#traced a dumbass baby in a high chair

[rock-byumblr]

bone meal

#traced a dumbass baby in a high chair #steven universe #aquamarine #Tiny aquamarine #💙💙💙 #aquamarine su #su aquamarine #steven universe aquamarine #aquamarine Steven universe #Steven universe memes

[todourouki]

congrats on 1k+!! can i request for sfw #14 (domestic life w/ them 🥺) with aizawa, todoroki, bakugou, and shinsou? thank you sm!! i love your works :>

AHHH! thank you so much for this, it means a lot! and ugh this is so cuteeee!

Want to celebrate prompt night with me? Click Here.

SFW PROMPT #14: What would living with them be like?

including aizawa, todoroki, bakugou, & shinsou

living with aizawa would be so nice

he’s not a high-maintenance guy

he’s more of a “as long as nothing looks like a piece of shit, we’re good”

matching sleeping bags

the man adores his sleep, i’m sure we all see that

so there’s soft blankets spread over every single couch/lounge-chair incase the two of you decide to nap

every day off, you guys have a tradition on waking up the latest time you possibly could, cooking breakfast together and eating it in bed with a show the two of you are currently binge watching on the tv

aizawa isn’t a bathroom hogger honestly he probably doesn’t even look in the mirror as much as he should

he’s pretty tidy when it comes to leaving his shit where it’s supposed to be

mostly because if he loses it, he knows he’ll be too lazy to look for it and he probably doesn’t have time

the furniture is all monochromatic

i don’t see him as a guy having brightly covered couches in his living room

everything is neutral, black, or white

minimalistic king

due to pure exhaustion all the time, color is out of the question, it reminds him of his students and he hates it but secretly loves it so all of his plates are multicolored

honestly living with aizawa sounds amazing

“Shouta,” you groan, eyes snapped harshly shut die to the light tracing into the room from the now open shades, “close the freaking things.”

Aizawa mumbles right after you, leg kicking the shade he once accidentally lifted with his foot back to where it once was. With the harsh tugs done by his feet, the light in the room finally fleeted away and allowed the comfortable dimness takeover once again.

The Pro-Hero’s arms gripped onto you tighter, nose nuzzled into your neck and bringing your body the kind of warmth necessary within the cold room. “S’go back to sleep, kitten.”

You mustered a smile, eyes still closed and hands running through the silky black hair resting underneath your neck. Mornings with Shouta were always the same— waking up once because of his leg obnoxiously releasing the shades, and both of you falling asleep once again in each other’s embrace.

You felt Aizawa begin to rub your back, fingers twinkling against your bare back soothing you beyond explanation. Within minutes, you felt yourself losing conscience, and you finally drifted back to sleep with the man you loved cradling you with unconscious admiration.

living with todoroki is exactly what you’d think it would be

i don’t mean to say it

but ima say it

this rich bitch has a ton of antique and expensive furniture lying around

mostly because he loves using his dad’s money

you and todoroki are a weird match

because you both love the exact same things

so all the furniture in your home

whether the living room be one color and bedroom be another

it all weirdly goes together because you’re both so good and coordinating shit

like your couch could be fucking orange

and the blue throw-pillows and decorations you cover your living room with just make sense

just like the two of you

living with todoroki means you figure out just how funny he actually is

also just how dense the boy could be

like he’s so sweet but also a little ✨dumb✨

he doesn’t know how to use the laundry machine and he never will don’t change my mind about this

todoroki loved cold soba we all know that

so there is a specific cabinet underneath the sink filled with all the ingredients for making it

that cabinet has to be restocked a lot

usually on days off, shouto would like to sleep in but he knows he just can’t

so if you like to sleep in, he already went out for a run, took a shower, and made you breakfast by the time you wake up

if you like to wake up early/with him, you find yourself either joining his workout or making him a hearty breakfast by the time he gets back

living with todoroki is really sweet bye i’m gonna go cry

“I just don’t understand why I’d have to press so many obnoxious buttons to get it to wash clothes,” he began, his stoic voice staring harshly at the machine infront of him as you stared at him in disbelief, “it isn’t my fault.”

“Shou, you froze the entire machine..” You repeated, a deadpanned expression on your face as you tried your hardest not to laugh.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the best at figuring things like this out, he hated to admit it but his family had done a lot for him back home. And sure, he wasn’t a little boy anymore and should probably know how to work a laundry machine, but he was convinced it acted up with him and him only.

“It was giving me a hard time, I didn’t even realize I froze it until I realized the clothes weren’t spinning anymore..” The frown on his face was one you couldn’t help but smile at, the grin taking over your face as you chortled a laugh.

With your empty hand, you gave the boy a kiss on the forehead, his calculating expression trying to decipher the reason certain clothes needed a certain temperature of water. Moments like this made you realize just why you loved Todoroki so much.

bakugou

is a handful

that’s clear to everyone

but living with him, oddly enough, is not

you both have a specific cleaning day

every single sunday morning

and that same night included the two of you watching a movie and having loud in-depth character analysis debate every single time

you both have special cooking days (he has more but it’s ok bc he won’t say it but he absolutely loves cooking for you)

bakugou has been through a lot, my baby

so consistency is something he depends on

he nearly breathes for it

routine is everything in your household, being something you grew accustomed to as well even if it’s not what you’re used to

every day you’d wait for him to get back home on the plush couch in the living room

so that way you’re the first thing he sees when he gets home, as well as a platter of his favorite food for the night and his fav tv show on the tv

he feels like he’s walking into heaven every single day

and depending on your schedules, you get the same thing when you get home if he beats you to it

a show/anime you’re trying to finish, the food you’ve begged him to make, and your loving boyfriend/husband lounged against the couch waiting for your arrival

you both wake up early— sorry, even if you don’t want to

bakugou doesn’t give a single fuck, he will wake you up and force you to either workout with him or start your day with him

on his days off though, you both sleep in until the afternoon

there’s literally no inbetween with your schedules

you’re both either up and ready to go by 8am or finally getting up to brush your teeth at 3pm

“How many times do I have to tell you— the real villain was not Sharpay, but Gabriella!” Your voice boomed, staring at your boyfriend who looked at you as if you had four heads.

“Babe, with all due respect, you’re a fucking idiot!” He retaliated just as aggressive and firm as you. “How can you say that when she’s such a bitch?!”

The credits of the movie you just watched played in the background, popcorn kernels pushing into the skin you had sprawled against your boyfriend. The pink reflected across your shirtless boyfriend, his ears beginning to redden due to the volume of his voice.

“Gabriella walked into that high school and literally stole everything Sharpay worked for,” you retorted, the straw you were drinking from entering your lips as you took a quick sip of the soda, “that’s being a bitch!”

He opened his mouth, signaling you to throw one of the Swedish Fish candies into his mouth and you did. With a laugh, you continued to throw food into one another’s mouth over and over throughout the argument.

“Maybe you resonate with Sharpay so much because you’re both bitches.” He snickered, dodging a pillow that fleeted your side of the couch and into his side by your right hand.

A gasp slipped your lips, narrowing your eyes at his tall figure and shoving a candy down your throat after his words, “maybe that’s why you love me, cause you’re a bitch too.”

living with shinsou >>>> breathing

shinsou is a gamer idc

there’s a playstation in both your room and your living room for game nights

yes

you guys had a game night

every single friday you guys would sit in nothing but (shinsou’s) t-shirt, and underwear and play nothing but video games all day

you usually end up falling asleep when the sun begins to come up, always taking saturday’s off no matter what for the occasion

you both are clean

being too lazy just like aizawa to have to find it if it’s misplaced

the bedroom look the best bc shinsou gets tired of monochromatic things and you hate living in a boring setting

so the two of you’s aesthetic shines through the room

if you cook, then please know food us up to you

if you can’t cook

money is spent 90% of the time on take out

because shinsou can’t cook for shit i don’t care

sometimes people wonder how it is you both manage to go to work and have a coherent sleeping schedule

and the reason is

aside from shinsou’s clinical insomnia )-:

that the two of you are absolute dumbasses

you spend all day doing homework if one of you is in college

or doing the work that needs to be done if you have just a job

and after that?

it’s just cuddling, gaming, struggling to cook, ordering take out, and eventual sleeping when you both realize you’re both past a point of ni return

most of the time though, you both manage to sleep

it’s more surprising for shinsou though bc he could never sleep properly if he’s alone

the two of you live together in GTA

also, I canon that Shinsou loves watching The Office so you guys binge watch the fuck out of that

living with shinsou is living with a bestfriend that is a civilized adult at certain times that you can cuddle and make out with

a girl can only dream <3

The sound of the console played through the room, your focused face watching the screen in front of you intently. The feeling of the bed moving along side every tap of the controller in your boyfriend’s hands trembled your limbs, your eyes being too locked on the screen to even maintain a balance.

“Go to the left, the left!” You pointed out, your legs sprawled across your boyfriend’s chest as he rested his body horizontally underneath yours.

“I know..” His voice was enough to show you he was focused, his eyes barely blinking as he followed your command and moved the character closer towards the left.

As gun shots erupted through the room, all you could see were flashes of red across the screen and players who had been attacked in Shinsou’s frenzy dead against the floor.

Exhilaration ran through your veins as finally killed the last person, the feeling of his body tending under you making you smile in happiness. You had both been trying to beat this level for weeks and you finally did it, exciting you to no limit.

The phrase “victory” strobed against the screen, making the two of you cheer in happiness at the time being well spent. He landed a big fat kiss on your cheek, pulling you in by the string in your hoodie and pressing you against him.

“Let’s beat some more ass in this next round, huh doll?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, pretty boy.”

#headcanons #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #aizawa x reafer #aizawa x reader #todoroki x reader #aizawa #shinsou #todoroki #1kfollowersnight #heillysreqs

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I felt as though since this story had such a specific narrative (especially delving into the harsh world of modeling and the effects of discrimination) that it would reach out to a very specific niche of reader.

I was actually astonished by loud support this fic has obtained so for, so thank you so much! I cannot stress enough how much that means to me. 

HnM 💕

Tag-list: @steggy4ever​ @library-trash​ @watevermelon​ @glimmadora-ble​ @persephones24​ @dragonempress123​ @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms​ @hot-pocket01​ @tsukineho​

Month 1, Month 3

--Month 2--

No.

You looked at the stick of plastic in your hand with wide eyes as your mouth stuttered into a slack jaw—your breaths hardly making their way in and out of your lungs evenly.

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you saw white spots underneath your lids before you snapped them back open again, internally praying that you would wake up form whatever nightmare you were having.

However, you couldn’t blink away the big, fat smiley face that stared back up at you from the piece of purple and white plastic that sealed your fate.

No. No. No!

The sudden urge to puke came back with a vengeance and you threw yourself to the toilet, slamming your knees to the ground in the process. As your stomach lurched up into your chest, you couldn’t tell whether the tears forming in your eyes were from the harshness of the motion or something else entirely.

“Gah!” you loudly choked out as you pulled away from the mess in the toilet. 

Once the nausea became slightly less debilitating you leaned back against your bathtub, throwing your head up as you groaned to the ceiling, “No, no, no, nooo…” you softly sobbed. You tried your best to keep from bawling so you didn’t find yourself with your head back in the bowl, but you couldn’t help the stream of hot tears that spilled from your eyes as you stared at the vent in the ceiling.

How could this happen? How could you be… pr...

A sudden stirring in your gut made you swallow hard as you tried to keep your stomach out of your throat.

Don’t be an idiot, Y/N. You took sex education in high school. You put the condom on the banana and were scolded with constant threats of STDs and the fires of Hell like everybody else. So yeah. You know how it happened.

You sighed as you thought back to all the guys you had slept with recently-- which was luckily not too many within the past few months, and only one since your last period.

Fuck, you didn’t even remember what the damn fathe-- guy looked like.

Well, excluding his rippling muscles.

You threw your head into your hands as the uncanny image of a body builder newborn infiltrated your mind. Well, that didn’t fucking help at all. Grabbing your hair tightly as you stared at the tile between your legs, you cursed yourself, “You dumbass! How could you be so goddamn stupid!? Stupid, stupid, stupid!” you repeatedly knocked against your skull.

You reached into the recesses of your memory for any information you might have about the guy. Where was his apartment again...? On the other side of town somewhere right… Near Club 52? God, you didn’t even fucking know! and what did it matter anyway, huh? What were you gonna do? Storm up to his place, pregnancy tests a-blazin’, and tell the complete stranger that you were carrying his kid?!

With a weak and tired moan, you lifted yourself off of your bathroom floor and went to the sink to rinse your bile infested mouth out and wash the salty tears off of your cheeks.

But not before you got a good look at yourself in the mirror.

Swollen eyes.

Red nose.

Drying, teary snot pooling on the rim of your upper lip.

“You look like shit,” you harshly reprimanded yourself before turning the sink on and sticking your face into the cool water. Your hands blindly reached around your counter until you finally grabbed a nearby hand towel to bring to your face. As you patted your cheeks dry, your eyes wandered to the counter where three other positive pregnancy tests that you had taken earlier that morning resided.

The trio all sported a similar smug smile as they looked up to you as if to say ‘we told you so.’

The little shits.

“Shut up.” You quickly grabbed all four tests and with a hint of bitterness chucked them into a nearby trash bin before making your way to your bedroom across the hall.

Plopping down onto your screeching mattress, you took your phone out:

Boss Lady

[2:50 pm]

Hey, brat. I hope you’re doing better.

Don’t forget that we have that runway fitting next week. And the test shots. And the international scouting event.

Think. Thin.

No carbs. No red meats.

NO ALCOHOL!!!

Fucking no alcohol for nine whole months. You attempted to scoff at this, but what came out could have probably been mistaken for the last sounds of a dying animal.

Kimi:

[3:31 pm]

Hope you made it home safe last night!

As you read this text, a piece of you wished that maybe you hadn't made it home safe last night... Your brain briefly wandered into the dark territories of ‘what if’s’ as you imagined falling in front of the train at the subway, walking past a drug deal gone wrong, hell-- drowning on the water you took with your Pepto Bismol. You quickly brushed these thoughts away as you continued looking through your phone, 

Boss Lady

[4:45 pm]

Oh, also Deku just asked for a meeting with you personally.

You’re going of course. Glad you got his attention. Good girl.

Tomorrow.  5:00pm. El Vino’s downtown. (EAT LIGHTLY!)

Inches! Inches! Inches!

You slammed your phone down onto your mattress as you loudly sighed.

Inches. Your entire livelihood depended on your damn inches and now there was no way you could maintain the “golden ratio.” The thought made your blood churn.

Modeling… was all that you had. You didn’t have any other fucking talents—no quirk to depend on-- so when would your growing stomach steal your life away?

When do people even start ‘showing’? 

You haven’t come across many pregnant women, but all of the ones you have seen either looked like normal people or like freaking beach balls. For some reason your brain couldn’t conjure an intermediate.

Did they just blow up out of nowhere? If so, then when? How long could you pull a ruse off before your growing organ snitched on you? 5 months? 6 months? Next fucking week?

You realized then that you knew next to jack squat about pregnancy.

Or damn kids for that matter.

Okay so... abortion? For some reason, even just the thought of that word made an icky taste surge in your mouth—or maybe it was the leftover vomit, who knows?

To be honest, you had never really thought much on abortion before—it was one of the many topics filed into your brain under ‘that does not and will not pertain to me, so why the fuck should I care?’ Filtered out and forgotten, your feelings on abortion had yet to be developed.

Until now.

After a few beats, you opened your phone back up and began to dial Kimi, fearing that you might soon explode with the brunt of knowledge that weighed heavily upon your shoulders.

You paused.

Had you ever actually talked to her about anything that wasn’t exclusively work related? In the past two years of knowing her, have you ever actually learned anything about her, and she about you? Very suddenly, you were slapped in the face by a crude fact: Kimi was just a work-friend.

That was fucking fine and dandy up until now. You pretty much either worked, or drank, or showed up to work drunk. But now…

Shit.

Who the hell else could you call? You barely had any friends, and you hadn’t talked to your family in what felt like ages. Who was there for situations like this? If half of your life was working, and half of your life was drinking, and your work friends were a no go… what about your drinking friends? Your mind briefly fled to the stashes of your best buddies-- vodka and tequila-- that you kept in your kitchen.

But not even they could save you now.

Fuck you really were alone.

That night, you found yourself constantly flipping your pillow to find a new dry spot to assault with fresh tears. You hadn’t cried so much since you were a kid. Wait-- come to think of it, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had cried at all.

So, was it hormones? Pregnancy hormones?

The surreal thought made your tears fly down your face even more furiously.

The next evening there was practically no trace or evidence of your mental breakdown from the night before as you strolled up to El Vino’s. It was honestly kind of frightening how quickly you had managed to pull yourself together before this little meeting—but mostly, it was empowering.

Okay, Y/N. You fucking got this. Hormones or not, you were still a baddie to your very core.

Deku was easy enough to spot in the little Mediterranean themed restaurant—with the green-ass hair and all. You strolled up to the table with the warmest smile that you could muster, “Mr. Deku,” you quickly approached his table and gave a slight bow.  

“H-Hey!” You seemed to startle him with your sudden appearance. He jumped a bit in his seat and awkwardly shifted as you made your way to your own chair. His face was a bit red as you maintained your eyes on his shying expression. 

“Look, before you say anything. I just want to say sorry,” his shocked eyes suddenly snapped back up to yours as you continued, “I had no idea that the event was yours and I probably ruined the rest of the night for you. If you want me off the brand deal, then I completely understand, just... don’t blame Ainu’s agency.”

His mouth fumbled over itself for a moment, causing you to quirk an unsure eyebrow before he could finally speak up, “No t-that’s not what I am here for at all, Miss L/N.”

“Call me Y/N. please,” your smirk was a little less sure than usual and you prayed that he couldn’t detect how off he had thrown you. This was going much different than you had expected it to. For one, he wasn’t trying to ‘put you in your place for disrespecting him’ or bargain  sex ‘as an apology’ like most power hungry men in his position would.

“Okay, M-miss Y/N,” the blush that adorned his cheeks confused you even further and you felt the space between your eyebrows involuntarily tighten. That was another thing… He didn’t seem like a typical man in a position of power. He was… soft... you didn’t know how else to explain it other than unusual for a man of his size and stature.

“I actually wanted to apologize to you,” he spoke up once more and you were completely lost by then. You could only blink as he continued to speak, “You really got me thinking about things the other night-- you were totally right. The brand of my sneakers did lose its true meaning. I really meant to have it be a symbol for kids growing up without a quirk to enjoy—to give them hope, but it turned into more of an endorsement to myself. The whole thing. It was wrong. That’s why I have decided to give 100% of my personal Red Sneakers profits to establishing my Quirkless Youth Initiative,”

You looked around for any hidden cameras—any hidden agenda behind his motives before looking back to him with a stiff expression. You had to physically keep your face from scrunching, “And just how are you going to make a living out of a mindset like that?” you dared to call his bluff.

“It’s just gonna have to work. It’s what my mentor would have done—given 100%. Beyond actually.”

Holy shit. This man was being serious. ‘100% and beyond’ serious, to be exact. Your face scrunched up once more, “Why do you care so much anyway?” you cut back on your tone as you noticed his eyes widen a bit at your accusatory voice, “Not to be rude, but… what’s a strong hero like you doing caring about us quirkless?”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment or two. Contemplating on whether or not he was going to lie, you noticed, “I… I…  didn’t have a quirk until much later in life. I was 14. Growing up, I always wanted to be a hero, and I just wish that I had someone back then believe in me. I want to be the one that tells kid’s—with a smile-- that they can do it. That they have at least one person who believes in them.”

His name-- Deku-- it meant worthless. The puzzle pieces were finally coming together and things began to make sense. It was a name that either himself or others used to describe him when he was growing up probably, and the man had taken it and spun it around to make it his own. Even you had to admit--

“That’s pretty damn impressive,” you couldn’t help the curl that tugged into the corners of your lips as Deku bashfully looked away from you,

“It’s nothing, really!” he tried to deflect. You gave a small laugh before smoothly bringing up the glass of wine in front of you to your lips. As soon as the liquid rushed in your mouth, your eyes flew wide open with realization,

Shit! What the fuck were you doing?

You immediately spit the alcohol back into your cup and snapped your eyes back to Deku who had, thankfully, been too caught up in his own embarrassment to be paying attention to you. You gave a sigh of relief and sat the wine glass as far away from you as inconspicuously possible. 

“So,” you leaned into the table a bit to get his eyes back on you, “Tell me about this Quirkless Youth Initiative,” you smiled. 

From that point on, you and Deku actually found talking to each other relatively easy—okay, extremely easy. In fact, you stayed past the point of dinner and ended up talking at your table hours after the bill had been paid.

You talked about everything and nothing altogether and didn’t know just when to end the conversation. You lowered your borders for some reason. Well-- you knew the reason. It was because you had been dying to talk to someone since you found out that you were the ‘p-word.’

 He ended up walking you home. Past that, for the next two weeks you guys pretty much saw each other every other day or two and talked fairly regularly. Things became habitual.

In fact.

As you stood in the beaming light of the wardrobe, getting your makeup done, you found yourself stealing little glances here and there to your phone to text with your new friend, Deku. Every buzz of your phone left you with a giddy sense of excitement.

One of the models sharing the gigantic mirror with you quickly took notice of your demeanor, “What are you smiling at, Y/N?”

“She’s texting someone,” another spoke up as your friend/babysitter, Kimi strolled up next to you,

“What?! Y/N L/N texting someone back? Have we entered the Twilight Zone??” she joked. You only responded with poking your tongue out at her before your phone buzzed again, 

Deku:

[1:00 pm]

Good Luck on your runway thing today!

You:

More like run away thing🏃‍♀️💨

Deku:

I could help? Bring comfort snacks?

You:

Most of us haven’t eaten a full meal in days BB

You would literally be stampeded by women

Wait that sounded too good🤔

You will literally be stampeded by hungry women***

Deku:

You haven’t been eating?!

Since when?!

You:

That’s not what I said. 

Just pre-show prep to keep the waists snatched and the legends skinny💁‍♀️

Deku:

Sorry I don’t know how your job really works.

I’ll come over again tonight after your show and bring dinner!

If that’s okay. Sorry didn’t mean to sound pushy.

“Didn’t you hear? Her and Deku really hit it off on their date,”  Your attention was instantly snapped away from your phone screen.

You gave an ugly snort, “It wasn’t a date.” And you certainly weren’t lying. The friendly atmosphere between you and Izuku felt comfortable as best—nothing intimate about it.

You wouldn't have it any other way. It felt as though he was placed in your life to perfectly fill the holes in your boat just before you started sinking.

“Girl your phone is blowing up!” a co-worker exclaimed, loudly.

Kimi laughed as she pinched your cheeks, “Look at that smile on her face”

All of the commotion gathered the attention of Boss Lady, who was currently storming up to you with the ‘phone box’ (or phone cemetery as some of you liked to call it) in her hand. She liked to have this on her especially in big events like runways or show casings because some of the girls—you were guilty as charged—spent quite a bit of time on their phones behind the scenes, “Phone. Bin. Now.”

Usually, you would put up some type of argument or give a quick-witted remark, but this time around you only rushed to send one final text in before you threw your cellphone into the crate.

You:

[1:33pm]

I should get off at like 11 see you then broccoli boy🥦🤪

Kimi looked terrified as though she was the one who had just incurred Ainu’s wrath, “Still smiling, huh...?” 

You hadn’t even notice that you had been.

Talking to Deku really did make you happy when you needed it. Just like he spun ‘deku’ around and made it make sense, he had spun your life around and did the same. He made you feel like life was normal—whatever the hell that was. You’d never really been classified as normal anyway, but you had some impression that this resembled what it must feel like.

For a fleeting moment you think that maybe you should just sleep with Deku and pass this pregnancy off as his since you had yet to tell him-- or anyone-- about it. 

But the better half of you instantly slaps this thought out through your ears.

Hello? Welcome to psycho bitch incorporated. Seriously. What the fuck was wrong with you?

Damn, you had been separated from your phone (and Deku) for exactly 23 seconds and you were already outta your cot-damn mind. You get one friend and suddenly you don’t know how to act. 

You needed to somehow find “blond muscle man” and let him know what was up. Fuck, how were you supposed to do that when you didn’t even know his name?

The runway that night went pretty much how every single other runway went, except this time-- you opted not to attend any of the after parties. Instead, you went home and had Deku over, who delivered on his promise with sushi. 

You could smell the sushi as soon as he walked through the door and your mouth instantly watered. He really was god sent. 

The two of you settled quickly in your apartment, deciding to risk it all and eat on your living room couch to watch TV; however, you quickly noticed that the TV wasn’t the only thing that Izuku was watching. As soon as you turned to raise an eyebrow on him he feebly attempted to avert his gaze, but you caught him anyways, “What? You better stop sizing me up unless you wanna fight, Deku,” you sang as you popped another sushi roll into your mouth.

“W-what sizing you up?!”

You cackled at the sudden redness of his face, “I’m just joking. We both know I’d probably kick your ass!”

“You think so?” he actually sounded a bit nervous in his tone, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Oh, I know so,” you shrugged with a growing smirk, “Anyway. What are you staring so hard at me for?”

The air became very still around the two of you as he looked down to think. This was something that became pretty expectant of him these past few week-- a funny little habit.

“It’s just… we’ve been hanging out a lot the past few weeks and I never really noticed it—your… dieting,” he seemed to fall into that last word a bit as if it wasn’t exactly the word that he had wanted to use. 

You knew that he meant to say ‘starving yourself’ but was too reserved for that level of bluntness. That was okay with you. You weren't particularly ready to open that can of worms, “Damn, and here I was thinkin’ I was looking pretty damn good,” you joked as the both of you began cleaning up your food mess.  

“No. That’s not what I meant I—”

“Joking! I’m just joking with you, Big D,” you found yourself using this nickname for him whenever you wanted to see his face fall into it’s deepest shades of red. It worked every single time,

“I have just been at this for a long time—modeling for Ainu’s agency. Since I was 15 actually,” you shook your head a little at the surge of nostalgia that wanted to bubble up your back. You clutched a nearby pillow and hugged it to your chest, “She scouted me at a mall food court. She changed my entire life—for the better of course. She is practically my mom... I owe her a lot,” you found yourself giving into the nostalgia a bit-- a small, fond smile tugging at your lips. You looked up after a few beats of silence filled the air and was met with Deku’s admiring stare, “What? You nerd!” you exclaimed with a giggle, chucking the pillow at him. 

“It’s nothing. I just like hearing about you. I feel like I have been doing a lot of talking about me since we have been hanging out.”

Yeah, he was a Cancer zodiac for sure. You pretty much knew his entire life’s story after only the first week of knowing him, “Are you kidding me?! Your life is straight out of a comic book, BB! I love hearing about it!” You began talking to him from out of the kitchen as you put your leftovers in the fridge,

“You went up against the League of Villains, the Vanguard Action Front and The Paranormal Liberation Front as a freshman?? You powered up from a quirkless crybaby! (Hey!) to an amazing, uprising, super considerate, overpowered crybaby on his way to number one! Your U.A. friends all seem like comic book characters, too. I love them already from what you tell me,” you closed the fridge, revealing his shocked expression.

“Really?” You nodded, igniting a spark in his eyes, “Well, I am actually having a little get together at my place for my friends if you wanna stop by.”

“Yeah sure. As long as my favorite character, Kaminari, is there,” Izuku seemed shocked and slightly offended by your choice in favorite, so you clarified, “He sounded really cool and all with his ‘chatty zappy’ thing going on,” you suddenly rolled your eyes as a bad taste emerged in your mouth, “Kacchan sounds like a little bitch baby though, no offense.”

“Y/N!”

“What?! Kacchan can ‘Kach’ these ‘hans’! Oh come on. Not even a pity laugh? A little one?” You apparently thought you were a lot funnier than Izuku did. 

“I think the two of you might actually get along. You’re very similar now that I think about it,” he trailed off on his last part, seemingly talking to himself as he grabbed his chin. 

You almost felt offended by his comparison, “Fuck that. Oppisites attract, Similars repel. Besides. Why would I wanna be friends with a little bitch baby that bullies and pisses on quirkless people?”

“Well, when you meet him next week you might like him…”

You clicked your tongue, “So now I am obligated to come, huh?” you smirked.

“N-no well that’s not what I meant but I would appreciate if you—”

You were only half paying attention to his freak out as the abrupt craving for orange juice infiltrated your mind and placed itself on the forefront of your thoughts, “Deku. I am joking!” you absentmindedly reminded him as you scoured your pantries for a wine glass. You had taken to drinking out of these instead of regular cups to at least maintain a semblance of your old self. 

Izuku’s eyes widened at the sight of your collection of wines and alcohols in one of your cupboards. You smirked at him-- throwing him  look that said ‘you ain’t seen nothin yet’ as you opened your freezer to reveal the insane hoard of alcohol you had stored.

His jaw practically dropped to the floor at the sight, “Holy woah, you have an entire liquor store in here!”

“Saving for a rainy day,” you almost immediately realized the error of your words as Izuku motions to one of the windows near you. The two of you sat in a beat of silence as the pitter-patter of rainfall splattered against the glass pane.

“It’s raining today,” he grinned excitedly. 

“No... I cant,” the way that the words fell out sounded about as convincing as a disguise with groucho glasses. You could really go for a drink right about now.

He looked to you a bit sadly, if not disappointed, “Y/N if this is about your diet… I am just saying, I don’t think one day will hurt too much.”

“No, I really shouldn't.” Understatement of the century. 

Izuku grabbed two glasses out of your cupboard with a soft smile gracing his features, “We’ll pour you just a little bit in case you change your mind—”

Maybe one glass wouldn't hurt... No. NO! God, you knew he meant well, but he is really fucking making this hard for you!! “I cant, I’m pregnant!!” you suddenly yelled. He immediately froze, 

“Wha...?”

“I’m pregnant...”

“Oh... Uhhh congratulations,” the most unconvincing thing to have ever come out of his mouth probably, “Who…”

“I don’t know,” the look of utter horror on his face had you instantly backtracking your answer, “Well—let me rephrase that. I do know who it is, but I don’t know his name. It was a umm.. ‘Wam. Bam. Thank you ma’am’ type deal.” Your face began burning as hot blood rushed into your cheeks. You literally couldn't have phrased that worse if you tried. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“You don’t look pregnant...” the horror on his face now registered into your mind as pure shock. 

“I sure as hell would hope not. I am like a month-ish along—I think.”

“You haven’t been to the doctor?”

“Uhh no...” He was right, you didn't even look pregnant. There was no way in hell that you needed to go to the doctor yet. Right?

“W-wait! Y/N the night we met! You were drinking alcohol!”

“So? I am probably only like a few weeks pregnant and I drank like two glasses. I am sure it didn’t do anything…?”

“Are you really sure? How can you know!? You have to go see a doctor!” he looked terrified. It was as if he suddenly was the embodiment every stressed emotion that you had been shoving away from you these past few weeks and the sight scared you. 

“You’re freaking me out, Deku.”

He instantly froze, “S-sorry,” he looked down to his shoes. Maybe you just might let him pour those drinks after all. He looked like he could use both of them right about now...

The next week dragged on for what felt like eons, as Izuku seemed to cautiously dance around the topic of your “preexisting condition.” It was quite obvious that every time the topic came up, a cloud of discomfort would come and sit on his shoulders; however, the man still made it a point to urge the fact that you needed to set up a doctor’s appointment.

Eventually, you caved in and scheduled for one at a local clinic, but they couldn't get you in for a few weeks anyway-- the joint was at maximum capacity, you guessed?  Apparently, there were more pregnant bitches waddling around than you thought.

Still, Deku urged you to read up and research some things prior to your appointment so that you could ask the doctor any questions that might pop up. It seemed like he was almost way too into this-- taking notes in a composition notepad that he dubbed “Baby Notes Vol 1″ and even mentioning coming along with you to your clinic visit.

It made things extremely real. 

Your little safe space with Deku had effectively been conquered and subjugated by the little parasite that took residence in your body. You shook your shoulders with a sigh as you neared Deku’s door for the party. 

*KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK* 

When the door opened you couldn't help the way that your eyebrows flew up in surprise at the sight of a woman opening the door. Uhh... did you go to the wrong house?

The brown haired girl in front of you looked just as surprised as you-- if not even more so. 

Okay, you definitely went to the wrong house.

The sudden sound of Izuku’s voice coming deep from withing the apartment led you to breath easy. You deflated a little bit as you relaxed. You wouldn't have to make a mad dash in a lagged game of ‘ding dong ditch’ after all,  “Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.”

A series of emotions flashed across her expression at your greeting: shocked, nervous, then... disappointed? “Y/N! I’ve heard... so so much about you!” the smile that stretched across her lips seemed almost painful, “I’m Ochako Uraraka! I... love your hair!” she threw out the last part like a rabbit would throw steak to wolves. 

“Thank’s...” you felt fucking awkward and she still hasn’t let you into the apartment, “I’ll make sure to thank the stylist and the bottle of dye she used.”

“That’s not your real hair color? It looks so healthy though!” she seemed heartbroken as she used a pitying tone and you could gauge that the pity was not for yourself. 

“Nah. My agency pretty much determines what hairstyles I wear...”  You made eye contact with Deku inside of the house as he made his way to the door... Thank god! you were saved from that terribly awkward interaction.

“Agency? Hero agency?”

“Modeling, actually. I’m not that badass,” you smirked before walking into the party.

Her figure deflated as if to say, ‘of fucking course’, “Oh. That’s cool!” You didn’t see much of Uraraka after that 

Meanwhile, Bakugou was just a tick away from being angry enough to kill. His roommates had all three convinced him to go to this get together over Deku’s house and they weren't even going to be there on time! 

He had honestly never been to a party with these losers without at least Shitty Hair being with him, so he wasn’t exactly sure how it would pan out and that really bothered him. He wasn’t exactly social at these events, but at least the three stooges kept him somewhat entertained (he would never admit this aloud).

What could those other losers possible do to entertain him?

“Whyyyyyyy?” he heard crying as he neared Deku’s home. His face scrunched in on itself even further than usual as he approached the whining noise. He scoffed at the inebriated mess in front of him,

“What the hell are you doing, round face?”

Uraraka, who was leaning against the edge of Izuku’s front patio looked up, causing Bakugou to deeply grimace at the germy snot that trailed down her red face, “Deku’s new girlfriend sure is cool. He deserves someone like her, right? She’s perfect!” Bakugou couldn't help the way that his face shriveled into itself in disgust. 

It wasn't too late. He could still turn around and go the fuck home and no one would even know he was here. Well, save for bubble cheeks here, but she probably wouldn't even remember to be honest. 

But as soon as Bakugou turned back around to make his escape Uraraka spoke up again, “She’s a model. They met at the Red Sneakers Event apparently,” Of course this piqued the man’s interest. There were only a few models branding the event and he just so happened to be searching for one of them. Uraraka continued with her drooling of words as Bakugou brushed past her and made his way into the house-- not bothering to knock,

“You know I am the one who gave him that idea in the first place? It’s kinda like. I set him up with his future wife!” she drunkenly cried to no one in particular as Bakugou stormed away.

He passed Iida on his way in, “Go get round face and shut her drunk ass up-- she’s outside,” he didn't bother on stopping to further explain before walking back to the commotion of the party.

 As soon as he entered the packed room, his eyes landed on you. It was like the Red Sneakers Event all over again. You were simply glowing-- hard to miss-- especially with the crowd of his old classmates hovering around you like some damn flies on shit-- especially Deku. He was way too close to you-- the rat bastard. 

“Oooh! You’ve been to Milan! That’s so cool, girl! So you must get to sight-see like a lot!”

The way that your shoulders leaned and swayed as you talked sent flutters into Bakugou’s heart. Fucking gross. He watched you speak very intently-- searching for the magic you had used to bewitch him, “Actually I was working a lot when I was there, so I really only got to see the sets and runways,” you made fleeting eye contact with him from across the room, furrowing your eye brows a bit at his stare before breaking the gaze. 

“Do you get to keep the outfits after the shoots?!”

“Pfft. Hell no! This loser still hasn’t sent me a pair of his red shoes. What happened to helping the quirkless, huh, broccoli boi?” The most primal urge of jealousy that Bakugou had ever felt sprinted through his body as you leaned over to playfully tap that shitty Deku in the arm. The feeling was so intense that he hadn’t even registered what you had said fully. 

“You’re quirkless?” Racoon Eyes inquired, snapping Bakugou out of his feral trance. His face fell a bit as he dutifully awaited your answer. 

“Yeah. It’s whatever,” you shrugged.

“The competition must be so difficult!” Momo spoke up as she placed and apologetic hand to her chest. The gesture made you tense up a bit, but you reminded yourself that she probably didn't mean it in a belittling way as she continued,  “I’ve been to a few magazine shoots myself and it is always girls with flashy quirks who end up in front and center!”

“Well, I compete well, I guess,” you knew that hero hero modeling and your fashion modelling were two completely different worlds. Designers saw you guys mostly as clothing racks and mannequins for their clothes, so usually they wanted their models to be as mundane as possible-- not to distract from their fabric art. So basically the perfect job for someone like you, “it’s no big deal. I get by like everybody else.”

“You just live your life like normal!”

“Awhhhh. Y/N. You’re an inspiration!”

Suddenly you felt extremely tired. You couldn't find the energy within  yourself to filter out and soften your next response, “Glad I could inspire you just by breathing I guess.” you gave the girls a slight smile as you shrugged, but the undertone of your comment had not gone unnoticed-- especially by Bakugou who found himself stifling a proud smirk.

You once again made eye contact with him in this moment-- this time not daring to backtrack your gaze until he did-- a warning sign to back he hell off with that staring shit.

As the night progressed you found yourself becoming more and more tired. The debilitating sense of sudden fatigue actually felt like it had taken over even your bones at this point as the aching structures weighed heavily inside of you skin. You decided after about an hour that you were gonna make an early trip back home.

“What, why!?” Deku scanned your face nervously-- he thought you had been having fun!

“Just really damn tired suddenly.”

“Oh...” he trailed off, but suddenly realized the hidden context of your words. Baby Notes vol 1 page 4 section 3: ‘prenatal fatigue’, “Ohhhhh okay! Right! Well Let me call you a taxi or something.”

“Nahh, I’ll walk,” you waved him off as you made your journey toward small crowds of his friends-- waving them goodbye. Deku followed you in your path around his house, 

“W-what? You can’t be serious! You shouldn’t do that!”

You turned around and threw your hand on his shoulder, causing him to instantly freeze up, “I’ll be fine,” you smirked throwing your hand up to his cheek to gently pat his face. Of course, he was left a shivering, blushing mess. It was a low blow, but, hey, it gave you a good opportunity to escape. 

You felt a wave of relief as soon as you made it a few steps outside of the apartment. You released a heavy sigh as you continued walking away. 

Finally. You internally planned the rest of the night in your head: orange juice, Netflix and sleeeep. You could finally just let yourself relax and--

“HEY!” you jumped out of your skin a little at the sudden loud shout. You whipped around to see that blond spikey-haired dude from Deku’s house attempting to close in on you. 

You rolled your eyes as he neared. Hardly throwing him a glance as he approached you to walk a little behind you, “God. You’re the weirdo that was staring at me all night,” you groaned, hoping he would catch your drift. 

“We need to talk!” 

One of you eyebrows instantly quirked up as your lips curled into a look of disgust. You whipped back around towards him, “Look, I am actually tired as hell, so excuse me for my bluntness, but FUCK OFF!” You only caught a glimpse of his flabbergasted expression before you spun back around to storm down the stairs entering the subway. 

“You really don’t know me?” he sounded pissed. 

That’s when it hit you. 

“Oh! it’s you!” you snapped your fingers at the sudden realization, 

“You’re Kacchan!” the look of disgust that hardened on his face intensified by ten fold when he heard you use that nickname. You continued regardless as you neared the train platform, “The asshole bully who likes to pick on quirkless kids. Yeah, well, I don’t give a damn how great you think you are, buddy. You can really fuck off now!” you spun once more to ditch him; however this time around your ankle twisted from underneath you, causing your body to fall down toward the ledge of the platform where underneath the tracks resided.

Bakugou cried out something like ‘you idiot!’ before grabbing you by the waist and yanking you into him before you could completely fall down the ledge. Everything happened so quickly that you hadn't even realized that you were holding your breath until you gasped heavily into his chest.

With a shocked expression you trailed up his neck to his face until you were met with his vermilion eyes, “Shit…” suddenly a wave of familiarity crashed into you. you breathed deeply, “I-It’s you...”

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academi #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagine #mha imagines

[bisexualdaemon]

Quarantine Day 26

a/n: in which Shawn gets a haircut

yeah...I couldn’t help myself. I watched so many youtube videos for this 😂

warnings: 2.6k of fluff and like a whisper, A HINT of smut

“That sounds nice…”

Shawn’s fingers paused against the vibrating strings. He leaned back against the couch toward your disembodied voice rounding the corner. You walked into the living room with a glass of red wine, your cheeks already fully flushed from the alcohol, wearing one of his Givenchy sweatshirts and a pair of little hot pink sleep shorts.

“Just working on something to record later,” he smiled, continuing his strumming and plucking, little head nods on heavy beats to mark the time. “I’ll send it to Teddy later...she misses the studio.”

He’d been shacked up with you for twenty-six days in your tiny apartment. When the stay-at-home order came down from the city, he’d rushed over, just an overnight bag full of clothes and his guitar case, not wanting to be alone and not wanting to be in chaos at his parents’ house. Aaliyah was doing remote school and whining about college applications everyday, he’d said, not a place he wanted to spend an indefinite amount of time. Sometimes you thought it was a lie, seeing how easily he fit into your life. He belonged here with you. Especially when he’d come up behind you while you waited for your morning coffee to suck on that place behind your ear. It always ended up with the two of you back in bed for an hour longer than you should have been. It had happened again this morning. Thank God it was a holiday.

Now, he was stretched out on your L-shaped couch, the only luxury you’d allowed yourself when you moved out of your parents house. It was the dominant feature in the room, heavy and royal blue, one of those couches that you sank into when you sat down. His legs were propped up on the ottoman in front of him with his acoustic in his lap.

You sat down next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest and using one as a makeshift coaster for your stemless wine glass. He stopped playing again and shifted closer to you, patting his lap for your legs. You smiled at him, stretching your legs out across his thighs, and let him rest his guitar on top. When he started plucking the strings again, you could feel the vibration of the sound against your skin.

He hummed random words and noises to the melody with his eyes closed, lost to creating but content to be here touching your skin. Your legs rubbed comfortingly against his own bare ones. He’d taken to just wearing t-shirts and boxers around the apartment, no need to get dressed if he wasn’t running to the grocery store or to the door to get the food delivery. You reached out and ran your fingers through his floppy curls, one of them getting caught in a tangle.

“Baby,” you said, causing him to strum slower, “you need a haircut.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, changing to a minor chord to amplify his woe, “it’s been bugging me for awhile but I don’t have anything to cut it with. Not even at home.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he hadn’t had anyone but Anna touch his hair in five years.

“I can cut it.”

He stilled immediately, his eyes bugging a little as he loudly swallowed.

“I….I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” you swung your legs out from under the guitar excitedly. The instrument protested with discordant vibrations. “I have some clippers left from my last dumbass boyfriend who was obsessive about his stupid sideburns. I can watch a YouTube video. This could be fun!”

The reticence in his eyes was screaming at you, but you were on a mission now. You sprung up from the couch, half sprinting over to the closet in the hall to dig out the gray plastic box that held the clippers and all the attachments.

“See?!” You showed him the case, already turning on your heels toward the bathroom.

Shawn sighed again, knowing it was a lost cause now. At least my hair grows fast. He would probably be able to hide out for as long as it might take to grow back. He leaned his guitar against the couch cushions and pushed himself to stand, following you to the bathroom. When he got there, he had to swallow a chuckle.

“I’m trying to find some hair cutting scissors!” You yelled, digging underneath the sink, even though you were only a couple of feet away from him. He bit down on his fist, his shoulders shaking. You were bent over, hot pink shorts stretched over your gorgeous ass just tight enough to see the black lace hugging your curves, but the hood from his sweatshirt had come up over your head so you looked like a sexy burglar.

“Take your time,” he snorted.

“Shawn!” You whipped around, missing scissors gleaming in between your fingers, “so help me God, I will cut off your favorite curl if you laugh at me.”

“Okay, okay,” he straightened, gulping, “where do you want me?”

You grinned, “well, I always want you between my thighs, but for now can you grab a chair from the breakfast table?”

He nodded and disappeared back down the hall, his curls shaggy and swaying with his walk. You plugged in the clippers and set the scissors on top of the set of towels you’d pulled from the linen closet. Satisfied that everything you’d need was accounted for, including the overgrown mop you’d be cutting as Shawn returned with his chair, you pulled out your phone and opened up YouTube.

“Sit,” you said, pointing to the chair but not taking your eyes off your phone. You pulled up a quick video about cutting tools and how to use them, running through clipper sizing and how to blend. Simple enough.

“Okay, okay, this seems pretty easy,” you nodded, staring at Shawn’s reflection in the mirror. He looked….petrified. He was breathing shallow. His shoulders looked like they were glued to his ears. Your eyes widened and you leaned over him, “honey, are you okay?”

“I don’t know why I’m freaking out, it’s just hair,” he looked up at you like a lost puppy.

“I know you don’t want me to fuck it up, and I promise I’ll stop if you don’t like what I’m doing, okay?”

“Okay,” he exhaled in a rush, his shoulders relaxing down to their normal position. “Have you done this before? Like used clippers ever?”

“Once or twice,” you said, not inviting more questions on your qualifications. You didn’t want to tell him that you’d done this exactly once on your best friend in high school who wanted an “alternative” haircut when she came out to her parents. It looked basically like the picture afterward, think Hayley Williams but a lot shorter...and half buzzed. The 2000s were weird.

“Now take off your shirt,” you instructed, pointing the scissors at him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he couldn’t help but smirk as he stripped his vintage Sting tee off. His skin was still just barely freckled from his Mexico holiday vacation. You traced them with the tips of your fingers until he shivered, moving your hands down, through the unkempt hair there and back up to squeeze his shoulders. He melted in your hands, dropping his chin to his chest and moaning.

“Good,” you said, “now turn and lean back.” Turning on the sink, you reached for a comb, “we’re doing this salon style.”

He did as you asked, dipping his head almost all the way under the faucet. You combed through it, making sure the whole mop was wet. He looked a little like a water spaniel wading through a lake. You grabbed his expensive shampoo that smelled like bergamot and patchouli and lathered it into his hair.

With everything going on in the world, outside, in their city, the act of washing his hair was soothing. Simple, task-oriented, clean. You understood why people did this for a living. Shawn let out a moan when your fingers dug deep into his scalp and your knees buckled a little. You washed out the suds and applied conditioner, turning off the sink to let it sink in.

“This is nice,” he whispered with his eyes closed like it was a secret. You wiggled your fingers above his face, letting little droplets fall, giggling when one fell on his nose. He scrunched his face up and let it fall down the side of his face.

“Did you know,” you said as you flipped the water back on to give him a final rinse, “that I’m very happy you decided to come quarantine with me? I would have gone insane.”

He opened his eyes and smiled one of those big Mendes toothy smiles, “I didn’t even really think about it. I just packed my bag.”

You grinned back at him, turning off the water and grabbing at a towel to dry his curls, but before you could get back to him he shook his head, sending a shower of man-smell infused water everywhere.

“SHAWN, WHAT THE HELL?!”

He doubled over laughing, catching the towel you launched at his head. He scrubbed vigorously at his hair while you toweled off, slipping off his sweatshirt and revealing the bralette you had on underneath. It barely concealed your nipples. If he was gonna distract you, he was gonna get distracted. When he out from under the towel his curls were frizzed out, sticking out from his head at all angles. His breath stopped on a quick inhale and his face immediately flushed.

“Honey, I,” he stuttered, “I can’t focus with you like that.”

“Oh, good thing I’m the one with the scissors around here,” you quipped, pushing him back in the chair and draping the damp towel over his shoulders.

You grabbed a random hair tie from the counter and parted out the top section of his hair, the part that would stay longer after you trimmed the back and sides. His eyes were closed again, probably to block out the anxiety of watching you in the mirror. You took a minute to say a little prayer. Please, God. Don’t let me fuck this up. The fucking fangirls will murder.

You flipped on the clippers.

His hair fell to the floor in little tufts, coloring the floor with dark clouds. You used the second longest setting, making sure he wasn’t losing the wave in his hair at any point. The reference picture in your head was from around the Seoul show last year. It was a good length. Curly all around but not too unkempt. It was your favorite hair.

You stopped about three-quarters of the way to the top section, switching to the longest setting to blend up to the top of his head. There was something to be said about hair just long enough to grab onto. You’d test it out later.

The top was going to need scissors. You flipped off the clippers, returning them to the case, and picked up the sharp shears. Shawn gulped again, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily.

“I saw that,” you chided through the comb in your teeth. If you were being honest, it looked pretty good so far. No weird lawn mower tracks or weird chunks missing. The waves were still there. A whisper of labradoodle but not full on sheepdog. That was the goal. Nothing crazy.

You took his hair in inch wide sections from right to left, trimming about an inch off everywhere, a little more in the wilder areas. He reached up to run his fingers through it before you were finished.

“Hey!” You swatted his hand away, “let me finish before you check my work!”

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and bobbing his knee up and down. Impatient bastard, you thought, snipping a few more curls. The only ones you didn’t really touch, maybe a quarter inch here and there, were the curls toward the front. The ones that dropped down into his face and across his forehead. You liked those, loved to push them back in the morning when he looked down at you, naked and pressed against his chest. You ruffled his damp hair to see how it might curl and retract.

“Shawn,” you leaned down to whisper in his ear, “you can look now.”

He slowly peeked with one eye, then with the other, his eyes growing wide when he saw it fully. He got up out of the chair to lean up to the mirror, inspecting and combing his fingers through it about fifty times. You grabbed some oil off the side of the sink and ran it through the top, letting it soak in and tame the frizz drying into the curls.

“So,” you needled, “do you like it or what?”

“I…” he rifled around in his toiletry bag, pulling out a little black box of hair paste, “I think I love it.” He smoothed some of the cream between his hands and fingered it through the ringlets. They snapped and bounced back on top of his head.

“Holy shit, thank God,” you exhaled in a rush, sitting on the lid of the toilet while your heart rate slowed.

He stopped and looked over, his big green-brown eyes asking questions.

“I mean, I wasn’t worried,” you backtracked, stopping when he lifted an eyebrow. You huffed. “Okay, I was a little worried...the fans...they’re vicious! And it’s your hair! You could probably trademark it for fuck’s sake!”

He tipped his head back and laughed loud and long, some stray cut hair falling from his neck to the floor.

“You know, I thought about halfway through that it’s good I look so sexy in backward baseball caps.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, obviously suppressing a laugh at his own bad joke. You got up and shoved him in the shoulder, crossing the hall to your bedroom. He followed closely behind.

“I don’t give a fuck what the fans think about my hair, you know that,” he leaned on the door frame and watched you dig for a dry shirt. You pulled out an oversized Maple Leafs tee and bent to throw it on.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he stopped you, catching at the shirt and letting it fall to the floor. “You gave me a haircut, so now it’s my turn to give you something.” He threaded his fingers with yours and led you to the edge of your bed, setting you down and stepping back.

“Now, do you like my hair?” he asked, kneeling in front of you, busying himself with untying your shorts. He mouthed at the inside of your thighs, pausing only to grip your shorts and panties in one hand and drag them down your legs. His lips returned to your skin, closer and closer to where you wanted him.

“Yes,” you moaned, widening your legs and combing your fingers through his still damp hair.

“Yes, what?” he smirked against your pubic bone. His hand slid up your belly and pushed up the barely-there bralette, pushing you back to lay against the rumpled sheets. He traced your lips with the tip of his tongue, not dipping inside until he got his answer.

“Yes! Oh, God,” you fisted the waves at the nape of his neck. Perfect. “Yes, I love your hair!”

“Good,” he reached up to kiss you just once before returning to his throne between your legs, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your swollen, aching clit, “that’s all that matters.”

Words were lost to moans and shaking limbs and muffled curses. It turned out his hair was, in fact, just long enough to grab onto.

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272​  @siennarossi​ @trustfundshawn​ @alone-in-madness​ @harryandmolly​ @thatindiannerdygirl​  @mendesromano​ @fromthicctosticc​ @esoltis280​ @softmendesss​ @sinplisticshawn​ @nedthegay​ @september-lace​ @itrocksmysocks​ @disaster-rose​ @mendesoft​ @luvluvxx​ @i-play-video-games​ @ihearthemcallingforyou​ @gentleshawn​ @kitykatnumber​ @enchantingbrowneyedgirl​ @ijustreallylikeshawnokay​ @shhhawnmendes​ @shawnsblue​ @imaginashawnns​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @shawn-youth​

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn peter raul mendes #quarantine fic #my writing

[jbbuckybarnes]

Kinktober - Day 20

20/31 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Prompt: Edging Warnings: 18+, eating out, not proofread, WHY do my Poe shorts always turn into a whole oneshot? The jet in question is made up, somewhere between an X-Wing and the Millenium Falcon in size.

Masterlist

He was hanging out in his pilot seat after cleaning the console and getting BB to a mechanic after the chaotic last mission. Staring into space, or rather the hangar, made for some good passtime. Maybe because he was thinking about someone specific. In his peripheral vision he noticed a person in a black resistance uniform skirt and a big cozy sweater in orange, walking right towards his jet. Oh shit, act normal, act normal, uuuh, open the cable outlet, pretend you're working, act normal.

A soft knock against metal was audible behind him and he looked around to see you. You hair was a little messed up and your eyes were missing some of that sparkle. "What's up, dove?" He stuck his cleaning supplies into a corner and turned around. "Can I just...hang out with you for a while?" You mumbled and looked down. You were on the shy side of things, but this was unlike you. You never looked down all sad. You were sensitive, but you usually stood your ground. "Of course, c'mere." He opened his arms towards you and you gave in with an exhausted sigh. You sat down on his lap and got one of his bear hugs, the extra loving ones. "Wait...is that my sweater?" He looked down at your top. "Yeah, you left it in mission control last week." You mumbled and fidgeted with the sleeves. "Looks good on you." He smiled at you and got a tiny smile back. A little win for now. "What has you so upset, dove?" His hand wandered over your back soothingly, just in case. "They wanna put me off mission control again." You whispered. "But that's the only position you're comfortable with after what happened last year." He frowned at the weird decisions his colleagues made. "I don't know. I'd love to fly again, but not for missions. You know?" You looked at him and saw full attention puppy eyes directed at you. "Yeah. I know." He pushed some of your baby hair aside. You cleared your throat and looked down at your hands again, "So...what did you do today?" "Cleaned the inside of the jet and relaxed a bit after that disaster recently." He chuckled and watched you take in how his jet looked. "You already know when you're out again?" You asked curiously. "Nope. Besides, BB needs a break anyway." He chuckled and you smiled at that. "Man, I wish I had a companion like that again." You mumbled and felt a hand laid on yours to stop fidgeting. "BB likes you too, you can kidnap him anytime I don't need him in the jet." Another nod from you. "Did you plan on doing anything tonight?" You looked up at him and he shook his head. "We could fly to the station and hang out there." He suggested the space station hangar that hovered above the base in space. "Yeah, we could." You looked out into the hangar and  sighed again. "What else is on your mind, dove?" He pulled you closer. "Nothing. Just random stuff." You murmured. "You're a bad liar, you know that?" He chuckled and put a kiss into your hair. "Yeah. No, I just felt a little lonely recently, that's all." Ouch, that's not what he wants you to feel like. "In which regard?" He whispered. "I think love. Nothing ever works out how it's supposed to. But whatever...guess it's not the right time." You mumbled and cuddled yourself into his sweater a bit more. "You deserve a perfect date, sweetheart." He felt a nod. "Mind if I give you that?" He chuckled and didn't get a reaction for a second. "But you're my friend." "I'll be whatever you want me to be, dove." "Okay. Yeah." "Poe! You fly like a reckless idiot!" You yelled into the headset and heard him laugh before flying another trick making you shriek. "I'd like to keep today's food in." You answered and felt the acceleration of the jet upwards. "Poe...don't you-" "I won't, I won't. Don't need you to make a mess in my jet. Just cleaned it." He chuckled. You landed in the space hangar and sat down at the giant windows looking towards the planet. "I'll never get tired of this." You smiled at the view and he looked over to see the sparkle in your eyes being restored again. "Yeah, me neither." He could look at you forever. "Forest planets are so magnificent from above." He watched you trace the little river lines in the air. "Yeah, they are homey." He smiled down at it too. "D'you ever wanna settle down?" You looked over at him expectantly. "Yeah. I think so." His posture turned more relaxed. "With a mini version of you running around?" You chuckled and he looked over. "Maybe. Sounds like a good life." He mumbled. "I hope it's over soon. The war and all the destruction." You mumbled. "Me too. Three missions a week are starting to get stressful." A giggle was shared. "Agreed. You're getting grumpy after two." You smiled so hard your eyes crinkled. "Glad you don't get tired of me." "Never. You're a chaotic dumbass. If I get anything from you, it's high blood pressure." A loving smirk was directed at you and you noticed that you liked him looking at you like that. A little too much. "So what's part of a good date in your opinion?" "I don't know. I never really liked any of the ones I've been on." He scooted closer next to you and put an arm around you, "I'm not gonna lie...I'm not surprised by that." "Why?" "They're all about credits spent, not memories made." "I guess you're right." You nodded and looked down at the forest again. "And most of them want a servant, not a wife." He mumbled. "True." "And most of them wouldn't bother asking what you want and only think about themselves." "Damn, Dameron, relax." You laughed at his consistent trashing. "I'm just saying. If he's not interested in going places and making you go blind in bed, don't even bother." He shrugged and you grinned, looking down at your hands. "Yeah, can't relate." You mumbled and chuckled. His hand angled your face to look up again, "You sure about that?" "Am I?" You murmured and felt his lips on yours in seconds. Your hands wandered through his soft hair as you were grabbed closer. "Finally." He whispered against your lips. "Huh?" "Do you know how hard it is to not turn into a complete idiot around you?" You grinned, "That's just your nature overall." "Excuse you?" He looked at you offended. "BB is half the brains." You shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't tell him that. Don't wanna inflate his ego." He smirked at you, noticing your tiny lip bite. "Since we already have the going places part down...how about the making you go blind part?" He murmured into your ear and made your face heat up. "Poe!" You slapped him. "I don't hear a no." He grinned with closed eyes. "C'mon, has anyone ever said no to you?" You asked. "Yeah. A lot of people. But I'd rather get a No than no answer at all, you know?" He whispered and sent goosebumps down your spine. "Yeah. Okay." You nodded and were picked up gently, grabbing onto him. "Hmm, can you always carry me everywhere?" You asked with a giggle. "I'll think about it." You were set down in his pilot seat. You made grabby hands up at him but got a smirk back, "I'm convinced those uniforms are made that way for a reason." He got down in front of you, making you relax, kissing up your legs, gently pressing them apart. His hands pulled down your underwear, throwing it somewhere on the console behind him, before pushing up your skirt. His hands pinned your legs against the sides of the chair, his lips traced the insides of your legs, making you whimper. "Relax, baby girl." He murmured before licking a stripe up your core. You held your sweater-pawed hands in front of your mouth to not whimper again. You were convinced that he knew what he was doing, "Oh my-" Tension built up slowly in your lower body as his fingers dove into your hole, making you squeal muffled through the sweater-pawed hands. His hand let go of one of your legs and placed one of your hands in his hair before going back to pinning down your leg. You grabbed into his hair with his every movement, pushing his face closer to your core. "Please." You whimpered and squirmed. Your legs began shaking more and more as the tension in your core began to become unbearable. "Kriff!" You moaned out and arched your back as he sucked at your sweet spot. "Poe, please! Oh my universe!" You squirmed and shook in his pilot seat more and more, feeling the release so close, but then everything seized. "Huh?" You looked at him and he licked his lips looking up at you. "I said going blind." He winked before kissing your thighs again until your sensitivity went down a little. "You're cute when you try to hold yourself back from moaning. You're gonna scream by the time I'm done with you." He gave you a dark smirk making you shiver. He started off slowly again, making you whimper and  pull at his hair. Followed by more and more desperate pleas. "Please, please!" You whimpered and arched your back moaning. "Please make me-" He stopped again and you started to become frustrated. "Don't throw a tantrum baby, sometimes good things need patience." He grinned like a school boy. "You better outdo anyone I've ever encountered." You mumbled annoyed as he bit his lip. "You're hot when you're pissed off." He murmured before buring his face between your tighs again. "Poe, please." You were so sensitive that him starting slow was already too much to bare. He sucked on your sweet spot abruptly, making you scream out and push his face against you with both hands. "Oh, shit. Oh, kriff. Oh, yes." You felt how he struggled to keep your legs pinned down as your body got a life of it's own. "Please, don't do it again. Please!" Your voice started shaking as your body went into overload. Now you understood what he meant with screaming. This tension felt so much deeper. Rooted in deeper places and about to explode into bigger pleasure. "Poe. Poe? Please!" You moaned and moaned as he devoured you. It was like an electric shock went through you, making you scream out his name, arch your back unnaturally deeply and feeling yourself gushing wetness onto the seat. Indeed, almost losing awareness for a second. "I'm taking back that I said that I don't need you to make a mess in my jet, because I absolutely needed you to." He grinned at you, touching and kissing you gently as you calmed down again. "That was...like transcending into a different dimension." You said still panting and got a macho smirk back. "Can't say I'm that good at returning the favor." You bit your lip. "As long as your lips are around my dick, I don't give a fuck about how good you are." He murmured before you both changed places.

#Poe Dameron #poe dameron x reader #jbbKinktober2020 #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfic #poe #poe x you #poe x reader #poe x y/n #the force awakens #tros #mine #the last jedi #sw #star wars #text #star wars fanfic #Kinktober 2020 #Kinktober #smut #poe fanfiction

[dekuscrybaby]

best years

pairing: semi eita x fem!reader

request: no, but darcy deserved semi content after doing god’s work

word count: 1.4k+ words

warnings: mmm semi is somewhat ooc but he has a delinquent backstory so it can be considered an au, cursing, tint bit of angst, tooth-rotting fluff, barely any plot, UNEDITED

summary: you and semi share your first dance as husband and wife. heavily inspired by 5sos’ best years off their newest album calm.

tag-list: @ktdkp​ @miyaxs​ @eitalovebot​ @anvese​ @snooshiegrape​ @hq-luv​ @rayt0rade​ @noyasbithc

“can we please have mr. and mrs. semi come onto the dance floor for their first dance and husband and wife?” the designated dj spoke into the microphone, voice attempting to be somewhat sensual for the occasion.

hearing this, eita stood up from his chair and offered you, his bride, his hand, “shall we, mrs. semi?”

“it’d be my honor, mr. semi,” you giggled softly as you took his hand and stood from your seat, making sure to not step on your gown.

with huge loving grins on both of your faces, you strolled onto the black tiles that made up the dance floor for the night.

gracefully, you walked onto the center, your husband right behind you before you turned to look at him, your loving gaze matching his perfectly.

you slowly wrapped both arms around his neck as he wrapped his own around your waist, waiting for the music to begin to play.

just as the song’s singer began to flow softly through the venue’s audio system, semi began to sway you both softly across the floor.

“so we’re finally married huh?” he spoke through his grin.

“yeah, finally. after all the shit we’ve been through, you’re finally tied to me forever,” you laughed softly, your fingers finding a home in the short hair placed on the nape of his neck.

“i think i should be the one saying that to you though,” he said in a much softer tone, as if his mood were deflating from your small joke.

“what do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows, continuing the short strides in your dance.

“are you seriously going to act like nothing happened in high school? i know i had to have given you a million reasons to hesitate on my proposal, hell even my initial confession.”

“eita, don’t talk about the past. not on a day like today. today’s meant for us to celebrate our love that, hopefully, will last for the rest of our lives,” you frowned slightly.

“it’s just,” he sighed quietly, closing his eyes momentarily before meeting your eyes. “i gave you a million reasons to walk away and you did but you came back to me, when you shouldn’t have. yet i was selfish enough to allow you back into my fucked up life because i couldn’t find anyone to fill the void when you left. even after i wasted my time on people that slightly reminded me of you, you came back to me.”

“baby, that’s in the past and i want it to stay there, the future is better than yesterday. you’ve done so much to make it up to me. you’ve changed for me and i’m still so incredibly proud of you for doing so. not many juvenile delinquents can say that,” you smiled, tenderness written all over your features.

“the fact that someone like you even acknowledged a delinquent like me, makes me a little uneasy. y/n, i’ll never stop to remind you that you really could’ve been with a much better person. you deserve the world, sweetheart.” semi began to rub circles into your waist, his expression still looking rather deflated than earlier in the day.

you wanted his mood to brighten up because it was your wedding after all, it’s meant to be the happiest day for the two of you. and what better way to do that than to inflate your groom’s ego just a little?

“well how could i not acknowledge you? you were hands down one of the hottest boys at school. you looked so hot in that leather jacket of yours, and don’t get me started on the black jeans you wore that were tight in all the right places,” you snorted.

a small grin began to spread across his face, “you really mean that?”

“of course i do. it was my high school dream to fall in love with a bad boy and you just happened to be my type, so how could i not fall in love with you?”

“cigarettes and all?” he raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“the cigarettes were especially hot, in theory of course. lung cancer isn’t exactly hot and i’m glad you’re slowly quitting that habit,” you laughed softly.

“you’re too good to me, you know that right? you’re practically an angel, how’d i get so damn lucky?” he groaned as he dipped you, attempting to spice up what you assumed to be a somewhat boring first dance.

but you had more important matters to attend to than to put on a show for your guests.

“well you can always repay me,” you suggested as semi urged you to continue with one glance.

“promise to give me the best years of my life as your wife. build a home with all the ‘broken pieces’ you may have caused and make it a home for us. i know you feel terrible for causing me tears earlier in our relationship, especially during your delinquent phase. so, make it up to me by giving your all into the marriage, make me the happiest person.”

small tears began to sting in corners of semi’s eyes. something in him refused to believe that you were meant to be his for the rest of his life, but hearing you speak to him moved something in him.

you wanted him to promise you something. you had faith that he’d keep something between the two of you. you had faith in him to keep your marriage well and healthy. hell, you even had faith that he’d make a home for the two of you. together.

and who was he to deny a request from a girl on her wedding day?

“i promise. i promise to give you the best years,” his voice began to shake as his emotions began to overwhelm him.

“darling, i promise you won’t ever regret marrying me. i know i'm basically contradicting myself at this point, but your words erupted something in me. you’re tied to me now, and i’ll make it my mission to make you the happiest so you don’t ever regret taking my last name to be your own. and i promise to never make you worry over me. any traces of my delinquency are burned out like that cigarette you saw me smoke last night.”

the slight reference to his nervousness before today made you laugh a little before you allowed him to continue spilling his heart out to you. despite your vows from earlier already doing part of it.

“i’ll never shut up about how overjoyed i was to hear the wedding officiant declare us husband and wife. i can’t wait to spend every single day of our lives together and i can’t wait to make up for all my dumbass mistakes. you’ll never know how ecstatic i am to finish growing up with you. you did so much for me when i wasn’t even half of the man that you deserved but you stuck around so let me be the man you deserve for the rest of our lives.

“let me hold your hair when you drink too much or when we finally get the opportunity to start a family of our own. let me build a home for us and for our future family. i know i’m not perfect, my criminal record is proof of a few of my imperfections, but let me attempt to be a husband you can be proud of.” he finished his speech with a breathy laugh.

not able to find any words to respond to him, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

salty tears began to slowly stream down both of your cheeks, but it didn’t stop you guys from sharing a passionate kiss. it wasn’t even a sexual one with tongue, just a soft kiss between two lovers to symbolize the pure love you held for one another.

eita slowly pulled away from your lips and rested his forehead against yours, his breath slightly ragged from the long kiss.

you mimicked his own actions, forgetting about your surroundings until you heard clapping around the two of you.

slowly glancing to your side, you remembered where you were. the song had wrapped up and everyone was gushing over how perfect eita was for you and you were for him.

“let’s give up to the newlyweds!” the dj cheered, subtly wiping under his eyes.

“well that was an amazing first dance, don’t you agree, dear?” semi smiled down at you.

“it would be rude of me not to, let’s not let it be the last.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #semi eita x reader #semi eita imagine #semi x reader #semi imagine #semi fluff #semi eita fluff #semi eita #eita semi #eita semi x reader #eita semi imagine #hq #hq x reader #hq imagine #hq imagines #hq fluff

[nightwingshero]

Can I get uhhh a number 6 for WrenMike so I can officially leave this fandom in shame? x

Abos-fucking-lutely! You’re not allowed to leave though! Also...I’m very sorry...because this is...oof. I’m gonna go hide now. IT’S NSFW FOR A REASON, OKAY?! I AM SO SORRY!!!!

I sighed, downing the rest of my bourbon, trying to focus on it instead of the steady scent of his cologne next to me. If you had told me that this was what I would be doing a month ago, I would have laughed and punched you in the face. Because I thought everything was so perfect, and the last person I needed in my company was Michael fucking Hughes. 

But here I was, the both of us drinking away. It started with his usual banter, the sly smirk and wiggle of his eyebrows, but slowly it turned into something else. Sensing something was wrong, he sat--without my permission--next to me, ordered us another round, and just talked. That must have been the biggest hint, because when had I not risen to his bait?

It wasn’t a therapy session by far, Mike was in no way qualified for that shit. But, as much as it pained me to say, it did make me feel a little better. Hearing him talk about how he understood, and then finding some dumbass thing to say to try and make me smile. It shocked us both when it actually worked.

I eyed him, setting my empty glass on the bar. He’d gotten rid of his jacket long ago, the heat of the Spread Eagle becoming too much for it. His hair was a bit messy from him running his hand through it so many times, and I almost giggled at how adorable he looked doing it. His shirt fit nicely, and you could see the outlines of his muscles. I feel the sudden urge to reach out and touch them--

Jumping from my chair, I stagger a bit, capturing his attention. “You alright there, doll?”

“Going to the bathroom.” I muttered as I walked away quickly. Bursting through the door, I clutch the counter tightly before turning the sink on. I cupped my hands, and splashed the cool water on my face, hoping for some clarity. And while it helped some, it didn’t help in the way I needed it to. Naturally, I weighed my options. Would it be so wrong to just give in? I bite my lip, pressing my thighs together tightly as I remember how heated his gaze. 

Catching my own gaze in the mirror, I can tell I’ve already made up my mind. I feel calm then, as if everything fell into place. I adjust my skin tight black dress, and leave the bathroom. He’s checking his phone when I get to him, so he doesn’t notice me approach. But his head jerks the second I place my hand on his shoulder, and lean in, my lips brushing his ear. 

I can feel his shiver, so I know I have his attention, but I decide to push it a bit further by placing my other hand on the inner of his thigh, barely brushing his jeans. “You wanna get out of here?”

“I--ah,uhm.” he took a second to clear his throat before continuing. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” I take his hand after he throws a few bills on the table and grabs his jacket, and I ignore the daggers Mary May is throwing my way. 

Outside is a lot cooler and more deserted. With this late at night, we could probably get away with what I had in mind. His car was parked in the back, mostly hidden in the dark. My heart hammered as we made our way to it.

“You wantin’ me to take you home?” he asked, a teasing tilt to his tone. “A little too tipsy to drive--”

Turning, I tugged him closer, his body slamming into mine as I hit the car, the cool metal hitting my thighs. I’m breathing heavy as I look up at him, and he smirks even wider.

“Wanting something else then, hmm?” His hands finally find my hips and I can’t help but be somewhat entranced. He was so different than what I was used to. It’s his turn to lean in and whisper in my ear. “And what would Little Johnny say now?”

“John’s not here.” I ground out, ignoring the pang in my chest. Michael pulls back, his eyes going soft for just a moment.

“You know, I never thought the Queen of Holland Valley herself would descend enough to let this happen. Never thought I’d be doing this with--”

I sigh heavily as I grip the lapels of his jacket tightly and try and pull him forward, but he’s rock solid. “Would you just shut up and kiss me already?” I snapped. 

Michael didn’t need much more persuasion than that and his lips crashed against mine. He wasn’t gentle, and I was thankful, because that’s not what I wanted. He grips my hips tighter and the pressure of it is pleasure all in itself, enough to make me gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in. 

He’s shockingly dominant and it’s hard to believe, but I’m melting against him. His hands travel, pressing me harder against him as he cups my ass with one hand and grabs my hair with the other. With a nice little tug, he angles my face so he can deepen the kiss and I moan. If anything, Michael Hughes was an excellent kisser. 

I gasp in shock when he pulls away, and I can’t breathe with his eyes burning the way they are now. His eyes travel down, taking in my dress and body as his fingers trace the edge of it. I suddenly feel insecure and I wish I had worn something else.

“John always hated this dress.” I muttered, suddenly too shy to look at him. 

Michael just scoffed before gripping the fabric tightly. “Well, he’s a fucking idiot. I fucking love this dress. Damn girl, I wanna fuck you now more than I ever have.”

He shoves the dress over my hips, and I’m gasping for air, because I wasn’t expecting that. A heated make out session, sure, but this? “We’re in public, Mike.” I breathed out. 

“Guess we should give them one helluva show then, doll. And you look fucking gorgeous enough to do it.” Shoving his hand under my thong, his fingers finding just how wet I’ve gotten for him in such a short amount time. “For me, hun? Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

He knows me well. Well enough to know that I’m about to shoot a retort at him, and he takes advantage of that. Without restraint, he rubs my clit fast, and I’m unprepared, so I can’t stop the high pitched moans that are coming from me. Michael just smiles before he holds my face, covering my mouth as he does. 

I’m too drunk to care as I feel my eyes roll back, my knees are getting weak and my heart just keeps pounding. I grip his arm tightly because it’s too much too fast, but he doesn’t stop. My nails dig into his skin, and we both know I really don’t want him to stop, not for a second. The car behind me is all the support I have as he works me expertly with his fingers. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Told you I could treat you better than him.”

And that’s what makes me cum. I almost collapse, but he doesn’t let me. I’m breathing heavily as he holds me. I hate it, but I’m only partially satisfied, and to show him I want more, I rub hand over the erection straining in his jeans. His head falls back with a moan.

“Holy fuck, yes, you’re perfect. Turn around, we’re not done.” He turns me, pressing me against his Chevy, and shoves my thong to the side. I can hear his zipper and a crinkle of plastic before he’s at my entrance with a quick slap on my ass. I whimper, shifting to try and get closer, to get him inside, but he won’t let me. “Wren, you want this, sweetheart?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I hissed. “Fuck me, Michael. Please.”

He pushes in, all the way to the hilt and I’m practically squealing at the feeling, and he keeps up a rough and fast pace that has me curling my toes. It’s not comfortable, being bent over a car like this, but I couldn’t care less. Michael made me feel things I haven’t in a long time, and part of me knew that this wouldn’t be a one time thing. It was too good to be. 

I bite my lip to try and stay quiet because we’re still out here, and at any point someone could find us. Michael’s hands are to busy pulling my hair and holding my hip to keep me in place to do it for me. And eventually, I can’t help it, even as my lip bleeds. He’s hitting the right spots and I’m already so close again. 

“God, you feel good. How the fuck could anyone give this up?” he groaned. “Is it good, baby?”

“Fuck yes.” I moaned. “Harder, Mike, please.”

“Anything for you, doll. Just keep saying my name just. Like. That.” he punctuated each word with a sharp thrust, and I cried out his name again as he pounded harder into me. There was nothing to hold onto as I came undone around him, my walls contracting around him as he continued. Michael wasn’t far behind, and with a whisper of my name and a grunt, he hit his own climax. 

We stayed still for a moment, our heavy breathing mixing with the loud noise of the bar. I don’t know what to say, unsure of where to go from here. It happened faster than I thought it would, and I have a sinking feeling at the thought of having to go home alone now. But he breaks the silence, pulling me away from my thoughts.

“So...I was gonna ask earlier, but we got kinda busy. You wanna...go to my place?” 

[katsukis-sad-angel]

Jin Bubaigawara x Reader

Title: A Ripped Pillowcase

Anime dialogue included: Attack on Titan Junior High

Contains: Angst, cursing, violence, mentions of alcohol, smoking, a happy ending

Summary: You and Jin are watching anime when he feels like his head is splitting. He gets violent and goes a little crazy until you manage to shove a ripped pillowcase over his head to calm him down.

AN: Can’t stop writing angst. Someone help

“Hey, Reiner…”

“What?”

“Am I imagining things? I feel like we just keep going up and up.”

“You’re imagining things.”

/

You and your boyfriend, Jin Bubaigawara (aka the villain Twice), lay on the couch watching anime, the colorful figures move around on the screen.

They smacked each other, yelled at each other, and screamed while big squishy chubby creatures ran around chasing the chibi characters.

Jin’s head rested on your thighs and you stroked his short blonde hair.

You traced the long, deep scar in the middle of his forehead with your finger.

Everything was calm.

/

“Reiner, something really is strange.” Said Bertholdt’s voice.

“You’re imagining things,” Reiner replied.

“You think so? I feel like we’ve been going up for a long time now.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“No, we’ve been going up for half an hour.”

“You’re imagining things.”

/

Suddenly, Jin sat up and put his hands on his face, mumbling incoherently.

“Jin?”

His eyes bulged and his knuckles turned white from the pressure.

“B-Be quiet… shut up...!”

You looked at him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“H-Hey Jin? What’s the matter? Is he talking again?”

“Shut up… dammit!”

You pulled your hands away, taken aback at his outburst.

“Get… get away from me! FAKE! Everything is fake. You’re a clone, I’m a clone, we’re all clones of society!” He rambled, tears streaming down his face, “Useless… you’re useless! A fucking pawn of this fucking society in this dumbass world. USELESS!”

He lurched to his feet and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt.

“I SAID GET AWAY!”

Then, Jin swung your small body into the wall.

You crashed into the thick drywall, denting it. Your foot caught a glass vase and knocked it on the floor, smashing into billions of pieces.

He hunched over on the floor, pressing his palms to his eyes, trying to get rid of the voices in his head.

“Useless…” He murmured, voice cracking, “Everything’s fake.”

On a whim, he went running into a wall, slamming his head against it.

He continued doing it, crying and yelling about fake people, fake love, useless shit heads surrounding him, and that everyone hated him and was trying to kill him.

You lay on the floor.

You were bleeding and you had a splitting headache.

You could only watch as your boyfriend tore apart your apartment to stop the splitting of his mind.

“I’m splitting! Someone help… Please, make it stop!” He begged, curling up on the floor. “Dammit, I’m me…” He rasped, gripping his hair, “This is no good… I need to wrap myself up…”

He began staggering through your home, flipping chairs, throwing things, begging, crying, hitting himself, and knocking into walls.

“Help… help me… split… can’t… useless fake… please…”

You wobbled to your feet, snatching a pillowcase from a pile of laundry and biting two eye holes in the floral-printed fabric. You nearly keeled over from nausea and blood loss, but you steadied yourself on an armchair then went to find Jin.

You followed the sound of his voice, begging no one in particular to make the splitting stop and to help him.

You found him in your shared bedroom, huddled on the floor, whispering and crying and shaking violently, surrounded by shattered glass and other various objects.

You edged toward him, holding the cover out in front of you.

“Jin, I-”

At the sound of his name, his head snapped to look at you, pupils dilated with fear and panic.

“Y/n… help…” His voice cracked and tears slid onto his shirt.

You quickly moved forward and shoved the ripped pillowcase over his head.

He fell backward onto the floor with you on top of him, cupping his clothed face in your hands and kissing him slowly.

You got off of him when he started moving and backed away, hoping he was ok but afraid he would yote you into a wall again.

He put a hand on his forehead, sat up and looked around.

He saw you.

His poor, sweet baby girl was pressed up against a dresser, staring at him warily.

“Princess…”

He began moving toward you, but he saw you flinch and immediately pulled back.

“Princess, I’m so so sorry…”

His voice was slightly muffled by the fabric.

He tentatively came closer until he had taken you into his arms and gave you a huge bear hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He said into your shoulder, “I didn’t mean anything I said! Are you ok? I’m sorry for throwing you! I wasn’t myself, I wasn’t in control… Please don’t be mad at me baby!”

You shakily raised your hands to wrap around him and hug him back.

“Jin, Jin, my arm! That hurts…”

“Aaah! Sorry” He hurriedly let go and lay you gently on the floor, “I know it’s a shit excuse, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“It’s… It’s ok Jin,” You squeezed one of his big hands, “Are you ok? That really scared me. I thought you might actually split.”

“Let me fix your arm.” He muttered softly, kissing your temple and carefully scooping you up.

He brought you to the bathroom where he cleaned you up and wrapped your wound.

When he was 1000000% positive you were ok, he brought you back to the demolished living room.

Guilt stabbed him in the chest when his grey-blue eyes scanned the apartment.

He kissed your forehead, dusted off a spot on the couch and sat down, pulling you into his lap.

His muscular arms wrapped around your torso while he nosed your neck and kissed your ears.

Reaching for a package of cigarettes on the coffee table, you lit it and pushed it into his mouth.

Jin took a long drag.

You leaned back into his chest, tucking your head inside the roomy pillow bag and tilting your head back to kiss him.

He happily obliged, capturing your soft lips in a sweet kiss.

He was overjoyed that you weren’t angry with him.

He held your hip with one hand and with the other he gripped and caressed your torso. (he totally wasn’t trying to touch your boob, no of course not)

“I love you princess.” He whispered against your lips when you separated to catch your breath.

“I love you too, my handsome prince.” You sighed happily, staring into his grey-blue orbs. “What do you say we order some GrubHub, clean up a little, and get drunk?”

Twice grinned, “Sounds good to me.”

#jin bubaigawara #twice #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia #jin bubaigawara x reader #twice x reader #villain twice x reader #league of villains #angst #my hero academia angst #boku no hero academia angst #bubaigawara #bubaigawara jin x reader

[jeontaeh]

TWO²

"So after this whole exam shit is over with, why don't you just come over to my place dressed all pretty?" Jungkook husked, tracing his finger down the girl's shoulder.

The girl looked at Jungkook, and gave a small smile. "Sure. Only if you don't leave me and go fuck my roommate after that like you did last time." The girl said, giving him a passive aggressive grin.

Jungkook let out a nervous chuckle, seeing how her eyes darkened. "What?? I never-"

"Shut it Jeon. I know you slept with my roommate and told us both that we mean so much to you. Fuck off." She snapped, and then kneed him right in the crotch.

Jungkook groaned, clutching onto his dick and slumping against the wall. He closed his eyes tightly, looking at the girl in anger.

"Fuck off Quincy. Your pussy stinks anyway." Jungkook yelled, and then saw as the door to the waiting area for the exam hall opened and in walked Lisa, followed by some pink haired guy.

"I just-" The pink haired boy started, and Lisa turned around, glaring at him. "I told you, Park. You're a fucking nuisance to date- don't make me slap you again." She snapped, and the boy cowered, nodding pathetically and looking away.

Lisa turned, looking a little annoyed- and then saw Jungkook sitting on the floor looking annoyed as well. "Oh hey Jeon. You done yet?"

"Nah. I have half an hour or so. Why- you free right now?" Jungkook said, giving her a little smirk- to which she glared, as if telling him to shut up.

"W-what?" Pink hair piped, and Lisa groaned, and then pushed past pink hair and walked out.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked, now standing up. "Did-did Lisa and you...?" Pink hair started, looking weary.

Jungkook, being the dumbass he is- said "Yeah, once or twice. Yesterday she gave me a blow-"

"What?!" The other boy snapped, and Jungkook's eyes widened. "You- you fucking- ugh, that was my girlfriend!"

Jungkook gulped. "Oh........ yikes." Jungkook said, and the pink haired boy looked real annoyed now, and took his tablet and threw it at Jungkook.

Jungkook ducked and then ran to the other side of the room- seeing a door to the simulation spaceship open and 7 tired looking boys and girls walking out- all looking on the brink of passing out.

Jungkook looked around the room, looking at all the people there. He only saw five. A boy with black hair and pale skin sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, asleep. A by with orange hair, earphones in- bopping his head. A boy with black hair and shoulders real wide, looking a little irritated. A boy with purple hair, sitting on his own, looking really stressed. And then, pink haired boy- who looked like he was going to kill Jungkook.

Suddenly, the little space bubble waiting area they were in (outside the fake spaceships) tipped a little- and Jungkook fell to the side, along with everyone else. He toppled right over and fell to the ground- letting out a groan as some guy fell on top of him.

Jungkook tried grabbing onto something and heard another groan from the guy on top of him as the space bubbled calmed down- everyone all over the place.

Jungkook opened his eyes in annoyance, and then saw silver eyes. Jungkook blinked, seemingly confused, and then-

"Your hand is on my dick." The guy said in his deep voice- and Jungkook pushed off him in an instant, realising he accidentally grabbed his dick. Jungkook got up, wiping his hand on his shirt while grimacing.

"Ew ew ew." Jungkook said to himself, and the guy rolled his eyes. "Thanks for groping me. That's always fun." The guy said, and Jungkook turned to the silver haired boy and scoffed. 

"Didn't mean to do it, silver." Jungkook snapped, and Silver hair furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yeah okay, red." The boy mumbled- and then Jungkook heard a loud sigh but some black haired guy sitting on the chairs.

"I'm so hungry. This sucks.Does anyone know when we#ll go on?" The boy asked, and Jungkook shook his head.

"Probably in another minute or two." The boy with purple hair said, looking down at his hands. Black hair just huffed, leaning against his chair.

"Group 103- where's group 103- oh- is this all of you?" A woman with hair in curls said, running into the room. None of them had seen her before, but she was holding a tablet and wearing a suit- so they're guessing she's one of the exam coordinators.

"Okay- um- here's the thing. This space ship isn't exactly.. working. As in- the number of students there's been in there all day caused the thing to fume and break down." The woman said, and everyone in the room groaned. "But! But- good news! You can go into another spaceship and have the exam there! Yay! Change of venue!" The woman said with a smile- and the boys just huffed and followed her out of the room.

"This is annoying." Orange boy said, and Jungkook turned to him, and hummed. "Yeah. I just want this thing to get over with." Jungkook said, and the guy nodded in agreement.

"Nervous?" Jungkook saw the purple haired boy ask one of the black haired ones- and the black haired one just pressed his lips together and gave the purple haired boy a weirded out look. "Duh." He scoffed, and the purple haired boy looking away, nodding.

"You okay?" Silver hair asked pink, and pink nodded solemnly, not wanting to speak much to a guy he didn't know.

"Well. This should be fun." The smaller black haired one said- and then they all looked a bit confused as they were entering the.. Galactic Navy Spaceship Holding centre.

"Why.. are we here? This is where the actual spaceships are.." Jungkook mumbled, and the woman with curly hair turned to them and grinned.

"Group 103, this is the official Space Nova ZX92." The woman said, and a gasp arose from the seven boys.

"Holy shit.. this is the one that can travel to other galaxies in a blink of an eye, right? It can travel all over the universe in seconds." Purple hair said, a little in awe.

"Yes, exactly Namjoon!" The woman said, and purple hair- Namjoon- grinned a little.

"Well- it's not the real one. Obviously. We wouldn't trust 7 kids with the most high tech spaceship built yet," The woman laughed, and the guys all frowned.

"Kids? We're all like, 20." Silver hair said- and Jungkook looked at the boys, and gulped. They were all nodding in agreement. He wasn't.. like.. 20. He was 18.

"Hush- you're babies! This is a model! A prototype. Made to look just like the Space Nova ZX92." The woman said, and then went up the stairs to the door of the ship. "It's not fully built just yet- as there's much more to add. But the control looks just like the real one!"

She seemed enthusiastic. Perhaps, a little too enthusiastic. She opened the door to the spaceship, and when she did, smoke came out.

"Yoooo this ship's vaping." Jungkook laughed- and everyone looked at him, not looking amused. Jungkook pursed his lips, 'cause that was pretty goddamn funny. He heard a snicker, and looked at the silver haired guy- who seemed to be laughing more at Jungkook than at anyone else.

The seven boys walked up the stairs and entered the spaceship- and instantly, gasps filled the room.

It was a small hallway from the entrance to another one, with space-proof glass on the walls with high quality metal. There was a first aid kid and everything.

The boys entered the control room, and the woman who was smiling a little too hard was stood at the door, not entering.

"Your exam will start in three minutes." She said, and the boys gasped again when they entered the control room.

"Welcome, Galactic Navy, to the SPACE NOVA ZX92." A robot voice said through the speakers, and the boys looked up.

The control room was huge and was all white. There was only one window, but it was big and long and fit the front of the room, giving a direct view to space. Or, well, the Spaceship Holding Centre for now. There was a big table with chairs fitted to them, which had a bunch of control panels on them and a bunch of buttons. To fly the damn thing.

There was one chair in the middle, for the captain. Some in the back, for communications. And a room fitted to the control room, was the medical room.

"Quick roll call." The woman said, at the entrance of the control room now. "Kim Namjoon?"

"Here." Purple hair said, tracing his hand over the captain's chair.

"Kim Seokjin?" The woman asked. "Here." Tall black haired replied, looking into the medical room.

"Min Yoongi?" "Here." Small black haired replied, looking at the communications desk.

"Jung Hoseok?" "Right here." Orange hair replied, looking around the spaceship in awe, the fact that the model of the spaceship looked so goddamn beautiful.

"Park Jimin?" "Present." Pink hair said, looking a little better than before, more focused on the communications table.

"Kim Taehyung?" "Here." Silver hair replied, looking out the big window, a little grin on his lips.

"And last, Jeon Jungkook?"

"Here." Jungkook said, and the boys looked at him, and Jungkook just looked at every part of the control room.

It looked.. so real. So authentic. Exactly where all of them wanted themselves to be in a few years.

"Great. Your exam starts in 2 minutes! Get in positions- your simulation shall be given to you shortly." The woman said, and then exited.

Jungkook went over to the control panel at front, and looked at all the buttons and stuff, a little in awe. He sat down on the seat, and then saw Taehyung sit down on the seat beside him, since he was also red.

"This spaceship looks.. awfully real." Jungkook said, and Taehyung hummed, clicking on something, starting the fake engine.

"It does. They built a good model. Engines, ready." Taehyung announced, and Namjoon and Hoseok sat down on either side of Jungkook and Taehyung.

"Boosts, ready." Hoseok announced.

"All systems in go." Jimin said, and Jin was sat at the communications table as well. "Preparing for take off."

Suddenly, Namjoon heard a shout from the entrance of the control room. All the other boys looked busy, so he got up in a haste and rushed to the control room.

"Why do people care so much about this stuff anyway? Like- it's not real." Jungkook snickered, and Taehyung didn't give him any attention.

"Perhaps some of us don't only care about fucking around, and actually want to succeed in life." Taehyung said, and Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows.

"Excuse me? Dude, I fucking care about this space shit as much as anyone else. It's just that- this exam. It's not real. So why is everyone stressing so much? Like, okay, you fail, but-"

"Well you better imagine it's real. Because when it is, you'll have to have the proper mindset." Hoseok said instead, and Taehyung hummed in agreement.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, and then looked at the big black button in the middle which was unknown to all of them. "Oh yeah? This thing is soo real, is it? Well what's gonna happen if  just-"

Suddenly Namjoon, and the curly haired woman burst into the room. "Stop! Everyone stop!" The woman shouted. "This spaceship is the real one! It's not a model! It's the real-"

Jungkook didn't hear her.

He slammed down the button with a cocky scoff- and then-

Everyone screamed.

Suddenly, they were in space (having broken right through the walls of the holding centre and shot up to space) and then, there was darkness. Then, a bright white light.

"OH MY GOD I'M FUCKING DYING-" Someone screamed, and Jungkook just gripped onto the chair handles, hearing some more yells of confusion.

There were rays of bright white lights zooming past them, and finally, Jungkook opened his eyes, feeling like he was going really slow, but at the same time going at a billion miles a second.

"Fuck fuck fuck-" Someone yelled, and then a hand pushed down the black button again- and then the spaceship stopped.

Everyone stopped.

Everyone opened their eyes.

Everyone screamed.

"Where the fuck- what the fuck just happened?" Taehyung snapped, and Jungkook- with wide eyes- looked and saw Namjoon, panting, hand on the black button.

"No no no!" The woman screamed, looking out the window. She took out her tablet and started pressing on some things. "No no- goddamnit!"

"What- what's wrong?" Jin asked, and she gulped. All the seven boy's got up, looking at her. Why was she even in the spaceship?

"We- we're in Zeta Astraues." The woman let out shakily, and Jungkook looked confused for a second- and so did everyone else, but Namjoon gasped.

"W-what?!" He let out, and the woman nodded, clicking on more things on her tablet.

"Wait wait- what do you mean? We're not in our galaxy? We're not in Proioxis Cloud?" Jimin asked, as Proioxis Cloud was the galaxy they were from.

The woman shook her hair, and Jungkook saw how Namjoon still looked frozen. "Zeta Astraeus that's- t-that's-"

It's 987,534 light years away from Proioxis." Namjoon whispered, and the guys gasped, all in shock. "Across the universe." Jin mumbled, and Namjoon looked at him and nodded.

"Wait- wait wait wait- is this our simulation?" Jungkook asked, and the woman glared at him in anger, looking a bit.. okay a lot mad.

"No- no it's not! This was not the fucking simulation! This is a real fucking spaceship that was supposed to go the highest star fleet in the Galactic Navy- but instead, it's with 7 kids- and I'm stuck in it!" She screamed, and Jungkook widened his eyes, and then gulped.

"Not a simulation. Got it." Jungkook whispered to himself.

"Can't we just- lightspeed it back to take us back to Proioxis?" Taehyung asked, and Namjoon shook his head.

"No. I read up on these types of 'fast' features. They work once- and then they need recharging." Namjoon said.

"C-can't we get recharging?" Jungkook asked, and Namjoon shook his head again.

"We'll need the power of a sun." Namjoon said, and then they all looked at the woman.

The woman high pitched screamed for 17 seconds, and then gasped out in breath. "That stupid black button transported us a million light years away in a fucking second." She said, and then Hoseok chuckled- trying to calm the situation down.

"C'mon, let's all try to contact the University or the Galactic Navy through our tablets-"

"I did! I'm awaiting a response. W-who's in medicine?" The woman asked, and then looked at Jin. "Get me something, I'm gonna faint-" She gasped out, and Jin nodded, rushing into the medical room.

"Okay. Okay no- this is fine. Um- there's 8 of us. Stuck in the most high tech spaceship ever known in the universe. And we're in the middle of a galaxy with one planet in it." Namjoon said, then looked at everyone else. "We're doomed."

"No- no no it's fine! Look- that woman is a professional, right? She'll know what to do." Taehyung tried- and then they saw as the woman kicked the wall and screamed when her shoe broke.

They all looked at her, and gulped. They turned back to face each other. "The Galactic Navy! They'll save us! They always do! Look- this is fine. We are not 'doomed'." Hoseok said with a nervous laugh.

"Guys we're doomed." Yoongi said, walking up to them. "We're too far away from our galaxy or any other one known for anyone to hear us."

"Fuck." Hoseok let out, and Yoongi nodded. "Fuck indeed."

Jimin went up to the woman- who was still screaming. "Listen, Mrs- uhhhh- Mrs Yin- we'll be fine. Don't worry. Things like this happen a lot, don't they?"

"Not really." Namjoon said, and Jimin glared at him, and then put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Hoseok got up and went out of the control room- probably to look around the spaceship- which was GIANT by the way. Probably meant for a whole fleet. Could carry more than 50 people.

"We won't be fine! The- the Galactic Navy- they won't be able to find us! I'm gonna die." The woman said, and Jimin sighed.

"Guys!" Hoseok said, running in. "There's space pods! Those pods have light speed too! They can take us back to Proioxis!" Hoseok said, and everyone gasped and looked a little hopeful.

"How many pods are there?" Jin asked, now out of the medicine room with an aspirin in his hand and water.

"At least ten! We can all get in one, and-"

A loud smack boom crash ting sound came, and everyone ran outside the control room to see where the sound came from.

"Ah fuck." Yoongi mumbled, seeing all the air pods just fall out.

"What the fuck?" Taehyung snapped, and Namjoon groaned. "This ship isn't fully built yet. It’s gonna have a lot of problems still."

All of them frowned and looked at Namjoon, who shrugged. "Hey, we have one pod left." Jimin commented, and instantly everyone started pushing around.

"I'm getting in that fucking-"

"No that's not fucking fair I have a dog-"

"I have a girlfriend-"

"She cheated on you! I'm only 20-"

"I'm 18! I don't wanna die when I'm 18!"

"I'm gay-"

"Guys!" Namjoon snapped, and all the six boys turned to look at him. "Stop! None of us are going. It's either all 8 of us, or none of us. It's not fair for one of us to just leave." Namjoon said, and the guys groaned, and then walked out of the space pod room and to the control room.

"Ugh- this sucks. But you're right. We need to work together." Yoongi said, and all the guys nodded.

"We can use our tablets and at least try and communicate to Galactic Navy!" Jimin said eagerly, and the guys nodded.

"We can try and get to other planets!" Hoseok said.

"Hey- who knows- there's gotta be some navy around here somewhere to save the 8 of us!" Taehyung said, and they all grinned for a second, but then Jin cleared his throat.

"Where exactly.. is the 8th member?" Jin asked, and the guys all looked confused.

Jungkook put his finger up and counted everyone, and then realised there were only 7.

"Where's Mrs. Yin?" Namjoon asked in confusion- and then they heard it. The sound of a space pod being released. 

The boys all gasped- and ran out of the control room and into the space pod room- and all widened their eyes.

They saw the space pod, now in air- with a woman inside it. Fucking Mrs. Yin. And then, it was gone. She went back to Proioxis.

"Oh that fucking bitch cunt fucking------ chair!" Yoongi growled, and all the guys looked equally pissed.

"No wait- this is good. She'll send us help." Jimin said hopefully, ans then they all walked out of the room and into the control room.

"Sure fucking hope so. 'Cause I don't wanna be stuck here with 6 strangers for a long ass time." Jungkook mumbled, and the guys would laugh- but they all just sat down, a little confused and a lot helpless, feeling the same way.

✫  ✬  ✭  ✬  ✫

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647225926831243265/three%C2%B3

[mannysmouth]

“i hate leaving you”

rio x reader

warning: smut (nsfw) — in which rio takes too long to return home from a “business trip” and you’re deprived.

“Look, daddy’s home!”

Your three-year-old son shrieked in pure excitement from his over-sized booster chair in the backseat of your truck as you pulled into the driveway behind Rio’s sleek, black Cadillac. He was already particularly hyper from the candy that he’d gotten at the dentist after his cleaning, so he seemed to be even more rowdy about his father returning home than he usually was.

“I see, baby,” you smiled in agreement, un-clicking your seatbelt. “Let mommy get you out of the car and you can go say hi.”

Although you explained your intentions, the only thing on Marcus’ mind was, understandably, Rio. So he ignored you, proceeding to yank wildly at the handle of the car door from the inside.

With a defeated sigh, you circled around the back of the car to let him out, watching in amazement as his tiny feet carried him to the door, at light speed, in search to find his dad. Rio had been gone the last two days handling some business in Canada, and it was undeniable that you both missed him like crazy. After grabbing Marcus’ traveling bag and everything else that you’d brought along with you, you walked into the house behind him, heart warming at the sound of Marcus and Rio’s laughter combined. You shut the door with the heel of your sandal, hands having been full, and dropped everything on the table of the foyer.

“You been giving mommy a hard time?” 

By the way his deep voice emanated through the hall, you assumed he was in the kitchen, so you travelled there, trying desperately to contain your true excitement. Rio stood next to the refrigerator, glass of half-drinken whiskey placed curtly on the marble countertop of the island, and Marcus clung to his chest giggling profusely while his daddy attacked him with the tickle monster. The sight alone was something that you’d dreamed of for years. And even though you never knew that you would be in this exact situation at this exact time with them, you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

Rio didn’t notice you right away. So you took the time to admire him fully. He was dressed in nothing spectacular, a simple white v-neck with a pair of gray sweatpants, but that, in addition to the fact that it had been a few days since you were able to be with him, was enough to turn you on. You were also taking heed to the fact that he was drinking, yet it was only 11:00 am, so, much to your dismay, stress just might have served as the leading cause to a possible extension in your dry spell.

“Daddy, can we go to the park?” Marcus, begged from Rio’s arms. He held up his half-eaten lollipop and pouted. “Mommy couldn’t take me because she said I had to go to the dentist.”

“Baby, you have a playdate with Dylan today. His mommy’s already on her way to come and get you.” You interjected, causing Rio to finally acknowledge your presence. He turned to face you, tired, brown eyes oozing down your body slowly with his mouth parted slightly. Marcus whined in response and wriggled in Rio’s grip. “Don’t you wanna go to the zoo with Dylan?”

Marcus continued to whine, protesting the same playdate he had been begging for for weeks now, but when Rio interjected, the complaints ceased.

“Papa, daddy’s gonna take you to the park when you get back from the zoo with Dylan,” he compromised. “And we can go get ice cream. But you can’t go ghost on your friends when they’re counting on you. Okay?”

He clearly was upset by this, but Marcus also knew better than to argue with Rio. Everyone did. Whenever Rio wanted something to happen, he would make it happen, and it was always best to just let things be. So a few moments later, when Dylan’s mom pulled up outside and the doorbell rang, Marcus didn’t fuss when his dad took him to the car and settled him into his carseat. Rio kissed Marcus on the forehead and told him how much he loved him, giving both of the boys a high-five, and he stood on the doorstep as they drove away.

While he saw the boys off, you’d poured yourself a glass of wine and found a seat at one of the barstools from the island, scanning through school emails and updates on your phone. You heard Rio’s footsteps as he approached the kitchen again, but you didn’t turn around. You saw no need to continue torturing yourself with the sight of him if you knew things would be going nowhere.

“How was work?” you asked him quietly. He stood opposite of you, leaned back quaintly against the stove, drink in hand. You never asked too much about his job, because you knew Rio was never going to answer you. He thought he was endangering you by telling you too much and he didn’t like the thought of you getting into trouble with him if things ever went south. His way of shielding you from the possibility was silence.

He hummed. “Eh, it was work. I got shit done so I can’t really complain about it.” There was a brief pause before he continued. “How was the dentist?”

“Awful.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I hate taking him alone, because whenever you’re not there, the doctor thinks he has a free pass. He’s always flirting, and staring at me way too much.” You glanced up to see Rio’s face, already certain that his possessive instincts were settling in. He took another sip of his drink and nodded. “I would find a new dentist but he’s the only one Marcus will go to willingly.”

“Don’t worry about Marcus, I’ll handle him. But from now on, I’m gonna take him.” He instructed. “So if I’m not here, reschedule it for when I’m back.”

Your eyes narrowed on his matter-of-factly demeanor. “Okay, Rio.” You sighed.

A sly smirk eased over his lips and he crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No.”

“So why you catching an attitude about it?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are…” he trailed. “You and I both know I’m not stupid, Y/N. I’ve known you long enough. What’s the issue?”

You didn’t respond right away, because you could sense a slight irritation in your tone and you didn’t want to rub him the wrong way. You chose your words carefully. “I just don’t understand why I can’t take my own son to the dentist.”

Rio chuckled breathily and put an empty glass on the counter in front of him. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“You just come back after being gone for three days and tell me I can’t take Marcus to the dentist anymore?” You snapped. “He’s my son. I’m his mother, I’m supposed to do those things. Especially when you aren’t here—”

“First of all, watch your tone.” Rio warned sternly. “I’ve been gone for two days, and no one ever said you couldn’t take him. You’re a grown ass woman, you do whatever the hell you wanna do. But since you came to me with a problem, I gave you a solution.” He straightened his torso as he looked down at you, eyes hardening on your face. “We both know that dumbass is gonna keep flirting with you when I’m not there because he thinks he can get away with the shit. So unless you want him to, I will take Marcus from now on. Because he’s my son. I’m his dad. I’m supposed to do those things too.”

Rio always had a way of putting you in your place whenever you stepped out of line. And when he did, it was such a turn on. As if you weren’t already ruining your underwear. “Okay,” was all you could say in response.

“Something tells me that ain’t really your problem, though, ma. You ain’t all cranky like this because I told you not to take him to the dentist. You ain’t like doing that noway.” He pressed. He scanned your demeanor, mentally taking notes of the way you responded to him, and bit down on his bottom lip. “Come here.”

You obeyed him dutifully, staring at your toes as they moved across the floor step by step until you stood directly in front of him. Your close proximity allowed you to appreciate the fresh scent of his body wash when you inhaled, which lead you to believe he’d just gotten out of the shower. 

Then, you were imagining him in the shower. 

And you with him. 

The way his lips would feel against your wet skin and the way his hands would slide over your curves so easily. You imagined the way he would feel inside of you with even more moisture than you created naturally and how quickly he would make you cum.

“Hey.” 

Rio’s fingers curled under your chin and he nudged your face upwards so that your gaze immediately met his. “I’m talking to you,” he broke your chain of thoughts. “I asked you what’s on your mind, ma?”

That nickname drove you crazy, and by the way Rio was eyeing your lips, you were slowly confirming that he was aware of what was going through your head. “I-I just missed you.”

“Oh, baby, that ain’t no reason to give me the cold shoulder,” he laughed faintly. “If you missed me, why didn’t you show me?”

The drying of your throat, along with the sensation of his fingertips digging into the small of your back was enough to prohibit you from speaking altogether. So you shrugged like a little kid who had just been caught red handed in the middle of a lie. An intense red heat surfaced your face and you gulped, watching closely how Rio’s eyes rolled over you.

“Use your words, babygirl.”

Rio’s fingers delicately traced the outline of your jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever his touch disappeared. “It’s just been so long,” You breathed.

“Hmmm…”

He knew exactly what you meant just by that phrase, but you continued to explain yourself anyway. “I’ve been missing you at night and I was looking forward to you coming back, but you seemed so tired. I didn’t think you’d be up to it.”

Rio smiled lazily, hand snaking around the back of your neck to pull you closer to his face. His lips met yours in a firm, sturdy kiss that was chaste enough that it lacked tongue, but passionate enough that it left you hungry for more.  And by the look on his face, you sensed he did too. The faint remnants of alcohol danced over your tongue. “You missed daddy, huh?” His eyes bounced back and forth between yours and you could feel his erection hardening against your belly through the tight white sundress you wore.

Nodding, you reached down to feel him, sighing in relief as you squeezed his solid bulge in your dainty hands.

Rio, still impressively calm, just watched in astonishment how much it relaxed you to feel him. You groped him gently, not breaking eye contact, imagining how good his thick cock would feel inside of you and a moan fell from your lips. At that, he spoke up. “You want it, baby?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, not a trace of hesitation in your tone.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want your cock,” you whispered. “I want you to fuck me so bad, daddy. I’ve been craving it all week.”

He chuckled again and licked his lips, pulling your hands away from his crotch. “I don’t give a fuck how tired you think I am, I ain't ever gonna be too tired for you.”

That being said, he kissed your lips again, moving slowly with a sensual burst of energy as his tongue delved into your heated mouth and explored every inch there was to offer. You moaned at the feeling, gasping when his hand gripped a harsh handful of your ass through your dress.

Rio was slow, and relaxed, but you knew he needed you in that moment just as much as you needed him. His tranquility, despite the fact, only made him all the more sexy.

“Please,” you gasped.

Rio seemed to be ignoring all of your requests because he had his own agenda. He wanted to take his time with you, and make sure you both got as much out of it as possible. His lips travelled from your lips down your neck, slowing at the sweet spot on your collarbone, and continuing down to the valley of your breasts. He freed each one from the scoop at the top of your dress, pausing in fascination at the bouncing motion they made when they were no longer confined by the fitted fabric. “No bra,” he whispered approvingly, cupping them in his hands, “that’s why that mother-fucker was flirting with you.”

His lips tightened around the hardened peaks of your dusky, pink nipples and he sucked on them delicately, pushing your back into the counter in the process. Rio was in love with your body, but he was especially keen about your breasts and how perky they were, as he mentioned it to you many times before. Whenever you two had sex, he would insist on showing them their deserved appreciation. He hummed against the swollen skin, and licked them until his tongue was dry and in need of more moisture.

Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you tugged at his shirt, and he pulled it over his head. Only now that he was taking off clothes, he wanted you naked. You were silently praising yourself for getting waxed the day before, so when he pulled off the rest of your dress and the thin lace panties you wore, you went for his sweats, eager to find that he wasn’t wearing any underwear at all.

His cock was the most beautiful thing to you. The way it stood at full attention when it was hard. The silky tan color of his thick, and desirably wide length all the way up to the pink tip that teased the landscaping of the top of his abs. The veins that rolled up the sides and the pre-cum that yearningly trickled back down. His size. God it was huge. And best of all, it was yours. You had it all to yourself, and you could get it whenever you were in the mood for it, so long as he was there.

That was the point that he was trying prove.

He lifted you by your hips, with ease on to the counter, kissing your lips again as he gripped his length in his hand. One hand found your breast, and the other steadied your hip as he guided himself into you. Even after four years, Rio’s size was something you’d never gotten used to. And regardless of your best efforts, you squirmed when he first entered you. It was easy this time, because you were so wet, and when he filled you, a deafening moan erupted from the depths of your throat.

“Mmmm, mami, you like that?” He grunted, pushing every last inch deep inside of you. His eyes shut tight and he squeezed your breasts when he felt you clench around him, and you nodded, grasping blindly for something to hold on to.

Rio waited a moment before he started up a steady pace, thrusting slow, but powerful strokes into your throbbing pussy. The slick sounds of his movements could be heard in between your moans and his breathing, and the more he fucked you, the wetter it got. Rio reached behind you and angled you upward so that one leg rested over his shoulder and your eyes had no other choice but to lock on his.

“I want you to look at me while I’m fucking you, Y/N,” he croaked. “Tell daddy how you want it, babygirl.”

He picked up his pace, hitting you deeper with forceful, solid strokes, your skins slapping loudly together. He fucked you hard on the same countertop that you’d just eaten breakfast on a few hours ago. He licked his lips, and stared directly into your eyes, in awe of how much pleasure you were experiencing thanks to him. Rio didn’t let up, either. Your assumptions of his exhaustion were long gone, because the way he fucked you was proof of his impeccable stamina. “Fuck, I need you deeper…” you trailed.

Rio dipped a finger into his mouth and drew circles around your swollen clit sending you into a whole new world of euphoria. He lifted your body so that you hung from the edge of the marble, and penetrated you from a newer, deeper level. “Like that, baby?” he teased, popping a nipple into his mouth again. Your toes curled and your thighs grew weak, numbness setting in as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Yes, daddy, mmm fuck yes.” You egged. “I missed you so fucking much. You fuck me so good.”

You could feel Rio in your guts, invading your most personal space, but you wouldn’t dare interject because of the immense pleasure that came as a result. Rio hit your g-spot, over and over again without warning, drawing screams from you that you were certain the neighbors could hear.

Sweat beads slid down the crevices of his face and his brows knitted together tightly. His long, dark lashes fluttered against his cheekbones, and his sharp jawline tightened.

He was so beautiful.

“You gonna cum for me, mami?” He sang.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Cum for daddy.”

As soon as the words rolled off of his tongue, your vision went blurry and your legs fell limp against him, forcing him to catch you before you slipped and hit the floor. Your toes curled as your orgasm washed over you in waves, and you felt his heat in spurts inside of you filling you to the brim. A long, guttural groan fell from his lips and he sighed, squeezing you tight in his arms. Lips spaced gently, he pressed several kisses to your forehead and hummed when he was composed enough to help you to your feet.

On shaky legs, you still clung to him, arms draped over his broad shoulders as he worked around you to clean the mess you both had just made on the counter. He kissed your lips, and ran a hand through your hair, smiling as he watched you. “I hate leaving you,” he admitted. “Whenever I come back you wanna catch an attitude.”

——————

sorry for the wait, loves. xo.

#rio #Manny Montana #manny #montana #manny montana imagine #rio smut #manny montana dirty imagine #rio imagine #rio dirty imagine #daddy af #daddy #hot #hot af #smile #bad boy #good girls nbc #rio x reader #smut #gorgeous

[pasteljooonie]

thirty-two

| Smut Warning |

Jimin wasn't pink anymore. Yoongi was startled as he saw the boy sitting in the corner of the cafe, two cups sitting on the table in front of him as he sat with his legs crossed. He wasn't pink. Yoongi didn't know why that hurt him so much, but it did. His pink was a dark black, his lips pale as he pressed them together tightly, his skin was golden in the dull lighting, no pink.

"Hi." Jimin didn't look up. Yoongi nodded his head, and sat in the seat across from him. The two were silent for a few moments, neither speaking, neither knowing what to say. "You look great." Yoongi admitted, clearing his throat awkwardly as he looked at Jimin through his lashes. The younger boy remained silent, staring at the wall emotionlessly. "Maybe I should just leave." Yoongi mumbled to himself, standing up slowly, "don't." Jimin's voice was weak as he glanced at Yoongi. He dropped back into the chair quickly, not wanting to upset Jimin, he waited silently as the younger boy took a deep breath and turned to face him.

"I don't think you understand how hard it is to look at you." Jimin whispered, scratching his hand nervously as Yoongi nodded, he didn't. But he knew how hard it was to look at Jimin. "I'm trying. Alright? Just....Give me a second." Jimin mumbled, grabbing one of the cups and taking a sip of it. Another moment passed, before he sighed and slid the other cup over to Yoongi. "I didn't order two for myself dumbass." He laughed softly, making a blush rise to Yoongi's face as he grabbed the cup and twisted it in his fingers nervously. Jimin took a few more sips before setting it down and sighing irritably. "It's really hard to be mad at you when you're sitting across from me." He said softly. Yoongi nodded, he understood the feeling too well, though he wasn't mad at Jimin, he just wanted to grab him and kiss him, hold him close and never let him go. Yoongi finally realized he loved him, and he wanted nothing more than to give him all the love he could.

"You told me you loved me." Jimin's voice was weak as Yoongi's face fell. He did? Jimin saw his silence and sighed, running his hand over his face. "You said you didn't understand the line. 'Three empty words that meant more to me than they did to you'. You told me you loved me." He said softly, finally meeting Yoongi's eyes, and the older boy felt the breath get stuck in his throat as he saw tears in Jimin's eyes. "I-I—" Yoongi couldn't find his words. "I don't remember..." He whispered, and Jimin nodded, licking his lips as he looked away and took a shaky breath. "Yeah well that only makes it hurt worse." He cleared his throat, sniffling softly as he stared at his hands, he remembered it all too well.

Jimin was panting tiredly as he laid down on the bed, he was exhausted, more so than he had ever been. He turned his head, his tired eyes meeting Yoongi's. The older boy looked tired, and conflicted, Jimin wanted to ask what was on his mind, but decided against it, not wanting to push Yoongi deeper into what bothered him. He felt his thumb trace his bottom lip, his eyes trained on them as Jimin parted his mouth, his breathing ragged as the small action made him jittery. "Pink." Yoongi mumbled. Jimin felt a blush rise to his cheeks at the word. He'd heard Yoongi say it before, how obsessed he was with Jimin's pink, and it damn near made the boy re-dye his faded hair.

Jimin watched him take a deep breath before sitting up quickly. "I'm going to shower." He told the younger boy. Jimin pouted, watching him stand up and look back at him. He wanted Yoongi back in bed to cuddle him and kiss his forehead, but he knew he wouldn't get it, and laid still. "You rest. I'll come back to bed when I'm done." He told him, and Jimin nodded, watching him collect pajamas from his dressers, as Jimin reached off the side of the bed and grabbed his boxers, sliding them on for more coverage, and readjusting his position on the bed, he met Yoongi's eyes as he feigned a smile and walked into the connected bathroom.

Jimin was playing with his fingers out of boredom when he heard a low moan. Furrowing his eyebrows he sat up slowly, wincing at the soreness, and listened closer, hearing alongside the sound of the shower stream, Yoongi moaning softly. Jimin pouted as he looked at the bathroom door, why would he go to the shower? Jimin was right there, and more than willing. Huffing in annoyance Jimin pulled his boxers off and walked into the bathroom. Yoongi was too distracted as Jimin pulled back the curtain and stepped in, sinking to his knees, and grabbing Yoongi in his own hand. Yoongi kept his eyes closed as he moaned Jimin's name, throwing his head back as Jimin took him in his mouth, bobbing his head low on him as Yoongi whined in pleasure, tangling his fingers in Jimin's-now wet, hair, and bucking his hips against him.

Jimin took him all, moaning around his shaft as Yoongi stopped, holding his head still as he came in his mouth, his head thrown back with his moans as Jimin swallowed and looked up at him through his eyelashes. "Fuck I love you." Yoongi whispered, finally opening his eyes as Jimin felt a drop in his stomach, not knowing how to respond, he stood up and let Yoongi pull his body against his, his lips leaving fresh new bruises on his neck, and Jimin got too distracted, moaning as he tilted his head back, giving Yoongi more access. "Ahh Yoongi-" He whined, gripping the older boy's hair and pulling his body closer. It didn't end until Jimin's back was pressed against the bathtub wall, and Yoongi's hand was gripping his hardening cock.

"So pretty." Yoongi whispered against Jimin's neck, the younger boy could only cry in response as he bucked his hips against Yoongi's hand. "So pretty, all flustered and begging to be touched." Yoongi smirked pulling away from his neck and tugging his hair, making Jimin look him in the eyes as he slowly began to stroke his hand along his cock, earning shaky moans from the boys swollen lips. "Can you come for me again Jimin? Can you come just from my hand touching you?" He whispered, slowing his hand down teasingly, making Jimin whine in protest as he nodded, his soaking hair falling into his eyes as he panted, his lips parted and struggling for air as he begged Yoongi to move his hand again. Yoongi stared into his eyes as his lips stretched into a smirk, his hand pulling Jimin’s hair as he began moving his hand again, watching Jimin’s eyes squeeze shut in pleasure as his mouth parted, letting heavy gasps pass his lips, and fuck if it wasn’t the hottest thing Yoongi had ever seen.

“Look at me baby boy.” Yoongi encouraged, tugging on his hair as Jimin opened his eyes, the slow pace Yoongi kept him at was torturous, but him staring into his eyes like that was knee buckling. “Can you come for me?” Yoongi repeated his previous question, squeezing Jimin’s cock, making the boy cry out lowly. “Y-Yes.” He replied, his eyes near pleading as he bucked his hips into Yoongi’s hand.

"Good." Yoongi smirked, pressing his lips against Jimin's neck as he moved his hand faster, feeling him arch his back off the wall and squirm underneath him as he moaned his name, his nails digging into his back as he whimpered, feeling sensitive and hot all at once as Yoongi pressed his lips against his, tangling his hand in his hair as he moved his hand faster, whispering encouragingly as Jimin whined and came in his hand, his breathing heavy as Yoongi helped him down from his high, his hand moving slower now as Jimin’s legs began to shake, and he let go of him. Their foreheads pressed together as he caught his breath, and Yoongi left a soft kiss to his lips. "Good boy." He whispered, meeting Jimin's hazy eyes and smirking at the sight of his heat rushed cheeks, and swollen lips, he was his.

“I wanted to question you about it.” Jimin explained, rubbing his arm nervously. “But when I stood back up straight you grabbed me and...” He trailed off, watching Yoongi nod. So he remembered that. “It got pushed to the back of my mind in the heat of the moment, and we went to sleep afterward. I was going to talk to you the next day, but then things just fell apart.” He said softly, his eyes watery as he kept his eyes down, Yoongi felt paralyzed with guilt. He wanted to grab Jimin, to pull him on his lap and kiss his temple and hold him tighter than he'd ever had. Just to make him okay.

"I'm so sorry Jimin." Yoongi choked out, trying to find an explanation. "I never wanted to hurt you." He knew it was probably his millionth time saying that, but he didn't care. "Yeah." Jimin replied, he believed him, he believed that Yoongi didn't mean to hurt him. But it didn't change the fact that he did. "It hurt seeing you with other people." Jimin admitted, sighing heavily, "but I couldn't be mad because of it. You'd made it clear we weren’t together, no matter how badly I wanted us to be. I had no right to get mad at you, but you told me you loved me, and then seeing you with someone else, that's what hurt." He admitted, and Yoongi bowed his head shamefully. He didn't even remember telling Jimin he loved him, and that's what upset him the most.

"I wasn't with that girl." Yoongi told him, watching Jimin raise his head slowly. "I mean, we met up yeah, but we weren't dating. The media thinks I'm dating any person I go out to coffee with. But it wasn't like that." He struggled to explain, Jimin watched him patiently, wanting an explanation. "I got freaked out, I texted Tae because I didn't know what I was feeling. He understood and told me that I was falling for you, but I didn't want to believe him. I texted Namjoon, asking how to get over someone, and he said to hook up with someone else." Yoongi admitted guiltily, he heard Jimin suck in a sharp breath of air and felt guilt weighing him down.

"I didn't. I promise I didn't. It was the day after we..." He trailed off, knowing Jimin knew what he meant. "I went to a bar, and there was a guy there, and I started kissing him, but it just....Didn't feel right." He mumbled, wringing his fingers together as nerves ate at him. "His lips weren't soft like yours, and his hands were too damn big, and his hair was ginger. He wasn't pink." Yoongi cringed as the words passed his lips, but as they did, a blush rose to Jimin's cheeks, and Yoongi's breath got caught in his throat. He was pink again.

"It felt so wrong, so I left. I didn't know what to do, or who to talk to, so I called one of my old friends. We went to school together, and she's like a relationship therapist now or something, so I asked her if we could talk, and we met at a little diner. She helped me realize I was in love with you, but it was too late by then, you'd already hated me." He said softly, nervous as he looked at Jimin, waiting for his response. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, Yoongi sighed softly. "I felt like it didn't matter. You were upset I was with someone else, it didn't matter that I wasn't actually with her because I was with him. You were already hurt, me telling you 'hey I promise I'm not actually dating her, but I did make out with this one guy' didn't exactly sound like it would make anything better." He mumbled, and Jimin nodded, not knowing what to say as he finished the coffee in his cup, Yoongi's was still untouched as he slid it across the table to Jimin, and watched him pick it up and drink it.

"I don't expect you to trust me, not yet at least." Yoongi said softly, breaking a minute long silence. "I know I hurt you. I know how much I'm hurting you right now just by sitting across from you." Jimin defeatedly met his eyes. "But I miss you Jimin. I miss you so fucking much, and I just want to be with you. Whether or not it's in bed. It drives me crazy when I'm not with you. Fuck even texting you, even when you hated me and made it clear you didn't want to talk to me was better than not having you at all." He admitted, watching Jimin blush and look away. He couldn't help himself as he reached forward, his fingers delicate on Jimin's chin as he raised his head, making him look at him. "Pink." He muttered under his breath, the pad of his thumb tracing the heated skin, a small smile on his lips as Jimin's blush darkened, and Yoongi lowered his hand.

"Sorry." He mumbled, stuffing his hands in his lap as Jimin played with the cup in his hand. "'s okay." He replied, his voice as weak as Yoongi as they sat in silence again. "I still don't understand it." Yoongi admitted, making Jimin look up. "Love, relationships, any of that. I still don't get it. But I'm trying, I really am. Because if me spending every chance I have with you is love, then fuck I don't want to lose it." He told him, his voice near pleading as Jimin nodded, twisting his fingers out of nerves. "I've been in love with you since the day I met you Yoongi." Jimin said, his voice shaky as he took a deep breath. "From the moment I stepped into your studio for the first time, I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew that I was stepping into something that would hurt me, but I was selfish, and I did it anyway, because it meant I got to be with you. Even though you didn't love me the way I loved you." He sighed. "You don't have to feel guilty for kissing that guy. You made it clear we weren't in a relationship. I knew it would happen sooner or later. Yeah it hurt, really fucking bad, but it was my fault. You didn't know that I loved you, and it wasn't your fault that you didn't love me back. That pain was temporary. I got over it. You telling me you loved me was what I couldn't get over." His voice was soft as he looked down at his hands, and Yoongi was again, paralyzed with guilt. "I'm so sorry." He replied. Jimin took a deep breath and sighed. "But hearing you tell me you love me right now..." He trailed off, finally meeting Yoongi's eyes, "it's one of the greatest feelings I've ever had." He admitted, smiling shyly and Yoongi smiled. "I love you Jimin. I love you so fucking much, I'll never stop loving you." He said quickly, grabbing Jimin's hands in his, and holding them softly. He saw Jimin's face heat up again, and felt his stomach do flips knowing he was the one that made Jimin so pink. "It's really hard to not kiss you right now." The younger boy laughed, his eyes staring into Yoongi's as the latter boy swallowed thickly.

"How about a date first?"

Description; Agust D is a world known rapper, and has gained fame quickly in the time span of two years, Jimin is a small known YouTube cover artist, and when Agust D sees one of his covers he gets interested in the boy, and decides he’s the one he wants. 32/75

#BTS Fanfic #BTS AU #BTS Imagine #BTS Angst #Yoongi #Seokjin #Jimin #Jungkook #Taehyung #Namjoon #Hoseok #Bangtan #BTS #Yoonmin AU #Yoonmin #Social Media #Taekook #Namjin #Social Media AU #NSAPJ

[ruinedthatfriendship]

Start Again

A/N: Okayyyyy so I was talked into posting this, and yes I am aware it is the most trashy fanfiction trope I have ever written, and I was mildly disgusted when I found this in my drafts. 2014 me was a dumbass. This was also evidently supposed to have more chapters that were never completed. I’m actually not sorry about abandoning this one, though... 

I’m sorry this exists?

It took too long. Everything just took too long. It took an ambulance too long to navigate traffic, too much time to get her out of the wrecked car. Too much time to clean up her battered face before anyone even recognized her, too long before she got a bed in the ER. Too long before one of the doctors finally realized what was really going on, shoving a couple residents out of the way with a burr hole kit.

By the time they got the pressure down in her brain, and sent her up to surgery, she’d already had one seizure from the bleeding inside her skull, and she’d crashed in the elevator, arriving to the surgical suite with a nurse still riding on the gurney doing CPR.

By the time anyone found her emergency contacts, she’d been in surgery for two hours, without any word. By the time they got to the lobby, the driver of the car that hit her had been pronounced dead.

Simon hadn’t even known she’d set his information as an emergency contact. And apparently, it wasn’t just him she hadn’t told. Like every other detail of that horrible day, he would never forget facing Dianna and Eddie in the waiting room and spreading his hands helplessly, letting them shout at him while the only thing he had to offer was that he didn’t even know. And they were wasting time splitting hairs, couldn’t they see that? It didn’t matter anymore who Demi had been spending her time with or if he was too much older or her boss or anything else, not when they didn’t know if she was going to wake up. They didn’t have time to argue in the lobby of the emergency department, he just wanted to be able to see her.

A nurse had been anxiously watching the face off, clearly trying to remain professional even though this was probably the most gossip-worthy day of her career. “Mr. Cowell, sir, uh, Miss Lovato does have an advance directive in place and--”

“She made it after she got out of treatment,” Dianna cut in tearfully. “She said it was just in case,”

The nurse gave her a polite nod to acknowledge her, and then turned back to Simon. “We need to speak with you--”

“No!” Dianna protested, squeezing her husband’s hand. “That’s my daughter, he doesn’t get a say, I’m her mother, you can say whatever you have to say in front of me.”

The nurse--her nametag read ‘Angelica’--looked at Simon, waiting. “Sir?”

“It’s fine,” he said heavily, hardly believing that any of this was real. “And it’s just Simon, please.”

Angelica nodded, glanced down briefly at the chart in her hands. “Miss Lovato named you as her medical proxy, which means that you have the power--”

“I know what a medical proxy is.” Simon interrupted, feeling shock numb his body while his heart rate increased. Demi, baby, what did you do? “It shouldn’t be me. Give it to her parents, I can’t--”

“We don’t have that power.” Angelica said apologetically. “It’s a legal document that Miss Lovato signed willingly. We can take you back to wait, she should be out of surgery soon.”

“I’m coming,” Dianna insisted. Angelica just nodded at her; she was immediate family too, they wouldn’t refuse her.

A tense elevator ride later had them sitting in hard plastic chairs in a waiting area outside of neurosurgery, the sign itself almost giving Simon a heart attack. Brain surgery, because someone crossed the median while she was driving. And she’d gone to the trouble, sometime so long ago, to put her fate into his hands.

If what Dianna had said was true, that she’d written these things just after getting out of treatment, then it would have been before they were ever together. It would have been while the extent of their relationship was annoying one another at the judges’ desk, back at the very beginning. When the most he’d ever done was hug her and pinch her nose and call her a brat, she’d looked at him and imagined a day like this and signed her life into his hands.

“It shouldn’t be me.” he mumbled again, staring at his hands in his lap. “I don’t know what she was thinking.”

“You’re right, it shouldn’t! I don’t know what you ever thought you were doing with my daughter, she’s my baby and you can’t just take advantage--”

“Dianna,” Eddie murmured, squeezing her hand. His eyes were angry too, he looked ready to strangle Simon, but they were making too much noise in the waiting room.

Demi’s surgery took six endless hours. And when the surgeon finally came out, Simon already knew. The set of his jaw and the look in his eyes wasn’t good news, he could only hope it wasn’t a death sentence.

“Is she alive?” he spat out in a low voice, fists clenched and not sure if he was ready for the answer.

The surgeon nodded shortly, sending a rush of relief through Simon that was quickly tempered by the rest of his words. “She’s still unconscious, and not anywhere close to out of danger. We’re keeping her heavily sedated for now, and you can see her, but I want to warn you, she does have a lot of tubes right now, she won’t...look like you expect.”

“I don’t care.”

“Her vitals are good, but she did sustain severe trauma to her brain. I trust I don’t need to tell you how serious that is, Mr. Cowell. She’s alive and stable, but I can’t make any promises about her recovery until she wakes up.”

“What are you saying?”

“She may have cognitive deficits. We just have to wait and see. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I can take you to see her now.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked quietly, holding tightly to his wife’s hand. “What...what can we expect?”

The doctor shot him an apologetic look. “We have no way of knowing, right now. Injuries like Demi’s have had a variety of outcomes, from full cognitive function to brain death. Obviously, given that her responses to stimuli are intact, she’s in as good a place as we can hope for right now. If we were to see any negative effects when she wakes up, it would likely be fairly mild.”

Eddie seemed to relax just infinitesimally at those words, and he was first into the room after the doctor, Dianna on his heels. Simon, exhausted in every possible way, didn’t bother fighting them and followed slowly, trying to brace himself before laying eyes on her.

Nothing could have prepared him, really. She looked peacefully asleep, if not for the washed-out paleness of her skin and the unceremoniously shaved side of her head, a line of stitches crossing her scalp.

Her lips were cracked and parted around a tube in her throat, cuts and bruises and butterfly bandages littering every visible inch of her skin as she lay there, looking tiny and helpless in that hospital bed.

Dianna sobbed and lurched forward, reaching for her daughter’s hand. Demi had a grey plastic clip on one finger, and an IV running into the back of her hand, and hers stayed limp while Dianna held on.

Eddie moved to stand beside her bed as well, one gentle hand tracing her hairline and sweeping the long side of her unplanned undercut off of her forehead.

Simon just swallowed hard, temporarily frozen. Demi belonged on the stage, larger than life with her incredible voice, she belonged laughing and stumbling in high heels and bodily attacking him with the promise of getting him sick. She belonged barefoot in the kitchen with her nose wrinkled up in concentration as she tried to cook, on the floor playing with his dogs, on the couch in a heated debate about Netflix. She belonged with fire in her eyes and love and laughter on her lips, she was not meant to lie here, so fragile and broken.

He found himself moving to the other side of her bed, ignoring the glares of her parents, and tracing the word on her wrist as he reached to grab her hand. “She’s strong,”

The doctor awkwardly returned just then, telling them that Demi was technically only allowed one visitor at a time, and Dianna stayed at her bedside while Simon and Eddie went back out to the hard plastic chairs.

***

It marked the beginning of the worst week of Simon’s life. He cleared his schedule and spent it almost entirely in the hospital, as did Demi’s parents. And if she’d been awake, she’d have scolded all three of them and set the record straight. Without her, and unwilling to alienate her family while she lay unconscious, Simon just endured their anger, pushing back only when they tried to keep him away from her. But he still couldn’t really blame them.

He’d had to give his permission for them to pull her off sedation and remove her machines after the third day. Tonight would be the eighth since the accident, and Demi still hadn’t woken. Her doctors were at a loss, explaining only that sometimes the body needed more time. That she wasn’t quite in a coma, yet. Simon knew what they weren’t saying, though. Her chances of recovery went down with every day she remained in an unconscious state.

For the moment, it was his turn at her bedside, while Eddie had finally convinced Dianna to let him take her home and take a breather. Simon was sitting on the edge of her bed and looking down at her face, which only looked more sleep-like and tranquil as her bruises began to fade. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, swallowing hard. “Come on, Dem,” he murmured. “If you can hear me, baby, I need you to wake up. Please,” he added in a whisper, fear threatening to choke him.

He’d lived over half his life without her, and she’d come in and rearranged everything so completely in such a short time. And now he was facing down the possibility of her leaving as suddenly as she’d come, permanently, and leaving him to live the rest of it without her. It was a bleak existence he didn’t particularly want to contemplate. One that might require some tattoos of his own to get through it. But it wasn’t going to be like that. She was going to make it through this.

Simon leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead gently, wishing he could hold her properly. She was cold and still so fragile and she smelled like the hospital and faintly like the burning metal of her accident, and he wanted nothing more than to take her home and deposit her in a warm bath, wrap her up between his sheets and hold her and never let her leave again.

But for that, she’d have to wake up.

“You’re such a brat,” he whispered, trying for humor. “Making us sit here waiting on you.”

Demi did nothing but breathe, her heart monitor beeping rhythmically in the silent room. Simon sighed, and squeezed her hand again. “Come on, Demi. You can do this. I love you, brat, just open your eyes.”

He collapsed back into the chair at her bedside, still without letting go of her hand, and bent his head over their laced fingers like he was at prayer. And he hadn’t given himself permission to cry--he didn’t cry--but there were tears falling onto her cold fingertips anyway, and when Eddie roused him later with a firm hand on his shoulder, it was with a bleak expression and red eyes.

Her father said nothing, and Simon just sighed and stood, feeling his back pop in retaliation for sleeping in that damn chair. And he was just about to let go of her hand when he felt the clip on her finger shift. It was a fool’s hope, he’d probably just bumped it with his own hand, but it was enough to glance back at her one final time.

And it was weak and uncoordinated, but her fingers moved, tightening around his hand as best they could, in a gesture no one could mistake. Simon’s heart jumped in his chest, and he turned to Eddie without ever letting go of her. “She squeezed my hand,”

And then Eddie was smiling over his shoulder with tears in his eyes, and Simon glanced down again to find her brown eyes looking up at him with such a quintessentially Demi bemused expression that he almost broke down crying again in relief.

“Hey, love,” he said softly. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Demi coughed, making a face, and looked straight past him. “Dad?”

“I’m right here, Demi.” Eddie assured her.

“Dad, my head hurts.” Demi whimpered, scrunching up her face. Simon reached over to press the call button at her bedside, earning a tentatively grateful nod from her father for it.

Demi dropped his hand quite suddenly, reaching toward Eddie, and Simon tried not to feel hurt. She was here, she was alive, she was awake. She was talking and aware, her brain wasn’t damaged, she was here. He’d take what he could get.

“I don’t understand,” she was saying weakly, looking between Eddie and Simon as quickly as she could without moving her head. “What--I…”

Her doctor and a nurse interrupted her, Dianna hot on their heels. “Baby!”

Demi’s face initially brightened, but then crumpled again in confusion. “Not you,” she was murmuring, almost to herself. She’d let go of Eddie’s hand now, too, and stared down at her own fingers, turning them over in examination almost as if she wasn’t quite sure she was real.

“How are you feeling, Demi?” the nurse was asking, an expression on his face that said he was entirely over the number of people crowding his patient.

“I’m...did I overdose?” Demi asked in a small voice, still not looking at anyone.

“No,” Simon rushed to reassure her, wishing he could be closer than where he’d ended up, almost in the doorway. “It was a car accident, darling.”

Instead of relief, Demi’s face only registered further alarm. “A car accident? Why...why was I driving? I’m sorry, Mama!” she burst out, panic in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what I did, I--”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dianna reassured her. “You’re okay, baby. The other driver was on the wrong side of the road. Not you.”

“I wasn’t supposed to leave,” Demi whispered, sounding terribly ashamed.

“Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dianna was almost crying again. “You’re okay, Demi. It’s okay!”

“Demi, is it okay if I ask you some questions now?” her doctor cut in, smiling politely. Demi nodded weakly, and Dianna reluctantly took a step back.

“Okay, can you go ahead and tell me your full name, hun?”

“Demetria Devonne Lovato,” Demi returned, still looking down at her hands like she didn’t quite know what to do with them.

“How are you feeling right now, Demi?”

Demi shrugged. “My head hurts. Everything...kind of hurts.” she tried to play it off, but Simon could see the pain in her eyes. “I guess it makes sense if I was in an accident,” she mumbled.

The doctor nodded swiftly. “We can start you on some painkillers. Something non addictive, don’t worry. Do you remember your accident at all?”

Demi shook her head, looking agitated again.

“Okay, what’s the last thing you do remember?”

She hesitated. “Um, therapy. My session in the morning. I’m guessing it’s not today anymore, though?”

“Demi,” Simon started, ignoring all of the looks suddenly shot his way. “You didn’t have therapy that morning, darling.”

Demi made a familiar irritated face, starting to wave him off in her usual fashion, before she paused, her eyes flicking over his form rapidly. “Wait a second.” she said slowly. “I know you.”

Simon’s entire body went numb at her words. “Demi?” he said hoarsely.

She snapped her fingers impatiently. “You’re...I sang for you, you didn’t stand up. American Idol. You’re the judge guy, the rude one...Sa--Si--Simon. Simon Cowell.” She looked momentarily pleased with herself, and then made a face that would have been comical in any other situation. “Why the hell are you here?”

#i refuse to tag and publicize this #please accept my apologies #I swear I can write better than this #don't worry #better fic will be posted after this

[listentotheshityousay]

roads diverged

After a long joint celebratory dinner with their families on the night of their graduation, Jeremy and Michael steal away and drive an hour up to the Alpine Boat Basin in the Palisades, where it's quiet and near-deserted after sunset. Michael parks the car by the waterfront and they perch on the hood together, half-melted slushies clutched in their hands as they look up across the water at the New York skyline, listening to a chapter of their lives draw to a close in the silence.

“I can’t believe I’m never gonna act in that auditorium again,” Jeremy says. It still feels unreal. “You’ll never drive me to school again.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “But I’ll drive you to tons of other places, because god knows you’re lazy and you never drive anywhere yourself.”

Jeremy pouts. “True, but you can’t chauffeur me around New Jersey all the way from Boston.”

Michael turns to give Jeremy a crooked grin. “You can boss me around when it’s not during the school term, dumbass.” He leans in to nudge Jeremy’s shoulder with his own, his voice dropping to a somber note. “But yeah, you might wanna find somebody else while I’m not around.”

There’s something about that statement that feels like a door slammed in his face. He can’t tell if it’s Michael’s tone, or the words, or the thought of not having the familiar cadence of Michael’s voice in his daily life anymore, but it makes Jeremy want to recoil. “I think I can manage on my own,” Jeremy says instead, mirroring Michael’s posture to lean against him, their arms pressing together. “But I’ll miss you. And not just because it’s nice to have you drive me places.”

Michael tips his chin up, gazing towards the stars for a long moment before he looks back down, an unreadable look on his face as he meets Jeremy’s eyes. “I,” he starts, pauses, then looks away. Clears his throat, and faces Jeremy again with a faint smile. “I’ll miss you too, buddy.”

It feels like an incomplete sentence, something swallowed away before it could become a reality. Like missing a step in the dark. Something important spoken in the spaces between words that Jeremy couldn’t hear at all.

“Ugh, now you’re making me nostalgic, and we’re not even going to college for another two months.” Michael bumps the side of his head against Jeremy’s with a huff. “I swear, you’re gonna see so much of me this summer that you’re gonna be glad to get rid of me by the end of it.”

I don’t think I ever could get sick of you, Jeremy doesn’t say. There’s something fragile about this moment, the aftermath of a silent seismic shift that happened under Jeremy’s feet that he cannot fathom, that makes him think that it’s better left unsaid.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he jokes instead, and laughs when Michael elbows him in the side with a mock-scowl.

The waterfront is chilly, especially because summer still hasn’t quite settled into New Jersey yet, but Jeremy feels overly warm and utterly at home, sitting here under the stars, Michael’s shoulder pressed against his.

-

At the end of summer, Michael pokes Jeremy in the chest after they load the last of Michael’s packed boxes into the backseat of his Cruiser. “I better still be your favorite person when I come back for winter break.”

“Only if you promise that you’re not gonna replace me as best friend,” Jeremy snarks, ignoring the twinge inside his ribcage. He’s all bravado these days, camouflaging his apprehension with false confidence and humor that he doesn’t really feel. It’s been a beautiful summer, full of blue skies and good memories, but he’s felt off-kilter the whole time, like he’s trying to button up his shirt but the first button went through the wrong buttonhole, and he didn’t notice until he reached the bottom.  

Michael laughs. It’s usually one of Jeremy’s favorite sounds to hear, but it rings oddly hollow. “Jer, I doubt I could ever replace you.”

-

College is a whirlwind, with new people and new places and new things all vying for his attention as he stumbles along the learning curve of how to be in charge of his life. He shakes off the homesickness soon enough—Metuchen is only a two hour drive away, after all—but tendrils of it dig into his heart and don’t let go.

“I’m not even sure if it’s homesickness,” Jeremy confesses to his roommate, who likes to get stoned out of his mind and won’t remember this conversation tomorrow. “It’s not our town, or my house, or my dad—I miss them, yeah, but. It’s just one person.”

“My dude,” Drew drawls from where he’s sprawled across his bed, limbs akimbo, and nostalgia slithers through Jeremy’s chest, reminding him of Michael’s tendency to sprawl belly-up across the couch when he’s high. “It’s totally homesickness. Y’know, ‘cause you miss home, and home is where the heart is.”

“What the hell does that even mean,” Jeremy grumbles, because he’s not exactly sober himself, and takes another hit from the joint Drew offers him.

-

“I was kinda worried,” Michael says from where he’s sprawled over his beanbag chair in Jeremy’s bedroom. “I wasn’t sure we’d be okay, you know?”

Jeremy looks up from the infuriating wooden star puzzle Michael’s given him as this Hanukkah’s gag gift. He hasn’t managed to make even a single piece budge. “Dude, you were the one who kept assuring me that everything was gonna be fine.”

Michael flaps a hand at him. “I know, I know. But I wasn’t…” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure I’d be okay without you, or something like that.”

Jeremy holds the wooden star in his hands and doesn’t let himself drop it. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Michael runs a hand through his hair, turning his face away. “But I was okay, and you were okay without me, so—I guess it’s all good. Nothing to worry about.”

Michael’s right. Jeremy had been okay. He’d missed Michael, but it hadn’t cut him off at the knees or lacerated him from the inside-out. He’d been content with weekly video calls and text messages at all times of the day and two-hundred miles between them. There was nothing to worry about.

Except yesterday, Jeremy’d returned to Metuchen for winter break to discover Michael sitting on the front stoop of his house, his bored expression breaking into a beaming smile when Jeremy called his name. And Jeremy’d realized he was home.

He wonders if he should be worried about that.

-

Weeks later, back in his dorm room, Jeremy makes a face at his laptop while Michael laughs at his complaints about Michael’s stupid gift that’s sitting on Jeremy’s desk, unsolved. Jeremy usually picks it up before he goes to bed, measuring the weight of it in his hands as he tries to pulls it apart, and it’s transitioned from a frustrating routine to a frustrating and soothing routine. Jeremy’s not sure he’ll ever solve this without cheating through Youtube.

All the frustration is worth it, though, to see Michael's teasing grin on his screen.

-

There’s a girl in Jeremy’s Anthropology 101 class with shapely legs and a sweet, dimpled smile. When she asks to borrow his notes, Jeremy says yes.

When she asks Jeremy if he’d like to go grab a coffee with her, he says yes.

When she asks would you like to have dinner, just the two of us, Jeremy says yes.

-

"Make sure to walk her home," Michael reminds him over the phone. "Who knows, you might even get a good night kiss."

"You sound more excited than I am." Jeremy looks at the mirror and fusses with his hair one last time. It's strange; his reflection's smile looks like a lie.

Michael exhales a chuckle. "I'm happy for you, dumbass." He pauses. "I really am."

There's a sincerity to his words that makes Jeremy uneasy. Like a door closed in his face. A missed step in the dark.

"I love you too, asshole," Jeremy blusters. The ground feels unsteady under his feet.

Michael laughs, surprised and fond. "I know you do.”

-

When she asks for a goodnight kiss, Jeremy says I’m sorry.

-

The day before his final exams begin, Jeremy solves the star puzzle in a fit of procrastination. He takes victorious photos of the pieces as evidence and sends them to Michael, the satisfaction melting into melancholy as he traces the edges of each piece, his fingertips having memorized them all over the past few months.

“Whatcha gonna do without your nightly routine now?” Drew asks from where he’s been staring blankly at his economics textbooks. “You gonna get a different one?”

“I don’t like puzzles.” Michael’s the one who does. Jeremy’s only ever found them frustrating. Crosswords, riddles, complex math problems—they all only make Jeremy feel stupid.

Drew blinks very slowly. “Then why did you hang onto that one?”

“Because,” Jeremy begins, and then stops. He rethinks his words, the meaning wrapped in them. He starts over. “Because it’s a matter of pride.”

Drew makes an unimpressed noise, his gaze sliding back to his textbook, and Jeremy turns back to his desk, his chest feeling too tight. Everything seems off-kilter these days. He’ll forget it about it every once in a while, only to abruptly regain keen awareness of how it feels like his skin doesn’t fit right or his blood is too warm or he’s been buttoning his shirts all wrong

He could have said the truth. He could have said because Michael gave it to me. The words alone mean nothing.

But the spaces between the words, the way he traced every edge of the puzzle with his fingertips every night, nostalgia humming in his bones—those mean everything.

-

He comes back for the summer to find Michael at the bus station, leaning against the side of his Cruiser with a lazy smile that makes Jeremy’s bones hum louder.

“Man, it’s good to see you.” Michael’s jawline has grown a little sharper with the loss of baby fat, and the slant of his grin looks different now. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the slope of his shoulders—they’re the same yet different. It’s the way Michael holds himself, Jeremy realizes. He looks more confident. More relaxed.

“Yeah,” Jeremy says inanely, still staggering from the revelation that Michael’s gone and grown up while Jeremy’s been, well, Jeremy.

When Michael snorts and leans in to wrap him in a hug, the hum in Jeremy’s bones quiets, leaving him to hear the pounding of his heart against his ribcage all too well, and he realizes, fuck.

“I missed you,” Michael says.

Jeremy’s body goes hot all over, and he squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face into Michael’s shoulder as he hugs him back. He hopes his voice is muffled enough to conceal the quaver in his voice. “I missed you, too.”

-

It takes days for Jeremy to process the fact that he finds his best friend attractive and that he might have a crush on said best friend. He’s never been very self-aware even at the best of times, but it’s excruciating to think back to all the obvious giveaways and signs he’s blindly overlooked for such a long time.

He tries not to think about it too much. He pushes it to the very back of his mind, under the metaphorical bed, and doesn’t let himself dwell on it. He doesn’t want to examine his own feelings, where they started, how deep they run, how true they are. He doesn’t want them at all. Michael is supposed to be the one uncomplicated part of his life, his Player One who he can trust no matter what, and the idea of him becoming the one person who could truly hurt Jeremy scares him more than anything.

So he doesn’t think about it. Doesn’t let himself consider it. When Michael’s touch sparks a fire in his chest, he holds his breath and starves it of oxygen. When Michael’s smile makes his heart jump to his throat, he swallows it back down.

Some nights, he lays in his bed and thinks that maybe, one day, this will be something he can laugh about. Something like growing pains, ephemeral hurt soon to be mere bittersweet memory, just a passing ailment that leaves no scars.

That’s the most he ever lets himself think about it.

-

Two days after Independence Day, Michael wheedles Jeremy into going up to the Alpine Boat Basin to watch more fireworks. Jeremy’s seen enough fireworks to last him a year, but he’s seemingly lost the ability to say no to spending time with Michael this summer, so he gives in after a token resistance, making excuses about how the Palisades is beautiful this time of the year anyway.

They arrive early enough to roam the waterfront while the daylight dies across the sky, a cascade of pinks and oranges and reds that bleed into darkness. Michael hauls out his DSLR and takes photos, and Jeremy pretends not to notice the occasional candids that Michael sneaks of him from a distance. Together, they watch New York light up slowly across the water, and then they trek back to the car where it’s parked as close to the water as the parking lot permits.

“It’s been a long year,” Michael says as they wait, perched on the hood of Michael’s Cruiser together, lukewarm bottles of soda clutched in their hands. “You ready for another one?”

“Don’t remind me. Please let me enjoy the remaining six weeks of summer break in peace,” Jeremy groans. “No talking about school until August, remember?”

Michael laughs, amused and carefree, and the sound of it makes Jeremy’s heart somersault in his chest. “Alright, you big baby.”

Before Jeremy can come up with a retort to that, an explosion of bright red explodes above the water. “Oh, wow.”

The display isn’t as grand as the Independence Day fireworks at Papaianni Park, but it’s breathtaking all the same, the lights reflected on the surface of the Hudson River against the backdrop of the glittering New York skyline. Here, there isn’t the swarming crowd or their parents. It’s just the two of them, Jeremy and Michael, sitting under the stars and fireworks, and Jeremy’s goddamn heart rattling in his chest at the lights reflected in Michael’s eyes.

“It’s been a hell of a year, but it wasn’t that bad, right?” Michael asks, his gaze fixed skyward, leaning closer so Jeremy can hear him over the boom of the fireworks. “We came out of it just fine.”

Jeremy forces himself to refocus on the fireworks. Pushes down the urge to mirror Michael’s posture and lean in. Swallows his heart and spits out empty words instead. “I guess so.”

There’s a brief lull in the explosions, like a breath held in anticipation, and just as the silence is sinking in, a burst of gold scatters across the sky, lighting up the sky and the water.

And Michael says, “You know, I had a crush on you.”

Jeremy’s heart nearly stops. “What?”

“Wild, right?” Michael laughs, and the sound of it fractures Jeremy’s heart. “Like, I got a crush on you sometime around the summer after eighth grade? And then it pretty much lasted throughout the whole time in high school. Which sounds incredibly pathetic, now that I’m saying it out loud, because that’s like four years?”

“Four years,” Jeremy repeats, and he can barely breathe around the words. “Until the end of high school?”

Michael finally looks down, a sheepish grin curling at his mouth. “Well, okay, it took me some more time to get over you, but college kinda helped, I guess? And the distance?” He shrugs. “Anyway, it’s old news now, so don’t get all weird about it, okay? I just wanted to tell you. Closure, or something like that.”

All the unspoken words, the ignored feelings, they’re rattling in Jeremy’s chest, climbing up his throat, refusing to be contained under the bed, under the rug, in the recesses of his mind, and he thinks he just might implode from it all.

“So…it’s over now?” His voice cracks, but Michael doesn’t seem to hear the break in the facade through the din of fireworks. “We’re still best friends?”

“Yeah.” A flicker of worry passes over Michael’s face. “That’s okay, right? You’re not weirded out?”

Unable to trust his voice, Jeremy shakes his head, and something in his chest gives away at the relief in Michael’s eyes.

“Thank fuck, I was worried for a hot second there.” Michael throws and arm around Jeremy’s shoulders, leaning his solid, warm weight against Jeremy’s side. “I’m really glad,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice is so suffocating that Jeremy has to close his eyes for a moment.

He shouldn’t say anything, shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help but think that four years is a long time. “How serious was it?”

“What?” Michael blinks, turning to face Jeremy quizzically before he catches on. “Oh, you mean my feelings?” He smiles, wide and bright, and that’s how Jeremy knows he’s about to lie. “It wasn’t anything serious.”

The words might are a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of Jeremy’s lungs, cracking his chest open. But Jeremy’s always been the better liar between the two of them, so he nods and smiles back, and he watches the last of the fireworks die in the night sky.

-

In the dark, curled up on his bed, Jeremy retraces his steps his steps through tonight. He barely remembers the drive home. It’d been quiet, with occasional banter and Michael’s playlist filling the silence, and Jeremy’s head had been full of static, his nerves buzzing, time blurring. He rewinds past today and through the days and weeks and months and finally looks the truth in the eye.

The truth is, Jeremy’s a fucking idiot. Because it’s not just a crush. It was never just a crush.

He knows now. He knows what it was that Michael didn’t tell him last year when they were at the Palisades, that moment when the first button went wrong, that first missed step in the dark. He knows what he’d felt, warm and at home by Michael’s side, utterly content and too fucking stupid to realize his own feelings. He knows that all the possibility in the world had been at their fingertips that night, had maybe even been possible after that, and if only Michael had been braver, or Jeremy’d dared to examine his heart, they could have walked an entirely different path. They could have been in love together.

But Jeremy had been too scared to be honest with himself, and Michael had been too scared to be honest with Jeremy. And now, the door to that path has been closed in Jeremy’s face, and he’s in love alone.

-

“Hey, you okay?” Michael asks as they exit the 7-Eleven, slushies in hand.

Jeremy had cried himself to sleep and woken up with his broken heart lacerating him from inside-out. He’d washed his face and changed into clean clothes and practiced his smile in the mirror until it’d looked real. He’d eaten lunch with his dad and talked about the fireworks and hadn’t let himself falter when he’d said that it had been a fun night. And when Michael had pulled into the driveway for their slushie run, he’d walked out of the house with steady steps and hadn’t let himself fall to his knees.

“I’m okay,” Jeremy says, and quirks a small smile to convince Michael as they both climb into the car. “Just tired because I couldn’t sleep in the heat.”

Michael snorts. “Wuss. It wasn’t that hot.”

“Shut up and drive.” Jeremy gives Michael a playful shove, and the lingering worry melts away, the tension slipping from Michael’s shoulders, just as Jeremy intended. “You’re my chauffeur, remember?”

“You’re so lazy,” Michael mock-scolds him, but he turns the ignition on and grins. “What would you do without me?”

“I’d survive.” The truth will only hurt them both, so Jeremy will keep it to himself and spare Michael the pain. Even if it takes a lifetime of lying. Even if it means breaking his own heart. “Maybe even drive myself to the mall.”

Michael snorts, his mouth quirking into a wicked grin that makes the hollow cavern of Jeremy’s chest ache. “Sure, Jer, I’d love to see that.”

“I’d be fine without you,” Jeremy lies. He has the rest of his life to make it true.

#be more chill #bmc #boyf riends #fic #mine #I might post this on ao3 too sometime later but we'll see #THIS IS HOW I CRASH BACK INTO TUMBLR AFTER MY HIATUS #I had to spend twenty goddamn minutes looking for a title because it's so LONG #anyway yes it's a reference to the robert frost poem #mutually unrequited pining #OKAY OFF TO BED NOW #EDIT: holy FUCK I accidentally forgot the read more at first #sorry mobile users you'll still get the full 3.4k of this bullshit

[papikakashikahn]

Mark Tuan/ 21 Questions AU/ Request

Lol, holy shit @freechittaphon I really hope I didn’t make you wait that long for this. 😅 Anyways though, I hope you like this one, it’s like around 4,000 words!!! (Just so you know, this is in 3rd person, so instead of just switching from you and Marks P.O.V it’s both... it’ll make sense when you read it. And to anyone reading this just now: Basically I have a list of 27 lyrics from several GOT7 songs. You can chose one or two, as well as a Member you’d like the request to be with, and dm me 😊. To read the forum click here! ANYWAYS! Hope you enjoy !!!

His throat was dry at the thought of calling you. It was late at night, and there was a small chance of you even picking up. But even that sliver of a chance could be the remedy to his headache.

His thumb wavered over your contact.

What would you think if you had woke up the next morning to see his missed call at this time at night? What would you think it meant? If you didn’t pick up should he leave a voicemail? What would he say anyways?

Impulsively, he hit the call button. He wanted to kick himself for making such a sudden decision. Mark sighed, leaning back in the chair knowing it was too late to hang up now.

Cringing at his own loss of dignity, he drank from his glass of whiskey, waiting for you to answer the phone.

Nights like these were too long without hearing a voice you missed, but hearing the dial tone of said person not picking up, was even worse.

His eyes flickered back to his phone at the thought. The phone had rung several times, and he assumed you were probably asleep at this hour.

But what if calling you was waking you up from your sleep?

This sudden thought caused Mark to almost lunge at his phone to hang up. But just before he hit the red ‘end call’ button, your tired voice rang throughout his ears.

“Mark?” you groaned.

-

Thousands of people could be found in Seoul sleeping at this hour, including you… that was… until your phone wrang from under your pillow.

You tossed and turned with a groan.

Was it time for work already?

You swear you had just laid your head down.

Not being able to tolerate the annoying ringing coming from right under from your head, you pulled yourself onto your elbows and digged under the pillows in search of your phone.

Your bleary eye sight could barely read over the text on your phone. After blinking a few times, you read his contact name. He was calling you.

Widening your eyes, you answered automatically.

“Mark?” you groaned, confused as to why he was calling you at this time at night.

You heard silence over the line, as if no one was there at all. Had you answered too late?

You pulled the phone away from you to look at the screen.

Nope. he was definitely still on the line.

Mark sat in his chair on the balcony frozen at hearing your voice at this time in the night. It was like music to his ears.

“Mark?” you questioned again.

“H-hi.” he finally answered. The corners of your lips turned up naturally at the sound of his voice as well.

“What’s going on, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning?” you rasped, rubbing your eyes.

“Nothing… I- did I wake you up?” he asked concerned.

You yawned at the mention of sleep.

“Yea, but-” “Oh, I-Im so sorry. I-I’ll leave you alone now- Goodnight-” he stammered. Your heart almost stopped when realizing he was going to hang up.

“WAIT!” you exclaimed in a sudden panic, sitting on your knees now.

You ran your hand through your hair, giving out a sigh.

“Are you still there?” you questioned.

He swallowed his saliva to clear his dry throat. You could say he wasn’t himself at the moment…. But then again was anyone themselves at this time at night?

“Yea…” his responded after a moment.

You crawled out of bed, and slipped on your fluffy slides as you made your way to the kitchen.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” you asked him. His voice was shaky, and it caused you to become concerned.

“I am now.” he cooed. You rolled your eyes at his sudden change of tone.

“And why is that?” you asked him, running your tea kettle under the tap before placing it on the stove.

“I couldn’t sleep.” he sighed, staring down at the glass in his hands.

“I see that.” you smirked, leaning on the counter behind you.

He scoffed at your sarcasm.

“Where are you right now?” you asked him.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the night sky.

“I’m sitting on the hotel balcony. It’s nice out here.” he told you in a dreamy voice. You smiled to yourself.

“How’s Tokyo?” you asked him curiously. 

Currently, Mark was performing with the rest of his members in Japan. You had never been to Japan, but you had always wanted to.

“Pretty.” he responded simply. Over the phone you could hear the sounds of the city there.

“Are you having fun?” you asked him.

“Yea. The fans are nice. We went sightseeing yesterday.” he told you while rubbing his temples.

“Psh. Well jeesh mark you don’t have to rub about it.” you joked, tracing your fingers on the granite counter beside you.

“Sorry Y/N, maybe i’ll bring you back a snow globe or something.” he smirked. You rolled your eyes yet again at him.

“Fuck you Mark. You should just bring me along next time!” you snipped at him, shaking your head.

“Awwwww, are you saying that because you miss me?” he asked you over the line in a baby voice.

“Shut up.” you mumbled.

He smirked to himself, glad to hear you at least were acting like yourself at this time at night.

Finally, the teapot made a high pitched sound that told you your water was done brewing.

“What is that? It’s really annoying… are you making tea?” he asked you.

You sighed, pouring the steaming hot water into a mug.

“You’re really annoying. And yes, it is.” you informed him, grabbing a tea bag.

“Excuse me?” he sassed. You smiled to yourself, grabbing the creamer from the fridge.

“Nothing, anyways, you should make yourself some tea so we’ll both be drinking tea at the same time, in two different countries!” you exclaimed excitedly.

“Uhhhh…” he zoned out, becoming silent over the line.

You opened the sliding door to your balcony as well. “What?” you questioned him confused.

“Nothing. I just already have a drink.” he stated innocently, staring at the glass of whiskey in his hands. Well… an empty glass that is.

You narrowed your eyes as you shut the door behind you.

“What is it… Mark?” you asked, placing your mug down on the small coffee table outside.

“It’s nothing…” he repeated.

You shook your head, sitting down in the chair beside the table.

“It’s alcohol isn’t it Mark? That’s what you’re drinking?”

“Are we on facetime???” he asked confused, taking his phone away from his ear to check. You grabbed your mug and sipped your tea, shaking your head still.

“Of course.” you groaned looking up at the sky. “Mark you shouldn’t drink when you’re working… especially when you can’t sleep.” you nagged him in a motherly tone.

“I know, I know.” he sighed to you. He leaned his head back in his seat. His headache had gone away since he had called you, but it was resurfacing when you talking to him like that.

You placed the cup back down on the table, and then proceeded to snuggle up in your chair. The night air was warm, with a cool breeze blowing from time to time. On summer nights like these, you often thought about people you missed. And although that person was on the phone with you, you still couldn't help wanting him to be with you.

“Are you on your deck too?” Mark asked. “Yea… how did you know?” you questioned in response.

“I can hear the city.” he responded. You nodded as if he could see you.

You were growing tired again, almost so tired you wondered if you could just fall asleep right then and there.

“I guess you can say were under the same sky huh?” you smirked, closing your eyes tiredly.

“Mhmm”. Mark responded simply. He looked up at the sky from his seat at your comment. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea of you being a hundred miles away, staring at the same thing he was. The moon’s brightness was making his eyes hurt. He covered his eyes, and sighed.

“Mark, why can’t you go to sleep?” you asked curiously.

He raised his eyebrows at your question.

“Well I don’t know Y/N... I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” he confessed to you.

Your eyes blinked open at his words.  You didn’t want to ask what it was that was on his minded, considering just being on the phone with him seemed to help.

“Let’s play a game.” Mark stated over the phone.

“...What?” you asked, thinking you misheard him.

“Let’s play a game Y/N.” he repeated, smirking up at the sky.

You sat up from your seat a little.

“What kind of game may I ask?” you questioned.

“How about 21 questions?” he suggested with a sly look on his face.

You bit your lip thinking about it as you laid back down in your chair.

“I guess. But I don’t really see the point in doing this though. Don’t you know everything about me Mark? You’re practically my diary by now.” you laughed gently.

You and Mark had been friends for 4 years now, so you would definitely say this type of game was random, if not pointless...

“I know everything about you Y/N… but do you know everything about me?” he asked you.

You furrowed your eyebrows together.

“Obviously dumbass, you’re my best friend.” you stated.

“Such confidence. Let’s test that statement.” he responded slyly. You could tell he was smirking, just by his tone.

“Fine.” you confirmed.

You reached for your tea, and stirred your spoon around in it.

“Alright. I’ll start.” he began, clearing his throat over the phone. You had to pull your phone away from your ear at how loud it was.

“One. Am I a cat person or a dog person?” he asked you. You couldn’t help but snort at how easy of a question it was.

“Obviously dog, my god Mark, is this what all the questions are gonna be like? You must have a lot of time on your hands.” you shook your head.

“Well we’re just getting started Y/N.” he told you mischievously. “Anyways, it’s your turn.” he informed you. You rolled sighed in response.

“Okay. Two. Pepsi or Coke?” you countered.

“Y/N, I thought you didn’t like simple questions like this.” he complained.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you were stirring your tea.

“Well like you said Mark, we’re just getting started.”

He let a light laugh slip before taking a drink of whatever was left from his glass.

“Well… for promotional purposes… and also because of what my contract says… Pepsi!” he smirked, swishing the ice around the glass playfully.

“How about you Y/N?” he questioned.

You paused stirring your tea for a moment. “Is this your number three?” you asked him.

“Sure… I have 18 questions left.” he responded.

You shook your head at his carefree attitude.

“I like Coke for your information.” you told him.

“Huh, well i guess we have differing interests… goodbye Y/N.”

“Wait what? Mark...?” you asked. You pulled your phone away to see if he was still on the call. Apparently he was.

You put your phone back to your ear annoyed. “Mark.” you said waiting for a response, but the line was silent.

You gritted your teeth. “Excuse me...” you began.

“Looks like I got you into the the game Y/N.” he snorted.

You had to admit, sometimes Mark was really annoying… but then again that’s what you loved about him.

“I guess you just like talking about yourself.” he snickered over the line.

You gritted your teeth at his sentences.

“Mark, If you weren't in Japan right now I’d be choking you.” you grumbled, gripping the handle of the spoon tightly.

“Kinky.” he purred. You froze for a second before proceeding to sip your tea, brushing it off.

“Someone’s horny.” you snickered, morely to yourself.

He somewhat froze at your comment. Well, that was possible. After all, alcohol had many effects on the human body.

“NO I’M NOT! I’m a good boy!” he whined. The adjectives he used to describe himself made you laugh.

“Good boys don’t get drunk.” you scoffed. You heard him choke over the line.

“How much of a light weight do you think I am!!?!? My god Y/N! I’m not drunk!” he exclaimed defensively as he sat up in his seat, slamming the glass on the table.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Alright Mark, whatever helps you sleep at night.” you told him, smirking at your pun.

“Can we just get on with the next question?” you sighed.

“Sure, whose turn was it?” he asked you.

After taking another sip from your tea you responded.

“Your’s Tuan.” you groaned at his lack of memory.

“Right...four! What do you think keeps me up at night?” he asked you nonchalantly. Your eyebrows creased at his sudden seriousness.

“Uh...well jeez I don’t know Mark, that’s kind of a depressing question.” you answered, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“No it’s not, just answer it. Give a random guess!” he cheered.

You sighed, twirling your spoon around in your nearly empty mug.

“Your career?” you guessed, waiting for his answer.

“I’ll tell you the answers once we reach 21.” you could almost hear the smirk on his face, (which there was).

“My turn. Five. Do you day dream often?” you asked him. “Of course.” he uttered.

“About what?” you asked impulsively.

“Tsk Tsk Y/N. Six. What do you think I daydream about?” he asked you, with something hidden in his voice. You didn’t know exactly what it was, but it sounded mischievous.

You pouted.

“Mark this isn’t fair! You knew that was my next question! Now i’m not going to find out until 21!” you groaned in frustration.

He couldn’t help but snicker at your desperation.

“Well...Guess!” he chimed. You rolled your eyes at his excitement as you placed your mug back on the coffee table.

“I don’t know, Jackson working out.” you joked.

He sighed in disappointment at your answer.  No, but that was probably what Jackson day dreamed about.

He hadn’t said anything after a moment of silence.

“...Well was I right? You’re being really quiet...” you observed.

“You’ll find out when we hit 21. Next!” he spat.

“Seven. What are you doing right now?” you asked him.

“Well that’s a boring question Y/N.” he retorted. 

You snorted at his comment. “I’m sorry, am I boring you Mark?” you asked sarcastically.

“Not at all gorgeous.” he responded, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass.

A smile tugged at your lips.

Mark said things like this all the time to you, but you had never paid any mind to  it. You just considered it a ‘Mark thing’ to throw in little compliments like that. To anyone else they might have considered flirtatious, but you knew Mark didn’t feel that way about you.

As for the way you felt about him…

“Eight. What was my last dream about?” he asked you. 

“MARK! This isn’t fun if all the question revolve around you, and I don’t even get an answer until the end!” you whimpered.

“Don’t you have patience?” he asked.

“HA! I’M COUNTING THAT AS YOU’RE NINTH QUESTION! I GET TO ASK TWO IN A ROW NOW!!!” you shouted energetically. He rolled his eyes at your excitement and childish ways.

This game was turning out to be more fun than you expected. Mark remained silent for a moment before answering your question. You heard him sigh fianally. Without putting up a fight, he let you ask your question. Mark always let you have your way anyways.

“...And for your information, no, I don’t have patience… at least not with you.” you relented.

His eyes flickered up when hearing your little comment.

“Now then, ten! Where are the other members right now?” you asked, settling back on the couch.

“They’re asleep Y/N.” he informed you dryly. You raised your eyebrow at this.

“Oh right, it’s 2:00 in the morning!” you remembered.

“Almost 3 now actually.” he told you.

“Huh...” you muttered to yourself.

“I guess I just make time fly!” he claimed with a sneer.

“...I miss you.” you admitted subconsciously.

He tensed automatically.

There was silence on the other line. You widened your eyes, realizing you had just said that aloud. Was that ... weird? Did you just make things awkward?

“I miss you too.” he finally spoke. Your smile grew larger at his words.

“When will you be back?” you asked him, your tone giving away your desperation.

He smiled at it though nonetheless. It was cute hearing you missing him. “Soon.” he answered you.

You groaned, playing with the handle of spoon while laying your head on your arm. “Not soon enough.” you muttered just loud enough for him to hear it over the phone.

He smiled at your tone.

“But like you said, we’re under the same sky… right?” he asked you, in an attempt to make you feel better. His voice grew soft towards the end of his sentence.

“You know what I’ve always wondered?” you asked him, staring up at the moon.

“What?” he asked you.

“How come you can stare at the moon without going blind, but not the sun?” you asked. “...Does that mean the sun is ugly?” you questioned in a delirious state.

Mark noticed this, making him furrow his eyebrows together.

“Uhh… Y/N? Are you sure you’re not the drunk one here?” he laughed at you.

You just let out a grunt, as you curled up in the chair.

There was a silence between the two of you. He stared at the moon at the thought of you, but it seemed just as bright as the last time he looked at it.

“Y/N...can I skip to 21?” he asked hesitantly, his hands shaking while tracing the edges of the glass.

“I didn’t even know we were still playing.” you laughed lightly, almost falling asleep while holding the phone to your ear.

“Baby I like you. Do you like me too?” he questioned.

Your eyes snapped opened automatically.

“Huh???” you asked, wondering if you had misheard him again, or if that was just in your imagination.

“I know you heard me Y/N, please don’t make me say it again. This isn’t 22 questions Y/N.” he groaned. You felt paralyzed.

Was this another of his jokes? Was he playing this time? He swore he sounded so serious...

“Y-You like me…?” you stammered in a voice just above a whisper.

There was a silence over the phone, it was so hard for you not to see his facial expression.

“Wasn’t it obvious? All the answers to my questions... were you.” he confessed.

You couldn’t even feel your heart beating in your chest anymore. In fact, you think you forgot how to breathe.

“I can’t sleep because I got YOU on my mind...” he began, looking to the concrete of the balcony. “I day dream about YOU often… hell I even dream about you when I’m not awake.” he laughed.

You choked up at his words again.

“I like you.” he repeated.

Your hands were shaking holding the phone as you stared into space.

“Mark… when you say things like this I can’t tell if you’re being serious.” you cautioned, your voice uneasy.

“Are you saying that because you don’t like me back…?” he question, his voice giving away his vulnerability.

You screwed your eyes tight. You didn’t want Mark to ever think that considering it simply wasn’t true. But you didn’t know if you had the guts to tell him that yourself.

“If you’re joking and I say it... I could never look you at you the same way again…” you explained.

He couldn’t ever look at the sky the same way either if you turned him down.

“Funny how I’ve liked you for 3 years now, and I’ve told myself that exact same thing everyday.” he expressed, closing his eyes before they had a chance to start watering.

Your eyes began to water too. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You went through it for three years as well.

“But why now? Over the phone?” you fretted.

You heard Mark inhale staggeringly. “I know you probably don’t have the words… or even know how to respond to this... but I just had to tell you how I've felt about you. I just couldn’t hold it back anymore after hearing your voice in so long. All day, every day, it’s you. All I think about is you. Being alone with my thoughts isn’t doing me any good… I don’t know… what I’m doing anymore-”

“I like you too.” you cried, interrupting Mark. You let out a laugh thinking about it. “...It’s just funny how much time we’ve wasted just being friends.” you sniffled.

The silence presented to you over the line was unbearable.

“Being your best friend has never been a waste of time Y/N.” Mark consulted you. It made your lips twitch upwards into a smile.

“I still wish you told me in person though Mark.” you smiled, tracing your finger over the seat handle.

“And why’s that gorgeous?” he asked.

“So I could kiss you right now.” you responded.

You heard him clear his throat.

“If you keep on saying things like that Y/N, I’d just might have to board a flight home.” he smirked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

You smiled furthermore at his comment.

“Please do.” you whispered, staring up at the sky, as did he on the other line.

“When I get home baby girl…” he groaned leaning forward, holding his head in his hands.

“... Please just be patient until I get home.”

#mark tuan #mark fanfic #mark fanfiction #got7 mark #mark got7 #mark tuan scenerios #jaebum #jaebum fanfiction #jaebum scenarios #jaebum fanfic #jaebum fluff #mark fluff #youngjae #park jinyoung #youngjae fanfic #youngjae fanfiction #got7 youngjae #youngjae got7 #jinyoung #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung fanfiction #jinyoung fluff #yugyeom #got7 yugyeom #yugyeom got7 #yugyeom fanfic #got7 bambam #bambam #bambam got7 #bambam fanfic

[terriblelifechoices]

32 and 97 please? and could it be Percival credence and set in the possible verse :)

Okay, so you all seem to be in a time travel mood.  Was there a meme I missed? 

From the fanfic trope MASH-UP meme, which remains heaps of fucking fun.  Come say hi.  It’s probably going to end in fic, because having written fic for one person, it doesn’t feel fair not to write fic for everyone else.

32. Pregnancy Fic & 97. Time Travel, set in the Possible ‘verse.  Okay.  Here we go.

Grave Manor, Late January 1932

“Credence,” Dorothy began.

“I’m fine,” Credence said firmly.

Dorothy fixed him with the please stop being a dumbass look she usually reserved for her husband.  “That’s the second time you’ve been sick today,” she pointed out.  “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I never said that you were,” Credence retorted, with more heat than he meant to.  He felt too wretched to be mindful of Dorothy’s feelings, even though she was only trying to help.  “Stop fussing!”

Dorothy pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him.  “If you’d like me to leave –”

“Shit,” said Credence.  “No.  Please.  I don’t – I’m sorry, Dorothy, I really am.”  He was going to feel like an absolute heel for snapping at her just as soon as he could keep anything down.

“Well,” said Dorothy, ever the peacemaker, “I suppose you’ve got a pretty good excuse for beastly behavior,” she allowed.  “Magic knows I wasn’t at my best with Peter.”

Credence winced, both at the memory and the less-than-oblique reference to his increasingly obvious secret.  Dorothy had a talent for understatement.

“I want Percival to be the first one to know,” he confessed.  “That’s why I haven’t said anything yet.”  Technically – and Credence had every intention of clinging to that technicality, despite what Percival thought about people who used them – he still hadn’t.  He’d alluded to it, yes, but he hadn’t outright said anything.

Dorothy stared at him, incredulous.  “How?” she demanded.

“Well, when a wizard and another wizard love each other very much –”

“I will pour this ginger tea on your head, just you see if I won’t!” Dorothy threatened.

“You’d need a stool for that,” Credence said, momentarily diverted by the logistics.  He knew full well that Dorothy would.  She’d probably tell him that he had it coming while she did it.  It was the how he was less sure about.

“I have magic, you idiot, I’ll wingardium leviosa it and dump it all over you.  What do you mean, Percival doesn’t know?”

“Er,” said Credence.  “Well, at first I wasn’t sure, and then …” He made a vague hand gesture, trying to convey without words that the fucking Smith-Smythe case had come up and Percival had spent what felt like all of thirty minutes at home in the last week.  He hadn’t been around for long enough to notice that Credence had been throwing up what felt like every meal he’d eaten in the last month and then some.  Credence didn’t blame him for that, exactly, but a bit of husbandly hovering might have been nice.  Percival was the only one who hovered the exact right amount.

“Oh,” said Dorothy.  “Right.”

Alex had spent slightly more time at home in the past week than Percival had, but Alex wasn’t trying to ride herd on Magical Law Enforcement from three different countries.  No one cared if Alex went home for a shave and a change of clothes, but everyone acted like the entire investigation would fall apart if Percival did.

Credence was going to have words with a few people about that, just as soon as he figured out who he needed to have them with.

Dorothy sighed.  “I’ll bring you some Bessie’s Baby Balm,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Credence.  He fidgeted.  “You’re not going to tell Alex, are you?”

“Don’t be silly,” she said.  “Percival should know first.  How can I tell Alex things I don’t know?”

Dorothy was a much better friend than he deserved.  Credence was going to buy her an entire shop’s worth of fancy yarn as soon as he could go out in public without wanting to immediately throw up from all the strange smells.

You’re being ridiculous, he told himself.  He’d been pregnant before.  There was no reason a little vomiting should knock him off his feet quite so badly.

Of course, it hadn’t really been this bad with Galahad or Olwen.  And at least with Galahad, it really had been morning sickness.  He’d barely been sick at all with Olwen, which was probably why he was being such a ninny about it now.  Percival spoiled him so much that he’d forgotten what a bit of hardship felt like.

You can’t rest just yet, he thought.  He and Tina were so close to having Rappaport’s Law repealed.

Credence made a face and forced himself out of the worn green chair in his office.  It was, aside from the bed he shared with Percival, probably Credence’s favorite piece of furniture in Graves Manor, not to mention the most comfortable.  It was one of the few things about the office he hadn’t changed when he’d taken ownership of it.

Credence’s office had been Vivian Graves’ study, once.  A handful of her things remained: the book she’d written on the importance of Merlinian legends in wizarding culture, which was written in what Percival referred to as a dialect of ‘high academia’ and still somehow managed to be witty; the hand scribed and illustrated book of stories she’d made for Percival on his thirteenth birthday, to match the one she’d given Seraphina; the crystal inkwell she’d used to write her letters, which still held faint traces of blue-purple ink.

It was his office now.  Credence had tried not to change things too much when he was still new to the Manor, but the changes crept inevitably in over time.  Vivian’s dry academic research tomes had been the first to go, packed away in the attic in neatly labeled boxes.  Credence still wasn’t sure how anyone made stories as wondrous as the ones Percival told him and the children sound so boring, but that was academia for you.  He suspected that whoever held the office after him would probably find his own much-annotated copies of Copperfield’s Legal References just as boring.

That thought made him smile.  Even now, Credence still delighted in being part of Percival’s family traditions.  Knowing that those traditions would carry on into the next generation satisfied the part of him that had grown up scared and alone, desperate to belong to someone or something and knowing with awful, bone-deep certainty that he never would.

Credence paused in front of the bookshelf where Vivian’s inkwell rested.

I wish I could have met you, he thought, reaching out to toy with the crystal stopper.

Drawing the stopper out was a mistake.  The decades old ink had been lightly perfumed, once, but the scent had soured over time.  Credence gagged, resisting the urge to throw up yet again, and accidentally knocked the inkwell off the shelf.

It shattered on the floor of his office, releasing a plume of blue-violet smoke that made his eyes burn.

Everything went black after that.

Graves Manor, Late March 1884

“Ow,” Credence moaned, curling reflexively into the fetal position.  His head ached, a throbbing counterpoint to the rest of his body.  He felt like he’d been Stunned.

“Easy, now,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice said.  “You’ve a nasty lump on the back of your head.”  Her voice was clear and lilting, rising and falling in a familiar cadence.

She sounded like Percival did, when Percival slipped into his mother’s accent.

Also, how had she gotten into his office?

Credence jerked upright and regretted it a moment later, barely managing to transfigure his handkerchief into a bowl to be sick in before heaving up what little remained in his stomach.

“Oh, I wish you hadn’t done that,” the unfamiliar witch said, looking faintly green.  “I’m going to be fair annoyed with you if you make me sick up my lunch, boyo.”  She rubbed at the faint swell of her stomach with one hand.  Credence recognized the gesture.  He’d made that gesture, soothing his unborn child.

Her other hand, Credence noticed, was wrapped tight around the hilt of her wand, and she was aiming it at him.

Credence set his bowl down and resisted the urge to rub protectively over his own unborn child.  It was best not to let people know where you were vulnerable, or so Percival always said.  He kept his hands where she could see them, pressed flat against the floor of his office.

Credence frowned.  It was his office, but it wasn’t.  It looked a bit like it had when he’d first taken ownership of it, but less neglected.

“How did you get into my office?” he asked.

“Your office!” the witch repeated, indignant.  “I beg your pardon.  This is my office, and that’s a question I should be asking you!  How the hell did you get in here?  The wards are set to lock out anyone who isn’t a Graves, and I’ve certainly not made an exception for you.”

Credence stared at her.  The witch holding him at wandpoint was handsome rather than pretty, with thick dark hair swept into an elaborate bun.  Percival and Dindrane both had her eyes, he realized somewhat hysterically.

“I think I’m dreaming,” he said.

Vivian Graves cocked an eyebrow at him.  The gesture reminded him sharply of Percival.  “Are you now?” she inquired.

“I – yes.  I must be,” Credence said.  “I’d really like to wake up now,” he added.

The dream version of his mother-in-law stared at him, nonplussed.  “I have to say, this is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with a would-be burglar.  Not that we get many of those, since, as I said, the wards are set to keep out anyone but a Graves.  I, for one, would really like to know how you got around them.  My husband will likely have a few questions on that score as well.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  No, no, no.  The dream version of his mother-in-law was bad enough.  Credence was absolutely not going to put up with the dream version of his father-in-law as well.  He wasn’t sure he could make it through a conversation with Geraint without shouting at him.

“I’m not a burglar,” Credence said.  “And –” His gaze fell on Vivian’s desk calendar.  “What day is it?” he asked.

“March 30th, 1884,” Vivian said.

“Right,” said Credence.  He was glad he was already sitting down, or else his legs would have gone out from under him.  He wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head on them, trying and mostly failing not to hyperventilate.

This was not happening.  This was just a very strange dream.

A very strange, very realistic dream.

“Easy,” Vivian murmured soothingly.  “Easy now, there’s a good lad.”  She knelt down next to him and rubbed between his shoulders, a silent offer of comfort and support.

“I can’t,” he gasped.  “This can’t be happening.”

“How about you concentrate on breathing, and then we’ll figure out what’s going on?” she suggested.  “Breathe with me.  In and out, nice and slow, there you go.”

Vivian was watching him when Credence lifted his head up again.  Her gaze didn’t have Percival’s wealth of investigative experience behind it, but her eyes were sharp and intelligent.  Credence had the sense that Vivian Graves could see right through the heart of him, if she wanted to.

“You’re not a burglar, are you?”

Credence shook his head.

Vivian considered that, tapping a thoughtful finger against her mouth.  “I’ve not met all of Geraint’s cousins yet, but you don’t have their look.”  Her gaze went suddenly distant – checking the wards, Credence realized.  Vivian was the mistress of Graves Manor; Geraint must have keyed the wards to her will the way Percival had keyed them to his.

The way Percival would key the wards to Credence’s will, almost forty years from now.

Credence reached for the wards, wondering if they would still recognize him if he hadn’t been made the master of Graves Manor yet.

The wards felt different.  They didn’t have the steel clawed ferocity of Percival’s magic, that willingness to adapt to anything in order to preserve the lives entrusted to their care.  They felt like solid stone instead, with no hint of awareness that stone could be broken.

They felt wrong.

“Oh,” he said, flinching back.

“Who are you?” Vivian demanded.  “And why do the wards recognize you?”

Credence stared at her.  Surely she would know the answer to that better than he would.  She was raised to magic.  Could the wards recognize him as master of Graves Manor if he hadn’t been keyed to them yet?

No, he realized a second later.  They recognized the Graves bloodline, and he was carrying a child with Graves blood.

Vivian’s grandchild.

“I’m your son-in-law,” he blurted, too off-kilter to come up with a proper lie.  He’d never been very good at lying anyway.  “The wards recognize me because –” Credence couldn’t make himself say it.  He still wanted Percival to be the first to know, and Percival didn’t even exist yet.  “Oh my God,” he said, giving in to another fit of hysterics.

“My what?”  Vivian dropped one hand to her stomach, pressing it against the swell of the child within.  Dindrane, Credence realized.  She was born in 1884.

That realization did nothing for his sense of hysteria.  Credence took a deep breath, trying to calm down.  All that hysteria couldn’t be good for the baby.

He burst into terrified tears instead, because he was in fucking 1884 and the wards of Graves Manor felt wrong and Percival hadn’t even been born yet.

The sharp crack of Vivian’s palm against his cheek threw him back into startled clarity.  For a second, Credence was reminded of Ma.  Ma hadn’t liked tears, and the pain reminded him to be silent.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking like she really meant it.  “But I couldn’t think of anything else that would calm you down.”

Vivian also looked a little bit like she wanted to murder him.

“What do you mean, you’re my son-in-law?” she demanded.  “You’re a bit old for my girl, seeing as she hasn’t been born yet, and Geraint doesn’t have any other children.”  She paused, then added,  “Geraint had better not have any other children.”

“He doesn’t,” Credence said. “And I’m not –”

“Lad, this will go much better if you’d actually finish a sentence every once in awhile.”

“I’m Percival’s,” Credence said.  “Not Dindrane’s.”

Vivian stared at him.  For the first time, she actually looked a little afraid.

“I haven’t told anyone what names I picked,” she said.  “Not even Geraint.  It’s bad luck.”

“I know those names because I know your children,” Credence said.  “I married your son.”

“I don’t have a son.”

“Not yet,” Credence said, desperately hoping that telling her so hadn’t changed that.

“Look, whoever you are –”

“Credence.”

“Credence.  Assuming I believe this fairy story you’re trying to sell me – and I’m not saying that I do, because it sounds absolutely mad – why on earth would you decide to go back in time?”

“I didn’t,” Credence said.  “I was holding your inkwell and I dropped it and it broke and then I woke up here.”

Vivian’s gaze went to her desk.  “My inkwell?  My inkwell isn’t magic.  It’s just a bloody bottle.”

Credence looked at the inkwell on her desk, which was indeed a little glass bottle of India ink.  The delicate crystal one Credence knew so well was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s not the right inkwell,” he said.

“Are you having me on?” she asked.

“No.”

“Because this sounds completely cracked.  Some stranger turns up in my office claiming to be married to the son I haven’t borne yet –”

“I am!” Credence said.  “I can prove it.”

Vivian frowned at him.  “You can prove it,” she repeated.

Credence held out his hand.  “The test for paternity is a simple one,” he said.  It only took three drops of blood.  “That’s why the wards recognize me.”

“You’re –  Now I know you’re having me on.  Those spells are fiendishly difficult to cast.  You or this imaginary son of mine would have to be powerful to cast the androgenesis spells.”

“The Graves bloodline has always been powerful,” Credence pointed out.

“You’re serious.  You’re actually serious.”

“Would you just cast the damn spell already?” Credence snapped.

“Don’t you take that tone with me.  You’re the one who broke into my office.”

Oh, God, it was like dealing with Dindrane in one of her academic spirals.

“Please?” Credence asked.

“I don’t know why I’m humoring you,” she informed him.  “You’re clearly mad.”  But she transfigured a sharp silver pin out of one of her pen nibs and used it to prick his finger and then her own.  “Conferatur sanguis.  Descenderiam surgos.”

Credence blinked at her in surprise.  He’d only ever used the spell to identify bloodlines.  He’d never tried comparing them.  That was an Auror’s trick.

Of course, Vivian was an Auror’s spouse.  Maybe it was time he started treating her like one.

“This is impossible,” Vivian declared, looking at the geneaology written in gold letters in the air between them.  “Your child is descended from my Geraint – from my son.”

“I told you,” Credence said.  “I’m your son-in-law.”  He licked his lips and decided to go all in.  The Aurors Spouses Network understood duty just as well as their Aurors did, and it was part of their unspoken code to help on another wherever they could.  “I need your help,” he told his mother-in-law.  “I need to go home.”

“Right,” his mother-in-law said briskly, all of her earlier confusion vanishing into Percival’s steely-eyed determination and Dindrane’s academic drive.  “We’re going to figure this out.”

#my fic #tumblr fic #Possible 'verse #credence barebone #credence graves #vivian graves #fanfic trope mash-up #ask me anything #anon

[skeletorific]

My dude, I keep imagining singing sappy love songs to the Edgy skelebros and watching them turn beet red. Can I have a little scenario? -K

I FORGOT ABOUT THIS PROMPT WHEN I SAID I WAS OUT OF FLUFF. Also I think I maaay have gone a bit angsty on Boss’, but that song always just really reminds me of him? it kind of gives off that straddling between longing and romance i was feeling for the scenario, and I’m a sucker for ldr cliches

UF!Sans: Sans checks his phone for the fifth time this hour, trying to figure out the soonest time he can start dropping hints to go home.

To be perfectly honest, this hasn’t been as bad as he was expecting. When you said you wanted him to meet your friends tonight he had been planning exit strategies pretty much since he walked in the door. But it hadn’t been that terrible. Clearly you’d briefed them on his own issues with personal space and overtalkativeness, so they’d mostly let him be, not harassing him with too many questions or trying to hard to get him to talk. They were okay people, which was high praise from him.

Still, he was starting to burn out, and at this point didn’t want to do much more than get home and crash with you on the couch until he fell asleep. But it looked to be a few more minutes before he could.

One of your friends had brought out a guitar and was pestering you to sing something with them. You were resistant to it, which was honestly a damn shame. Your voice was gorgeous, and it was something you didn’t share that often. Still, he was too tired and irritated to really think much about it, and his fingers were starting to tap restlessly against the chair he was slumped in, shoulders tense.

You were starting to register his shifting, and decided it was time to make an exit soon. “For the last time, no.” You stretched your arms a bit, feigning more fatigue than you actually felt (although you were starting to reach your limit too). “Look, I’m getting kind of tired. Should probably head home.”

“Come ooooonnn.” Your friend said, clasping their hands and making exaggerated puppy dog eyes. “Don’t make me beg. You know I’ll do it, and it’ll be super awkward for everyone here.”

You looked at Sans again, who was giving you mildly pleading looks. Still, you had a feeling you weren’t getting out of here until you appeased them at least a little. You sighed. “One song.”

They nodded eagerly. “Can be as short and sweet as you please.”

“Alright, let me just look up the chords.” You pull out your phone. Immediately a text appeared.

Red: whhhyyyyyyyy

You: Just one song, then I promise, we’ll go home

You looked up, seeing him looking at you irritatedly. You thought for a second, then smiled.

You: Sit back and enjoy the show at least. I’ll make it worth your while

Red: ?

You: you’ll see.

You google the chords, then hand them over to your friend, who studies them for a bit. They sigh and roll their eyes, starting to get their hand into position. “You are such a cliche.”

“Hey, you said it could be whatever I wanted.”

They shook their head, but smiled as they started strumming.

Red stifled a sigh and settled in. Hopefully you’d chosen something short, at least. And he could, at least, think of worse things to do with his time than watch you sing.

You waited a few seconds, clearing your throat slightly as they started the intro. You looked him, right in the eyes, and smiled, before opening your mouth.

“Do you hear me?

I’m talking to you

Across the water, across the deep

blue ocean

Under the open sky, oh my, baby I’m trying

Boy, I hear you in my dreams

I feel your whisper across the sea

I keep you with me in my heart

You make it easier when life gets hard”

Oh…..stars. You were looking right at him, drinking him in like….like he was everything you wanted to see. He could feel a flush climbing on his cheekbones that he was trying his best to stifle.

Lucky I’m in love with my best friendLucky to have been where I have beenLucky to be coming home again

Welp, no luck stifling that blush now. Despite his intense desire to sink into the chair and evaporate, he found himself leaning closer, his eyes fixed on your mouth, watching them shape ever syllable. Your friend glanced up from the guitar and caught sight of him. They shook their head and rolled their eyes, but smiled and kept playing.

They don’t know how long it takes

Waiting for a love like this

Every time we say goodbye

I wish we had one more kiss

I’ll wait for you, I promise you, I will

Your eyes were tracing every inch of him and he could’ve sworn you were leaning closer. He could feel his SOUL thrumming in his chest and he felt a sudden panicked relief that none of the others were there. He’d never live this down and frankly, he was enjoying the show too much to want to care.

I’m lucky we’re in love in every way

Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed

Lucky to be coming home someday

As the final notes rang out you felt the hard press of bones on your hand and suddenly your chest constricted in what was becoming a familiar sensation. Everything went black and you were back home, being pulled into a tight hug.

“Red!” You say. Ignoring you, he starts kissing down your neck. “Red, we didn’t- oh for gods’ sakes.” You pull out your phone to text them and tell them at least a goodbye, only to have it pulled out of your hands and tossed onto the couch. “Reeeeed”

“Yer a fuckin dork, ya know that?” He pulls you down onto the chair, positioning you on his lap and kissing up the side of your face. “A damn sap.”

You hum softly, nestling against his shoulder and smiling. “So what does that say about you then.”

“Easy.” He grabbed your chin and pulled you into a deep kiss. “I’m the dumbass who falls for it. Every.” He kissed your chin. “Damn.” Your jaw. “Time.”

The next few weeks you swear you hear him humming the song, although when confronted he denies it intently. You should sing for him more often, though. He’s putty in your hands for hours afterwards.

UF!Papyrus: “CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW!”

You wince slightly as your boyfriend’s shrill voice crackles the speaker. “Yeah, yeah, I can hear you.”

Through the grainy filter of his webcam you see him slip more fully into frame, relaxing against his chair. “CAN YOU SEE?”

You nod, smiling. “Best view I’ve had all day.”

He smirks, looking pleased. “OBVIOUSLY. HOW WERE REHEARSALS?”

You shrug. “It’s fine. It’s a week or two till the stage gets set up, so they were mostly goofing off, but I think we’ll be ready.”

“YOU’RE IN CHICAGO.” Not a question. Papyrus knew your tour schedule better than you did. “ANYTHING WORTH SEEING?”

You shrugged. “Not much I have time for between concert miscellanea and rehearsals. There’s an aquarium I might hit before we go.”

He nodded.

“So how’ve things been back home?”

“UNEVENTFUL. UNDYNE CONTINUES TO REJECT MY APPLICATIONS TO TAKE OVER HER FORMER POSITION AND SANS HAS GONE TO WAR WITH ANOTHER HOT DOG MERCHANT.”

“Wait….what?”

“THEIR STALLS ARE POSITIONED ACROSS FROM EACH OTHER. HE IS TRYING TO CONVINCE FRISK TO SABOTAGE THEIR GRILL.”

“Oh my gods.” you laughed. “I assume they haven’t agreed.”

“EVIDENTLY. HE’S CURRENTLY PLANNING ALTERNATE MODES OF SABOTAGE. I WILL NOT PARTICIPATE IN SUCH IDIOCY, OBVIOUSLY. EVEN IF HE DID ASK ME.”

“…..feeling left out, huh babe?”

“SHUT UP.”

“Make me~” You say, grinning.

A sudden pang runs through you. At home, this would’ve resulted in him chasing you through the house, threats after you, only to be caught and kissed because he really had no plan. Over Skype, though, he could only look annoyed and mildly amused.

You missed him. Obviously. Well, to be fair, it wasn’t…awful. You were only on tour for around a year, and thanks to Sans’ teleporting abilities he could visit a lot more frequently than any of your bandmates’ partners could. But still, between his work with the guard and your constant busyness with rehearsals and promotions and choreography…..it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as living in the same house, just having that presence whenever you wanted it (and even sometimes when you didn’t). It wasn’t the same as casual touches, accidental or not, instead of meticulously scheduled ones.

From what you could read on his face, you had a feeling some similar thoughts were running through his head.

“Uh…..hey.” you said, shifting a bit. “I….I found this new song. Won’t be able to play it on stage or anything, but I’ve been playing the chords over and over. Do you, uh….want to hear it?”

He freezes for a second. “ONE MOMENT.” He stood up and you heard the door slam. You bit back a small chuckle. No matter how many times you played for him he was still a blushing mess every time. And obviously, no one could see the Great and Terrible Papyrus looking like that.

He came back and sat back down, positioning himself so you couldn’t see his face (and by extension, his blush) clearly. “GO AHEAD.”

You grin to yourself but duck to cover it. “Alright.” Your keyboard, the cheap but portable one you kept for late-night songwriting, was nearby, so you pulled it a little closer to your desk. You tapped for a couple of seconds until you remembered it and you started playing the intro.

I found god

I found him in a lover

When his hair falls in his face

And his hands so cold they shake

I found the devil

I found him in a lover

And his lips like tangerines

In his color-coded speak

You could feel yourself giving into the music, the same way you always did, but you managed a glance upwards. He had barely moved, but you thought his hands might be clutching the armrests a little harder than was technically necessary.

Now we’re lost somewhere in outer space

In a hotel room where demons play

They run around beneath our feet

We roll around beneath these sheets

I’ve got a lover, a love like religion

I’m such a fool for sacrifice

He’s coming down, down, coming down

It’s coming down, down, coming down

Out of the corner of his eye you could see him leaning closer and closer, over the desk. His face had gone still, quietly watching you.

I found a martyr

He told me that I’d never

With his educated eyes

And his head between my thighs

I found a savior

I don’t think he remembers

Cause he’s off to pay his crimes

And he’s got no time for mine

His forehead was practically pressing to the laptop, and you missed him so much it ached, but with every word that pain was taking form and lifting off your shoulders.

Every single night pray the sun will rise

Every single time make a compromise

Every single night pray the sun will rise, but

It’s coming down, down, coming down

He’s coming down, down, coming down

You played the final chords, and relaxed back from the piano, closing your eyes to clear your head a bit. After a minute or two you opened them and turned back to the camera. “So….what’d you think.”

“I LOVE YOU.”

It came out abruptly, and its not like its the first time he’s said it, but it hits you like a physical blow, and you can feel tears springing to your eyes. You wipe them away quickly as you grin. “Love you too.”

“YOU’RE COMING HOME SOON?”

You lean forward, relaxing against your forearms on the desk. “Just another couple of months. Could you…..could you come visit soon though?”

He nodded. Gods, the look on his face….he looked almost shaken, but red-faced and happy.

You look at the clock. “I should get some sleep. Early day tomorrow.”

He nodded again. “I’LL CALL YOU TOMORROW.”

“Sounds good.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he holds his hand up to the screen. It catches you off guard. Kind of a cliche long distance thing to do, but….Papyrus was never much for gestures like that. Still, not wanting the moment to pass, you pressed your hand to the outline of his. It looked, as it always did, so much smaller.

“GOOD NIGHT.”

“Night, love.”

The blush heightened again, and he mumbled something incomprehensible.

“What was that.”

“…..BE SAFE, MY DEAREST.”

Now its your turn to blush, and you open your mouth to reply, when there’s a loud banging noise on his end that makes you both jump.

“Boss, you dyin in there or what?”

“SANS, GO AWAY!”

#underfell #uf!sans #uf!papyrus #headcanon #serenading #fluff