop having sex with them because they should be "THE MOST loving and committed partner I WOULD EVER HAVE," or at least believe that future was a possibility. When I got upset about our struggles to commit to each other in other ways, I just transferred that anxiety to stressing about sex and thinking that, by having it, I was "committing too much." I was not working on our actual problems or how to fix them. I was just affirming my own anxieties around sex, repeating the purity culture idea of "the one" back to myself under the guise of "keeping my independence" or "having some self respect and not committing so much."

The ultimate problem with all of these compounding purity culture reinforcers, I think, is that when I step back, I truly believe sex to be the most intimate and committed thing a person can do with me. That's just not the truth, and it's honestly kind of sad to think that I believe this lie.

I love music. I love art. I'm an intellectual person. I enjoy telling stories. I care about educating others on causes that interest and move me. Hell, one of the things I'm passionate about is showing others that beauty standards are silly. There is so much more to me than my body, and I would rather bond with someone over most anything else. The fact that I am so anxious and hold my body in such a high regard, the fact that I sometimes feel fearfully compelled to seek out someone who, over everything, is sexually compatible with me (read: is just as traumatized as me so we don't do anything until marriage), feels so unfair and odd. It simply shouldn't be the case.

I long for a life where I bond with someone over things that are most important to me - fun inside jokes, interesting books, good food, activism, the arts - without the entire relationship crumbling under the weight of my fear of sex. This recurring situation feels like such an unfair predicament.

If I could have a life do-over and be raised in a secular household, my assumption is that I'd be a sex positive person who wanted to have a deep relationship with my partner in so many other, more important ways. I think I would enjoy sex only with people I really deeply loved, but I wouldn't care too much about it. I wouldn't assign so much value to this physical pleasure and connection. I could take it or leave it, but it wouldn't control my life and my view of relationships. As it is now, it feels like the grooves are worn very deep, and I have a very long way to go until anything even remotely like that vision comes true.

#purity culture #christian purity culture #sexually repressed #mine #I really like this little thing #religious trauma #exvangelical #I don't know if this even makes sense at this point #I kind of just write these to try to intellectualize my problems and puzzle out a way to feel okay #lol #ex fundie #ex christian #ex fundamentalist

[eishtmo]

Why Your Inventory Sucked Part 3

I may complain a lot, but I actually did like my job. And I was pretty damn good at it. I wasn't an ace, super counter, or the greatest supervisor ever, but I was good enough people noticed. Most liked when I was running the crew, or at least seemed to. And I was valued as a counter and a driver. Hell, I knew the software and hardware we used well enough that I was often called on to help find ways around a problem.

I could easily have stayed there for, well, maybe the rest of my life. It wasn't to be. It really just came down to stress. I don't think I made clear earlier how many hours I was working, but there were days when I would leave the house at 2 am, get home at 7 pm and have to go to bed almost immediately to do it again the next day. And this went on for literal years.

I was cooked. Burnt out, fried. I was making more mistakes and feeling more overwhelmed. I tried to get time off, like 2 days in a row time off, and they wouldn't let me. Once I finally gave out, well, it was with rage. I felt bad for my coworkers I left behind because they would work that much harder to make up for me leaving.

It took a month to catch up on my sleep, and now, almost 2 years later, I look back on it and wonder how I manged to do it all and stay sane. The answer, of course, was I couldn't.

PART 3: The Store

Of all the forces that effected an inventory, the store itself was the biggest and most unknown factor. Often I didn't know what was walking into until I walked into it. Oh yes, there are ways to know, pre-inventory calls and visits were a thing, and they were annoying, but they weren't required, or even necessary in some cases.

Still, the store itself is just another work place, it's the people inside that was where the problems came from. And of course I'm not talking about the the workers, I'm talking about the managers.

The main part of my job was to communicate with the managers and let them know what was going on, how we were doing and resolve any issues that came up. In a good store, it was rare that there was an issue and they'd just let me do my job. Sometimes there were issues, they were minor and easily resolved.

Then there are the nitpickers. So many managers wanted things done in particular ways, ways that aren't called for in my instructions or by company policy. I'd try to explain the limits of what could be done, and I could get them to back off, sometimes. Other times. . .

A picky manager is one that can ruin a good working environment. Maybe they want the counters to be neater, maybe they don't like how one of the counters is doing their job, and sometimes they scream about "every dollar" counting. Yes, every dollar counts, but if one dollar is going to make or break your inventory, you've got a lot more problems than my crew.

Getting them to back off is hard and sometimes the only option is to let them have their way, and they still won't be happy.

I hadn't done a Sephora beauty store as a standalone store before, but I was pretty confident I could handle it. When I arrived the store manager had marked out the sections of the store to be counted. Not tagged, that's my job, but broke the store into color coded sections and we were expected to count the store by these sections. Okay, no big deal, it's generally what I would be doing anyway.

So I didn't have a full crew from my office. I had a few people, but the majority had to come from another office. I do not know most of these people, but the way the store is setting up to go, that shouldn't be a big deal. It's all AQ-1, so they'll all go about the same speed. That said, each 4 foot section of makeup has multiple tags, and it's usually not a good idea to squeeze more than one person in each one, even with multiple tags.

So things get started and they seem to be going well. Then one of the counters from the other office finishes his tag, looks at the tags in the area where we're working and comes to the reasonable conclusion that he can't get in there. So he moves to the next section.

The manager and store staff don't like this. Their color coded section isn't done yet, and we can't move on to the next one. NOW, had they come to me about this, I likely could have calmed them down by pointing out that there was no room and we were about to move to the next color section as a group anyway and by the time he's done with the tag, we probably would be.

Of course they didn't. They confronted the counter first. And apparently he's the kind of person that when faced with confrontation, he responds with confrontation. Suddenly there's a yelling match. I'm caught completely off guard, no idea this is even happening as I'm doing other stuff.

The next thing I know, the store manager is demanding this counter be removed from the count. So I try to figure out what the hell just happened, look for a way to back down and can't find one, and finally I'm forced to remove him from the store. Which annoys the driver of the van, who promptly, in the MIDDLE of the store, calls THEIR boss to complain, who now calls me.

So now the guest crew is all pissed off, the store manager is still pissed, I'm pissed because I just got blindsided by this mess AND have to deal with the other crew's boss who's trying to tell me "we don't do that" when, no, YOU don't do that, WE do.

There's a couple places to leave notes at the end of the inventory. One is very small, the other is quite large. I told whoever is filling out the survey at the end that the box is for high praise or high damnation. Guess which one this store manager used? I never read it, it's something I learned to not do after doing this job after many years, it would just make me angry.

Audits are the main way that we can keep tabs on how the counters are doing. One might think audits are about finding mistakes, and most store staff does think that. But that's not actually the point of doing audits.

The thing is that counters make mistakes. We are human after all, miscounts, miss scans, and even missed shelves happen. The point of audits is to find out if counters aren't doing their jobs. Are they scanning one item on a shelf and counting everything? Maybe they are just inputing random numbers into the scanner? Perhaps they keyed in the item numbers for a bunch of molding in a hardware store, but they keyed it wrong so instead of 100 pieces of molding, the counted 100 saw blades? Yes, that happened. Scan first, key only as a last resort.

But store staff when they get to auditing doesn't quite understand that. They see a mistake and then they start looking for more. They're going to make the count perfect, damn it. Well, they can try anyway. The thing is there's always required amount of audits that need to be done. Sometimes it's a set list of generated tags, sometimes it's a percentage of the tags, and maybe only a percentage of each of those tags. Keeping them on task is a great amount of what I do running an inventory.

Auditors make mistake too. Sometimes the very mistakes they're supposed to be hunting for, they make. At a Pink store (it's branch of Victoria's Secret, just more clothes and less panties), my counter did a rail of dresses on the wall, and scanned each of the 16 pieces there just like they were supposed to. The auditor, however, grabbed the first dress and scanned it 16 times. It was obvious, so I had to reject the audit and bring the audit crew back so I could remind them what to do.

Often though, the auditors try to fix the entire tag. Thing is, that never works out. It took my counter 15 minutes to count that section, but it'll take an auditor an hour to go through the entire section. In the meantime that counter has done at least 4 more tags, and if the audit is excessively bad, which the auditor will claim even if it's not true, then the other tags will have to be audited, or if they have to be removed then those tags all have to be recounted! It's why only a percentage of the tag needs to be audited, because if it's bad, we can see it pretty quickly. If it's just not good, then we can coach and move on.

Sometimes a store thinks it can save the inventory if they just audit a few more tags. . .

I was in a franchise gas station which has it's own quirks. The main one being that the parent company pays for the inventory, and however much the store is short, the franchisee has to pay. In cash. So they're pretty sensitive to large shrinks.

I didn't have a great crew, kind of mediocre honestly, but I made point of doing the more sensitive stuff, mostly the cooler. Well low and behold, the inventory comes up something like $11k short, which for a gas station is stupidly high. So the store manager (who is not the franchisee, the franchisee was never in the store) grabs the audit tablet to see if he can find the missing money.

In the candy section.

Unless my counter missed the ENTIRE candy section, there's no way that money is there. And yes, mistakes were going to be found, my counters aren't super great. So congrats you found about 100 bucks worth of missing candy. Now, where do we look for the other $10,900 dollars?

After talking the manager down, we look at things a bit more clearly and figure it out. About a week earlier, someone walked in the door of the store, walked behind the register and grabbed two full BOXES of cigarettes. Not cartons, BOXES, you know, holding like 25 plus cartons. Well, there's your problem. Still he thinks the counters were bad and the inventory is bad. Not that it matters, the next time I do the store, the franchisee is selling back to the parent company.

So there was going to be another section here, but this is getting long and I will be talking EXTENSIVELY about the next section, so I'll leave it at this for the time being.

Next time: The real reason your inventory sucked.

#wis #rgis #inventory #work complaining

[marveladewithice-blog]

(bro im just gonna copy and paste whatever i wrote like three months ago here and not proofread it soooo yeah thats for context)

havent drawn these two in a hot minute, so here they areeee for those who want to know but dont, these are my dudes i created a while back named craig and josh (craig on the left, josh the right). i made this whole story where josh worked as an assistant at a news place or sumth like that and he wanted to become an actual writer (cause it was his dream since middle school) but he was stuck at the assistant role and this frustrated him greatly but anyways one day his siblings are like "hey dude lets go camping to get your mind off your failing career" and he's like "rude way to put it but whatever" but get this okay he doesn't even want to go camping with his family, he just wants to run off and try to find a big story somewhere in the woods to pitch and hopefully be promoted because of it (which prolly isn't accurate to how that actually works, I'd have to do actual research but thats kind of the gist of it). anyways he runs off claiming to be "looking for firewood" which was a lie, cause his only intentions were to find some funky fresh information on some hot gossip (he would word it differently, but same thing) and eventually he gives up, realizing that this whole idea was kind of stupid like what was he going to find alone in the middle of the woods late at night with no one else by his side so he was alone and vunerable? he was a smart man, clearly. okay but as he gets ready to head back to camp he follows a yellow glow assuming its their fire they had set up, but once he gets there he is shocked not to find a fire, but instead a levitating young man staring at a tree as if it were the most interesting thing on earth. josh audibly gasps, causing the ghostly boy to shift his head to give him a quick glance, then returning his gaze back at the tree as if he saw nothing and no one there. then josh speak to him, which peaks the ghosts interest once more, though this time he looks a lot more suprised. he fully turns to josh, eyes wide, and utters, "you can see me?" so then josh and craig are talking and josh is trying to comprehend that there is an actual ghost just in front of him and craig is freaking out with excitment that someone can finally see him and can hear and talk to him. eventually josh gets craig to chill out and asks him what his deal is and why he is a ghost and just so hyped about josh being able to communicate with him. craig explains his backstory, how he had died so long ago (dont know when yet, i'll figure it out soon tho) but his soul never was able to escape the earth, so he was stuck there with no way out. now he just kind of roams around the planet, seeing history play out in front of him and looking for any kind of entertainment to remain somewhat mentally sane. josh is now seeing the potential of craig's existance for helping him get that sweet buttery promotion he's dreamed of for so long. if he tells people about craig and has craig feed him information about the world and history itself that are otherwise unknown, he'll surley manage to gain the attention of many, kickstarting his future career as a writer and possible reporter. only problem is that josh is the only person who can see craig and the chances of anyone else actually believeing in his existance are incredibly slim, almost zero. hopeless, josh is like "sorry craig, u might actually be useless to me" and craig is like "):" and then josh like kicks a leaf or something and then craig is like "wait a minute if you can see me then maybe you can help me and then i can help you and we can make a sort of deal you know what i mean you know what i mean" and josh is like "???" and craig is like "if you can bring me back to the grounded world, or back to life or sumth, then people will be able to see me and believe me and my story rrriiiiggghhhttt???? idk bout you but that could make a greeeaaaaattt story" and josh is like "where are you even going with this" and craig is like "all you have to do is bring me back to life, and you'll get ur promotion and i'll get my life : D it's literally the perfect plan" now at first josh is like "yeah no thats not going to happen, literally impossible, i failed all my science classes i will not be able to bring you back" but as he's thinkin more about it he realizes that he really has no other choice, cause like he can't just leave the ghost here, he has to do something with it. so hesitantly, he agrees to the deal on the condition that craig doesn't get his hopes up too much for theres no certainty of josh successfully bringing him back. and so they have a deal set where josh will do everything in his power to somehow bring craig back to life, and in exchange craig will offer him his stories, his wisdom, and all he knows to get josh the scoop he needs to make it big. thats kind of the whole start of the story, and from there i have some ideas of where it goes, but otherwise its mostly just a work in progress. i have some ideas for how it may conclude, but its still verrry rough, though id love to write it all someday soon. buuuutu yeah thats all for todays probablys. have a lovely lovely day friends <33

#hehe #haha #hoho #josh and craig #fruity

[katyahina]

Thinking about Tomb of Oedon and Hunters’ downfall

Okay, so there is this statue in the middle of location:

Correct me if I am wrong, but this is a unique object the last time I checked. So like, it is confusing because considering name of the location, it is easy to assume that this person IS Oedon, that somehow managed to ascend into a Great One but lost his body, and like... this is depiction of what he used to be like when he still had a form?

However I am considering an alternative idea: what if rather than that, this person is sort of a martyr that sacrificed himself in order to allow Old Hunters and the Healing Church to communicate with Oedon through him as a vessel and obtain what they could give?

Both of runes that are Oedon’s voice help to recover quicksilver bullets which as we know are made from hunters’ own blood: like these runes suggest we do find bullets within blood, firearms attack damage increases with Bloodtinge stat, heck, you can recover like +5 bullets by stabbing yourself and yeah, guns descriptions outright stating bullets get mixed with user’s blood I guess sfdhfds

But this is still not exactly a normal skill humans get, yet with rune or not hunters have no problem using firearms whereas all hunter guns do use their blood. So maybe it is thanks to this guy that they were able to communicate with Oedon to learn to make blood into bullets and create guns like this.

So as nice as it’d be to name this cemetry after the guy, it was named with a more symbolical ring to it, as in memory of how something that aids all hunters SO much was made thanks TO Oedon. As in they sorta ‘watch over the hunters’, maybe martyr guy’s is somewhere in the text on the statue though. x) Like maybe they used to bury Old Hunters here - would explain why Gascoigne who cut the ties with Healing Church but is probably around for as long as Henryk and Gehrman themselves drops key from Tomb of Oedon.

This one is likewise interesting as according to what Gehrman says, Oedon Chapel used to be an important place for hunters in general, and I presume ‘they have forgotten hunters’ refers to something Gehrman heard from previous Dreaming Hunters. Now that I think of it, there aren’t ‘real’ hunters affiliated with Healing Church per say: Henriett (who uses Healing Church weapons) defected as she wears bootleg Old Hunter garb and fights Amelia, Laurence and Ludwig, Alfred is deluded and dwells on old legend (perhaps BECAUSE nowadays Healing Church is pathetic and only past can offer some “romantic” ideals?). Choir and Yahar’gul hunters belong to fractions different to ‘normie’ blood-focused Healing Church so I doubt they count?

If Cleric Beast of the bridge and Amelia’s location locked unless you use this item:

is of any indication, it is very possible that yeah, Healing Church doesn’t even care anymore and they just sit their asses safely letting other Hunters deal with the mess. We can’t know how much say Amelia has on the situation all things considered (depends on how you view the character) but yes something went wrong here. We meet only 4 ‘real’ Healing Church hunters - guy from Nightmare Frontier, and also a guy and two gals in Research Hall.

(Script by the way, is from here ( x ), ‘aren’t proper’ is meant to say ‘aren’t normal’ or ‘aren’t sane’ or similar vein, you get the point)

Maybe rumors that made Oedon Chapel seem unappealing (and apparently called Chapel Dweller cringe??) are likewise work of modern Healing Church to ward people off from the place that used to be important for Old Hunters it seems! So they have no means to loredig and realise corruption and degradation and turn against Healing Church like Henriett did maybe?

Uhhh conclusion... More possible motivations for Alfred, Henriett and alike, also new hypothetical character? I am personally more on the train of Oedon being ancient, and affiliated with Pthumerian culture.

#bloodborne #bloodborne theory #bloodborne headcanon #not art #text post

[lavenderwhore444]

House Trained

a collab with @reallyshey 💗

shigaraki x dabi x reader

commisons

masterlist

interactivefics

CW: nsfw duh 🙄 piss 🥰 vaginal sex anal sex unprotected sex, cat hybrid Shigaraki, darker tags under the cut...beware

PSA: I was NOT a part of the shit or vomit, so do NOT request that pls 🥰 it's pretty obvious I didn't write it cause it's so good I could never write that well 🥲, blood, pain anal, spikey dick hehe 😼 punishment (locked in a cage) umm all done? slight dubcon…???Coercion...????

The concept of human and animal mixing themselves wasn’t something new but science made that too close to reality. Now a hybrid was the common pet for many- the perfect balance for those who wanted children but simply weren’t equipped with the time or the money. Those cute angelic human faces, with ears poking out from-

And Tomura had squatted and was pissing on the couch. Y/N couldn’t help but rub her eyebrow in frustration. It was like she had just cleaned that yesterday! At this rate, she may as well throw out the couch. And she loved her little kitty, of course! But it was getting ridiculous.

It was like taking care of a child who'd never been potty trained. She couldn't put him in diapers either. He’d be humiliated and pissed off at her for god knows how long. So she had to take him to the bathroom about once every two hours. Sometimes he’d make a fuss and pee on the bath mat on purpose, but other times, he was compliant. She found that pushing on his bladder a little helped when he was feeling stubborn.

It hadn’t always been so routine, though. At first, he was mortified at the prospects of Y/N watching him pee. It's gross! She wasn’t supposed to see him do that! In hindsight, maybe getting him so comfortable with that was a mistake. He was brave enough to go in front of her no matter where. She should have just locked Tomura in the bathroom and listened to him to make sure he went but no.

Of course, she had to baby him. He would rub up against her leg all day, purring. He’d lay beside her at night and beg for praise, and she couldn't deny him because he's just oh so cute. Things really took a turn when he started calling her mommy. That definitely flipped a switch for her. Y/N was so easily manipulated by him, and neither of them realized. Shigaraki thought he just had the perfect mommy, and Y/N just thought she had the perfect baby boy.

She loved her cute cat hybrid, but he even had some funny habits. For example, he was still a young cat- about twenty-two-ish in human years. But even so, she’d never bothered to get him spayed. It hurt her feelings to even think about it. She tried talking to him about it, but he only cried and cried and cried until she promised him she wouldn’t.

And even then, her little baby wasn’t aggressive. The worst-case scenario was this- his spaying and genuine accidents. He took out his sexual desires on her pillow, humping it, kneading it, and biting down on it. His tail twitched in a specific way Y/N had learned to recognize whenever it was obvious he was getting aroused, whether from her belly rubs or simply the passing of time.

He was strictly an indoor hybrid too- Y/N believed in keeping her hybrid safe from passing cars, especially when he didn’t know any better. I mean, how the fuck was he supposed to protect himself? He’s so codependent on her. Tomura crawls across the floor and clings to her leg more often than not. He tugs on Y/N’s clothes for food and has to have at least twelve good night kisses. He’s pampered and spoiled and so happy he found a good mommy.

Y/N would kill anyone or anything who would dare hurt her precious boy. He was so sweet and defenseless. Only a monster would hurt someone so sweet. But Y/N knew the world was full of monsters. She's not näive. Her parents were a good example. They had unprompted hate towards her boyfriend at the time and his family until it tore their relationship apart.

He was the one keeping her sane, keeping her grounded but their hatred got in the way. They had planned on adopting a hybrid before, they even decided to name him Tomura. Y/N wasn't hung up on him, she had her little kitty to love! But the name was still sentimental. If only he had kept talking to her, they could have had a life together, but he ghosted her completely and their last conversation was something mundane.

She’s brought back to reality by something soft rubbing her leg, she looks down to find Tomura smiling up at her.

“Mommy, you forgot to take me to the bathroom, meow,” he says calmly, as though peeing on the couch was a completely reasonable response to that.

She sighs, “Next time, just remind me, Tomu, just please stop peeing on the couch,”

He nods and rubs against her leg a bit more, “I’ll be a good boy, mommy,” he promises, knowing he’s going to break it, “Pet me please, meow.”

It’s not really a question, and more a demand: his tail swishes when she sits down on the floor with him. He nuzzled into her hand as she scratched behind his ears. Getting the couch cleaned all the time was expensive and embarrassing. What do the neighbors think every time they see it pull into their driveway?

Y/N finally caves, and, opening her phone, calls the first business with “Animal Trainer” next to it. It looked like a serious business and was rated five stars. It didn’t even look that expensive either! Even so, she had to get him to stop acting out like this.

“Hello?” She says once the phone stops ringing.

“Yes, this is Dabi speaking. How can I help you today?” A voice responds on the other side, thick and gruff. He sounded like he’d smoked for quite a few years (that or he had just gotten out of bed).

“Hi, this is Y/N. I’m calling because my cat hybrid is spaying and pissing everywhere. He’s not fixed, and I promised him I wouldn’t do that to him. I need to get him to stop. I can’t keep cleaning but I’m not going to give him up to the shelter either.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other line. “A bad kitty. I can fix that. You’ll need to chip in, of course.”

She hesitates and looks over at Tomura who is starting to rub against her legs, curious about what and who she’s talking to. “Of course. When’s the soonest you can come over?”

“How about right now?”

“Perfect. Here’s my address.”

-

Dabi walks through the door, and her mouth falls open.

“You,” She says in surprise and in shock.

He grins devilishly, “Me, it's nice to see you, sweetheart.”

She scoffs, “It’s nice to see me? You stopped talking to me after we dated for almost a year!”

“It’s not my fault you changed your number and didn’t tell me,” He snaps back at her, his irritation growing. He grew sick of the disconnected response from the phone too quickly for her to joke about this.

“I never changed my-” She stops, “Oh.”

His face softens too, “It was your parents, huh?”

“Yeah,” she says, looking up at him.

Y/N wraps her arms around Touya hesitantly, and he does the same. Meanwhile, Tomura sits there in shock. Who was this man cuddling with mommy? He’d have to drench the whole house to get this guy’s scent off, and what’s in the bag?

“And this is Tomura,” She introduces. He looks up at the mention of his name, letting out a confused meow.

He grins- Y/N really knows how to pick them. This was the name they promised they’d name their own little hybrid all those years ago when they made plans to marry. So even if she was angry...

“Hey, little guy,” Touya says, trying to be friendly.

That was pretty easy when a cute kitty is staring up at you. But not so easy when he hisses at you and mutters profanities. He frowns. This was gonna be a lot of work.

“Hey,” he says, turning away from the pissed-off kitten, “I’ll give you a discount, how's three hundred sound?”

Her eyes light up, “Three hundred sounds fantastic! Thank you, Touya!”

She hugs him again and Shigaraki wants to yell but...mommy seems so happy with this... this stranger. And he doesn't want to make her sad, so he crawls away and mopes in her room, curling up in her bed and burying his face in her blankets. Does she love him? Is he going to stay? He wouldn't blame Y/N; this Touya person is rather cute but still. She doesn't notice her missing kitty while she continues to work out the details with Touya.

“Y/N, down to business. Why is your hybrid causing you problems? You said something about spaying? Tell me about it.”

“So what happens is that he goes around peeing everywhere! I used to be able to help him go to the bathroom, but now he just goes wherever he wants, whenever he wants! I looked it up and it sounds like spaying, but it’s full-on piss sometimes too.”

Touya is quiet for a moment, thinking, “So he sees you as a mate and he’s trying to mark his territory to ward off another male. Have you invited anybody over recently?” He asks, trying to grasp the situation.

Y/N shakes her head. He saw her as a mate?! “No, I try not to. My house smells like piss thanks to Mister Whiskers.” She huffs.

“He probably sensed another hybrid then from the outside. Possibly a feral. The best way to get him to stop is to make him think he already owns you. I’ll call hybrid control too. It’s not a good place for hybrids on the streets.” He says, pulling out his own phone and sending a text.

“Okay then. How do we do that?”

“It’s quite easy,” he says, “Let's go find Tomura first.”

He heads upstairs to where he assumes Tomura’s hiding. The smell of pee intensifies as he gets closer to what he assumes is your room. He opens the door to see Tomura curled on the bed, frowning.

“See how territorial he is?” Touya points out, “He already sees me as a threat even though I've just walked in the door.”

Y/N nods, but she’s still in disbelief. Tomura sees her as his mate? That's ridiculous. Although, if what Touya’s saying is true, she really wouldn't mind. She’d always had a crush on Tomura, I mean just look at him! He’s cute and so cuddly. The adorable ears and fluffy hair really add onto the whole cute kitty image. He’s so smart too. And kind. Their relationship isn't one-sided at all, he takes care of Y/N and she takes care of him.

Touya nudges her towards the bed, and she sits next to him. They both look at each other for a while, and Touya doesn't interrupt. They need to go at their own paces, for now at least. Y/N finally reaches a hand out to scratch behind his ears, and Tomura starts to purr again. It feels like Y/N is the only one in the room. He doesn't even notice Touya until he sits on the other side of him.

He wants to hiss and scratch at him, but Y/N is scratching his head just the way he likes.

“Hey buddy,” Touya says, reaching out to rub soothing circles on his back, “You love Y/N a whole lot, huh?”

Tomura nods, still suspicious of the man sitting with them.

“She’s your mate, isn't she?” he says, fingers trailing across his neck to scratch the back of his head, “You've got a nice pretty mate Tomura. She’s all yours, sweetie,”

Mate?! How did Touya know how he felt about y/n? They barely said a word to each other.

“Mate,” he nods, grabbing onto Y/N’s thigh.

He worms his hands between the mattress and her soft thighs and squeezes it in his arms, laying his head on it.

“Mate,” he purrs, happy that he’s able to say it out loud, “Mommy’s such a pretty mate.”

Touya nods; this is good. They're making progress.

“Now Y/N, why don't you lie down on the bed,” Touya instructs.

She does as told and lies on her back, trying to relax. She tenses up again when his fingers tug down her pants. She tries to grab his hand and stop him but he bats it away.

“Do you want your house to smell like piss for the rest of your life, or are you gonna let me help you?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

She nods and lets him pull down her pants.

“Are you sure this is necessary?” she asks, not enjoying the cold air on her cunt nor the fact that she was nearly naked in front of both of them.

“Completely necessary,” he assures her.

Next to go is her shirt, then her bra until she’s lying completely naked in front of them. When he starts to strip Tomura down, she gets worried. Why is Tomura suddenly so compliant with Touya? He was ready to flip his shit just minutes ago. Touya guides Tomura to kneel between Y/N’s legs and wiggles his spiked cock out of its little pouch. Tomura mewls softly; he’s never felt someone else touch him there before.

“Now, why don’t you rub mommy’s pussy right,” he guides Tomura’s hand to her clit, “There.”

He looks confused but does as he’s told. Obviously, Tomura doesn't do it well enough. The nerves and inexperienced hands don’t do anything to get Y/N aroused. Too bad so sad, he’s here to fix a problem, not make it pleasurable. He lines up Tomura’s cock, and Y/N finally pieces together what's happening. Her breathing picks up and her eyes widen. Surely he wasn’t really going to have Tomura fuck her, right? That would hurt! Like really really hurt!

But the look of excitement in his eyes made her feel guilty. He wants this so badly and he loves her so much. If this was going to help him she’d just have to take it. So when Touya helps him poke the tip of his cock in, she’s already white-knuckled from gripping the sheets. She whimpers when more of it starts to go in; it felt like the branch of an English hawthorn was forcing itself inside of her. At the same time, the tiny, sharp thorns on his cock were tickling her G-spot.

She wasn't ready when he started to fuck into her, he was over the moon with joy whilst she was crying out in pain. Tomura can’t decide between yowling, meowing, or moaning so he chooses a mixture of all three. All of his little noises are adorable; the whines and whimpers of her name make her try to smile through all of the pain.

“Gotta...breed mommy,” he pants, “Breed mommy!”

Her eyes widened.

“No sweetie,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to focus on the pain, “You can’t breed a mommy baby. Please don’t Tomura.”

“Hey,” Touya says, “do you want this to work or not?”

She whines in defeat and lets him keep fucking her.

“Breed, mommy,” he chants, happier than ever.

Everything's “fine” until he decides to bite her tit.

“Ow! Tomura, no!” she cries, trying to push his head away, but Touya holds her hands in place.

“You can’t deny him Y/N. It won't work if you do,” he tuts.

She tries to squirm away, but Touya keeps his grip on her firm, and the cold hands of death couldn't pry Tomura away from her. So she cries and moans and prays that he’ll cum and get this over with. Touya lets go of her hands and climbs behind Tomura. What was he doing back there?

Y/N doesn’t even have a moment to be confused as Touya unbuckles his pants, Tomura grinding at her pussy, his sharp barbs and accurate aims make the pain and the pleasure simply too much for her brain to work. He doesn’t even take off his shirt, or slide them down, just pulls out his cock from his jeans and shoves it into the cute tight, and unsuspecting hole in front of him.

“Meow! Mommy! It hurts! Meow!” Tomura cries, yowling in pain as his virgin hole is penetrated. Touya’s cock is massive- at least twelve inches in length. Despite Tomura’s small size, she can still feel Touya against her own stomach, the way his cock burrowed a hole into Tomura, in through one end and attempting to force its way out the other.

“Look at that cute little pussy. It’s all nice and red for Master''. Tomura was bleeding! He meowed, feeling the trickling down his thighs as Touya pushed himself into Tomura, again and again, forcing Tomura to keep fucking Y/N despite the pain that he was in. As she gets wetter it’s easier for her to talk and think. She cradles Tomura’s head in her arms and lets it fall into the crook of her neck.

“How is this helping?” she asks, still crying from the pain of Tomura’s cock in her.

“Um, it’s keeping him inside of you? Listen, I don't fucking know. I just wanted to fuck him, ” Touya laughs, before pausing, “Or even bitch him if it works.” Leaning down to trail kisses up Tomura’s neck, he coos “Who’s my pretty boy?”

“I am, ” he sobs, “Mommy, please, it hurts. But it feels so good just- just make it stop mommy please.”

“I can't, sweetie. I’m sorry,” she says, kissing the side of his head, “It’ll feel good soon, Tomura, I promise.”

He bites her tit again, not as hard as before, and tries to stifle the sounds of his crying. How could he be a good mate if he was so weak? He doesn't deserve her. He should give her up to Touya; he’s strong and smart, not weak like he is. But then Y/N pulls his face away from her chest and kisses him. It’s rough and passionate and the best thing he’s ever felt, besides her warm wet pussy, of course.

When he cums, he cums hard. His cock was made for breeding so it squirts out more cum than humanly possible. It takes mere seconds for it to start gushing out of her, seeping deep into her womb. There’s no doubt she’s pregnant; Y/N never planned to have sex at this point in her life, so she was on absolutely no form of birth control.

Even if she had used a condom, Tomura’s thorny cock would have poked right through it. His cum would’ve somehow breached her IUD, and it was sure to be one hundred times more potent than human cum and no chemical could’ve stopped it. They're both aching when Touya finally fills Tomura’s tight, no longer virgin, asshole. Thankfully it makes it easier for Touya to slide out of him without either ripping Tomura’s asshole or having Tomura’s asshole pull his cock right off.

-

Touya is surprisingly good with his aftercare. And it looks like he came prepared as well.

Touya takes his sweet time gently putting hybrid injury cream around his ass. There's nothing of course he could do about the inside besides giving Tomura some anti-inflammatory medicine and blood stoppers. All wrapped inside of a pill pocket, the brat.

And despite his so-called love for Y/N, Tomura still kept up the attitude. When Touya moved onto Y/N, slowly caressing her cunt and making sure she was okay, taking care of her and wiping her clean of cum, Tomura would throw a fit and say he wanted attention.

Don't get him wrong, he was worried for his mommy. He didn't know what the white stuff leaking out of her was or what the white stuff that'd been leaking out of him was- he just knew it felt good. But he recognized bruises from his own hands, his claws digging into her from when he orgasmed.

But he wanted attention too! What about him?! Why did mommy get all the attention? It was like he had completely forgotten the attention that had been on him for a while. He meowed over and over, tugging on Touya’s arm.

“Master,” he whines, “What about me?”

“Shh,” Touya says, “We need to take care of mommy too, Tomura.”

“But-” he starts.

“No buts unless you want me to spank yours,” Touya warns.

Tomura opens and closes his mouth, deciding he’d rather not have his ass beat red. He still whines, though, putting his head on Y/N’s chest, so he never left his master’s line of sight. When Touya pushes his head away, he mewls over and over, crying out for his master. Claiming that “You don’t care about me, Master!”

Touya silences him with a kiss on the forehead and the lips, and that satiates him...for a while until he’s pawing at Touya again, whining and whimpering. However, when Y/N is the one to try and silence him, he shuts up immediately. You never tell him to be quiet; you always tell him how much you love his voice.

So he curls into you and kisses your neck, telling you that you're the best mommy in the world. You can only smile and nod, letting Touya apply ointment to your wounds. Tomura has never felt like this before, not just from his orgasm but being cared for by two people. Of course, Y/N cared for him well, maybe too well. She spoiled him beyond belief. He got away with pissing on the couch for months. He got whatever food he wanted whenever he wanted. You even let him eat at the dinner table though he was NOT supposed to.

Touya fixed all of that. He disciplined Tomura, shoving him in a diaper until he begged and cried to be good, and he was...until Touya went home. Touya also put him on a diet that was healthier for his sensitive stomach. Lastly he made it very clear to her that Tomura will only be eating out of his bowls on the floor, much to Tomura’s disappointment.

-

Despite it all, they end up together. All of them. Mommy and Master and cute little Tomura at the center. Maybe he would’ve stopped acting up but he didn’t. He just wanted both of them more- and both of them together. So he makes mommy call Touya for no reason or forces her to, pissing and shitting wherever he could, even vomiting.

Even things that didn’t need to be fixed- they called Touya. And of course, Touya always sets Tomura straight. He’d shove Tomura in a kennel for hours, and force Y/N to watch, to discipline him for calling him over, sometimes even himself if he got ahold of the house phone, and Y/N to get her to stop spoiling Tomura.

And of course, Tomura would yowl and cry that nobody loved him, making painful noises that would cause suffering to any normal human’s heart (at least, Y/N would argue that). He would piss himself even more, and even shit on the blankets to try and get the smell to let him out. Touya however, only pissed on Tomura when he pissed in the kennel, and sprayed air freshener when he shit. Maybe it was something that he wanted himself.

Y/N, of course, would always let him out when he let out a particularly miserable noise. She washed the disgusting blankets at night when she was supposed to be asleep and cleaned him up through the bars of his cage. Whenever Touya caught her, he was furious. It took only minutes for her to be squished in the cage besides Tomura, praying he didn't decide to make any messes.

She comforted him, reminding Tomura that Touya would provide wonderful aftercare for the bruises and indents the cage gave them. When Touya fed them through the bars it was especially humiliating, making sure to spill or smear at least some of it on both Y/N and Tomura. But Tomura was happy to clean you up with his cute pink tongue, and that never failed to make her giggle.

Despite the punishments and the spoiling he loves his mommy and master equally! They were so good to him! Dogs can be a man’s best friend, but what best resembles a lover? The cute little kitty cat in the middle of mommy and master.

#mha tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tenko #shiggy #shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #shigaraki fluff #dabi x y/n #dabi fanfic #dabi my hero academia #dabi imagine #dabi smut #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi #dabi x shigaraki #shigadabi #fluff #dabi fluff

[restapesta]

them playing truth or dare

Tami had been the one to suggest it.

Ian found it weird that everybody just went along, minds still sane and all, eager to comply and play as if they weren't all full-blown adults with marriages and children; but a few beers in—sans Lip who was sporting a Diet Coke—maybe it shouldn't have been that big of a surprise; the kids were otherwise occupied, Liam was at a sleepover, the Gallagher house was free for them, and them only.

Maybe Ian shouldn't have balked at his husband who had enthusiastically said yes! to playing truth or dare, as if they were all a bunch of teenage girls, begging for their crushes to be revealed. Ian watched Mickey from the corner of his eye as he took a shot of vodka that had been haphazardly lying on the table for communal use—great, Ian would be getting drunk Mick tonight. They'd probably have to crash at the house. Even Ian had a beer to drink and he got hammered pretty fucking quick.

"Okay," Tami said loudly, shushing the small crowd of people who were sitting all around the living room, speaking in a frenzy, voices mushing in together so it wasn't even conversation, just fucking loud and incoherent. Her hair was clinging wildly to her sweaty forehead, strands flying around as if electrocuted, and Ian realized this was the first time after her second pregnancy she was able to really get drunk. He applauded her for it, hoping she was having a great fucking time. Over a year of abstinence and he'd go fucking crazy, probably.

Ian couldn't help but guiltily look at his brother from the corner of his eye as if he'd been able to read his thoughts. He only looked away once Mickey elbowed him, whispering lowly how Ian should probably slow down with the drinks. Wouldn't want you to faint in ten fucking minutes and need me to drag you back home, said the man that was drunk off his ass.

Even inebriated he worried.

"Hey!" Tami shouted until all eyes went to her and the voices drowned out, dissipating into murmurs, one of them being Ian telling his husband that, it was so cute you're worrying about me, earning himself a middle finger in the face. She continued, seemingly pleased with herself for shutting a bunch of Gallaghers up, a feat not easily accomplished (what she didn't know was that everybody was still talking, just discreetly enough for her to not hear).

"Since I was the one who came up with the idea," She said proudly as if playing truth or dare was the smartest, coolest idea ever. "I think I should have the honors of starting."

Lip snorted beside her, a small smile playing on his lips. "You're drunk but okay." His head was shaved off completely, prompted by lice Fred had brought back home from day-care.

They were both sitting on two cushions on the floor, leaving Debbie on the sofa near the door, and Carl on the couch next to Ian and Mickey. His Coke can was so close to his leg, just begging to be spilled. Ian fought the urge to tell him to just move it to the side, but well, everybody else was practically drunk, so it didn't seem too fair. He was forced to endure a bunch of assholes while sober; the least they could do was offer him more Cokes and leave him to ruin his stomach in peace while they all ruined their livers.

"Shush!" Tami swatted at him, a concentrated look on her face. "We're playing."

Lip raised his hands in surrender just as Ian turned to whisper into Mickey's ear, "This is gonna be a shit show."

It was Mickey's turn to shush Ian, swatting him gently on the arm, focus solely on Tami and her upcoming question. He looked genuinely interested in what Tami had to ask—maybe he was looking forward to some juicy questions. Ian thought she'd be the one to ask the blandest ones.

"We're playing," Mickey said once Ian leaned in again to tell him just that, and Ian just shook his head lightly, biting his lip to stop from smiling.

Tami moved her eyes from her boyfriend all the way to Debbie who was fucking around on her phone, typing away slowly. Ian knew she was paying attention, but he also knew that her new girlfriend and their "relationship problems" probably exceeded the game right now.

"You ready, Debbie?" She asked, eyes dropping in sympathy. "This first one's for you. You said you needed to get your mind off of things."

Debbie lifted her eyes from her phone, eyebrows going up, biting her lip. She shut the screen off and crossed her legs, nodding to herself. "Shoot."

"Okay, so—"

"—What’s the most embarrassing thing that turns you on?"

Lip groaned along with Ian at the question. It didn't matter if they all knew everything and anything about each other's sex lives—Debbie talked about hers in a way that not even Ian and Mickey do. So Ian just squirmed in his seat, grimacing and then shooting a glare towards his husband who snickered at his facial expression, and they all sat and waited for their sister to start talking about sex as if they were begging to hear about it. Ian was mentally preparing for having his ears bleed.

"Hmm," She said. "Probably thighs."

They collectively blew out grateful breaths that she didn't feel the need to explain her answer. Ian still squirmed, because, well—why the fuck did he need to have that in common with his little sister?

"Carl," Debbie said, fiddling with her phone again. She probably got a new message she would need to send a ten-paragraph rant over. "What's the worst thing about sex, in your opinion?"

Ian eyed Carl beside him as he shrugged. "Not getting any."

It was Mickey who reached over Ian to clap him on the shoulder, grin wide on his face. He really was drunk. "Good answer, kid."

Ian turned to look at him, face scrunching in confusion. They literally had sex before they came over. "What are you talking about? You haven't spent a day in the past, like, four years not get any."

Mickey shrugged, sipping on his beer. "There were times I wasn't gettin' any."

Ian rolled his eyes. He knew Mickey inside, out—that man always got some, whether it be with Ian or without. So he asked, "When?"

Mickey looked at him, eyes clearer than before, still drunk but sober enough to answer Ian's question earnestly.

He cleared his throat, then sucked on his teeth when he saw Ian really was looking for an answer.

When the fuck did Mickey ever do celibacy shit?

"Look, man," He said. "sex," He annunciated the word. "isn't really the same when it's not with the person you want it to be with. It's weird and mechanical, and knowing what sex you could be having instead of the robotic fucking makes you hate it." He looked over at Carl. "I get what you mean by not getting any because I hadn't seen Ian for two fucking years before prison, and most of that time I just thought I'd have miserable, loveless sex for the rest of my life, so," He shrugged, again, settling back into the cushions. "Not getting any isn't just not having sex. It's not having sex with the only person you want to have sex with because you'll never see them again for the rest of your life."

"So," Lip started, a teasing air around his words. "Pointless fucking equals not getting any, and lovemaking with Ian here equals you bitches are soulmates?"

Mickey snorted. "Yeah, fuck you."

He then, probably noting how Ian was staring at him, completely flabbergasted, met Ian's eyes.

There was a second of them just staring at one another, Mickey's eyes quickly going up and down Ian's form in the most loving/sexual way, before he averted them to Carl again. "Come on, man, who's next?"

Carl grinned wickedly. "Ian,"

"Yeah?" He finally forced himself to stop staring at Mickey who was now placing his hand soothingly over his thigh, silently saying, You know what I meant. I know you know what I meant.

Carl's question was quick.

"Do you believe you and Mickey are soulmates?"

Ian's right eyebrow went up—he'd been practicing after a heated discussion with Mickey at three am on a Wednesday about who had better eyebrows. He was a sore loser.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Well," Carl said. "You've just broken up more number of times than I've had girlfriends—"

"We've always come back to each other," He interrupted, tone defensive; slightly frustrated. Mickey's hand squeezed, warm through the fabric of Ian's sweats.

"Yeah, but—"

"There's no question about it, Carl. If there's anybody in this world that's literally meant for me, it's Mickey. I've loved him since the very first day I met him, and I'll love him until the day I die." He meant it with every bone in his body and he just wished somebody would put it in question again, after all they had been through. Wasn't that proof fucking enough that if there's anybody in this world Ian loves more than Mickey, it's Mickey loving Ian back?

"That answer' your question?" He asked, chin jutting out.

His hands went up in surrender as he lowly whistled. "Got it, chief."

"Yeah, Ian," Tami said, eyes rolling animatedly. "We get it—you love each other most in the world, blah, blah, barf."

Mickey choked out a laugh. "Come on, Red," He said, looking again towards Ian, gaze soft. "Next question."

So they played on.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless us #fan fic #*ficlet #this was supposed to be longer but i decided to cut it off here because i felt like adding to it would make it drag #first thing i've written in a month #had no school today so i just spent seven fucking hours studying #pleaseeee recommend some good fucking fics in my inbox. i need some shit to read tonight. tyyyyyyy #ficlet #emina answers

[jeojahari]

02 | kiss it better | myg

🠒 summary: you're one of the lucky ones, everyone else tells you. finding your soulmate the day you turn 18 isn't something that happens to a lot of people... but you and your other half are going to have to make a lot of progress to be able to tolerate each other.

or, you and yoongi can feel everything the other feels, and you're hell bent on causing each other pain.

🠒 pairing: yoongi x reader

🠒 genre: angst, fluff, e2l!au, soulmates!au, college au, crack?

🠒 warnings: profanity, implied smut

🠒 word count: 2.6K

🠒 notes: omg tysm for all the love im literally about to start happy sobbing rn TT i hope you enjoy this chapter!! <3

btw if my writing is not up to par at any time pls let me know, i'd hate to give you low effort writing TT

part 02: two band-aids

(series m. list)

"I am so fucking stupid."

"I know."

"I can't believe I just ran out of there without saying anything!"

"Ah. I can."

"How is it Yoongi, though? I don't understand! How can two people who are so obviously different and have zero chance at getting along be paired like this?!"

"Hey," Jimin places a comforting hand on your shoulder, "maybe this is the universe trying to prove that you can find love where you least expect it!"

You shoot him the nastiest glare you can conjure up in the moment. "You sound like a children's fairy tale synopsis. Please shut up."

"No, but think about it!" Jimin sits upright, pulling the nearest pillow into his lap. "You don't like him, and he probably doesn't like you. You hate coffee, and he's practically in love with it. The only reason you guys ever interact is Taehyung, who you happen to be in love with."

"I'm not in love with him!"

"Sure," Jimin rolls his eyes. "Anyways, this is literally the perfect recipe for romance. I feel like I have front-row seats to the best enemies to lovers story ever."

"Don't make me hit you."

"It's true, though," Namjoon pipes up from beside you. You're sandwiched between both of them in an attempt to extinguish the growing dread in the pit of your stomach. "You don't really know what he's like, Y/N. People aren't always what they seem at first glance."

"I had more than just a glance," you snap. "And I know him for exactly what he is. A fucking sociopath."

"I mean, he's nice enough," Jimin explains. "I've spoken to him a few times in passing. Maybe he just wasn't having a good day when you talked to him?"

You pause and think, because your friends are right. It's plausible, isn't it? Not every grumpy person you meet goes out of their way to be antisocial... but you can't shake off that feeling you've harbored ever since you first met him.

"I don't like this," you whine, hiding your face under the blanket. "I don't like him. I don't want to be his soulmate."

Namjoon chuckles. "Soulmates aren't always lovers, Y/N. If he's actually a sociopath, or you genuinely despise him after giving him a chance, you're not obligated to love him."

"True," Jimin nods. "My parents were never soulmates, but you know how well they get along. They had me, after all," he adds as an afterthought. "They couldn't have done that without loving each other."

Namjoon winces. "Okay, no. Didn't need to hear that."

You let out a frustrated groan, kicking your legs under the sheets. "I hate this," you grumble. "And I can't even do anything ab — oh!" You sit up, suddenly enlightened and an imaginary lightbulb over your head. "I can!"

"You can what?" Jimin asks, clearly confused. In response, you simply beam at him before doing an impromptu somersault over his legs and tumbling right off the bed, landing on the ground with a loud thump.

"Y/N?!"

"She's insane!"

"She's gone mental!"

"Is she having a seizure?"

"Do we need an ambulance?!"

"Is she okay?"

"Joon, I'm too broke to pay for the ambulance!"

You throw them both off of you. "I'm right here, very much alive, and very sane, thanks."

"Well, what was that, then?" Jimin demands. "If you were trying to show off your gymnastics skills, it didn't work. You look like a clumsy baby koala."

You point at Namjoon. "He's the clumsy one. And no, I wasn't trying to show you my nonexistent gymnastics skills." A huge smile spreads across your face. "I just discovered a great way to release all my frustration."

"By falling off the bed?"

"No, but yes." You lean in like you're about to tell them a secret. "You know... I bet Min Yoongi is cursing the heavens right now, isn't he? For pairing him with someone like me."

Namjoon stares at you incredulously. "Don't tell me..."

"She's going to do it anyway," Jimin tells him, before turning to you. "You're just going to hurt yourself to hurt him, Y/N? Are you for real?"

"It's perfect!"

"It's stupid, and usually I would tell you to go for it if you were planning to kick some dumbass's butt, but not if you're getting hurt in the process."

"Well, I'm doing it anyway," you say. You're 100% decided; you've just found the one part of your bond with Yoongi that delights you the most, and with that comes your singular goal: irritating him to no end. "And this isn't even that bad, Jimin. Wait until I'm on my period. Then he's really going to wish he never knew me."

Actually, you're screwed.

"Ouch!" you hiss, your body jerking at the pain that courses through your arm. You're forced to stop writing mid-word, the dark blue ink a mess on your paper due to these constant interruptions of your sudden movements. "What the fuck?!"

The girl sitting across from you raises her eyebrows at you, half concerned for your sanity.

"Sorry," you whisper apologetically. "My soulmate's a jerk. Honestly, I probably caused this, but I don't regret it at all."

She laughs, eyes turning into small crescents. "Hate at first sight?"

"More like at first conversation." You sigh, letting the pen fall from your fingers. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get along with him, let alone love him. We have absolutely nothing in common, and I'm pretty sure this dislike is mutual. Which reminds me—"

You bang your knee against the table in retribution for Yoongi's attack on his own arm, a satisfied smile on your face.

"Wow." The girl stares at you, rather taken aback. "That's some serious beef you two have got."

"Yep. Can't stand him," you confirm. "What about you? Have you found yours yet?"

"Not yet," she says, trying to look indifferent — but you catch that wistful look in her eyes. "Someday soon, hopefully."

"You'll find them," you say, the exact words you've repeated to Jimin multiple times over the years. "Time is all it takes. I hope yours is less of a jerk than mine... and if they are, I'm more than happy to instruct you in the ways of torturing them."

"Noted," she smiles, before returning to her book.

You, though, can't focus. Actually, you haven't been able to concentrate on anything lately — ever since this trivial back and forth between you and Yoongi turned into something more desperate and warlike, it's all that's ever on your mind.

Sighing, you stand up, leaving your place at the table to go fetch a book from one of the many shelves lining the opposite wall of the library. It doesn't take you long to find what you're looking for, but you immediately stumble over and hit the ground, nearly knocking your head against the wood of the shelf.

"Fuck," you hear someone curse in the next aisle. You know that voice, you realize after a few seconds, immediately ducking your head around the corner in amused curiosity.

"What'd you do to yourself this time?"

Yoongi scowls at you from the ground, as irked as always. "None of your business."

"It kind of is, actually, now that I feel it too."

"Oh, really? Where was that concern when you were hurting yourself just to get back at me for doing absolutely nothing?"

"You did it back! You have no right to be telling me what I did was wrong if you decided to do it too!"

"Why the hell did you do it in the first place?"

"Shh!" The librarian walks past the two of you, giving you a sharp glare as she replaces a few books with the ones in her hands. You nod apologetically to her, head bowed.

"You're so loud," you whisper a few seconds later, just as Yoongi gets himself off the ground and has managed to gather the books he'd dropped.

"You literally started yelling first, Y/N."

A deep frown makes its way onto your face. "You know what? I still don't understand why you're like this. Can we not have a civil conversation for once? Every time I talk to you it turns into a goddamn argument!"

"Yeah, well, maybe if you'd just minded your own business, we wouldn't be having this argument!" Yoongi pauses for a breath. "You always make it an argument, Y/N, I don't go out of my way to pick a fight with you!"

"Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

"No! I just don't understand your problem with me! Look," he says, a little calmer, "I know you don't want to be my soulmate. And I'm not particularly in love with you either. But you can at least act like I'm human too, right? Or is that too much for your inflated pride?"

"Did you just call me arrogant?" you ask incredulously, trailing after him as he walks back to where he was sitting. "You think I'm doing this because I'm conceited?"

"N—"

"Well, for your information, I'm not. I just really dislike you."

Yoongi tongues his cheek in frustration, slamming his book down onto the table. "And for what?" he demands. "I like to know it if and when I fuck up, Y/N. Stop repeating the fact that you hate me and just tell me why."

You flinch at his harsh tone and the sensation that sends a painful twinge through your palm. "You're just... you're so hard to talk to," you accuse. "Like, really? How am I supposed to wrap my head around this whole thing when I can't have a conversation with you without feeling like shit?"

He's gaping at you now. "I'm making you feel like shit? And you're not doing the same by basically trash talking me to my face?"

"I'm not! I'm just telling the truth; and besides, you asked!"

"Who are you to go around judging the way people are? Not everyone is bubbly and cheery, you know? Being grumpy for a second doesn't mean being grumpy for a lifetime!"

"Well, I can't tell, can I? Not when you always act like you hate the rest of the human race!"

Yoongi doesn't reply to you, just staring back at you for a few moments. Instead, his jaw clenches as he turns away without any kind of rebuttal.

"Alright," he says gruffly. "I'll go first."

Your eyes widen slightly as your frustration dissipates. You'd only meant to check on him out of curiosity after his fall, you hadn't intended for it to escalate to this scale at all... "Wait—"

"Don't bother to talk to me next time," he interrupts you, a hint of bitterness to his voice. "Since I always make you feel like shit, anyways."

"No, I didn't m—"

Yoongi's gone before you can give him any miserable excuse from your side, bag slung over his shoulder and that cup of coffee in his right hand. You catch a glimpse of his fingers wrapped around the cup, two band-aids covering the knuckles of his smallest digits, and you can't help but wonder... did you do that to him? All those days you spent wrapping bandages around your legs and arms, was he doing the same?

But you hate him, right? No matter how closely bound you two are, you're allowed to do this, aren't you?

You don't know.

You recall the sight of his worn out expression and sigh, shaking your head. Whatever it is about Min Yoongi that draws the worst out of you, you'll never know. All you're sure of is that apparently you're supposed to love him, apparently you're supposed to be his and vice versa. But you just can't.

As you trudge back to your seat, you notice that the girl from earlier is still there, still taking diligent notes — except her eyes now follow you, a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"I'm fine," you state. The words come out far harsher than intended, but she doesn't seem to take offense.

"Really?" she asks instead. "S'great if you are, but if you're not then you're just lying to yourself, Y/N."

You blink at her, surprised. "Huh? How'd you know my name?"

"You guys were yelling," she explains. "I could hear him from over here."

"Aish. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She chews on her pencil for a second, seemingly contemplating something. "Mind if I give you my two cents?"

The girl's awfully blunt and gets right to the point, and it reminds you of your friends for a moment. Something about her just makes you want to trust her, to let her in.

So you shrug your shoulders and say, "Sure."

"Second chances only come once."

"Huh?"

She nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You don't really know anything about him," she says. "You don't know what's happened to him before. You could be his second chance, and he probably just took a blow after that whole debacle you two had over there."

"What?"

She chuckles softly, and you find yourself rethinking your stance on the situation. She's right, she's right, your heart tells you, but your brain is saying something else entirely, and it's maddening.

"Give him a chance, Y/N. Everyone deserves one."

Hours later, you're still thinking about what a random stranger said to you at the library earlier.

Yoongi? A chance? No, thank you. You don't need to waste any more of your time on guys that aren't going to give you the time of day once they're not interested.

And yet, a small part of your conscience says otherwise. He's not just any guy, it reminds you. You're soulmates for a reason.

You're so frustrated you want to tear your hair out. "Soulmates are stupid!"

Jimin walks into your room with two cans of soda, an eyebrow raised as he tosses one to you. "Yikes, Y/N. What's gotten into you today?"

"Min Yoongi," you grumble.

Your best friend gapes at you, nearly spilling his soda all over himself. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What?"

"Already, Y/N?!"

You're confused as you take a sip of the sweet drink. "Already what, Jimin?"

He's opening and closing his mouth, eyes so wide he looks like a clown out of those children's cartoons. "You and Yoongi — you guys — I can't believe you finally got laid!"

This prompts you to spit out the liquid in your mouth, dissolving into a coughing fit as you try and regain your breath.

"There, there," Jimin says, stroking your back gently. "I won't mention it again if you don't want me to, I'm sorry. Was he a bad lay?"

"A bad what? Jimin, I don't know what you think I'm doing, but having sex with him is most certainly not on my list," you frown.

Your best friend, on the other hand, looks totally dumbfounded.

"Huh? But you answered with his name!"

You smack the side of his head gently. "That's not how idioms work, dumbass."

"Okay, sheesh, sorry," he apologizes, rubbing his temple. "But really, though. Everything okay with Yoongi?"

"Not really," you say truthfully, "but it's fine. Neither of us are expecting anything from the other."

Jimin looks skeptical as he eyes you carefully. "You sure?"

"Mhm."

He tilts his head back, draining the can of soda as he swallows. "You know, Y/N, maybe you should give the guy a chance."

There it is again, that word. The one thing everyone tells you that you need to give.

But is it worth your time? Is he worth your time? Or is he just going to walk away and leave you broken again? Maybe you're being selfish, but you'd rather spare yourself the heartbreak process than willingly go into something you know won't be good for you.

"Yeah, okay," you lie through your teeth, soda can still nearly full in your hand. "Maybe I will."

taglist: @meiadore @kimnamjoonluvbot @im-gay-no-matter-who-i-date @fangirl125reader @helenazbmrskai @min-yus @janeelizabeth1216 @chimchiekookie @chimchoom @igotnotype @beach-bitch-bitch-beach

taglist is still open! send an ask if you'd like me to add you <3

prev | next | series m. list | main m. list

#yoongi #yoongi soulmate au #yoongi enemies to lovers #yoongi college au #bts #bts fanfiction #bts college au #bts soulmate au #bts enemies to lovers #fluff #angst #crack?? idk #yoongi series #part 2 #mine #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic

[smallrainclouds]

It's not easy having yourself a good time

we're on a double-date with other people... why are we kissing? you're not my date

Credit for prompt to

Hypnos x reader (modern!College!au)

Word count: 2.7

Warning: some dating violence on OC's side. Wrist grabbing, slurs and controlling behavior.

Summary: this was the worst date of your life. Thankfully it's also Hypnos' worst date ever.

A/N: here have this fic. I had yandere! Hypnos I was working on but it's giving me issues (it was supposed be under 1k but it keeps growing).

Also, I am open to requests but will rejected any I don't feel comfortable doing.

No beta.

Thank and I hope you enjoy.

💤☁️💤

You regret everything.

You stared at the plate of food you didn't order, some sad little salad that somehow smelled greasy.

Why did you let yourself get talked into a group date? You know why, you thought your friend was going to try to set up with your lab partner, Hypnos.

You looked at the bubbles in your sparkling water, another thing you didn't order and wondered if the person you were with would ever stop talking.

You glanced up at the group at the table. Across from you with his own date next to him, was Hypnos who was frowning at your date.

At least you had one sane classmate with you. Hypnos had been your lab partner since the first day in senior year and honestly you had thought at first your friend was setting you up with Hypnos. If you had known it was with someone else, you would have bail.

Charlie was a nice person you told yourself and your friends thought they would be great for you. Charlie was just… maybe they didn't know you don't order people's food for them.

"Look what I'm saying, Hypnos, is that maybe that YouTuber guy shouldn't be called out as much. Not his fault people can't take jokes anymore." Your date, Charlie, said loudly across the table to Hypnos who just raised a brow.

You rolled your eyes, You weren't going to let your friends pick a date for you ever again.

"Alright buddy. Whatever you say." Hypnos shrugged.

Hypnos' date and fellow classmate leaned across Hypnos, her breasts pressed against his arm. You looked away, poking at your food. You certainly were not jealous, you told yourself.

"Come on, guys. Let's talk about something else." she whined. The other two couples that came along echoed their agreement.

Hypnos grimaced and sat up taller, making the girl sit up as well. You felt kinda bad for both you and Hypnos. Clearly neither one of you guys were getting on with your dates.

You looked toward your friend, hoping she would notice how poorly everything was going. You rolled your eyes when she was clearly lost in her own world, feeding her partner french fries.

Too bad your date wasn't with Hypnos. You thought he was actually cute back when You first saw him, if not a little odd looking with white curls and heavy lidded eyes. Now, you couldn't imagine a more handsome person.

You found your eyes kept going back to him throughout dinner. Especially when he pushed his hoodie sleeves up, showing off his forearms.

The table moved on to some marvel movie or something but you were drifting in and out. You kept checking your watch in hopes that you could end the night soon without being rude.

You could feel someone was watching you and you looked up to Hypnos' golden eyes looking at you. He glanced at the group, back at you and rolled his eyes. You smiled in agreement but quickly covered it up with your hand.

Hypnos pointed toward your plate with the uneaten food, eyebrows rised in a questioning way.

You tilted your head toward your date who was loudly having another argument over some tv show with one of the guys there.

Hypnos looked at your date for a second before he sneaked you his untouched plate of pancakes.

You mouthed, 'Are you sure?' and he nodded, pointing at a plate of mostly eaten omelet.

You mouthed a quick thank you and dug in. You were half though the plate of pancakes when your date noticed.

"Wait, where did you get the pancakes?" Charlie asked, "You know how fattening all that carbs and sugar are? I like my dates to be healthy."

"What?" You asked flatly. Did you really hear what you just did? Hypnos and his date were both staring at Charlie. Hypnos looked furious and You saw the girl send you a pitying look.

"Oh. come on, you know I don't mean it like that."

You suddenly lost any appetite you had and pushed the plate of food away. You looked toward your friend who remained blissfully unaware of your pain.

Your date swung an arm on your shoulders, you sighed annoyed at the causal possiveness. You only knew them for like two hours but they were already acting like you were going steady.

"Ready to hit the club, Y/N?" Your date asked.

You almost groaned, you had forgotten about the stupid club.

"Uh, sure. Yeah." You tried to wiggle your date's arm off but no dice. You thought you saw Hypnos send a disapproving look at your date but you weren't sure. No point getting your hopes up.

As you exited the diner, Hypnos tripped; knocking into your date and their arms off your shoulders.

Grateful for the excuse, you took a few steps out of their reach.

"Oops, my bad." Hypnos smiled widely, and gave a shoulder pat to your date who glared at him. "Just watch it alright?" Your date snapped as they made it to the carpool.

In the car, you peeked at Hypnos who just winked at you. You didn't hide your smile this time.

The club did nothing to improve your date or your mood. The loud bassy music was almost too loud to hear anyone and your date kept trying to get you to stay on the dance floor.

You were able to duck out of their hold and pointed to the table. They tried to tell you something but You didn't stick around.

You almost fell into the booth, your feet were throbbing and you just wanted to go home. You could just see your homework growing by the hour.

"Need water?" Hypnos asked. You looked up, "Oh I didn't know you were at the table. Yes please."

He handed you an icy cold bottle and you moaned at how good it tasted. He laughed and you blushed, feeling foolish.

"Sorry, thank you." You took a slip, without moaning this time thankfully.

Hypnos went back to his phone, fingers moving quickly. "No problem."

"Where is… um what was her name?" You asked, trying not to look at Hypnos too much. How dare he look this good in the club' dim lighting.

"Oh I forgot her name. But she is doing fine. Told me she was going home with her ex." He pointed to the dance floor where the girl was dancing against another guy, their mouths glued together.

You looked back at him, but he already was back to texting on his phone. He didn't seem upset at all.

"I'm sorry, Hypnos." You said awkwardly, not sure of what to make of this whole night.

"Don't be. I'm not." He shrugged. You couldn't help but notice how nicely the red hoodie fit him.

"I will admit though I don't think I will be trusting our friend's matchmaking skills after tonight." Hypnos looked at you, his amused smile made you smile in return.

"You and I both." You murmured your agreement.

You finished off your drink, eyeing him.

After a few more minutes, your willpower broke.

"Okay I gotta know. It has been months since I met you and it is bugging the crap out of me." You leaned forward to him.

He looked up from his phone, a white eyebrow raised.

"Is Hypnos your real name?" You asked him, not quite able to look away from him. You were being a silly school girl and you knew it.

He laughed, "Yeah, it is." He moved closer, his eyes bright. "Wanna know why?"

At your nod, he spoke. "When my mom was pregnant with me and my brother. She got kinda crunchy, got into healing crystals and tarot cards, stuff like that."

Hypnos waved a hand. "So when she couldn't pick names for us, she went to a psychic, who told her that she was a reincarnation of the goddess Nyx. And apparently she was pregnant again with the reincarnated gods of sleep and death."

You couldn't help the small laugh and Hypnos chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.

"Mom believed the guy." He pointed to himself, " So ta-da I got named Hypnos. And my brother is Thanatos."

"Your mom sounds like a fun lady." You played with your hair, enjoying the warmth in your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel such things.

"Oh definitely. I never know what I'm going to get when I see her." Hypnos said fondly.

When You shifted your seat, your leg brushed against his. You almost pulled away but Hypnos pressed his leg against yours. You could feel the heat of his body and it just made you want more.

His golden eyes searched yours, silently asking if he could do this. You returned the gentle pressure and flushed at his soft smile.

"How does your brother handle the whole Thanos name thing?" You asked, desperately trying to calm your racing heart.

A devious glint lit Hypnos' eyes, "Oh he hates it so much. He already hated the whole super hero thing. Last year for his birthday, I got him a cardboard cutout of the big guy. I thought he was going to shove it down my throat. I got his boyfriend Zagreus and their girlfriend Meg in on it this year, we going to -"

"Hey Y/N. Are you coming back to the floor?" Charlie's eyes narrowed, "Hypnos, I think your actual date is looking for you."

You pulled away, you had forgotten about Charlie and you couldn't help but feel some guilt, even if you didn't like them that much or at all.

Hypnos stayed in place, amusement on his face. You saw Charlie's fists clenched and knew they were about to start a fight and stood up.

You were definitely going to block Charlie's number after tonight was over.

"Come on, let's get some drinks for everyone. They should be coming back soon." You motioned for Charlie to follow you. They glared at Hypnos before following you.

You couldn't resist a quick glance back to Hypnos, who raised his beer at you in a 'cheers' motion.

💤☁️💤

Charlie was sullen and quiet as you ordered more drinks for the group. You couldn't blame them really, anyone would be put out when their dates are clearly having a better time with someone else.

Well, not Hypnos but Hypnos wasn't exactly normal, you thought fondly.

You tapped the bar, guilt gnawed at your guts as your thoughts went back to Hypnos.

"So what were you guys talking about?" Charlie slurred, his tone icy.

You took a breath, just a few more hours you reminded yourself. "Nothing much. Just about his brothers and stuff."

Charlie crowded into your space. You can smell the booze and sweat on them.

"You guys seemed like you were sitting pretty close considering you were talking about 'brothers'." They did a finger quote.

You rolled your eyes, unable to stand being near them any longer. You stepped away to head back to let your friends you were bailing for the night.

"Tell me what he said to you." Charlie demanded as they grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Ow, let go of me! You are hurting me, Charlie." You hissed, trying not to draw any attention.

"Tell me." They hisses back.

"I did. Buy your own drink, I'm going home." You tried to yank your hand away but they didn't let go.

"Look I've been nothing but nice to you and you're cuddling up to another guy on our date like some slut." They changed their tone, trying to sound more upset than controlling but it just made your stomach twisted in disgust.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but after a moment you shut it, "You're right. Clearly this isn't going to work out so let me go."

"No, you own me something, Y/N." Charlie leaned toward you. "And I'm not leaving empty handed."

"Fuck off." You snapped, fear rising in your chest.

"Hey, man." Hypnos grabbed Charlie's wrist and squeezed tightly enough that they were forced to let go of your wrist. His normal light-hearted tone was hard. "I think Y/N had enough of your company tonight."

You took some steps back, shaking a little. Without looking at you, Hypnos asked. "Y/N, do you need to go get anything?"

"N-no. I have everything. I want to leave." You hated how weak you sounded and you wished that you never came out at all.

Hypnos held on to Charlie's wrist and yanked them toward him. You heard Hypnos murmur something to them.

Fear flashed over Charlie's face and they stumbled backward. "Fine. Whatever asshole."

Hypnos turned to you, his eyes darkened by his anger. "Come on, I can get you a ride home."

You just nodded, feeling very exhausted and close to tears.

💤☁️💤

The cold wind felt like heaven after the heat of the overflowing club. At least for the first two minutes.

You just walked, not quite sure where to go. Hypnos walked next to you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Neither one of you said anything as you tried to process the horrible night.

After walking for ten more minutes, Hypnos spoke up. "There is a park nearby, we should be able to find a park bench."

You just nodded, Hypnos offered an arm and after a moment you took it. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, soaking in his body heat.

The park was empty, lit by warm path lights.

"Thank you." You said. "You didn't have to do anything for me."

"It's all good. How about the wrist?" Hypnos asked softly.

"It doesn't hurt. Thank you since you stepped in." You patted his forearm.

Hypnos sighed, "No. Not thanks to me actually. Its kinda my fault, I've been pushing their buttons for most of the night."

You looked up at Hypnos, your brow furrowed. "What? No, they have been pretty rude since the start of the date. I mean, you heard the salad thing. They ordered it for me!"

Hypnos shook his head. His breath coming out in white puffs. "Yeah and because I was jealous, I made a bad date into a nightmare. I knew I was making them feel all threatened, it wasn't hard honestly. I didn't think they would grab you like that. I just thought they would be a bad date you could laugh about later."

It took you a moment to process his words. You stopped on the park path, staring off at the lake.

"You were jealous?" You asked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

"Very." Hypnos chuckled bitterly.

"Hypnos, you are an idiot." You said blankly.

He opened his mouth to say something but you pulled him down by his collar to kiss him.

At first, Hypnos doesn't return your kiss and you pull away, an apology already on your lips.

But he cupped your face and met you again in a sweet, slow kiss. He kept pulling away to press chaste kisses against your lips and cheeks.

"Damnit, I was planning on asking out you after our last class assignment. I had a plan for everything. I was going to take you to your favorite coffee shop and buy you that dumb drink you like. Take you the park by our dorms and ask you by the duck pond." Hypnos said between kisses and pressing one last long kiss against your lips.

You hummed, unable to think straight. "Our friend ruined that, huh." You laughed when you could feel him growled against your lips. "You have no idea, I had a speech and everything."

After another long and soft kiss, both of you pulled away only to met again in a forehead press. Your white puffs of breath mingled together and your heart felt so full.

"You could still do the coffee and the speech. And the ducks." You whispered.

"Yeah?" Hypnos asked softly, his thumb caressed your cheek.

"I have to do a lab with a very cute classmate tomorrow but I'm free after that." You flushed, pleased at the fond smile Hypnos had.

"That's funny, so am I." Hypnos replied.

Unable to hold off any longer, you pulled him into another kiss, one of the many yet to come.

#hypnos x reader #hades hypnos #fanfic #hope you enjoy #Spotify

[kung-laos-hat]

Fool

Kung Lao x Fem!Reader

Warning: Contains major spoilers from Mortal Kombat 9, including quotes from the actual script. :) kinda follows the canon but also doesn’t considering this is an x reader ‼️Not Proof read yet‼️

AN: words of affirmation and acts of service love language goes brrrrr

Summary: Kung Lao is devastated that his best friend and the girl he loves get to complete in the tournament without him, so he does what any sane person does: sneaks his way onto the island and challenges Scorpion in an attempt to impress the reader :D

“We’ll be back before you know it, Lao.” (Y/n) said, placing a hand on Kung Lao’s shoulder.

He chuckled nervously and nodded, trying his best to seem at ease but the uncertainty in his eyes gave it all away. It didn’t matter how long they trained or how prepared the elder monks thought (Y/n) and Liu Kang were. (Y/n)’s attempts at comforting the young man were fruitless.

It wasn’t just that he was worried for his childhood friends’ safety. There was no denying that was definitely one of the reasons he was reluctant to see them off, but aside from that he was envious. And how could he not be? The two of them were chosen by the elder monks to represent their section in the tournament where some the greatest fighters would be present.

Sure, he always knew the elder monks would choose (Y/n). She was the perfect fighter in his eyes. (Y/n) was clever, cunning, and quick on her feet. It just made sense that she’d be the first choice.

However, that left that second slot open for debate, and the primary candidates were Liu and Lao. Now Kung Lao promised himself that no matter what the elder monks decided, he wouldn’t let that drive a wedge in his relationship with his cousin, and he’d been fairly true to his word so far. He was proud of Liu, really.

But time went on and Raiden suggested that it’d be best for Liu and (Y/n) to train together in private, allowing them to grow accustomed to each other’s moves, strengths, and weaknesses. This would come in handy if the two of them should ever find themselves in a position in which they had to fight opponents together. Of course, Liu and (Y/n) already had established a close friendship, but there was nothing wrong with a little refining.

Lao had no problem with this, that is, until the tournament grew closer, and he began to see less and less of the duo. (Y/n) in particular almost seemed to be avoiding him, but Kung Lao knew her better than to assume that was the case. Yes, Liu Kang and (Y/n) were close, but not as close as Kung Lao and (Y/n). The three of them were the best of friends since childhood, but Lao always felt like there was something special between him and (Y/n) that just wasn’t present in her relationship with Liu.

(Y/n) had her fair share of sneaking out, having midnight conversations, and causing mischief amongst the other pupils, with Liu, sure, but it was Kung Lao she always turned to when in need of comfort. Somehow (Y/n) preferred to talk about her problems with Lao, and boy did he love it when she did. It was like seeing a completely gentler, more authentic side of her.

Because of this, Lao simply noticed things about (Y/n) no one else did. He knew what made her happy, and when one night she expressed how anxious training made her, he began to go out of his way to do some of her daily chores along with his own or do little things such as make her a snack. Of course, his pride would never allow his to flat out tell her he’d be doing all of this just because.

No, it was always,

“I just happened to make too much to eat by myself.”

Or

“Don’t look too deep into it. If I didn’t do your laundry for you, you’d probably let it lay around your room. Then you’d have nothing clean to wear and you’d start stealing my clothes.”

Soon enough, Lao’s thoughts were flooded with nothing but (Y/n), and everyday he was forced to remember that she and Liu Kang were spending more and more time together, and eventually would be sent off to potentially die. This not only rubbed salt in the wound of not being chosen, but created a new fear for the poor young man.

God, what if (Y/n)’s opponent didn’t spare her? Would Liu Kang or Raiden interject? Kung Lao knew he would. He’d do anything to keep her safe. Hell, he’d throw away his pride and get on his hands and knees to beg if it meant saving (Y/n).

Was that why Liu Kang was chosen and not him? Because he was a better match for (Y/n)? Did the elder monks think he was more capable than him than much? Or was it (Y/n) who chose Liu Kang to fight beside her?

Now here he stood before her, soaking in her presence potentially for the last time. (Y/n)’s hand lingered on his shoulder a little longer, then she signed and took both of his hands in her own.

“What is it?” She asked, looking up expectantly.

Lao blinked, “What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face. Y’know the one that screams ‘I’ve got something to say, but I’m a wuss so instead I’m going to dwell in my room immediately after you leave,’” (Y/n) teased.

Lao half smiled and pulled his arms away. “It’s nothing, I’m just worried for you two.”

(Y/n)’s face softened and she offered him a small smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. Liu Kang’s bad temper, maybe, but I’m sure I’ll be okay out there.” She opened her arms and embraced Lao, which he quickly accepted.

“After all,” (Y/n) said pulling away slightly and flicking the tip of Kung Lao’s hat, “I trained with the best.”

“We’ve got to get going!” Liu called out from a few feet away at the enterance of the temple.

With that, she placed a small kiss on Lao’s cheek and ran off to join him and Raiden.

“You better return in one piece!” Kung Lao called out jokingly.

“If I don’t, you better build me a cooler body!” (Y/n) laughed, waving her hand over her head.

With a flash of light, the three of them were gone.

___

So far the introduction to the tournament was running smoothly. (Y/n) had managed to hold pleasant conversations with a few other competitors, including one by the name Johnny Cage. (much to Liu Kang’s distain. Apparently Johnny had accidentally disrespected Raiden and was under the impression that everyone there was just really into roleplay. But aside from being a little arrogant, (Y/n) didn’t mind him.)

(Y/n) had been selected to do a quick demonstration fight against none other than Princess Kitana, who put up a good fight but in the end didn’t stand a chance against her. While the princess laid half on the ground, (Y/n) was given the option to either finish her off or spare her. Despite (Y/n) choosing mercy, Kitana didn’t take this defeat well, but did her best to maintain her composure as the two retreated inside to tend to their wounds.

“...Why did you—,” Kitana began in a low whisper. (Y/n) turned to her and helped her hand, palm out, in front of her chest.

“You’re an excellent fighter. One with true talent, princess, believe me.” (Y/n) chuckled, “To take a life such as yours would be a waste. Don’t let one little defeat become a deterrence.”

The ghost of a smile graced Kitana’s lips. “You know, you’re a fool to be so kind to your enemies. The next time we meet might not be under such pleasant circumstances.”

(Y/n) huffed, “A fool, yes, but at the very least I’ll be remembered for it.”

———

The fighting continued on without the two girls for a while until Shang Tsung granted an intercession. (Y/n) made her way to Liu Kang’s side and nodded at him. He glanced down at her neatly bandaged hands and huffed in amusement, knowing damn well that when they returned home, his companion planned on showing off her “battle scars” to Kung Lao in an attempt to impress him. As they waited for the next match to begin, Liu Kang filled her in on what she’d missed during the Johnny Cage versus Reptile fight.

“I wish you could of been here to see it, (Y/n). I got second hand embarrassment from how arrogant he sounded.” Liu rolled his eyes.

(Y/n) stifled a giggle and covered her smile with her hand, but as she did this, she noticed one particular bodyguard’s eyes watching her intently from behind his helmet.

He was a bit of a distance away, but somehow it felt like his stare was burning through (Y/n)’s skull, and the very thought of that sent a chill down her spine. She awkwardly cleared her throat and turned to face the other direction, her fingers slightly latching onto Liu Kang’s arm defensively.

The rest of the day was nothing short of eventful. Raiden had requested that she accompanied him into the underground sections of the island, where she became acquainted with Sonya Blade and Jax, and even got to witness Sonya fight a man named Kano. Johnny Cage and Liu Kang eventually joined them, and there they established a sort of team while Raiden explained the severity of losing the tournament.

Afterwards Sonya and (Y/n) parted ways with the men and accompanied each other to their designated bedrooms, which, luckily, were located across from each other. As they walked, the two women got to know each other a little better. Sonya told (Y/n) more about how she came to meet Jax, her life in the army, and how she eventually ended up on the island. In turn, (Y/n) told her about her life with the White Lotus Society and Raiden. They went back and forth, trading silly childhood and training tales until they came across a certain mural in one of the main hallways.

(Y/n) paused in front of it and smiled fondly at the depiction of a man standing victoriously over his enemy on a great cliff or something of the sort.

She turned to Sonya and smiled excitedly. “The Great Kung Lao,” she explained, “He’s a legend back home. Truly one of the greatest fighters the White Lotus ever produced.”

She proceeded to retell the story of Kung Lao’s victories back in the day, and Sonya listened intently.

“So that’s your motive then, huh?” Sonya chuckled.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“Well I’ve got my mission to save Jax, Cage wants his fame... what about you? What’s your motive? Aside from the monks selecting you, that is.”

(Y/n) glanced back up at the mural, then back to Sonya. “A descendent of his— the great Kung Lao, I mean.” Suddenly (Y/n) felt incredibly shy and began to fiddle with her hands.

“Liu Kang?” Sonya tilted her head.

“No!” (Y/n) exclaimed, laughing slightly, “A friend of ours, actually.” As she spoke, her tone was laced with a certain fondness.

Sonya smiled, “A friend?”

“Yes, Miss Blade. A friend. Anyways, he helped me create all of my best moves. I hate to admit it, but I basically modeled my fighting style after what he taught me when we were kids.” (Y/n) faintly blushed and smiled to herself.

“So... that’s it then? You want to impress him?”

“I mean— I just—,” (Y/n) struggled to find words, “I mean of course that’s not all of it. Of course I’m here to protect the Earthrealm first, but...”

She glanced up at the mural once more.

“I don’t know, I want him to see how much I’ve improved recently.”

Truth be told, (Y/n) had always admired Kung Lao growing up, but it wasn’t until around their late teens or early twenties that she’d began to admire him a little more than usual. And because of that she’d begun to lose her focus around him. Sure, he had always been terribly strong, smart, and witty beyond compare, but as they grew (Y/n) began to notice how charming he was or how nice he looked without his gear on.

Or even how differently he treated her compared to everyone else.

———

The next day the fighters returned to the island’s arena. Shang Tsung and the monks took to their spots while Quan Chi stood at the foot of the throne.

Liu Kang and (Y/n) exchanged anxious glances At eachother. After the events of last night, (Y/n) could tell her friend’s nerves were a little shaken, despite how composed he seemed. She silently patted his back as a masked guard crossed his arms and moved a little closer to where they stood with Raiden.

“Kombatants! the next match will now begin!”

In a burst of flames, Scorpion teleported into the center of the arena. Everyone gasped in awe, and (Y/n) and Liu Kang shared looks of pure admiration.

“Scorpion!” Shang Tsung called out, “Specter of the Netherrealm! Resurrected by the sorcerer Quan Chi! Who among you is worthy of this challenge?”

“Where is the Lin Kuei Sub-Zero? He killed my family and clan. I will have his head!” The masked man snarled.

Without order, the mask guard standing closest to Raiden promptly walked to the center with Scorpion, discarding his mask and armor as he went.

“I accept the challenge!”

(Y/n)’s face fell. She knew that voice, and it definitely wasn’t Sub-Zero. She looked up at Liu with a worried expression, and he returned her stare with his own.

“Kung Lao?” He whispered as he turned back to the two men standing before them.

“Nevermind the Lin Kuei. Now you face a Shaolin.” He announced.

“Kung Lao, what are you doing here?” (Y/n) muttered under her breath.

The man ran two fingers over the brim of his razor sharp hat and turned his vision toward where (Y/n) stood with Raiden and Liu Kang. He pointed directly at the girl.

“(Y/n).”

Oh god.

“I dedicate my soon to be victory to you, my most prized companion.” He said firmly.

She looked around the arena at the other fighters with a mortified expression and caught Sonya and Johnny hiding their smiles under their hands.

“Please don’t do this, Kung Lao.” (Y/n) begged, sweat beginning to form on her temple from the sudden embarrassment she was feeling.

“It has to be done.” He said, assuming a fighting stance.

“All this nonesense to impress (Y/n) (L/n),” Scorpion huffed, “You will regret your impulsiveness.”

The fight commences, and although Kung Lao is a master of the Shaolin arts and a great fighter, his attempt at overpowering someone who’s spent years trapped in the Neatherrealm soon proved to be futile. (Y/n) could feel herself cringe at every severe blow Scorpion landed to Lao’s torso until he ultimately beat him into an unconscious state on the floor.

(Y/n) tore away from the crowd and rushed to Lao’s side, swiftly but gently lifting his torso onto her lap, cradling his head in her arms as his hat laid in the dirt beside them. Scorpion looked down at her, the pity in his eyes seemed almost unbearable to (Y/n).

“He is not yet a warrior. I apologize, (L/n), I did not mean to cause you embarrassment.” He nodded.

(Y/n) shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Don’t be sorry, Scorpion. There’s no bad blood between us.”

“Kung Lao!” Liu cried out shortly after as he jogged over to aid them.

He thre Kung Lao’s arm over his shoulder and housed him up, carrying him out of the arena as Lao came to. Raiden and (Y/n) followed shortly behind.

“Listen when your elders speak!” He scolded, “You could not win this fight! And lost it at the expense of both you and dear (Y/n)’s expense!”

“Master, please, that’s enough. He meant no harm.” (Y/n) defended as they entered the main hall.

Raiden sighed angrily, “Take him to the nursery and get him cleaned up.” With that, he turned back around.

———

“Are you sure you want to tend to his wounds by yourself? It’d go a lot faster with my help...” Liu Kang said as he stood in the doorway.

“It’s fine, Liu,” (Y/n) waved him off, “It’d look bad if both of us weren’t present during today’s fights.”

(Y/n) turned around and subtly motioned to Kung Lao, who was spread out on a bench, and shot Liu an expecting look that said, ‘Get out, dumbass, I want to speak with him in private.’

Liu Kang mouthed a silent ‘oh,’ in realization and nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Take care of him, and I’ll be back later to check on the two of you.”

He eagerly left the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the two together in awkward silence.

(Y/n) sighed and turned to the cabinets to retrieve a towel and bandages.

Kung Lao sat up and huffed in annoyance, “Why must the two of you talk about me as if I’m not here, (Y/n)? I’m perfectly capable of tending to myself, you don’t have to stay.”

(Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows together but said nothing. She continued on gathering her materials and laid them out on the counter beside them.

“Are you upset with me? Is that what this is?”

Still nothing.

“What? Do you want me to apologize? Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, (Y/n)—,”

“Why are you here, Lao!?” She interrupted sharply.

He scoffed, “Proving I’m equivalent to Liu Kang.”

(Y/n) shook her head angrily. “Why!?” She dipped her small towel in a bowl of water and squeezed it. “You don’t have to prove anything, I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t—,”

“Then help me here, Lao. Explain— Did Raiden... or the elder monks— did they say something to you?”

“That’s not it.” He glanced down.

“Did something happen? I don’t—,”

“It’s you, (Y/n). You’re the reason.” He blurted.

The room was silent again.

“Oh.”

(Y/n) slowly turned around and made her way over to Kung Lao, beckoning for him to give her his arm. She avoided his gaze as she placed the damp towel over a large gash in his shoulder.

“I’m very sorry then... Whatever I did, I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.” The heartbreak in her tone was prominent.

Kung Lao sighed, “No— sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s my fault.”

(Y/n) paused, “What do you mean?”

Lao timidly placed a hand on her shoulder. (Y/n) looked up at him in confusion and scanned his face. He was giving her the same look he had on the morning she left for the tournament. The one that made it seem like he desperately wanted to say something but didn’t know how, or couldn’t muster up the courage to flat out say it.

Kung Lao groaned and burried his face in her other shoulder.

“I like you.” He mumbled, “There, I finally said it. It’s foolish, isn’t it? That I did all of this just because I wanted you to admire me back? I knew the elder monks didn’t choose me for a reason. I’m sure I couldn’t have handled the tournament, anyways—,”

“That’s not it at all!” (Y/n) cried, gingerly wrapping her arms around his torso, “It’s my fault you weren’t chosen, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t understand,” He said, looking up.

(Y/n) sighed, “It was originally supposed to be us two. At the tournament, I mean. The elders said our fighting styles complimented eachother the most out of the three of us. But then I started to slip up during training whenever you were around. I’m sorry, I thought they’d replace me with Liu Kang, but—,”

“They replaced me instead...” Kung Lao finished.

“You are no lesser of a great fighter than Liu Kang. It truly is my fault, Lao.” (Y/n) confessed.

Kung Lao blinked and was silent for a moment. “So... you were slipping up because...?” A cheeky smile slowly made its way onto his face.

(Y/n) signed and hid her face in the crook of his neck.

“I like you too, you idiot monk. I always have.”

Kung Lao laughed, “Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“What didn’t you tell me!?” (Y/n) argued playfully.

“What? Was doing all your chores and things not enough of a sign for you?”

“Well, clearly they weren’t. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been so stressed over the matter.”

“Oh goodness...” Kung Lao chuckled.

They two sat there, holding each other, for a moment until (Y/n) pulled away.

“I have to finish cleaning your wounds, Lao.”

He nodded and sat up straight, removing his shirt so (Y/n) could clean the wounds on his chest.

As he looked down at her hands, gently pressing the towel to his wounds, applying the medicine where needed, and wrapping them up neatly, his eyes couldn’t help but trail over her lips. This wasn’t the first time, naturally, but know that he had confirmation that she was finally his...

He swooped down and captured her hips with his in a chaste but sweet kiss that lasted no more than a few seconds. (Y/n) stared up at him in surprise.

“Too soon?” He half laughed.

She shook her head, “Not at all.” (Y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down for a real kiss.

Their lips locked softly once again, and the two of them could feel the sense of pure joy and excitement building up in their chests. (Y/n)’s eyes fluttered closed as Kung Lao deepened the kiss. As Lao moved his lips against hers, it tasted sort of metallic from the dried blood that remained on Lao’s lips beforehand, but (Y/n) didn’t seem to mind.

When they finally pulled away, Kung Lao rested chin on top of (Y/n)’s head.

“You’re a fool, Kung Lao,” (Y/n) said endearingly.

He kissed her hair and let out a small laugh.

“For you, perhaps.”

#liu kang #mk kung lao #mk liu kang #mk raiden #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1995 #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao x reader #mortal kombat kung lao #kung lao #mortal kombat fandom #mortal kombat fanart #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat raiden #mortal kombat liu kang #mortal kombat 9

[oreoambitions]

Would love to see supercorp “I’ve never been festive”! Glad to see you back on my dashboard!

The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

It occurs to Kara that there is a sort of comedic timing to this, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still hold her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

///

Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating; Happy Holidays and a lovely morning to everyone who is not! Thank you for this prompt! I expected to write a quick 800 words but it got away from me and took all month.

#A Supercorp Smalltown Christmas I guess #MERRY EVERYTHING #I am finishing an queuing this at 2am #so please excuse any errors #Supercorp #made-of-rust-and-stardust

[k-llama-llama]

Seeking Comfort

Monsta X AU: 8th member

Zoey x Monsta X

When Zoey feel sick, there’s only one person she wants.

A/N:  ALSO FYI check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

Requests are CLOSED…but your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

There wasn’t very much about living in her own apartment that bothered Zoey. She lived with Seungcheol, but even when he had to spend the night elsewhere, it was a safe building. She’d never had a problem, not even when the power went out or during the worst of the quarantine restrictions.

But at times like these, when she was puking her guts out and had been for the past hour, she really wished she was back at the dorm with the boys.

“Oh my god.” She leaned up over the toilet again. There wasn’t much left for her to throw up, so she was mostly just gagging and wishing she was dead.

“Do you want to try more water?” Seungcheol asked when she was finished.

Zoey shook her head. “I’ll just throw it up.”

Seungcheol had been an absolute darling since she’d woken up feeling ill – sitting beside her, wiping her face when she was too exhausted, and even tying her hair back into the monstrosity that was currently contained by her scrunchie. But in spite of his comforting, it really wasn’t making her feel any better.

She knew it wasn’t his fault. He was doing what any sane person would do when their girlfriend was feeling sick, and that was being so sweet and amazing. But after an hour of feeling like absolute death, Zoey knew that there wasn’t going to be anything he could do to help.

“Do you think it was the chicken?” He asked softly, wiping some sweat off of her forehead.

“I don’t know.” It probably was the chicken, but she didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to feel better, crawl back into bed and wake up and forget that this had ever happened.

“Do you want some ginger candies?” Seungcheol asked. “I can run out and get some. My mom always used to give me those when I felt sick. What did your parents –“ He trailed off.

Zoey closed her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do right now was think about her parents, but she knew that he didn’t mean anything by it.

“Kihyun had this…” She gestured limply as she tried to find the words. “tea thing. I don’t know what it was. It might have been ginger.”

“I can’t leave you alone.” He said quietly, rubbing her shoulder. She’d almost fainted when she had first tried to make it to the bathroom, and she wasn’t any better now than she had been then.

Zoey forced her eyes to open slightly, finding her boyfriend wearing a guilt-wracked expression. He clearly had no idea how to make her feel better, and Seungcheol wasn’t the type of person who could just sit by and do nothing.

“Maybe….maybe some tea?” She offered, trying to find something to keep him busy.

“Okay, I’ll make you tea.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her disgusting forehead, before standing up and leaving the bathroom.

Zoey wasn’t exactly sure how long she waited in the bathroom, but she only dry-heaved once before Seungcheol was back sitting next to her. As she’d suspected, she wasn’t able to keep down the tea that he’d brought, but she managed to take a sip of water without throwing up.

“You should go to bed.” She suggested. “You have stuff to do tomorrow.”

“You’re hilarious.” He nudged her foot.

“That’s why you love me.” She smiled weakly.

“Well it’s not your looks. Have you seen yourself lately?” He teased.

She huffed a laugh, leaning her head back on the edge of her bathtub.

The beeping of the door pin pad permeated her sullen contemplation, and she opened her eyes again. “Are we being robbed?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll be right back.” She didn’t even move as he left the bathroom. She could hear voices in the living room, but she was too exhausted to try and decipher them.

“Zo?”

“Kihyun?” She thought she might have been hallucinating. “What are you doing here?”

“Seungcheol said you were sick.” He reached out to feel her forehead. “And clearly he was right.”

“I don’t feel good.” She confirmed with an exaggerated nod. “But it’s the middle of the night.”

“You’re sick.” He repeated, like it was all the explanation he needed. “And Seungcheol sounded like he was panicking, so…”

Zoey smiled. “He’s being sweet.”

“If you say so.” Kihyun gently moved her so that she could rest her forhead on his shoulder, and started untangling the scrunchie from her hair. “I gave him the recipe for the honey lemon ginger tea that I always used to make you when you felt sick.”

“I knew there was ginger in it.”

“You should know, I’ve made it for you enough times.” He laughed.

Zoey smiled again. She wasn’t sure how many times over the years that Kihyun had sat up with her when she was feeling sick, but she still remembered the first time. Barely a month out of No Mercy when she’d caught the flu. He’d made her tea, soup, and babied her for four days straight. And it had been the first time in her life that anyone bothered to take care of her when she was sick.

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?” Kihyun rubbed her back.

Zoey shook her head slightly.

“Okay, then let’s get you back to bed and you can have some of the tea before you go to sleep.”

She let him pull her to her feet, wrapping his arm around her waist to keep her upright. Slowly they limped back to the bedroom. She could heard Seungcheol in the kitchen, metal clinking against metal as he made the tea.

“Which side of the bed is yours?” Kihyun asked.

“What do you think?” Zoey’s head lolled to the side.

“I don’t know.” He snorted. “The entire time I’ve known you you’ve either slept in a twin bed or closest to the wall. There’s no wall side here.”

“I guess that’s true. With the stuffed bear.”

Kihyun looked up, noticing the worn teddy bear that Zoey had always had with her sitting on the nightstand of the right side of the bed. “Alright, let’s go.”

He helped her lay down in bed, propping her up with some pillows.

“Tea’s ready!” Seungcheol called, quieting as he stepped into the room. “I cooled it down.”

“Try just a few sips.” Kihyun directed, taking the mug from Seungcheol and held it up to her lips.

She carefully took two sips, sighing as the slightly bitter taste didn’t make her want to throw up. “That’s nice.”

“Good.” Kihyun stroked her hair again. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay the night and make breakfast or something.”

“M’kay.” She slumped down into her pillows, finally exhausted enough to go to sleep.

“Thank you so much.” Seungcheol whispered.

“No problem.” Kihyun nodded. “I’m glad you called.”

“Seriously, though. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“You would have been fine.” Kihyun smiled, knowing that it was true. “I’ll crash on the couch.”

“I’ll grab you some…” Seungcheol glanced down. “You’re already wearing pyjamas.”

Kihyun shrugged. “I ran out as soon as you called. Call me if she needs anything.”

“There’s a pullout couch in Zoey’s studio!”

#monsta x #monsta x au #monsta x imagines #monsta x 8th member #female kpop #female!kpop #female member kpop #requests open #au #kpop #imagines #imagine #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen imagines

[jungkxook]

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.  

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art. 

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons. 

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow. 

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure. 

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him. 

“You doing okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it. 

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing. 

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart. 

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” 

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?” 

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh. 

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs. 

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides? 

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication. 

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you. 

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry. 

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck. 

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?” 

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right. 

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━” 

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits. 

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair. 

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs. 

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway. 

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid. 

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum. 

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad. 

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

#smutcentralnet #btsbookclub #namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts #bts smut #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #namjoon imagines #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #bangtan smut #bts fanfic #bts oneshots #youtuber bts #ghost hunter bts