#*careless whisper plays over loud speaker*

[luvfy0dor]

Rhythm Is A Dancer !! ✩‧₊˚ Bsd x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor ༉‧₊˚✧

Warnings/Disclaimers ; Alcohol (Chuuya), nothing toxic though

Description ; Various bsd characters dancing with their partner!

A/N; if this is well received I might do this prompt with other characters!! I have some ideas for other things though, school just makes it tough to actually put them into writing without getting easily distracted.

Dazai Osamu !! ✧⁠*⁠。

Dazai would like to dance with his partner every now and again. Sometimes he might pull you into his chest and start swaying with you to cheer you up, or he might do it to annoy you. I think anytime he cleans his Godforsaken apartment he would invite you over, one hand on your waist, the other holding your hand outwards. Dazai dances spontaneously. I don't think there is any specific dance the really likes, he just goes with the flow. Whatever dance seems most fitting for the moment is what he's gonna do.

He particularly enjoys dipping his partner like he did to Sigma. He would grin as he watches your face contort into one of playful annoyance, placing a soft kiss on your lips shortly after. He would pull you back up, placing one of his hands on your lower back.

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"Dear, I've just cleaned my apartment, would you like to come over? We can have a movie night at my place instead...I can even help pay for food this time!" Dazais voice enthusiastically played through the speaker of your phone as you wiped down your kitchen counters. "Like...right now?" You asked, your head tilting as you spoke.

"Mhm! C'mon, it'll be fun! I'm sure you were on your feet all day, why not come see your lovely boyfriend and relax, yeah?" He said. You could almost hear his grin through the phone as you sighed. "Alright, all be over in like...fifteen minutes." You say, smiling before hanging up. You gather your things and make your way to his apartment. You arrive fairly quickly, using the spare key he left at your house to let yourself in.

"I'm here!" You announce setting your bag down. Dazai quickly pokes his head out of his bedroom, a large smile on his face. "Ah, finally! You took forever." He teases. It only takes a second for the ambiance of "Careless Whispers" playing to fill your ears, making you roll your eyes and blush. "C'mon, dance with me, dear."

Dazais hands find themselves either on your lower back or interlocked with one of yours as he starts to sway with you to the intro of the song. You find yourself giggling quietly as you both dance around the open space of his living room. He spins you a couple times and you spin him, ending the song with him dipping you. His face hovers just above yours, his hair softly resting against your skin as he leans in and kisses you.

Chuuya Nakahara !! ✧⁠*⁠。

I think Chuuya knows how to dance. It's not his favorite thing in the world, but he'd dance with his lover if it made them happy and he wasn't tired. He would mostly come out of his shell when it comes to dancing if he's drunk, that man can do the salsa dance, he can tango, he can waltz - you name it, he can do it. He's definitely a smoother dancer when drunk, there are times when he has two left feet sober. He definetly gets that confidence boost. He doesn't like the whip and nae nae though, he probably thinks it's stupid. He's cool with the chacha slide, though.

Chuuya enjoys to romanticism and intimacy of dancing with his partner. He loves the laughter that erupts from your lips, giving him butterflies every time he hears it. It only makes him fall further for you.

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The bar was quite packed as you sat at one of the stools, sipping on some water. Your lover sits besides you, drunkenly conversing with some random guy as you listened in. They would occasionally say some silly things to each other, their loud laughs covering up the sound of your quieter ones. Apart from that, there was little entertainment in the bar, your phone being very close to dying. You observe the small things happening in the bar, the way other couples lovingly engage in conversation, or the way two people dance near the jukebox, one of them spinning the other as the song comes to an end.

You feel Chuuya's arm snake around your waist, instantly returning your attention to him. His head still turned towards the man as he continues talking. Their current conversation based around the prices of certain brands of wine - specifically Chuuyas favorite, Petrus.

"The fact that $3,900 USD is a low price for one bottle is insane! Doesn't stop me from buying it though." He laughs a little. The man laughs with him, nodding in agreement. Your attention returns to the people near the jukebox, now dancing to Por Una Cabeza. Your ears perk up when you recognize the song. "Chuuya likes this song..." You thought. "Maybe he'll wanna dance."

Upon the short silence between the two men, you took your chance to ask Chuuya. You gently tugged at his sleeve, grabbing his attention.

"Chuuya, wanna go dance?" You say, pointing over at the decently sized area. "They're playing Por Una Cabeza." You smiled at him, influencing the nod you receive. "Sure thing, doll. C'mon." He smiles with you, hopping off of the bar stool. You both make your way to the small but big-enough cleared area, starting to slowly dance with each other, incorporating parts of the tango dance as you go. Your body is hugged close to his, one of his hands on your lower back, the other extended and holding yours. The song ends after a couple of minutes, Chuuya leaning in close to your face, a bit out of breath.

"I really should let ya' drag me out to the dance floor more, that was fun." He chuckles softly, pecking your cheek. You smile, a soft blush on your face.

Fyodor Dostoevsky !! ✧⁠*⁠。

Fyodor loves ballroom dancing, he was taught as a child and it has always stuck with him. He finds it both intimate and elegant, the soft sound of classical music by Russian composers playing in the background as you both delicately move across the open space. He won't be up and dancing for long though with his anemia, so he would take a moment in between songs.

That doesn't stop him from pulling you into him and swaying to the instrumentals coming from his record player, though. He dances with you whenever provided the chance. His plans weren't going exactly as planned? Take a moment to clear his mind by dancing with his lover. His lover that stands beside him, offering as much support and love as possible. His lover that is there for him, no matter what.

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You barely heard your boyfriend walk up behind you, jumping a bit when he rested his hands on your shoulders, peering over you to look at what you were doing. "Ah, my dear seems to be a bit jumpy today." A small laugh comes from his parted lips.

"A little,i I guess. You scared me. You're very quiet, like a mouse." You say, slipping your book mark between the pages of the novel you had started reading a few nights ago. Fyodors hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers together gently. You take his hand and stand up from your desk, leaning into his chest.

"My dear, it's been quite a while since we've danced together, no?" He softly asks, a small smile on his face as he leads you over to the record player, only letting go of your hand to carefully start the machine. He rests his head softly on your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your cologne or perfume. His hands resting either on the small of your back or in your own. "You always smell so lovely." You laugh a bit at his compliment.

"You must feel awfully affectionate this evening." You say. Your fingers softly scratch at Fyodors scalp, massaging his head as you two move together to the soft song. "Do you not like it?" You're quick to shake your head. "No, I love it. Forget I ever said anything." You softly giggle. Fyodor smiles and his eyes meet yours. You can hear the song coming to an end, and he pulls you in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate and loving kiss.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader

[c-crow-chatters]

Music headcannons.

Hi, it's me again.

I was a bit lost in tought when this popped out. So, please enjoy. Also, thank you for all your love on the last post. And I almost forgot, obviously an Modern!AU. Forgive any spelling mistakes again.

What kind of music they listen to?

Has a very flexible music taste. But most of the time, Indie or Pop. One day he's listening to the whole discography of Mitski, the other one is enjoying Lady Gaga.

Probably listens to Olivia Rodrigo a lot.

Dances when he's alone, or enjoys in a calm way melancholic lyrics.

If a movie is catchy enough, you'll see this man searching deeply for it's soundtrack.

Gently sways to jazz while cooking. Loves to hum melodies while taking the pastries from the oven. I think if he had the time to, he would open a cafeteria so he can listen to the songs that are lit in the moment while making desserts or pouring coffee.

His favorite song is probably: It's been a long long time by Harry James.

Oldies, pop-rock, or rock. Sometimes dance or metal. Doesn't mind trying new genres or music that is completely opposite of his usual mix. Often is being influenced by Sypha's choices of music.

No, Trevor, listening to Gorillaz every day doesn't make you that special, but you are to us.

If he's feeling a little blue, he'll listen to Artic Monkeys.

Would like to try and play the bass or guitar, but too lazy to actually go and take classes.

Doesn't like to burst the music out loud unless it's a party, prefers to use earbuds to listen. Sometimes he falls asleep while listening to some track and ends up losing an earbud.

Actually likes to slow-dance on the living room in a quiet evening.

His favorite song is Through the Fire and Flames by Dragonforce, but he keeps denying it.

Pop, dance and electro-swing queen. No matter what song, she'll make a bop out of it. Energetic dances all over. There's also Lo-Fi.

She SLAYS on Just Dance, or any kind of dance game. She very much enjoys them.

Yes, she also likes K-pop, really likes HIP by Mamamoo and knows the whole choreography.

Pretty much sings too. Madonna? bring it on! Britney Spears? of course, The Weeknd? yes.

Mostly songs that are lively, or full of rythm. She knows what songs are lit on the moment, and her playlists are variant. The playlist she made with Trevor is a constant mood swing. She keeps teasing him by how it changed from "Hips Don't Lie" to "Careless Whisper".

Her favorite song is Single ladies (Put a Ring On It) by Beyoncé.

This man's taste goes from Panic! At the Disco to videogames soundtracks. Alt rock, lullabies, Ambient.

While he does handmade jewelry he loves to listen It's raining somewhere else by Toby Fox.

He actually knows how to play piano basics. And flute lol, jk-.

Plays music on the studio or work, often searches for music for his pets too. He's more into the calm side of music, but sometimes explores other genres.

Alt rock goes from Radiohead to Fall Out Boy.

His favorite song is in between Doubt by Twenty One Pilots and Pompeii by Bastille.

Blues, Jazz, and classical music. He also listens to traditional music.

Definetly drinks tea or coffee while sitting on a big couch, letting Lacrimosa by Ludwig van Beethoven flow in the air.

Quiet, starry nights, watching the city from the balcony of his apartment, soft piano and bass in his phone or a small speaker. Meditates with calm breathing.

Most of the time listens while reading. He doesn't like to use apps, or so, since he has a gramophone and a cassette player; both are very old, but are very well cared of.

He doesn't like to dance, but will sway or rock gently if he's really into an specific song.

Has an alarm clock with The Four Seasons that wakes him every morning. A big Vivaldi fan.

His favorite song is Requiem: II, Dies Irae by Giuseppe Verdi.

#castlevania netflix #castlevania #alucard #music #sypha belnades #sypha #trevor belmont #belmont #isaac castlevania #hector #it's short #headcannons #alucard headcannons #trevor headcannons #isaac headcannons #sypha headcannons

[agustdakasuga]

You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 10

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

Avoiding the boys is harder than you thought. You know that one day, you’ll have to face them again but that time comes a lot faster than expected when they come knocking on your door.

Suga or Yoongi still dropped by your cafe to get coffee from you. But you treated him like a regular customer. There are no more small conversations or anything. You get the order, make his coffee and send him on his way. 

You finished the book RM lent to you and placed it on his table when they had yet to come back from lunch break. You knew 3/7 of their wolves, you didn’t get a chance to see the others to match the human face to the wolf face and frankly, you didn’t know if you wanted to. 

“Study well, we’ll see you back for the exams.” Your teacher left class. 

Before the exams, there was always a study period where students didn’t have to go to school. You only had to come back for the exams and there was a holiday after that.

“(y/n), can we talk?” Jin approached you first. 

“I’m... late for work. Sorry.” You said quickly and ran out of there. Of course, it was a lie, you didn’t really know how to face them. 

You were studying by your window when you saw two people approaching your house. You stood up and backed away from the window, wincing when you heard them knocking on the door. 

*Maybe if I don’t answer-*

“Please, (y/n). We’re desperate. We need your help.” You heard Taehyung whimpered softly. Sighing, you knew you couldn’t leave them if they really needed your help in an emergency. You walked to the door and opened it, looking at them. Taehyung stood with RM beside him. They both looked sad and distraught. 

“Yes?” You said softly. 

“Jungkookie... He needs you.” RM relayed. 

“Why?”

“He’s sick and he needs you. Please, we wouldn’t be here if we were not desperate.” Taehyung was close to his knees as he begged you. Heck, he would do that if it convinced you. 

“He doesn’t need me. He needs a doctor.” You shook your head and was going to close the door when RM put a hand to it, stopping you. 

“I know there’s a lot you’re scared of and confused about. But no doctor can help him. He needs you. I promise, there is no lie or ruse. After that, we can talk and explain everything to you. If you don’t want anything to do with us, I promise we won’t bother you anymore.” RM said. 

“Hyung!” Taehyung turned to RM, outraged at his promise. He didn’t want you to leave them. 

“Okay. Take me to him.” You grabbed your bag, with Yoongi’s washed clothes in them. The two began to walk with you down the forest path. As the house came into view, you had to remind yourself to breathe. 

“She’s here...” The other wolves inside stood up when they scented you outside the house. 

“She came.” Suga thought fondly. When you entered the house, you kept your head down, wanting to keep any interaction to a minimum. 

“This way.” RM said and you nodded, following him up. Standing in front of Jungkook’s closed room door, RM knocked before allowing you to enter. Jungkook smelled his leader before your scent. 

“(y/n)?” He refused to believe his nose and grunted as he turned to face you. The two weren’t lying. Jungkook looked absolutely horrible. His face was paler than Yoongi’s, dark circles were prominent under his bloodshot eyes. It looked like the energy had been sucked out of him. Of course, you knew you were the cause of it and guilt hit your heart. 

“I heard you’re sick.” You whispered. 

“I’ll let you two have some privacy.” RM said with a clear of his throat and left, closing the door behind him. 

“I’m the cause of this?” Tears swam in your eyes. 

“No, no, no. Don’t blame yourself. Come here.” He waved you over and you hesitantly shuffled over. Once you were close enough, Jungkook pushed himself up to hug you. 

“I would never hurt you.” He replied, as if he could hear your worried thoughts. You nodded as you let your tears fall. 

“I missed you.” He hugged you against his chest, inhaling your scent. Reaching up, you rubbed his back in a soothing way. With a gently tug, he pulled you to lie down next to him. At that moment, it didn’t feel awkward. 

“Jungkook-” 

“I’m sorry, just let me... Hold you for a while.” He whimpered. He sighed in relief as he felt you nod against him. Jungkook was definitely Kookie. The personality and actions he did helped you connect the dots. He was someone who acted tough but never let others see his emotions. 

“It’s okay, Kookie.” You whispered as you hummed a soft lullaby for him. Jungkook pressed his face against your chest and you held him like a mother would hold her child. 

“Sleep.” 

“I don’t want to... What if you’re gone when I wake up?” He looked up at you with sad eyes. 

“I’ll still be here, I promise. You need to rest, your hyungs are worried for you.” You convinced, like coaxing a child to take his nap. He nodded his head and it was almost instantly that he fell asleep, his soft snores filling the quiet room. You felt yourself slowly getting sleepy as well, getting too comfortable with his body heat.

When Jungkook fell asleep, you slowly slid away from him to use the bathroom. You came out and saw the paper bag next to your bag. 

“I’ll be back.” You whispered to a sleepy Jungkook and left the room. Being in such a hurry, you tried your best to find Yoongi’s room, not wanting to unnecessarily run into the others. 

“RM?” You called softly, seeing him sitting on the couch. Hearing your voice, he immediately scrambled to his feet. 

“What’s up?” He coughed slightly

“Where’s Yoongi’s room?” You asked and he quietly beckoned you to follow him. He led you to another door, it was Yoongi’s room. From the music playing inside, you knew he was there. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. 

“Come in.” You heard a lazed reply and entered. 

“Umm... Sorry to interrupt.” You cleared your throat. Yoongi jumped slightly when he saw that it was you, quickly reaching over to lower the volume of the speaker on his nightstand before standing up. He straightened his clothes in an effort to look presentable to you. 

“You’re not interrupting. What do you need?” He asked softly. 

“Here. I washed them. Thanks again for lending it to me.” You held out the paper bag. Yoongi tilted his head in confusion, taking the bag in his hands and looking inside. 

“Oh, you’re welcome. Thanks for washing them, I guess.” He placed the paper bag on the bed. The both of you stared at each other awkwardly. 

“I’m gonna go.” You turned. 

“Wait.” Yoongi hastily grabbed your wrist. 

“I need to go, Yoongi. If Jungkook wakes up and I’m not there...” You looked at him with sad eyes, almost as if begging him to hold this conversation off for later. Yoongi let you go, his hand falling limply by your side. You headed back to Jungkook’s room, sliding back into the same position that you were in. He immediately sighed in his sleep, his body molding into yours. 

What you didn’t know was that you just being in the house made all the wolves feel better. Your scent, your energy, your aura was able to calm the nerves that bubbled within them. 

If only they could be as lucky as Jungkook, to have you hold them. 

“You’re really still here.” Jungkook woke up, a little shocked to see that you stuck to your promise. You hummed with a nod. 

“The hyungs want to see you...” He informed. 

“I don’t know, Kookie.” You sighed. Jungkook’s heart quickened at you calling his nickname and told the others to wait. He wanted to hear what you had to say, he wanted to hear what you were hesitant or afraid of. Most importantly, he didn’t want your fears clouding your judgement of them. 

“What’s going through your mind?” He sat up. You crossed your legs, facing him. 

“I don’t know where to start, Kookie. I can’t help but feel betrayed that you guys didn’t tell me that you already knew me. I’m sad that this has caused me to drive a wedge between all of us. I’m guilty that I caused you to be sick. I’m angry with myself for not being able to grasp this reality.” You balled his blanket material into your fists as you cried. 

“(y/n)...” Jungkook whimpered at your loud sobs. He drew your head to his chest like earlier, letting you release your choked sobs. 

“I’m trying. I really am.” You cried. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Jungkook finally understood how you felt. He felt your feelings, you being lost, scared, confused, everything. There was an ache in his chest. Everyone in the house felt your strong emotions.

“We can take it slow. We don’t have to rush anything.” He said. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologising. You did nothing wrong. It was careless of us to do that with you around. You were meant to find out in another way, not like that.” He revealed. So they did plan to tell you sooner or later. After a few more minutes of calming down, you left the room with Jungkook. 

The others were already sat in the living room. J-Hope and Taehyung’s eyes were read, evident that they cried too. Yoongi had a distant look on his face. You wanted to run away. 

“Let’s talk.” Was all you could say as you took your seat. 

“Where do you want to start? We’ll follow whatever flow you wanna go by. Do you just want to ask us questions?” RM started. 

“I... I don’t really know what to ask or what I don’t know. Maybe... start by telling me your names? Your real names? Then I’ll sort out my thoughts.” You said meekly. They nodded their heads, simple enough. You let out a short sigh, you had that amount of time to think of anything else you wanted to ask them. Well, what were you supposed to ask werewolves? 

“Well, I’m Namjoon.” 

“Yoongi.” 

“Jin.” 

“Jimin.” 

“Jungkook.”

“Hoseok or Hobi.” 

“...Taehyung.” The boy looked away, not wanting you to see the hurt he had in his eyes. You nodded your head, picturing what each wolf looked like. Yoongi’s white fur, Taehyung’s double coloured tail and Hoseok golden back. 

“I’m sorry.” You buried your face in your hands. 

“It’s okay. Take your time.” Jin rubbed your back in a soothing way, his voice full of adoration and assurance. 

“We’ll tell you. If you have questions after, feel free to ask. Or if you want us to stop at any point.” Yoongi said. You nodded your head. The pale boy looked to his leader, who gave a curt nod. 

“Well, we are werewolves. So we can turn into wolves. We are of royal lineage because of our pure werewolf blood so in a sense, we are regarded as the princes of this ‘colony’. We don’t have powers but we do move faster, heal faster and are stronger than humans and other werewolves...” Namjoon started, scratching his head to think of what else there was to tell you. 

“When Jimin came to me, that night... Was it planned?” You asked. 

“No, that was purely coincidental. We were raided by hunters and Jimin escaped, finding your house for shelter.” Hoseok explained and you nodded your head. 

“(y/n), there was never an ulterior motive in any of us approaching you. We will never harm you, in human form or wolf form.” Jin said. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just...” 

“It’s alright. You’re feeling guarded now because you don’t know anything about this. You probably thought all this only happened in books or movies. Completely understandable.” Jimin held your hand. 

“In werewolf hierarchy, there are 3 rankings of some sort. So, Yoongi hyung, Jungkook and myself are alphas. We’re slightly stronger and bigger than the others. Taehyung and Hoseok are betas, second in command. Jimin and Jin hyung are omegas.” Namjoon informed. 

“I see.” You were taking all this in and the boys were relieved that you haven’t stormed out yet. 

“Why me?” You asked softly. 

“What do you mean?” Namjoon tilted his head. 

“Why do you all stick around me? Ever since I’ve met you all, I feel so different. Everything just feels so different when you guys are around. I don’t know how to explain it.” You shook your head, frustrated that you couldn’t get your words out.

“Do you know what a mate is?” Jin asked. 

“When animals get partners, they’re called mates.” You stated but then realisation hit you. No? Is it even possible?

“Yes, (y/n). You’re our mate. What you’re feeling is our mate bond. We feel what you feel. When we’re too far from one another, you’ll feel the strain of the mate bond.” Yoongi said. 

“Is that why Jungkook got sick?” You turned to the youngest, who nodded his head. So it was true, Jungkook really got sick because of you. It was your fault. 

“Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t know. It’s okay.” Jungkook was quick to dismiss your guilt. 

“But I’m not a werewolf. How can I be a mate to all of you?” 

“You don’t have to be a werewolf to be our mate. A prophecy was that we would all have the same mate and that’s you. You’re the last piece to our puzzle. That’s why you feel such strong emotions for us and we feel the same for you. Mates make each other stronger. Even if we’re not officially mates yets, our bond is already so strong.” Taehyung finally spoke. 

“And... how do mates become official?” You asked. The boys all coughed, their cheeks turning red. 

“It requires sleeping together. And we... need to bite you.” Namjoon let out a deep breath. Now, it was your turn to blush. You needed to be intimate with them and let them bite you to mark you? 

“But that doesn’t have to happen now.” Hoseok shook his hands to reassure you. You let out a sigh of relief. This is too much for you and if you had to give your body immediately, you think you might just pass out right on the spot. 

“(y/n). You’re our mate, we would never, ever, hurt you. All we want to do is protect you and love you.” Jungkook said. 

“We communicate through our mind links. When you officially become our mate, you’ll be able to join in too. Even if you’re a human. But we’ll take it one step at a time, alright?” Jimin patted your hand and you nodded your head.  Things were starting to make sense. 

“I’m sorry for running away.” You felt tears well in your eyes. 

“You were scared. It wasn’t your fault. We’re sorry you had to find out that way.” Jimin hugged you. 

“Will I have to leave my grandfather’s cabin?” You asked. You weren’t ready to leave your home yet. To you, it was like leaving your grandfather behind and that was something you didn’t want to do. 

“You don’t have to. Like we said, you do whatever you’re comfortable with. We won’t force you.” Namjoon said. 

“Will you accept us now?” Jungkook asked the question on everyone’s mind. 

“I may not know much but if you’re willing to teach me and we take things slow, then yes.” You nodded. Finally, all the boys could smile. They hugged you tightly and you let your tears fall from your cheeks. Hoseok wiped them with his thumbs and kissed the top of your head. 

“Can you show me?” You asked and pulled away. 

“Show you?” They were confused. 

“You know... The wolves.” You rubbed the back of your neck. The boys were more than happy to show you, it only meant that you were slowly starting to adjust and get comfortable around their natural selves. 

“Sure.” Taehyung held your hand and led you out to the front porch. This was where you saw it all happen. 

“We’ll remove our shirts since it’ll rip.” Jin explained, blushing. You choked but nodded your head. You looked away as the boys all removed their shirts. Taking a deep breath, you turned to them. 

“Don’t worry.” Yoongi whispered, cupping your cheek with a soft smile. They all took turns to shift. 

“It really is you.” You hugged Jimin, burying your face into his neck. Jungkook walked over to lick your arm like he always would when he stayed with you. You smiled through your tears and the wolves all let out whines of displeasure. Reaching out, you scratched the bottom of Hoseok’s chin, making his tail thump against the ground happily. 

“My beautiful boy.” You stroked Yoongi’s head and he nuzzled against your palm softly. 

“I’m okay.” You closed your eyes. Sitting on the edge of the porch, the wolves all settled around you. You decided to just continue chilling outside with them. Namjoon strolled onto the platform, biting his jacket and passing it to you. 

“Thank you, Namjoon.” You patted his head like he would do with you and draped it over your lap. 

Yoongi sat beside you as Jungkook, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin played around, chasing one another to playfully catch each other’s tails. 

“What’s this?” You touched the black crystal necklace that hung around Yoongi’s neck. He just leaned in the lick your hand, proceeding to rest his head on your thigh. Namjoon and Jin walked over to sit closer to you. Namjoon let you run your fingers through his black fur. 

“Does this mean you guys understood me from the start?” You asked them. They nodded their heads. 

“Oh no... That means you understood all my rantings.” You buried your face in your hands. Jin fell onto his back in seeming laughter. You blushed, all your crazy talk was actually understood. 

“I swear I’m not crazy.” You shook your head. Namjoon leaned in to press his nose against your cheek, making you giggle at how damp it was. 

“Maybe that’s why you guys entered my dreams as humans. It was a sign all along.” You rubbed his ear. 

“Chim!” You called and the wolf stopping rough housing with his brothers, looking up at you. Waving him over, he trotted over to you happily. He rest his front paws on your unoccupied thigh, his tail wagging and his tongue sticking out as he waited for you to talk. You laughed, remembering what happened when you first saw him in your dream. 

“I’m sorry for feeding you bland chicken.” You chuckled. 

“It’s okay!” He barked with a wolfish smile. The boys decided that it was time to change back and bring you home so you could rest and study. But they forgot one small detail...

“Ah! You’re all naked!” You squealed and covered your eyes, spinning around. The boys’ eyes widened. 

“SORRY!”

“WE FORGOT!” You felt them all rush past you and head into the house. You didn’t want to remove your hands, not wanting to face anymore unnecessary nudity. 

“We’re changed.” Taehyung grabbed your wrists gently, pulling them away from your eyes. It was true, he was already changed. With a light tug, he pulled you back into the house and sat you down. 

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Jin asked. 

“Thanks for the offer but I think I should go home. I need some space to collect my thoughts.” You smiled tiredly. They all nodded, understanding you. Everything was already moving faster than they expected. You needed some alone time to fully grasp anything. 

“We’ll walk you home.” They offered. 

“Thank you.” You all wore your shoes and began the walk through the forest path. Jungkook was looking significantly better already. That was when you understood what an impact that you brought. 

“You look well.” You looked up at him. He nodded in agreement, tucking his hands into his pant pockets. 

“Mates also help with healing. The less stress we feel, the faster we get better.” He explained and you nodded. He gave a small smile and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Goodnight.” The boys wished as you unlocked your door. 

“Goodnight. Thank you.” You smiled softly and opened your door. The 7 of them stood there, waving at you as you disappeared into your cabin. 

~~

Tag list

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[marvellous1917]

Dance with me?

Steve Rogers imagine.

Summary: it’s Tony’s birthday, you know what that means. Yep, it’s a gigantic party at the the Avengers tower and it just so happens that Tony’s assistant is coming, the one Steve Rogers can never seem to take his eyes off.

Warnings: umm cursing, alcohol consumption, flirting, dancing? I’m pretty sure thats it.

A/N: ooo do love me some Steve. I was listening to Ready for Love by Bad Company, if you wanted a song to go with the start of this fic.

—

The music was loud, some sexy rock song blasting on the speakers. The room was full of people, some familiar, most not, and over half were on the makeshift dance floor bumping and grinding together. Hands exploring over every inch of their partners, bodies pressed close together, guys on girls, guys on guys and girls on girls, sex was oozing into the air. Tony, of course, was having the time of his life, a pretty boy on one side of him and a pretty girl on the other, talking low under their breath, whispering secrets into each others ears.

And you? Sat by the bar, favourite drink in hand, fingers tracing the rim as your eyes travel over the room admiring the carelessness of the other guests. Well.. it would be fun to let loose for a night, but with your boss present? Not a great idea. ‘But,’ you think, ‘Tony did say to have fun and by his definition, that means get shitfaced and find someone to spend the night with.’

Sipping on your drink, your eyes land on the boys by the pool table. ‘Oh, that could be fun,’ you think, making eye contact with the blond with the short hair. Steve Rogers. Captain America. The county’s golden boy. His eyes keep steady on yours, not wavering or moving. He’s always staring, from the first day you met, whenever you would look at him, he was already looking. It was somewhat unsettling at first, the feeling that you were being judged, but the longer you got to know Steve, the better you understood that is how he makes sure people are ok. His eyes were constantly on Bucky where he first moved in, making sure that his friend was ok. It became a comfort after a while, always knowing you had someone watching your back. Slowly standing and making you way over to the table, you don’t break eye contact with him, looking deep into his beautiful blues. His face was relaxed but his smile slowly widened with every step you took.

“Hey boys, enjoying the party?” You say, moving your gaze away from Steve and onto the other participants of the game.

“Hey Y/N, yeah it’s a blast, thanks for doing the weird ass jobs Stark sets you and throwing this one,” Sam responds, throwing a friendly arm around your shoulder, missing the glare coming from Steve.

“Yes of course, parties on Asgard are actually not that different. Well apart from the no fighting rule here. Bloody battles between friends are nothing, am I right Birdman?” Thor adds, his hand clasping on Clints’ shoulder in a strong grip, the archer wincing slightly under the heavy hand.

“Yeah man, whatever,” Clint says, grabbing Thor’s’ hand and peeling it off his shoulder. “Hey Y/n, why haven’t I seen ya dancing? You got two left feet or somthing?” The alcohol in his bloodstream more obvious now, due to the slur of his words and the slight tilt of his stature.

“Oh I don’t know, man, that’s just...uh..not my type of dance I guess,” you respond, shrugging. You look to the silent Captin, “I haven’t seen our very own icicle on the dance floor either, what’s that about Cap?”

“Oh I don’t really dance, except slow and especially not like that,” he responds, head tilting towards the crowd.

“What, not a fan of the bump and grind? You more a swing kinda guy?”

“No I was never good at that either,” he answers you with a small laugh.

“Trust me, he’s telling the truth,” Bucky adds while patting Steve on the back, “don’t think I ever seen this one in a dance that wasn’t slow that ended well.”

The music changed, Nat’s playlist throwing the room into confusion as the next song that sounds is the slow melodic tune of Etta James’ At Last playing through the speakers.

“Oh I wanna know how you old boys would dance to this, Steve will you do me the honor?” You ask and without waiting for an answer, you grab his hand and pull him to the floor, wanting to dance to one of your favourites. He grips your hand tight, not letting you go too far and tugs you back until you spin into his chest, his hands almost hesitantly in you waist.

“Oh he has some moves after all, huh?” You say, hands resting on his shoulder. “Knew you had it in you.”

“Well I didn’t want you thinking I got nothing, though I will be honest, I got no idea what I’m doing now,” he reply’s his head tilting down to look you in your eyes.

“Yeah, me neither,” you say with a smile, Steve mimicking it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

His smile turns soft and he pulls you a little closer, your head coming to rest on his chest. “Well, I am pretty sure that the guy is supposed to be the one to ask the lovley lady to dance,” he adds, his eyes meeting yours with a cheeky glint .

“Wow, what an old-fashioned way of thinking, you gotta remember gramps, we’re in the future now, equality’s a pretty big thing here. Meaning I can ask you to dance all I want,” you respond in kind, a small smirk appearing on your face.

“Oh right,” he says, “and will you be asking me to dance often or...?” He trails off, the beat of his heart showing the true meaning behind his question.

Using his shoulders as a solid, you rise up on your toes and whisper in his ear, “Maybe, depends on if you drop me,”

“Wait what?” He asks, hands gripping tighter on your waist.

“Song’s coming to an end Rogers, gotta do a dip right?” You say, pulling away to look at him straight on, fingers moving to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Oh yeah, of course.” He responds, seemingly distracted by your fingers on his skin.

“You ready?” You say, hearing the last lines of the song. He nods, moving one hand to your upper back, the other staying in your waist. “Don’t drop me please,” you add, a sliver of fear creeping up in your chest.

He just stares into your eyes and smiles, “Never.”

—

A/n: hey my first fic! Feel free to give me feedback. Please? :)

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagines #captain america imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers drabble

[imekitty]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

A twist on Bitter Reunions.

-----

Jack and Maddie listened to the ringing on Maddie’s phone, waiting for an answer as they sat together on the sofa in their living room.

“Maddie?” answered Vlad.

“Vladdy! Good to hear your voice,” said Jack.

“I’m here too, Vlad,” said Maddie.

“It’s been a while,” said Vlad. “I was just thinking about you two last week, wondering how you were doing.”

“We’re doing great,” said Jack. “You?”

“Oh, I’m doing very well.” Vlad chuckled. “I would love to show you sometime. You two are welcome to come visit me at my mansion anytime, you know.”

“Well, that’s sort of why we called,” said Maddie.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Maddie paused. “We would like your help with our research.”

“Your ghost research, I presume?”

“Yes.” Maddie shifted her weight on the couch. “Remember when we said we were working on creating a ghost hybrid of our own?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, to make a very long story short, we succeeded. We found the perfect candidate and were able to configure our portal to give him ghost powers like yours.”

Jack pressed his lips, not liking how she kept saying “we” like he actively helped her in this endeavor.

“Did you now? Really?” asked Vlad. “May I ask who was your candidate?”

Maddie released a loud breath. “Before I tell you, just know he was our only choice. We had been searching for over a decade and couldn’t find anyone else who came even close.”

Vlad did not respond. Jack leaned back into the couch.

“It was our son,” said Maddie

Jack looked up at the ceiling, rubbing an itch on his neck against the couch cushion.

“Your son?” echoed Vlad.

“That’s right.”

“You mean Daniel?”

“Danny. And we only have one son, Vlad.”

“You really turned your own son into a ghost hybrid?”

“Yes,” said Maddie. “And we’ve been watching what he does with his powers for the past few months. But he doesn’t know that we know. He doesn’t know that we have anything to do with his portal accident that turned him into a ghost hybrid.”

“Wait, wait, you mean to tell me that he has no idea what you did to him?” Vlad chuckled. “And by extension, am I right in assuming that he didn’t exactly consent to it?”

“No, of course he didn’t,” said Maddie. “We couldn’t let him know. Part of our research is seeing what he chooses to do with his powers without our influence.”

“You are just perfect, my dear,” said Vlad. “Truly a rarity in the science field.”

“Should probably keep it that way,” muttered Jack.

“And what has Daniel chosen to do with his powers?” asked Vlad. “Play pranks? Or is he using them to get more of what he wants like I did?”

“Danny’s choice for his powers is...interesting, to say the least,” said Maddie. “He decided to turn himself into a...superhero, I guess you could say.”

“Superhero?”

“Yes. But he doesn’t fight crime or anything like that.”

“Well, not crime by humans,” said Jack.

“Right, he fights ghosts,” said Maddie. “Ghosts who enter our world through our portal and wreak havoc. Danny uses his powers to capture them and return them to the Ghost Zone, thus protecting the people of our town.”

“Oh, my God.” Vlad’s breath loudly whispered through the speaker. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. I’ve heard about him.”

“You have?”

“Yes. There’s been a lot of talk about him in the Ghost Zone among all the ghosts. The half-ghost child who lives with humans but also possesses ghost powers.” Vlad laughed. “I had no idea he was your son. But that makes so much sense now.”

“From what we’ve observed, he is indeed becoming very well known in the Ghost Zone,” said Jack. “So I guess we shouldn’t be surprised you’ve already heard of him.”

“It’s interesting that he’s chosen to use his powers to fight other ghosts, though,” said Vlad. “I’m assuming that must be linked to his ghostly obsession. Do you know what it is yet?”

“No,” said Maddie with a shake of her head. “But we are working on figuring that out. All we can gather so far is that he feels responsible for the ghosts coming through the portal in the first place, so he thinks it’s his duty to return them all to the Ghost Zone.”

“Why would he feel responsible for that?” asked Vlad.

“Maddie made him believe that our portal was broken until he switched it on and shocked himself,” said Jack. “So in his head, it’s his fault the portal works and is letting in all the ghosts.”

Maddie gave him a look. “Right, yes, we made him think that. It was the only way to trick him to go inside the portal.”

“I see,” said Vlad. “So he’s trying to clean up the mess he believes he created.”

“That’s all we know so far,” said Maddie. “Not sure how it might be linked to an obsession just yet.”

“But a superhero, that’s cute,” mused Vlad.

“That leads to our request.” Maddie cleared her throat. “Given that Danny has chosen to use his powers to become a superhero, we were interested in giving him…well, a supervillain to fight.”

“A supervillain?”

“Yes. Obviously, there are plenty of ghosts, but we were thinking a nemesis who has something in common with him might be good.”

“Let me guess: a fellow ghost hybrid?”

Maddie smiled. “I knew you’d catch on to that quickly.”

“I can’t say I’m not intrigued,” said Vlad. “And I’d be very interested in meeting your son.”

Maddie lifted her back off the couch. “So you’ll do it?”

“Let’s discuss it in more detail,” said Vlad. “Would you two be able to make a trip to Wisconsin soon?”

“Yes,” said Maddie. “Absolutely. We could bring the whole family, actually, so you can meet Danny.” She paused. “Might need to come up with some excuse he’ll believe. My plan for you to become his archenemy relies on him believing you don’t exactly like us. Or you don’t like Jack, anyway. Because of the portal incident.”

“Oh. Right.” Vlad’s voice became bitter. “Well, that was Jack’s fault.”

“I said I was sorry,” grumbled Jack.

“No, this is good,” said Maddie. “This is what we want for our backstory to make this work. But we just need a reason why you’d invite us to stay with you if you hate Jack so much.”

“I was recently asked to host our twentieth college reunion,” said Vlad. “Would that work?”

Maddie grinned. “That would be perfect.”

Jack slumped into the couch as Maddie and Vlad continued chatting. He wondered how things might’ve been different if he just hadn’t been careless with his cola in that college lab so long ago.

Then maybe Danny would still be one hundred percent human.

Part 9

#danny phantom #planned au #maddie fenton #jack fenton #vlad masters #imekitty writes #ficlet #prompt writing

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

#im sick of myself and my brain making new fics instead of finishing current ones #oh well #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jeongguk scenario #jungkook x reader #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts mafia au #sugar daddy au #wordless

[toujourseven]

Under the Radar | 3

A/N: Flashback!

Sorry for those expecting a steamy continuation of the ménage à trois. We'll get back to that in the next chapters. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

I kind of decided to include a plot. It just flowed and it would be nice to put some late 20s perspective as the boys are slowly growing up to be dadd-- adults ahem. I hope you enjoy and I am SO SORRY for the late update.I will try to add Chapter 3 next week. keyword: try!!

Do you guys prefer --short chapters but frequent updates OR --long chapters but longer updates?

Stream PTD for baton pass!!! （＊＾ω＾）♪ hugsssss find me on twt @toujourseven ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

Plot: RM of world-renowned group BTS met you on his private vacation. Things get serious as you both value the same things, including relationships– monogamous relationships, or?

Theme: smut with plot | canon - BTS as world stars Pairing: OC x Namjoon x Jungkook Warnings: Idol BTS | Canon | Threesome, DubCon | Explicit 18+ | Chapters: one | two | three

Flashback-- 2 months ago

You moved the gear into park and reached for your camera bag haphazardly thrown in the backseat. You were so excited to walk around the hidden coast as part of your solo travels. You looked around the area and noticed that it was indeed a secluded place, judging by the lack of people milling around. There were a couple of local restaurants attached into the residents’ houses. And a lone bus stop can be seen just along the edge of the parking bay. 

It was late in the afternoon and it was the perfect time to capture some photos. You marveled at the pink sand and long stretch of beach. Nobody was swimming, and only a handful of people were scattered along the beach. A couple were laid on a blanket on one area, and a man was sitting atop some rocks with his headphones on. You walked farther ahead where you won’t disturb the other nature spectators and filmed a couple of videos and photos for your travel vlog. The peaceful vibe also stimulated your brain and it pushed you to record some prose on your phone. Nothing can spark creativity better than nature, and sadness, you suppose. 

After the sun has set, your stomach began growling. You only ate brunch and you realized it was not good to be this hungry if you were planning to eat lots of seafood for dinner. You traced back your steps towards the local businesses and chose a quaint restaurant with a rustic theme. The locals were friendly and one of the residents hanging out even sat beside your table to chat with you. After a comfortable pause, while the aged woman let you eat your meal, you heard her think out loud, “Oh poor dear, there are no more buses that come at this hour. He must have missed his ride. The next bus will arrive tomorrow morning.”

You followed her gaze and you saw the man wearing headphones earlier sitting under the bus shed, checking his watch and looking back and forth the road. Suddenly, the friendly woman stood up, presumably to inform the man of his mishap. 

You finished your meal and was paying for it when the old woman returned, the man with headphones in tow. He was very tall and he was wearing a cap and a mask. He looked awkward and a bit sheepish, he must have realized his mistake already. “Oh hey dear, thank goodness you are still here. You mentioned that you were going back to the city tonight, correct? Would you be so kind to give this man a ride on your way?” Then the woman ushered closer to you and stage-whispered, “It’s fine, he’s a jolly nice man, and I made sure he is not dangerous.” Then in a normal volume of voice, “He’s a tourist too and he had some miscommunications back at the station. But he is in dire need to get back tonight, you understand, don’t you sweetie?” She hugged you close and offered the both of you a sweet smile. 

The man rubbed the back of his neck and he looked completely embarrassed. You were more than happy to offer your help but you can’t say you feel too confident riding with a stranger for a 5-hour drive back to the city. 

“I’m really really sorry to impose, but I have an appointment early in the morning and I won’t be able to make it in time even if my… friend drives down here at this hour.” You noticed that his voice was deep and he kept his face lowered which did nothing to ease your worries of driving with a stranger. 

“Oh sweetie, you need to loosen up a bit. Maybe show a bit of your face to gain this lady’s trust. No one wants to drive with a faceless man.”

The man hesitatingly removed his cap and mask, then you gasped softly. You looked around to make sure no one else was around, or no one else had seen. No way. Maybe he just looks like him. But then, why hide? “That’s fine, you can put the mask back on.” You forced a laugh then addressed the old woman, “Better to be safe, right? With the virus and all.” You cleared your throat, and the man looked a little bit hesitant and more wary of you as he put on his mask.

“We’ll get going now, ma’am. Thank you so much for a delightful chat. I hope to get back soon.” You gathered your things and led the man to your car. Before you opened your door, you faced him and asked, “Best to get this out of the way first. My name is Jane, and I am an allied health professional. I live in New South Wales, and here’s my identification.” You showed him your drivers’ license. “Now, are you perhaps, a celebrity?” You stared him down- well, up, since he’s  a lot taller. And your tone is reminiscent of a teacher scolding a child. But you just couldn’t help yourself. He must have felt the same way, because he answered with a small voice, “Yeah.” With his head still bowed down. You took a deep calming breath before continuing, “And you think it safe to travel in the suburbs of Australia, by yourself, without transportation??” You knew you sounded accusatory, considering you were talking to a stranger, but you just couldn’t believe how careless and thoughtless and dangerous the whole situation was. He squared up his shoulders a bit here and defended, “Well, I thought it was safe since it won’t be crowded in this particular locaion, and I did have a ticket back. I just…” he scratched his head and sighed. 

A cold breeze fluttered your coat open, and you shivered. “Maybe, we should continue this inside.” He suggested, eyeing your shivering frame. You conceded, and both of you got comfortable inside your vehicle. You removed your coat, and he finally removed his cap and mask and ruffled his hair. You still couldn’t believe your eyes, but there was no mistaking it. 

When you didn’t move, he looked at you and smiled, flashing his pretty dimples (curse him), and extended his hand, “Forgive me for forgetting my manners. Pleased to meet you, I’m Kim Namjoon.”

You gulped and shook his hand. You couldn’t say anything, so you just nodded and completed your pre-driving routine. You completely forgot that your phone automatically connects to your speakers and RM’s Seoul started playing. You froze and accidentally stepped on the brake. “Fuck.” You heard him snort and then laugh. “Sorry about that,” you muttered, referring to your embarrassing driving skills. Then he asked with dimples flashing, “So, you’re an Army huh?” You glared at him for a second then focused on driving.

“Well, the songs are good, can you blame me?” Then he chuckled and freakin rapped along. Your heart beat so fast because you couldn’t believe Kim Namjoon is rapping along Seoul while he is in the passenger seat of your car. Fucking surreal. 

After a few minutes of silence, with just your playlist in the background, you told him, “You can sleep if you want, you did mention you still have a schedule in the morning.” You glanced at him and he was wearing an incredulous look. You paused, oh yeah. It would be more foolish to sleep in a stranger’s car. “Or not. Forgot about me being a stranger thing. And worse, a fan!” You chuckled. “No, it’s not that. I just don’t think it’s polite to sleep while you are driving for me. The least I could do is accompany you.” You smiled softly. You’re not even surprised he is that thoughtful. “Also,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t actually have a schedule. I just.. didn’t want my manager to scold me. I was about to call him using the phone in the restaurant, but the woman suddenly asked you to drive me. And well, I’d pick riding with a pretty girl than be scolded by the company any day.” 

Your jaw dropped, and the man had the nerve to laugh. “Oh gosh, are you sure this isn’t a reality show, like- prank an army episode, oh god, y’all are not stalking me right?? How did you even know I was an army?? I was discreet!” And that just made him laugh harder. 

“Relax. It’s definitely not a reality show. It is reality though.” A short pause, then, “Your music taste is so… varied.” And for some reason, that made you feel proud. Your playlist ranged from country music, to R&B, to anime OSTs, to Eminem, Barbra Streisand, and of course BTS. 

After a couple hours of driving, your legs were feeling numb already. On your way to the coast, you had multiple rests since you were not in any hurry. But you were still a new driver and your legs are not accustomed to long drives. “Uhm, since you’re not chasing a schedule, is it okay if we stop over for a moment? My leg is killing me.” He instantly agreed, “Of course, Jane. Anything you need. Are there restaurants somewhere we can stop over? Do you want to eat? My treat!” You smiled. “Don’t be silly. You’re my guest and not everybody can do a favor for the Kim Namjoon so I’m treating you.  I need something to brag about to my grandkids.”

Silence. “Oh. You’re married?” You laughed at that. “I wish. But, nope.” You took a deep disappointed breath. “What’s with the reaction? You’re still young?” He asked. 

You parked the car, and faced him, “Well, you know how we have these certain expectations in our lives? Not other people’s expectations for us or society’s standards- just, a vision of how our life should be like.” You didn’t know what made you share your deepest disappointments in life with this man, but you thought, It’s not like I’m ever gonna meet him again anyway. I might even get a helpful advice or two from THE Kim Namjoon. You faced forward then, and played with your fingers as you continued. “I feel like nothing I envisioned for my life, back when I was just a youthful dreamer, ever came true. I didn’t live up to the expectations of 12-year-old me. And it bothers me everyday. As I get older, time feels so much faster and missing chances get all the more scarier and riskier.” There was a short silence as you both digested the sudden serious conversation. You didn’t want to make him feel more awkward so you showed him a bright smile and unlocked the door. “That was what the reaction for.” Then you laughed as you exited your door. 

You noticed him looking out his window, at the queue for the restaurants. You walked around his side of the door and knocked on his window. “Maybe it’s better for me to just buy our food and eat in the car?” He looked worried but grateful at the same time. “I think that would be the best. Sorry.” He really looked apologetic. But you completely understand. “It’s fine, honest. Be sure to lock the doors then, and keep the windows closed. Do you know how to start the car so you can turn on the heater?” He rolled his eyes and held out his hand for your keys. “Sucks that my reputation precedes me. But yeah, I can do that much.” You started to hand him the keys and bit your lip. You were honestly worried he will wreck your car. You sighed, “Please. Don’t break my car.” Before turning and walking away, chuckling at his offended face. 

Chapters: one | two | three

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32297806/chapters/80057497

#bts fic #bts fanfic #btsficrec #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bangtan fic #kpop fic #fanfiction #namkook fic #bts reader #ao3 fic #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #namkook

[harryhandstan]

part two to the bonfire blurb I posted last week! you have @tbslenthusiast to thank for this one because she (sorta) requested it :) hope you all enjoy and have a happy and safe Halloween tomorrow!

//

Matching costumes. 

Harry’s idea, of course, but one you had swiftly agreed to.

It had been less than a week since the bonfire and still no one had been able to place the reason for the joyous expressions that seemed to stay glued on your faces these days. There were countless couples throughout history to choose from, and the two of you wasted no time in attempting to find the most obvious one. It hadn’t taken long to decide; only a couple of hours huddled over your laptop in Harry’s bed before he was giggling and pressing the button to complete the order.

You can tell when you arrive that Mitch and Sarah have spent most of the week preparing for the party, elaborate decorations gracing the entrance to their home and all throughout. Mitch’s eyes follow the two of you as you sweep around the room greeting old friends and new acquaintances. He was growing suspicious of your newfound closeness, no doubt Sarah had planted the idea in his head that maybe the two of you were more intimate than the public were aware of.

Maybe it’s the way Harry’s hand falls so naturally to the small of your back as you peruse the abundance of treats provided across a long wooden table in the middle of the dining room. Or perhaps it’s the way it sneaks around to rest on your hip to pull you closer as he whispers something in your ear over the chaos of the music and the voices. Whatever he says causes you to throw your head back with laughter, and anyone near enough would have seen the split second Harry took to press a kiss to the side of your exposed neck.

It’s no longer about being private or secluded, so you decide together which position in the large room would be the most seen as you enjoy the refreshments you’ve gathered to devour. You each hold a small black plate and a cup of punch as you find a spot. Who could fail to notice two friends feeding each other a homemade rice krispie treat in the shape of a bat in the middle of the room?

It doesn’t take long for the punch to work its way through your system, whatever spirit it was laced with instantly making you bolder and more careless for who may be watching as you sway to the song playing loud through the speakers. Harry’s just as intoxicated as you, more on the brightness of your eyes and the way that your hands roam his body than the alcohol coursing through his veins.

When your fingertips brush across the part of his chest unprotected by clothing, he worries he may burst into flames if his lips don’t touch yours in that very instant. He molds his body to yours, large hands cradling either side of your face as he captures your mouth with his. It’s a kiss full of desire, leaving nothing to the imagination of what he wishes he could do to you, of what you have no doubt he will do once you're alone later that evening when you arrive home.

If no one knew previously, they certainly did now. If they failed to notice now, they must be blind.

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #ahh I don't like this as well as the bonfire one but oh well #she's probably full of mistakes but I tried!

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Gift Fic!!

A very happy birthday to my dear @vkelleyart !! A little something to brighten your day and hopefully make you laugh!

I’ve Been Everywhere

Shepard

I don’t think I would have given them a second look if it wasn’t for the wings.

You see a lot of unusual cosplay at Ren Faires. You see a lot of cleavage too, but I’m not going to complain about that.

Some of the cosplay is amateur, homemade, but still in the mood of the whole thing, you know? And some of it is expert level, seriously slick.

Those wings were something else. Those wings were magic.

It’s hard to spot Speakers. They blend in, glamour the obvious, layer on the mundanity, making it nearly impossible to catch even a glimmer of the magic they hold. They go out of their way to do it, to mask the magic.

Not these three. At least not in the usual way.

Granted they looked pretty run-of-the-mill at first sight—a chubby, Middle-eastern looking girl in something like anime cosplay, what with that school uniform look. The tall, dark-haired guy with the Anne Rice, modern vamp vibe. My eyes almost slid over the stocky dude with them–he was just so ordinary looking .

Until those wings popped.

Maybe that should have been my clue. The ordinary. But it didn’t feel like the way Speakers usually mask it.

Because once I took a good look at them, they were practically leaking magic everywhere. Like they failed a Subtlety of Magic class or something. Do they have classes for Speakers? Like schools where they learn to control the magic and filter it, to hide it in plain sight?

I wonder. I’ve never heard about anything like that on the message boards.

These guys would obviously be dropouts, if they actually do have schools like that. They could use a semester of Remedial Magical Skills 101 or whatever they’d call it.

Those wings got my attention. They looked so real, even from a distance. Fluid. Not like the mechanical stuff I’ve seen before. And there was that weird thrum in the air when they popped out.

I mean, I’m not saying I can sense Speakers or anything, but there’s definitely been a change since the whole demon incident. Like I crossed a threshold or something, with magical beings? Like a veil was lifted, maybe.

I can spot them a lot better. Most of the time.

These three though. They didn’t look like much at first glance but they may as well have had SPEAKERS tattooed on their foreheads, the way they were acting. As if I could stay away from that.

I don’t know what was up with all that nonsense they were doing at the Faire. Wands out in the open. Magical words flying. Poorly, at that.

They really must be dropouts or complete dumb-asses or have gone rogue or something. No magicians would ever risk being so blatantly obvious with their magic.

I mean, I’ve followed other Speakers before and I’ve never seen a hint of a wand or heard a whisper of a spell cast out loud. I’ve read up on it—on the web, on the message boards, heard from other people who were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the magic workers doing their thing.

I’ve managed a few words with one or two myself.

But they’re evasive, secretive. They don’t talk about magic, they don’t even admit they’re magic. And they most certainly don’t go around sprouting functional dragon wings, decapitating fellow vampires with funky spells and using wands in public.

I’d be surprised if these three aren’t on some delinquent wanted list.

I trailed them when they left the Faire. For a whole mess of reasons.

They’re intriguing, for one. I’ve always wanted to know more about Speakers. These guys, they’re so out of control, so careless with it. I thought maybe this was finally my chance. My chance to get in with Speakers, find out what I can about them. Research, you know?

They’re nothing like the ones I’ve read about, the ones I’ve sweet-talked into spending a bit of time with me.

A witch-girl who decapitates first, asks questions later.

Berserker fly-boy.

And then that magical vampire. That’s a new one. A vampire with a wand. Who kills other vampires. I’d have said they were some sort of elite, covert, vampire infiltration squad, what with the decapitation and dusting they unleashed a few hours ago on the local Dracula crowd.

If they weren’t so completely inept at the covert part of that equation.

Maybe they’ve got something to do with the Next Blood.

Not that I got a chance to ask. They bugged out of there before I could get close enough to start chatting, introduce myself, get a conversation going.

They probably wouldn’t have given me the time of day, being magicians. Even though I helped that homely Edward Cullen wannabe with his spell. He’d have been dusted if I hadn’t.

I get why he chose to stick with the vampire cosplay. I mean, I can see it. Camouflage yourself in plain sight. It makes sense. Puts people off your trail.

He’s pale. And he’s got a widow’s peak.

But still. The circles under his eyes kind of detract from the look. And that crooked nose. It’s kind of the first thing you notice—it really takes over his face, like he’s all nose. Overly groomed eyebrows, far too heavy with the foundation, and then that honker. Yeah. He’s no Edward Cullen, that’s for sure.

I can’t believe they’re driving right into a Quiet Zone. You’d think they’d know what a bad idea that is. But then again, these three seem mighty clueless for magicians. Or vampires. Or harpy hybrids. Whatever they are.

It was quick thinking by Edward (I’m just going to call him Edward, it’s easier) to act like it was all a show. That might work for run-of-the-mill Normals. But anyone like me—or a demon in disguise, any Maybe really–wouldn’t be fooled.

Not with them spilling magic like that. I’ve never seen anything like it. Spells, magic fire, the dude bro guy literally flying. (I’m going to call him Kevin, it’s easier.)

It was unreal.

I flash the brights. I don’t know how to get these idiots to pull over. If they’re driving right at it, they’ve got no clue what trouble they’re getting themselves into.

I flash the brights again. The Mustang just speeds up.

Mustangs aren’t made for late night drag races on gravel. I try to stay close behind. They come back onto the main road just before the Henge.

Well, that’s it. Just crossed into the Quiet Zone.

I speed up.

The Mustang practically does a donut as it turns into the parking lot. No idea how to drive either. They need more than some friendly advice–they need a handler. Like a chaperone or something.

I pull up in front of them. Cut the engine and the lights. Get out.

“Hi.”

They don’t trust me but at least they let me get them out of that mess with Jeff Arnold. Never a good idea to cross Jeff or any of his posse.

And I was right about this crew. They are careless. The girl–Penny–she just magicked her way in here, into this hotel room, without a care in the world. Then she cast half a dozen spells on the other two. Simon and Baz. (I’ll have to stop calling them Kevin and Edward in my head.)

Spell after spell, to try to get the skunk funk off. It’s not as bad as it was, I’ll say that. Not as good as it would have been if we’d had tomato soup, but I doubt there’s a spell for bringing bathtubs of soup into existence.

She just cast them all in front of me, like I didn’t even exist. I expect they’re going to try something on me. I wouldn’t put it past them. They’re not masking their distrust, I can tell you that. Not the first time I’ve dealt with that and I’m sure not the last. I’m used to it by now.

These three don’t seem to be following any set playbook, just reacting to situations as they come up. I suppose you could call it resourceful and bold, but that doesn’t fly with the local Maybes or the resident Speakers.

Not the way it’s supposed to be done. There’ll be a reckoning if they don’t watch out.

That’s where I come in, if I can smooth talk them well enough to get past their defenses. Penny’s fierce, I’ll give her that. Put a proverbial knife to my throat while I was driving the getaway car. I don’t know if that’s sheer bravado or stupid desperation. Probably both.

I should be able to bring her around. If she ever lets me get to talking, that is.

They all look like hell. Grubby, exhausted, the faint aroma of skunk still clinging to them.

I’m right about Baz though. He’s a vampire, no question. Took a chestful of shotgun pellets and lived to tell. I don’t know if lived is necessarily the right word.

Survived might be more accurate. I know people call them the undead but I didn’t really believe it until I got up close and personal with this guy. Scrawnier than the Twilight vamps and a lot less sparkly, for one. Almost as fast though, when he was running alongside the truck.

But there’s a weird innocence to him. I don’t know if that’s the right word.

I mean, he’s fierce too. Cold as ice, grimly menacing. Certainly not afraid to play with fire, which seems a bit risky to me, considering.

No qualms about incinerating his own kind, that’s for sure.

I’ve seen vampires before, from a distance. Like the ones at the Faire. They’re pale and arrogant, powerful and vicious.

None of them ever looked quite this lost.

He and Penny collapsed on the bed by the window almost as soon as we got in the room. I hadn’t pegged them as a pair, but it works, I guess, if you squint.

Opposites attract, so they say.

And they are opposites, at least in looks. He’s tall and lanky, pale as the moon, all sharp edges. She’s short and round, warm brown skin, warm brown eyes. At least they’re warm when she’s looking at the two of them. They’re blazing and accusatory when they’re on me, that’s for sure.

Still, they’re nice eyes.

Edward’s—I mean Baz’s—nose is even more noticeable up close. It’s like they fitted him with the wrong size? Like it was made for a much larger person. Someone with a broader face. And it’s too high, like it needs to be shoved down a half inch. That’d probably make the proportions even worse, what with that wide mouth of his.

Was his mouth always that way, I wonder? Or did it get bigger because of the fangs?

I have so many questions.

Doesn’t look like I’m getting any answers tonight. Penny and Baz fall asleep in minutes, not even bothering to get under the covers.

So it’s just me and Winged Victory over here. He’s got his back to the door, like some threatening sphinx guarding the exit.

The sphinx I ran into last March was far more attractive.

I can’t tell if Simon’s got freckles in his acne scars or scars on his freckles. In any event he’s got literal craters on his face. And so many freckles. Big ones, small ones, clusters of them.

It’s like some pint-sized Jackson Pollock shook a paint-laden brush at him. Repeatedly.

I don’t know what to make of him. He was like some Biblical avenging angel, wielding cosplay swords like they were the real thing this afternoon. Staking vampires like it’s his literal job.

I don’t know. Maybe it is.

Simon’s got a scar that runs down across his left eyebrow. Splits it in two, with a little bare patch in the middle. His arms are crossed over his chest at the moment. He’s got scars all over them too--wide, silvery scars. Thin pale ones. Puckered gouges that look like they were left by claws.

He’s glaring at me, but I’m used to that from Maybes. At least until they get to know me.

I just smile back.

read it at ao3

#carry on #wayward son #shepard #baz pitch #simon snow #penelope bunce #happy birthday venessa #idea from rainbows tweet about simon describing Baz and attraction being SUBJECTIVE #shepard from omaha #my writing #my fic #crack fic

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Bang a Gong//Get It On (SMUT)

anonymous said: Hello! I LOVE your writing!! I was wondering if you could write something about Roger and reader where they're like roommates/friends and one day she accidentally walks in on Roger while he's playing with himself and some sexual tension starts to develop cause like holy fuck that was hot and Rog is like big or something idduno ❤️

(a/n: almost 6000 words so its a big boi i’m such a crackhead i added a little bit more to the request than asked bc I wanted to make it kinda funny hehe okay but it still follows the request don’t worry  ANYWAYS yall im a mess this week hbu? Listen to T-Rex’s Electric Warrior album thx)

It was late afternoon when you decided to head over to yours to continue your study session with Brian. He’d already graduated, but he had taken some of the same science courses as you, so he promised he’d help you in exchange for a warm, home-cooked meal that Roger had zero part in. Whether it was because he distrusted Roger’s cooking skills or fearing being poisoned since they’d been bickering more lately, you had no idea, but you did know one thing – Roger would most definitely be home at this time. He usually got home an hour or two before you, so he wouldn’t be expecting you and you were just hoping he wasn’t eating any of the food you were planning on making.

The sound of T-Rex’s newest album, Electric Warrior, greeted you when you opened the door to your shared flat, Brian directly behind you. Immediately, you zeroed in on the source, knowing that Roger was most likely listening to it in his room, and you wondering where he’d scrounged up the money for that as you sat your book bag down on the hallway floor, pulling your shoes off individually before sitting them next to the bag. Brian followed suit, grimacing at the loud volume of the gritty-sounding blues song that was playing out of Roger’s speakers.

“Rog?” you called out, making a futile attempt to get a response from him as the music overpowered your voice. When you heard nothing, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “He’s going to go fucking deaf before he even goes blind, I swear it.” Pulling your hair out of the bun you’d had it in for most of the day, you locked the door behind Brian before grabbing your book bag again, heading for the couch.

“Wonder if he can hear the record, maybe he needs to turn it up a bit,” Brian joked lamely, making you snort and shake your head at the attempt at a jab. Not his best work, but the message was clear. You decided it was probably a good idea for you to go ask him to turn it down – if Brian did the same, you imagined it would end about as well as any of their other interactions had recently – in flames.

Dropping your bag at the end of the couch, you heard Brian go into the kitchen for a glass of water while you headed down the hallway, the music becoming almost unbearably loud as you approached his slightly cracked door. You could just see into his room, his disheveled honey blonde hair visible as he had his back to you – the headboard of the bed was directly next to the door, since he was a big fan of the whole ‘run into the room and immediately flop on the bed’ movement. Not appearing to be doing much except for laying there, you rolled your eyes at the fact that he was asleep right now.

“Got your music loud enough?” you yelled teasingly, throwing open the door and almost screaming at what you walked in on. Roger had his trousers and briefs pushed down just a bit, and he’d unbuttoned them as much as he could, fully freeing his cock from any restraints. He was laying down on top of his duvet, at least before he realized you’d barged in, after which he’d scrambled to tuck himself back into his briefs before rolling over away from you and pulling his duvet with him. The frantic action caused him to fall off the bed, and he landed with a thud and a loud groan as he disappeared from your view for a moment.

Your jaw was practically to the floor as you stood there, in absolute shock at what had just happened. The music was still playing loudly, and you felt your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you tried to grapple with what you’d seen. After a moment, Roger’s head popped back up over the side of his bed, and he looked both pleasantly annoyed and humiliated as he stared at you, seeming twice as embarrassed as you were. “You said what about my music?”

The attempt to change the subject was a valiant effort in itself, but was lost on you as you pressed your hands to your cheeks, laughing in horror for a moment. “Shit, Roger, I’m- I meant to knock, but the door was open, so I-“

“You can turn down the music,” he interrupted, giving you a pointed look before glancing at the record player to your right. Still in a mild daze, you nodded and turned slowly, turning the music down as the lead singer’s voice barely whispered out ‘You’ve got the teeth of a hydra upon you, you’re dirty sweet and you’re my girl.’ That only made things far more awkward than they already were, Roger’s piercing blue stare upon you the entire time you moved. It felt so uncomfortable as the singer yelled out ‘Get it on, bang the gong, get it on!’ that you had to shut your eyes for a moment, then open them again and give Roger a strained smile.

“I’m making pasta and garlic bread. Bri is here.” With that, you nodded curtly and scurried out of the room, trying to mask the conflicting emotions on your face as you reemerged into the living room.

“Thank god he listens to you,” Brian remarked as you passed, going directly to the kitchen. “I think I would have gone mad if he hadn’t turned it down. The man’s an animal.”

You almost choked at the last part of his sentence, coughing to cover it up as you pulled out a pot to boil some noodles in. Your cheeks were still bright red as you moved along, boiling the water and grabbing ingredients to make alfredo while you tried to erase the image of Roger splayed out on his bed, in the middle of getting himself off.

For the moment you’d seen him in what he thought was alone time, his face was pleasantly void of emotion, in a state of bliss as he rested back against his pillows. He looked utterly relaxed, careless – and dare you say, enticing – as he played with himself, probably assuming you wouldn’t be home for several hours yet. So when that bliss had erased itself because of you, you felt a twinge of guilt. After all, who were you to deny him that pleasure?

And something else twinged inside of you too – envy? Desire? Something darker, deeper than you’d expected had blossomed in your stomach, which wasn’t new – Roger was by far the most attractive roommate you’d had, well, ever. But this time, it was overwhelming, and you had to shove it down until it was buried when you’d almost finished making the pasta and Roger sauntered into the living room, his eyes immediately on you through the doorway. There was a look on his face, a warning one, and he glanced at Brian before raising an eyebrow at you. You realized he was wondering whether Brian knew, so you shook your head and offered a small reassuring smile, returning to the pasta and letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

“Oi, Roger, done destroying your eardrums?” Brian teased, Roger rolling his eyes as he started towards the kitchen, still lazily sauntering as if nothing had happened.

“Hello, Brian. Did you know I saw Chrissy today?” Roger remarked to Brian, seemingly offhanded, but you knew he was trying to push Brian’s buttons as he came to the refrigerator, opening it and pulling out a beer. “Talked to her about you, in fact. We had a nice conversation, sweet girl. A bit tame for my taste, but sweet.”

“Really?” Brian asked, trying to mask the anxious tone of voice he suddenly took on but failing miserably. You could hear him hop over the couch and make his way into the kitchen, Roger moving over to get plates down for the three of you as Brian attempted to nonchalantly lean against the doorway and cross his arms. “What did you tell her about me? Fred said he’s been talking me up, but who knows whether that means he’s telling her I’m smart or that I have a big cock.”

You stiffened a bit at that, almost imperceptibly, but Roger noticed. His blue eyes were picking you apart at the moment, noticing every movement, every subtle shift in your body language. He was nervous, afraid that you were going to slip up and say something about it, but you bit down on your lower lip before continuing to stir the pasta. God, speaking of big cocks, who knew Roger Taylor had one? Of all people, my fucking roommate. This is terrible, why am I thinking about this?

“I described you in terms that were positively glowing,” Roger schmoozed, and you turned down the heat to the pasta as you went to go throw in the garlic bread. “Which coincidentally is also how I’d like to see you in hell.”

“Oh, piss off,” Brian grumbled, giving him the middle finger before he went to get himself a beer from the fridge. Peering over your shoulder at the pasta, Brian gave you an appreciative pat on the head before he grabbed the bottle opener from the cupboard, tossing it to Roger once he’d opened his beer. “That looks fantastic, Y/N, you’ve outdone yourself.”

With that, he exited the kitchen, heading to the bathroom to wash up since your sink was full of dishes – Roger was on your case as soon as the door had closed. “Did you tell him? You better not have told him.”

“I- Fuck, I didn’t tell him, Rog, relax,” you stuttered, alarmed by how aggressive he was being all of a sudden. On top of being slightly turned on from how hung your roommate was, now you were trying to fend off even more excitement as he basically trapped you in the corner, his tightly-closed fist resting on the counter near you and making all of the veins in his slim forearm protrude. You finally moved your gaze up from his hand to his face, and he had a stormy look in his eyes, something impenetrable about the emotions flitting across his face. “I know he’d never let it rest if I told him.”

“Good.” With that, he pushed off the counter, giving you a once-over before he grabbed his beer off the counter and popped the top off, taking a drink. “We don’t speak of this, alright?”

“Obviously.” You nodded as you spoke, and he got himself a plate before helping himself to some of the pasta as you pulled the garlic bread out of the oven, your hands shaky. It didn’t go unnoticed by Roger, but he chose not to speak on it, instead just taking a piece of the bread carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. He then tossed it on his plate, looked up at you, and raised his beer, tapping it to his temple before tipping it at you.

“Cheers.” With a smirk and a final nod, he exited the kitchen, leaving you to wonder what in the hell was going through his mind. He sauntered off the way he came, heading for his room with a sway to his step that hinted he wasn’t nearly as ashamed about what had happened as you’d thought.

And obviously, he wasn’t, because two days later, you walked in on almost the same exact thing.

This time, you were alone, and thank God you were, because Brian would have caught Roger first for sure. You walked into your apartment to find it pleasantly quiet – Roger was playing that same album, but at a reasonable level this time. So, you figured he’d probably be in his room again, and you were right. What you didn’t count on was for the door to be wide open this time, giving you a full display of almost the exact same thing all over again as you approached the doorway.

Roger was pretty much spread eagle again, propped up against his headboard this time – his eyes were closed, his head having fallen back in ecstasy as he stroked his cock at a lazy pace, his grip loose on himself. Long tendrils of blonde hair were splayed out haphazardly across the pillow, and he was just in his boxers and a button up this time, but the button up might as well have been off – it was completely open, displaying the way his chest rose and feel with each shaky breath he was taking.

You debated whether to say anything or not, but you figured you had to talk this out with him one way or another, so you cleared your throat and watched as Roger’s eye peeked open, looking directly at you in the doorway. A sigh left his lips as he grabbed a pillow, covering himself up while he climbed off of the other side of the bed, tucking himself in before turning back to you with a hand on his hip. He kept the pillow placed strategically in front of him, nodding. “Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”

“Roger,” you replied in a knowing tone, raising an eyebrow as you stepped into his room. “We’ve got to talk about this. What in the hell is going on?”

“You’ve been coming home early,” he shrugged, still standing in that nonchalant pose that was completely disrupted by the pillow. Honestly, you were surprised he hadn’t kicked you out of his room yet. He was still clearly excited, his eyes completely fucked out from how close he’d gotten to his high, so it was a wonder that he was entertaining your conversation right now.

“Not that early!” you retorted, crossing your arms as you crawled onto his bed with a hesitant glance at where he’d just been sitting. Placing yourself near the end, you sat cross-legged facing him and patted the bed in front of you. “Come on, what’s really going on?”

He gave you an eye roll before he carefully crawled onto the bed, imitating your sitting position and keeping the pillow in the same place as he crossed his arms, almost avoiding your gaze. “I dunno,” he offered in a mumble, shrugging again and looking down at his bed as he pursed his lips.

“Roger, I’ve literally been your roommate for a year now. I figured I’d walk in on this sooner or later, but twice in a few days? Your sex drive is…”

“What?” he pried, his head snapping up so he was staring directly at you. “Horrifying? Excessive? Yeah, imagine being the one that wants to fuck like a rabbit. Isn’t fun, thank you very much.”

“No!” you laughed, sitting back and stretching your legs out as you propped yourself up on your hands, resting your head on your shoulder. “Lord knows I can’t speak much on excessive sex drives. You know how many times you’ve almost walked in on me?”

“No fucking way,” he countered, looking at you in disbelief as he uncrossed his arms. “You’re the biggest prude I know.”

“Was Brian not here two days ago, or?” you asked, giving him a questioning look. “Besides, I hide my escapades very well. You’re just unpracticed, is what it is. I’ve had loads of people over that you haven’t even seen – takes skill to hide them as well as I do.”

“You’re lying!” he laughed, looking you up and down for a moment. When you raised an eyebrow and remained as serious as could be, his face was quickly taken over by a look of amazement. “Y/N, a bigger whore than Roger Taylor? Now, that’s news.”

“God, why do you always talk about yourself in the third person? You’re so weird.” You shook your head and laughed as he shrugged, his eyes wandering over your legs for a moment before looking back up to you with an odd, queer look. “What?” you asked, cocking your head as he stared at you as if he’d just thought of the most genius idea in the world.

“Let’s fuck.”

You literally jolted at the statement, not expecting the suggestion at all. Sure, you found Roger hot, and there had been loads of sexual tension between the two of you before, but you chalked that up to just being on your end because you wanted to jump a lot of people’s bones. But with Roger, you guessed it had been sort of different. Never had you held back so much on your own desires – you’d screwed around with plenty of roommates before, but you didn’t want to this time. You wanted Roger around, as much as you hated to admit it. Having him as constant, tantalizing, out of reach eye candy was better than shagging him once and having to move out after things got awkward.

When you didn’t reply, he took the opportunity to continue. “No, I’m serious! Let’s do it. Why not?”

“Why not?” You almost had to laugh, and you closed your eyes as you tried to think rationally. Don’t fuck your roommate. That’s, like, roommate code number 1. “Roger, we’re roommates. I don’t think that’s very smart.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” he replied simply, his slim pink lips parted slightly as he stared at you, a mischievous look on his face. “You’re hot, I’m hot, we’re both horny. It’s a winning situation, really.”

“But what if it makes things awkward?” Roger looked introspective for a moment, mulling over the possible outcomes of what he was suggesting, then returned to his mischievous look.

“Never know if we don’t try.”

He had a point. You tilted your head to the side for a second, wondering to yourself if you were really doing to go through with this, but your body spoke for your mind anyways. “Fuck it,” you murmured, moving to your knees and crawling over to straddle him as he tossed the pillow to the side, meeting you with open arms. His arms snaked around your waist as you smashed your lips against his, taking his face in your hands before threading your hands into his hair. Kissing back eagerly, he pulled you flush against him, pressing your chest against his and digging his fingers into your back a bit.

When you took his lower lip between your teeth and tugged a bit, the sound of his groan set off alarms in your head. On one hand, you panicked because this was Roger, your roommate – this sound should never be coming out of his mouth because of you. But on the other hand, the sound of it was so delicious that you smiled widely as you held on to his lip, lingering for just a moment before you let go.

You were about to say some smartass remark when Roger gave you a wild look, cutting you off by diving straight back in for a open-mouthed kiss, his tongue expertly sliding into your mouth and tangling with yours for a moment before swirling around it. A small noise of pleased surprise emitted from the back of your throat, and Roger’s grip only got tighter on you in response.

After a minute or two of a hot and heavy makeout session to the background noise of T-Rex’s gritty glam rock sound, you felt Roger’s hands sneak under the back of your shirt, pushing it up as he went to unclasp a bra that he soon came to find out wasn’t there. “Ah, no bra? Very naughty,” he remarked, his voice breathy, but amused as he pulled away from the kiss for a moment, looking up at you with an undying smirk on his lips.

“You’re going to be one of those that narrates the entire thing, aren’t you?” you teased, pulling your shirt off over your head and tossing it to the side as Roger’s hands came up to rest on either side of your ribcage, his eyes darting between your breasts and your eyes as he shamelessly ogled at you.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” was his equally teasing reply, and you rolled your eyes playfully before starting to push his button up off, which he shrugged off and tossed in the same direction of your shirt. “Now,” he continued, wrapping your legs around his waist before skillfully flipping the two of you over – his hips pinned you to the bed immediately, and you almost gasped as you felt his clothed erection pressing against your thigh. “What d’you say we see if you’re consistent?” His large hands started to tug down your shorts, and he kneeled between your legs as he pulled them off, revealing – to no shock for either of you – that you were sans panties too. “Oh, Y/N,” he almost growled, watching fixedly as you spread your legs, now on full display for him.

“Spoiler: I am consistent.” He chuckled at your comment, only briefly, before he laid himself on his stomach, laying his cheek against the inside of your thigh before pressing a kiss there. This was followed by a series of kisses, each making you tingle with anticipation more and more, and by the time he’d worked his way up to your core, you were practically squirming.

Running your hand back into his hair, you gave it a gentle tug of encouragement as you watched him hook your legs up over his shoulders, giving you an impish grin. “Now don’t be too loud. Don’t want the neighbors to be calling in a noise complaint,” he murmured, and before you could quip something back his tongue was between your folds, licking a flat stripe up to your clit and making you gasp slightly at the sensation. Placing an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, he sucked just enough to make you shiver softly, your fingers curling up in his hair.

When you felt his left hand ghosting up the inside of your thigh, you giggled softly at the ticklish feeling it left behind, and he chuckled against your core, the vibration making you moan out his name in bliss. In moments, his fingers were in his mouth, briefly getting wetted down before he slid his index and middle finger into you, just testing the waters. But the feeling wasn’t enough, and you whined impatiently as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his mouth leaving a small love bite on your thigh.

“More, Rog,” you urged, and you heard him make a pleasantly surprised noise before he inserted another finger, stretching you out more and making you hum in appreciation. “Fuck, yes, like that.”

He curled up his fingers as he moved his mouth back to your clit, sucking harder this time and sending all of your nerve endings into a frenzy as you moaned louder, not caring who heard. This man was a god to you right now, his fingers stimulating places you’d practically only heard about in legends. You thanked whatever gods there were that you’d let your common sense take a break on this one, because by the time Roger was crawling back up to hover over you, your face was flushed from pleasure. Splotches of red decorated your cheeks, contrasting with the blown-out pupils of your eyes, which watched him as he smirked down at you, maybe staring a bit too long.

“You going to fuck me or not?” you challenged, Roger laughing before crawling off the bed, easily pulling off his boxers and finally freeing his hard member once again. Openly staring, you realized you’d been correct in your observation that Roger was genuinely huge, and you could barely take your eyes off it as he grabbed a condom from his nightstand, crawling back on the bed as you sat up. He rolled the latex onto his cock slowly, eyeing you as you turned around and got on your hands and knees, peeking back over your shoulder at him and watching as he kneeled behind you, forcing his knee between your legs so he could spread them more. His broad hands came to a rest on your ass, giving the soft flesh a good squeeze before he looked up at you, thoroughly pleased with this whole situation.

“You sure you want to go through with this?” he asked, wrapping his hand around his cock and giving himself a few strokes as he ran the tip between your folds, eliciting something akin to a purr as he brushed up against your clit.

“Please, Roger,” you almost moaned, pressing your hips back eagerly and chewing on your lip. “Can’t just rile me up like this and then leave me hanging.”

“I mean, I could,” he taunted, pulling his hips back for a moment and sitting back on his heels as you whined in frustration, shooting him a nasty look over your shoulder. “I’m just joking, so impatient.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he gave you a toothy grin, rising again and lining himself up before pushing into you, just barely. “You just look so pretty when you beg.”

“You bastard, fuck me already!” You didn’t care if you were being impatient – and to be honest, the thought of you needing him was enough to make him a bit dizzy, but he ignored the hazy edges of his vision as he thrusted into you with a tameless grunt, sliding home quite easily and making you cry out in a mixture of surprise and lust.

Thoughts of how sore you were going to be later edged into your mind, but they were quickly overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure as Roger wasted no time in starting to move his hips. Barely giving you time to adjust, he filled you over and over, making your arms wobble a bit as you moved down to rest on your elbows, barely able to support your own weight. Roger’s hands found purchase on your hips, pulling your ass flush back against him with each thrust, and he couldn’t help but groan your name as the sound of slapping skin filled the room and the smell of sex joined it.  

“Oh, Jesus,” you breathed out, gathering the sheets of his bed in your hands and clenching your fingers around them tightly as you let your eyes flutter shut, your eyelids feeling heavy from lust. Roger was the same, his eyelids threatening to close with every passing second as the view he currently had was phenomenal. Moving one hand to your shoulder to gain more purchase, he thrusted again and somehow buried himself at an even more satisfying angle as he leaned over your body, suddenly rolling his hips agonizingly slow. He then moved his other hand to your jaw, then letting it come to rest on your throat. He applied no pressure as he did so, just letting his hand rest on your skin, but the presence of it and the thought of what would happen if he were to just press in on the sides slightly enough to make you moan. “You’re so big, Rog.”

“Yeah?” he replied, his eyes lighting up as your praise swirled around in his mind, boosting his ego and reinvigorating his big mouth – he was never one for being quiet, anyways. “Taking my cock so well. You like that?” A nod from you confirmed his question, and he let out a satisfied grunt as he pulled out for a moment, flipping you over onto your back and running his fingertips down the bare skin of your stomach. He marveled at how this perspective was even better, getting so distracted by the view that he had to remind himself after a moment that you were waiting for him to continue. Pushing back into you with a quiet groan, his swollen lips parted slightly as erratic breaths came and went, a light layer of sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead in places. But he looked unbelievably attractive like this, the sight of him towering over you as he went back to work on you making you reach down to grab his hand, returning it to your throat.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he looked down at you, thrusting at an irregular pace as he struggled to stave off his orgasm, which was rapidly approaching. As desperately as he wanted to make you come undone first, everything about you was threatening to pull him over the edge. The way you closed your hand around his wrist, daring him to choke you, the fierce, almost feral look on your face as you gazed up at him. You weren’t afraid of getting what you wanted, and right now, you wanted him to fuck you until you were seeing stars.

His fingers started to press against the side of your neck as he relentlessly fucked into you, your eyes closing as you relished in the dizzy feeling that it brought to your approach to your orgasm. And Roger noticed this blissful look on your face, the sight of it too much to take as he mumbled, “God, sorry love, I might have to tap out early if you keep on looking like that.”

You were too wrapped up in your own ecstasy to care much that Roger was close, but you paid attention enough to tap on his wrist, after which he released the pressure he’d had on your arteries, and you opened your eyes to look up at him, smiling impishly. “Just let go, Rog. Don’t apologize.”

Those words reassured him and kept his hips moving as he reached up, sliding his fingers into your mouth. He groaned in approval as you wetted them down, and he reluctantly retracted them before reaching down to press them against your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts and making you moan out his name lowly. The sound of his name leaving your lips pulled him past the point of no return, and he came as he let out a loud groan, followed by a string of curses, his hips stuttering and pushing into you erratically as he rode out his high.

Panting as he came down from his orgasm, he kept his fingers pressed against your clit, applying more pressure and circling them faster as he still thrusted into you, albeit a lot slower. But it didn’t matter too much if he kept going, because you were soon calling out his name as you came too, your orgasm rocking your body to the core and causing waves of pleasure to consume you. 

Roger kept his fingers on your clit as you rode out your high, the already-sensitive nub in overdrive as he crooned softly to you throughout your orgasm, murmuring words of encouragement. When you were done, you finally collapsed back against the bed, exhausted from the mind-blowing, absolutely out of pocket sex you’d just had with your roommate. God, your roommate. Things were about to get real messy.

Roger pulled out of you slowly, making you feel incredibly empty as he left the bed and the room, disposing of the condom in the bathroom before coming back with a wet washcloth, cleaning you off as you watched him quietly, your chest rising and falling with each breath and heart racing as you attempted to catch said breath. When he was done, he tossed the washcloth God knows where before he pulled his boxers on and grabbed his shirt from the floor, handing it to you. You pulled it on gratefully, starting to button it from the bottom up as he finally came to rest next to you. He was about to speak when something in the doorway just past your head caught his eye, making his expression sour.

You turned your head to find Brian awkwardly filling the doorframe, his mouth slightly agape at the sight of you, pretty much fully naked except for the small expanse of skin on your tummy that the bottom two buttons on Roger’s shirt covered. “Oh shit,” was all you could say, and Roger quickly moved his duvet over your lower half as you tugged his shirt to at least cover up your breasts.

But Brian had already seen everything, so the attempt was futile. “Hey, Brian, mind telling me why the fuck you’re in my room right now?” Roger asked irritably, thoroughly annoyed that the tall, curly-headed man was just standing there, gawking.

Realizing that he was being a royal moron, Brian quickly composed himself, but his voice was lightly and apprehensive as he spoke. “Roger, may I have a brief word with you? Out here?”

“Brief?” Roger repeated incredulously, looking at you before sighing and crawling over you to get out of his bed. “I suppose you could, Bri, but I highly doubt it.” Brian turned after a terse nod in your direction, heading down the hallway, and Roger took the opportunity to turn in the doorway, watching as you crawled out of bed too, your ass peeking out from the bottom of his shirt when you turned for a moment to smooth out the duvet. Chewing on his lower lip, he grabbed your arm as you passed, stopping you in your tracks and making you face him.

“Bri’s waiting for you,” you warned, but he took no heed of your words, using the collar of his shirt on you to pull you in for a quick, searing kiss that left you reeling as he pulled away.

“Sorry, had to.” He quickly reached around you to pinch your ass, and you raised your eyebrow in response, trying not to smile as the devastatingly gorgeous roommate of yours sent you a cheeky smile to match his next words. “We’re not done here. Don’t get dressed quite yet.”

taglist - @crosmopolitan​ @just-ladyme​ @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz @shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast @strawberryfields-forever @imladrs @psychoticobsession @ladylannisterxo @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @wanderingsami @stardvstial @iminlovewith-rogers-car @glowungeyes @mercurys-bike @mazzelloplots​

message me/reply to this to be added to the permanent taglist! REQUESTS CLOSED

#roger taylor #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger x reader #roger x reader smut #roger taylor x reader smut #smut #queen smut #queen imagine

[eliserxdemacher]

There was no doubt Paige could easily convince Elise to jump off a bridge with her if she made a solid argument of it. Two girls had been close friends since they met at their freshmen year in college when they were assigned to be roommates. At first, it felt like Elise was trapped in a nightmare that repeated itself every single day with only slight alterations. Paige was one of the messiest people Eli had ever met-once, her toothbrush was found under the doormat of their dorm room. She was careless and had an extremely difficult time figuring out what kind of a neat freak she was living under the same roof with. Once they installed some ground rules both promised not to break under any circumstances, their reluctant roommate relationship effortlessly blossomed into the companionship they now enjoyed. After graduating from college, Paige had moved back to Connecticut where her family still resided in. The girls were no longer able to see each other every day, day and night like they used to. Regardless, they had made a habit of paying one another visits every three to four months to ensure they did not fall out of touch. For almost a year now, Paige had been nagging the blonde about seeing a band her friend Danny was  in. Given their Spotify statistics, they were an up and coming band of young, talented musicians. Elise always had a predilection for lyrics that were simple, yet poetic. The songs Paige kept blasting through the speakers of her car provided just that element, so it was only natural for Elise to agree this band her friend could not enough of was about to become a big hit. Consequently, it felt redundant to refuse Paige’s offer when she found out the band had an upcoming show just around the time she was back in LA.

Throughout the entire show, the crowd was going wild. Truly, the rendition of the songs were remarkable and although it was not her area of expertise, even Elise was able to grasp that fact. They were unique, energetic and apparently, almost everyone in the room knew the songs by heart. Hours have passed all too quickly and as the end of the show drew near, she leaned towards Paige to talk into her ear. ‘‘Remind me to never discredit your music taste ever again.’’ She commented, which only earned her a lopsided grin and a knowing shrug from her friend. With a swift motion of her hand, Elise took the elastic hair band off her wrist and pulled her blonde locks in a ponytail. As the people that surrounded the two girls continued to grind against one another and dance to the rhythm, Paige grabbed Elise by the shoulder and nudged her towards the direction of the backstage entrance. ‘‘I told Danny we were gonna be here. We should go say hi!’’ She shouted because even though the concert ended, it was still too loud for them to hear each other if they did not speak in higher volumes. In response, Elise gave her friend an affirmative nod and allowed herself to be dragged towards the backstage.

If the crowd outside could be considered excited to see the band play, the people that were gathered inside this room seemed much more thrilled to get the chance to visit backstage. A brunette had not so kindly shouldered her while almost frantically asking ‘‘Where’s the meet and greet?’’ Clearly, Elise had underestimated the popularity the band obtained, yet a voice inside of her whispered there was no way an official meet and greet was going to be held at that exact moment. Letting out an impatient sigh, she made way for herself and Paige as they approached a towering guy with chocolatey brown hair. ‘‘Danny!’’ Paige exclaimed before pulling him into a tight hug. ‘‘You guys were amazing! Obviously I knew how cool you guys were right off the bat, but you even mesmerized the tough little cookie over here.’’ She announced bluntly, pointing towards Elise. At her friend’s straightforward assessment, the blonde could not help but let out a chuckle. ‘‘Elise.’’ She introduced herself and offered her hand to Danny, just as the remaining band members were finishing up their conversations with fans and started to make their way towards Danny. ‘‘Not that I had much doubt before but tonight, I’m one hundred percent sure your lyrics consist the most...soul touching words I’ve ever heard.’’ She stated as-a-matter-of-factly, turning her head to address the other band members as well as Danny.

#thread 001

[sunyoonandstars]

BTS One Shot || 𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓮 𝓜𝓮 𝓝𝓸𝔀 || You x Yoongi

↳ You’ve had enough. Of the silence. The distance. The unanswered texts. The calls he never makes. 

So you decide to give Yoongi one last chance to make it right. But things don’t go quite as planned ... 

〖 Requested 〗

Prompt 3 "Please, don't walk out of that door."

angst, fluff

Word Count 2.276

A/N: This is not what you think. Read till the end. Trust me on this. 

❝ Wow." You struggled to keep your voice steady. "Wow, Min Yoongi. I'm – Wow. You really outdid yourself this time."

A frozen smile stretching your lips, you started clapping your hands together, not feeling anything. Your limbs were numb, as was your face.So, this is what they call an out-of-body experience, you couldn't help but think to yourself as you watched Yoongi staring back at you, his soft features twisted into an ugly, bitter scowl.

"You can be so mean."

Your voice was barely more than a breathless whisper.

You hated how small it sounded in the silence of the studio.

"I know," was all Yoongi said, his face bare of any expression. ❞

𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓮 𝓜𝓮 𝓝𝓸𝔀

Text you when I can.

Those were the last words Yoongi had sent you. Six whole days ago. Ever since then: Radio silence. No calls. No texts. No sign of life. Just a tweet on BTS' official Twitter account, spoiling a new track he was apparently working on two nights ago.

Granted. The song sounded like it was going to be yet another masterpiece, born from the mind of the incredibly talented composer he was, and you loved it instantly. The tune was catchy, touching, melancholic, rich with emotion, Yoongi's burning passion for his work seeping out of every beat. And you could guess it was coming from a dark place, that he had fallen into one of those bottomless and lonely pits of self-doubt and hopeless despair yet again. That Yoongi's mind was spinning in circles, working around the clock to convince him that he was not enough, unworthy of the fame and affection he so much deserved. And you wanted nothing more than to be with him in this time of hardship, to show him that he was not alone, that you could see his pain, that it was valid and that you would leave nothing untried to alleviate it and show him the beautiful, lovable man you saw every single time you looked at him. You also knew, however, that he wouldn't let you. You had tried often enough. In the state Yoongi was in, he would only reject your affection and try to push you away even further to prove to you and himself that he was not the one for you in the first place. That you deserved ‘better’.

And you tried to be understanding, having been there before. After all, you yourself were no stranger to the Great Sadness and the conflicts of the heart it often entailed. And, from time to time, it still paid you a visit. But you fought it with all you had. Every. Single. Time. Because you refused to let it take away from you once more what you held dearest.

Yoongi, on the other hand, didn't seem to put up much of a fight recently. And you knew all too well that you couldn't make him. Nobody could. It was a decision he had to make by himself. Whether or not he would give in to his self-destructive tendencies and allow them to suffocate your love. And even though it pained you to admit this truth, you could feel yourself tiring out from fighting for the both of you. He didn't even talk to you, the one person he was supposed to be closest to. The one person he swore to always be honest with. Instead, Yoongi shut you out entirely.

And tonight, you were going to give him one last chance. One shot at fixing the damage he had done.

So you stood there, knocking on the door to his studio that he reportedly had not left in over twenty hours.

"Yoongi, please open up. It's me, y/n. Your girlfriend. Today is our two year anniversary, in case you forgot."

Silence. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

You involuntarily held your breath.

Finally, the lock clicked open.

"Of course, I didn't forget," Yoongi grumbled in opening the door for you. His hair was tousled, his eyes puffy, his shirt crinkled. He didn't even spare you a single glance when you slipped past him into the studio.

"How could I?" He went on, kicking aside a few empty cans of beer and Red Bull. "I set a stupid reminder on my phone. Woke me up at eight in the fucking morning. Never gonna do that again."

His careless words hurt you more than you should have allowed them to.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that this day is as meaningful to you as it is to me."

"What's with the tone?" he blinked at you, blinded by the harsh white lighting.

"Yoongi, what the hell is going on with you? When's the last time you took a shower? Or ate something?"

"I had a bag of Bugles just the other night."

"Something real. A healthy meal."

"What does that even mean? Healthy? Do you think those stupid diets you're always on are healthy? Or binge-drinking with your so-called work friends? That guy? What's his name? The one you always smoke with? Do you think that's healthy? We both know you’re no saint. You might be better at pretending, but you’re not above those self-destructive patterns you condemn. And that you're really the last person to lecture me."

You stood there, paralyzed, mouth open, gasping for air, merely staring at Yoongi, your cheeks burning, eyes watery.

"Wow." You struggled to keep your voice steady. "Wow, Min Yoongi. I'm – Wow. You really outdid yourself this time."

A frozen smile on your lips, you started clapping your hands together, not feeling anything. Your limbs were numb, as was your face.

So, this is what they call an out-of-body experience, you couldn't help but think to yourself as you watched Yoongi staring back at you, his soft features twisted into an ugly, bitter scowl.

"You can be so mean."

Your voice was barely more than a breathless whisper.

You hated how small it sounded in the silence of the studio.

"I know," was all Yoongi said, his face bare of any expression.

"You know, I was going to give you one last chance to make this right." At this point, tears were streaming down your face, melting your paralysis, allowing the pain to leak in through the cracks they left. It hit you in smothering waves. "And it's not like I expected you to come crawling back to me on your knees, begging for forgiveness or anything. But I thought – I really thought there was some part left of you that still loved me. Enough to be the bigger man. Guess I was wrong."

You turned around without leaving Yoongi time to respond. Because you knew that, right now, in your state, you wouldn’t be able to take his sarcastic retorts and half-hearted excuses. Not again. Not this time. 

"Crawling back to you? Why should I? Why would I have to?" he asks. And you freeze with your hand already on the door handle. "Back to you? Did we split up? Did I miss something?"

"Think about it, and you'll know."

"Well, I'm too tired to think. So enlighten me, please."

Your lips pressed together to keep your teeth from shattering, you turned back around even though you had sworn to yourself you wouldn't. Despite everything, Min Yoongi was still your greatest weakness.

"I really can't take this anymore. Just tell me to leave and I will."

"Leave?" He seemed confused.

"Yeah. For good. Just tell me to go now, and I swear I won't come back. I won't bother you anymore. I'll leave, and you can finally brood in peace. Isn't that what you want?"

For a few seconds, Yoongi only looked at you, lips parted slightly, moving but not making a sound. But you were tired of waiting.

With one last shake of your head, you turned to go, prepared to leave for real this time.

But three words, spoken in a low voice, held you back.

"I love you." He paused. "Y/n. Please, don't walk out of that door. Unless you really want to. Because I don't. I don't want you to leave. I mean it when I say I can't lose you."

Words. Nothing but empty words.

Or so you tried to make yourself believe as you pushed down the door handle, the cold metal slipping from your trembling hand.

"Please, y/n. Don't leave me now."

You swallowed hard, choking on your tears.

Your choice was made.

When suddenly, a song started playing.

You had heard this tune before. Two nights ago. On Twitter. And when Yoongi now began rapping softly, his voice so tender and soothing, you could feel it enclose your heart like molten amber. Warm. Soothing. Taking all your pain away, and with it your doubts.

"Whenever I get lost

You are the one who finds me

My brilliant searchlight

Solid as a rock

Your love

That taught me how to trust."

Listening to the melody, wonderfully bittersweet, felt like drowning in molasses.

"I know I hurt you once before

And I will cut your heart again

I hate myself for hurting you

But I love you more than that

So I will keep fighting

Fighting my nature

To be your searchlight

Whenever you get lost

Your bastion of calm

When the storms get too loud."

When you turned around, Yoongi was just standing there in the middle of his studio, softly swaying his body to the cadence of the song. Barefooted, surrounded by squashed soda cans and crumpled-up post-its, hands dangling by his sides, his chin resting on his chest, head hanging low, a curtain of unkempt hair hiding his face from your view. But you could still see his chapped lips, soundlessly mouthing the words coming from the high-end speakers.

"I promise I'll be there for you

In the end, I will be there

Because my soul

Will never stop loving yours

Until the day I die."

For another minute or two, you listened to the song and let it sink in, unable to raise your voice even when it was long over. Until Yoongi's eyes found yours, his gaze searching yours expectantly.

"Wow. Pretty corny, if you're asking me," you snickered eventually, watching Yoongi's lips curve into a smile, your vision blurred by tears.

"Yeah, I know. Not really my style. But Bang PD seemed to like it." He fell silent for a few seconds, his expression suddenly serious again. "It will be on our new album, you know. And I asked his permission to dedicate it to a special person."

"You – What!?" you gasped, your heart racing.

"Y/n, this song will officially be dedicated to no other than you. First name and last. Because I know now." Slowly, Yoongi made his way towards you, until your bodies were mere inches apart. "That I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Yoongi – I –"

He silenced you, gently pressing his index finger to your quivering lips.

"Now it's my turn to talk."

Eyes closed, Yoongi rested his forehead against yours before continuing.

"Y/n, I know I'm messed up. We both are. And I guess things will never be easy. We're not perfect, and neither is our relationship. But nothing is, really. And I don't even want perfect, anyway. I want you. Us. I know, I can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but so can you, babe. I admit, what I said earlier, and the way I acted these past few days, leaving you hanging like that – I was being an absolute asshole. And I sincerely apologize. But I only did that because I was scared. Of doing this."

Before you could entirely grasp what was going on, Yoongi was already down on one knee, holding up a silver ring, pristine in its immaculate simplicity.

"Will you, Y/l/n Y/n, marry this idiot and help him become the man he knows he can only be for you?"

Panting for breath, your hand shot up to cover your mouth, agape with astonishment.

You had expected a bitter breakup, maybe even a heartfelt apology. But not this. Never this. And yet, it seemed to be the only most sensible thing. To your heart, it felt right. So you didn't hesitate another second before holding out your finger, allowing Yoongi to put on the ring.

"Yes. Yes! Yes! Yes!" You boisterously laughed through tears, still in disbelief.

"Yes," you mumbled once more against Yoongi's lips, now pressed onto yours for a deep kiss as he swept you up off the ground and into his embrace. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Always, yes."

"Glad you think so," Yoongi whispered, winded. "Because they're already printing the lyrics for the new album. And that dedication would have made me look like a fool if you had broken up with me today."

"Lucky you, then," you giggled, adrenaline still rushing through your veins. "But, now that this happened, how about we get you into a shower? And a little toothpaste wouldn't hurt, either."

"Ouch."

"Well, we're basically a married couple now, so we might as well act like on."

"Touché."

As he gently set you down, a broad grin spread across Yoongi's face. You could imagine all too well what he was thinking.

"What's with that smile?" you asked nonetheless, equally scared of and excited for what his response would be.

"Care to join me? For a shower? I hear that's how married couples do it."

"Oh, you wish."

"Don't think you have much of a choice, actually.”

With those words, he effortlessly picked you up and swung you across his shoulder.

"Get ready to get wet, Mrs. Min," he called out as he carried you out of his studio and down the hallway towards the bathroom.

"Ewww, Hyung, seriously," you could hear Jungkook groan from the common space.

"Not what you think, Kook!" you shouted back.

"What makes you say that?" Yoongi cooed. You could basically hear his smug smirk.

"Wait, Mrs. Min!?" Jimin and Jungkook echoed in unison.

They were in such a hurry to race down the hallway and after the pair of you, they almost stumbled over their own feet.

"Does that mean –?"

"– she said yes?!?" Jimin completed Jungkook's sentence.

Smiling, you exchanged a quick look with Yoongi, his brown orbs flooded with utter glee.

"You bet I did."

Whoever requested this, I had so much fun writing it and hope you enjoyed the read. And that it wasn’t too cringe-worthy. Lol. 

XO, Ana 💙

None of the GIFs are mine. Credit goes to the initial creators. Thank you for your hard work and dedication. 

#bts #bts one shot #bts drabble #yoongi #yoongi drabble #yoongi angst #yoongi hurt #yoongi fluff #bts angst #bts hurt #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts x reader #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi one shot #yoongi os #yoongi fic #min yoongi #suga #suga angst #suga fluff #bts fic #bts writing #bts writer #bts request #bts prompt #yoongi request #yoongi prompt

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Roller skate

Warren Worthington III x Male Reader

Request: im gonna be that bitch & request warren worthington x male reader doing something fluffy like rollerblading date night -anonymous 

Warnings: maybe some language but that’s about it

Word Count: 982

You walked in— tickets in hand, music playing over the speakers, people all over- the skating rink. One of your favorite places to go on a Friday night. Usually, you’d be with Jubilee and Kurt, but this time you wanted to go without them.

You wanted to go with your boyfriend. However, when you asked him to go with you, he originally said no. 

-

“Please babe…”

“No way. I’ll look stupid or something— I don’t know how to skate.”

You gave his hand a squeeze, “I can teach you! It’s really easy. Plus the roller rink is mutant and gay-friendly.”  

His brows rose up, “Oh?” 

“Uh-huh, we could hold hands— ” Waren adjusted himself so he was straddling your lap, playing with your hair, “—Maybe even kiss in the dark.”

“Be gross like Scott and Jean?” He teased. 

“We’d do it better,” You joked, pecking his lips. “So what do you say? Will you go?” 

Warren let out an exaggerated sigh, “Fine… Only cause I like you.” 

“Yay!” You grinned like an excited child, “Thank you— you won’t regret it.”

-

All you had to do was curve your lips up and flash a smile at Warren, and he was wrapped around your finger. That’s exactly how he ended up at the skating rink.

“Come on, we gotta get skates.” You held his hand in yours, dragging him along to get your skates. 

“Take your boots off and the guy will get you skates...” Warren unlaced his boots and set them on the counter next to your sneakers. “Hi, um, we’re both size eleven mens.” The guy took both pairs of shoes and returned back moments later with roller skates. “Thanks!” 

You led him to a bench and put on your skates. “It might seem weird, but it’s really no different than walking once you get used to it.” 

“Easy for you to say. You’re good at this.” 

“Relax, you’re going to be fine…” You intertwined your hand with his and gave him a shy smile. “I promise.”

The music was some form of disco and the lights were flashing shades of pink, blue, and green. “Okay, now the first few steps on the rink are the hardest, but you can use me for support—” 

Warren scoffed, “I weigh more than you— wings and all.” 

“And yet who swept who of their feet?” You teased, gliding forward on the floor. Warren's eyes widened in fear for a split second— afraid of falling— before relaxing due to no real danger being present. “You okay?” You asked over the loud music. 

“Yeah! I’m fine.” 

You went at a slower speed since it was Warren’s first time. He struggled a bit at first, a bit unbalanced and unstable. He fell a few times, giving you a glare the first time it happened, telling you to “shut up,” and pretend it didn’t happen. 

He did eventually get the hang of it. He wasn’t perfect or anything, but he was trying his best. 

“Alright, everyone!” The DJ called out. “We’re gonna have ya’ll get off the floor for a moment… Come on, just for a second.” Everyone skated off and went to any empty benches.

“What’s going on?” Warren asked. 

“Well, the DJ usually—” 

“Alright! Now all the couples come on down to the floor. We’re gonna get the mood set.” Careless Whisper played over the speakers and people got up in pairs, heading onto the floor.

 Warren glanced at you, nervous, “Should we?...”

You nodded, “They’re excepting here. See?” You motioned to two girls on the floor, skating together, holding hands, bodies close and supporting each as to not fall. “C’mon!” You pulled him up and kissed his lips before skating off onto the floor. 

-

I’m never gonna dance again

You skated with elegance, ease, and class— Warren’s hand intertwined with yours. 

Warren… he was trying his best. “I fucking suck at this.” 

You shook your head and laughed. 

Guilty feet have got no rhythm

“I love you.”

“What?” He called out over the loud music.

“I’ll tell you later!” 

Never without your love

The song came to an end and everyone was sent off the floor. This time it was girls only. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun played and you both decided to take a break. 

“I got us water.” Warren handed you a cup and you gratefully accepted.

“They’re gonna call up all the guys soon. Wanna go?” 

“If you want, I’m down for whatever.” Warren tossed his empty cup in the trash. 

“They’ll just play the YMCA or whatever. Usually, when they do Peter and Kurt lose their shit— it’s pretty funny.”

“They play what?” Warren asked, a hint of disbelief in his words. 

“The YMCA, Young man.” And just like that, on queue, YMCA started playing. 

“Come on—” Warren held out his hand, “—We can go catch a movie or something afterward.” 

 You took his hand and skated out to the floor.

-

The song ended and most people were starting to leave. You returned your skates in for your shoes. Warren tied his boots, but you didn’t even bother to put your shoes on. 

“Can you drive, babe?” You walked around the parking lot, looking for your car.

“Yeah. You worn out?” 

You tossed him the keys. “Mmm…” You leaned against the car door and wrapped your arms around his neck.  “Just not in the mood to drive.” 

He snickered at your demeanor, “Okay, baby… Hey, what were you gonna tell me earlier? You know, the music was too loud. You said you’d tell me later because I couldn’t hear.” 

“Hmm? Oh… I don’t… I don’t remember.” 

“That so?” He kissed your lips. 

“Uh-huh.” He kissed them again.

“Need a memory refresher?” And again. 

You laughed and shook your head, “I love you, dork.” 

He cupped your face before pressing his lips against yours, with a bit too much passion for a roller skate parking lot. “Love you too, babe.”

Tag list: @marvxlousqueen 

#warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington x reader #warren x reader #angel x reader #warren worthington iii #ben hardy #x-men #x-men x reader #marvel #archangel x reader #ben hardy x reader #roller skating #roller skating date #male x male #mlm #one shot #cute #fluffy #romance #careless whisper #warren worthington iii oneshot #warren worthington iii x male reader

[naerryn]

A Promised Reward

The setting sun hung low on the horizon as I found myself on board, taking a deep breath of the fresh, salty air of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s only been a couple hours since the research ship had left the harbor of Gotham City.

Officially, my small crew and I were charged with the task of collecting samples of micro plastics near the Arctic Ocean. Unofficially, Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox wanted to test a couple new technologies off the radar.

Wayne asked me to supervise the crew and to smoother any suspicion about who would use such technology right in the cradle.

I rested my arms on the railing of the ship, admiring the gorgeous sunset while a soft gust of wind tangled through my hair, making a slight mess out of it. “[Y/N]?”, I heard one of the scientists call out my name, sounding rather out of breath before I turned around on the spot to start screaming my lungs out at the sight in front of me.

The elder man, a small rivulet of blood running out of his mouth and down on his chin, collapsed a couple steps ahead of me on the steely ground. This swift motion cleared the view on two crucial spots.

First, there was an open wound in the back of the scientist, blood running out of it and creating a small puddle of the red liquid. Unattended, he would die within the next couple minutes.

Second, there was a heavy armored figure standing right where he stood, a knife glittering in the light of the dark orange sun. Blood covered the blade.

“LexCorp are sending their regards.”, the deep voice of the hooded figure rang through his helmet and after he finished speaking, more armored intruders climbed up the railing behind him.

Of course we had expected that our little excursion wouldn’t pass completely uneventful, but I would have never thought that trespassers would enter the scene this early. They caught us completely off guard, and I would kick my ass later for being so careless.

“She’s coming with us.”, the first intruder said calmly as he pointed towards me while exchanging glances with one of the masked figures. He got rid of his own helmet, revealing a man in his fifties with a well trimmed beard. The face of the man who ended one of the lives I was responsible for.

“Why?”, another intruder raised his voice, not hiding his surprise of the order he just received from the alleged leader of those hired mercenaries that started to swarm out all over the ship.

The two men stepped closer to each another, the hooded one turned his back to me while my eyes started scanning their equipment and my surroundings. High tech weapons and knifes on their end compared to still unpacked boxes and cases.

I could hide behind the boxes or trying to get past the intruders and either head for the bridge, to send out an SOS, or make a run for the lower deck and get to my cabin. There, all my gear is waiting for me.

All those options had almost zero chances for a success, at least under the current circumstances. The only real option left was playing nice and see what the intruders are up to, hoping to find a loophole somewhere, somehow to reshuffle the pack in my favor.

With a loud groan, the two men separated and the masked one strides directly towards my position. I lifted my gaze to look up to the spot of his helmet where I predicted his eyes as he came to stop right in front if me. The suit looked familiar, but I couldn’t place my finger on where I could have seen that before.

“So, you’re [Y/N]? I am disappointed.”, the sonorous sound of his voice was filled with disdain, only interrupted by the soft click of his helmet being loosened by his gloved fingers.

Under different circumstances, I would have bit my bottom lip rather enchanted by the looks of this man, his dark eyes fixed on mine as as he clenched his helmet between one of his muscular arms and his side. But this was a matter of life and death, I needed a clear head.

“It looks like you’re having a clear advantage over me.”

“Only one?”, he raised an eyebrow in slight amusement, cocking his head to the side as his eyes scanned me from head to toe. In a bar, after a long day at work, I would have batted my eyelashes at him, setting for a drink and some small talk together in a quiet corner. Curious about where this encounter would let to.

‘God, I had to stop those thoughts.’, I told myself silently and shook my head almost invisibly, mirroring his motion as I tilted my head to the side.

“You know who I am. I am, on the other side, completely in the blue who you and the rest of this little undertaking are.”

“That’s unimportant.”

“Son, be more polite to our special guest. No wonder you never”, the voice of the leader was heard over the speakers on board, only interrupted by the death glare the man in front of me shot towards the glass front of the bridge.

“Working with professionals just once would be nice, huh?”

“You have no idea.”, he muttered under his breath, a smirk ghosting over his lips before he gestured me with his gloved free hand to follow him. It took me a little bit by surprise how quickly his mood changed. Either he underestimated me, or they have some cards up their sleeve that I am not yet aware off.

“So, your old man wants me alive at the moment.”, I asked as I followed him towards one entrance to the lower deck, where part of the crew and the more interesting stuff was stored before our departure.

“Stop that. You won’t get any information from me.”

We reached the metallic door to the under deck, the intruder had to lower his head to not pump it against the hard frame and started walking down the stairs. I followed him on the stairs in silence, admiring for a split second how nicely his suit fits his trained body. 

“I saw you in the news.”, he started talking again as I reached the final step of the stairs, looking back at me over his broad shoulders. “For an autograph it would have been enough to contact my PR agency.”, the words slipped my mouth before thinking twice, but thankfully I was rewarded with an amused snort.

“Oh please, why only being satisfied with a piece of paper when I am able to get the real deal? But while we are at it, you don’t know where to find this little merman, right?”, he suddenly came to halt and I ran right into his stone hard back, noticing he didn’t even lost balance the slightest through our collision.

I raised my eyebrows in question, looking up at him while he met my gaze with his dark eyes, again looking back at me over his shoulders and a corner of his mouth curved upwards.

“Professional interest. In my job it’s only a matter of time before our ways cross, and I prefer it to be sooner than later.”, he spoke calmly, almost calculated as he moved around to face me directly.  It’s like he was able to read my mind, but it must have been perfectly clear to him that I would ask him about it before voicing his question.

“Haven’t seen him since Metropolis.”, I answered honestly, shrugging my shoulders and judging the look on his face, he wasn’t pleased with this information. But it was true, I stayed back in Metropolis after helping the Justice League bringing Superman back to life. Wayne wanted me out of the way, in case they would fail and I could try to find people for a second chance against Steppenwolf. Thankfully, that was never necessary, but Louis Lane still made sure I was just as big in the news as the others.

“You know how to contact him?”

“Oh, of course. I will just quickly send a message in our little superhero group chat and see if he’s free today.”

“You’re to full of yourself, [Y/N]. For someone who’s supposed to be one of earth best, you’re doing a poor job right now.”, he growled in a low voice, stepping hovering over me until my back hits the cold metal wall.

“I am avoiding unnecessary violence. But at the end of the hallway, on the right, there’s my cabin and we could get my toys out and play.”, I respond unshaken by his words, but his sharp features dropped within a blink of the eye and his mouth felt slightly open.

Yes, I could have said it differently. Like, a lot. I should have. On the other side, he was now the one caught off guard, but the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. His comrades were close, it was useless to try a hand to hand fight with him.

“I...”, he stuttered, obviously losing his train of thoughts as his voice died on him.

“What do you want from me? Your leader wanted me alive. Why?”

“As a joker, in case someone caught wind of this and your ‘friends’ showed up.”

So, he’ll let information slip when he’s embarrassed. Noted.

“How long have you guys followed us?”

“Ever since the workers started boarding the ship.”

“Why now? Why not waiting for the ship to be even further away from civilization?”,  he stretched his back, taking in a deep breath as he stared me in the eyes, obviously winning back his full senses.

“You looked so calm. Like nothing could ever hurt you. Our employer wanted us to attack when we observe such a behavior. As a wake up call. No one is untouchable.”, his voice was only a soft whisper, and I wondered what changed his mind on not giving me any intel of their mission.

“Still bitter about Metropolis.”, I muttered to myself, coming to conclusion that their reason for hijacking this ship had nothing to do with me, it’s only the scratched ego of a mad man that lead them here.

“You guys know Luthor is only using you to do his dirty work.”

“He’s paying good. Very good. And we can keep everything we find on this ship. Call it a business opportunity we couldn’t miss out.”, I slowly swayed my head from side to side, weighting their options as Lex Luthor must have approached them with his offer.

“I would have done it to. But why killing the scientist? What about the rest of the crew?”

“He’s the whistle-blower. My old man doesn’t like rats. The rest of the crew is fine. We’re only interested in the... toys.”, he let the last word roll of his tongue with a clouded look in his eyes, moistening his lips with swift motion of his tongue. His eyes never left mine.

And then, I felt something cold on my right wrist, followed by a faint clicking sound. Handcuffs. Lovely.

“I wasn’t aware you’re into this stuff.”

“No, but it will keep you busy for a while. Specially made by Luthor. Buys us enough time to get a comfortable headstart before you can call for help or even follow us yourself.”

Letting his words sink in, another realization hit me, harder then the first one a moment ago. I felt for a cliché.

“Fuck.”

“Bad guy reveals his evil plans, so the hero has enough time to come up with a plan and save the day. Just, this time it brought us the time to get everything we want off this ship and the hero looking even more like an idiot.”, stepping backwards, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, he juggled his helmet around and rested his back against the wall in front of me.

Now I couldn’t even kick him if I wanted to, he was out of reach for me.

“But an attractive idiot. The pictures definitely doesn’t come close to the real beauty.”

“David, are you done playing around?”, another voice filled the air, we looked up to the stairs at the same time to notice that their leader standing in the middle of the staircase. The elder intruder called the man in front of me son earlier, and now looking at both of them, there was definitely a remarkable resemblance between those two men. Father and Son. Partners in crime.

“Yeah, let’s head out of here.”, the younger man said, likely going by the name of David, if it’s not a cover up. Both man started moving, but David didn’t head for the stairs directly. Instead, he moved right in front of me and his hot breath hitting my face. A smug smile gracing his lips. He won, we both know it.

Cupping my face on one side with his gloved free hand, David let his thumb run over my bottom lip before leaning in, his lips now right next to one of my ears.

“Catch me if you can. I would like to see the marvelous [Y/N] in action. Sweating, heavy breathing. Calling out for me.”, he purred in a low growl, his lips ghosted over my sensitive skin as he backed off and started walking up the stairs before stepping out of my sight.

I felt this wouldn’t be the last time I encounter this man, David. But for now, I had to get rid of this god damn handcuffs and get a hold of someone.

#dc comics imagine #dc imagine #dceu imagine #black manta #black manta x reader #david kane #david kane x reader #aquaman #aquaman imagine #imagine #reader insert

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 5

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, opulence, the island of Ibiza which tbh should come with a warning label

WC: 5.5k

Andrew sighs, loud and dramatic through his nose so he looks like an adorable little aggravated dragon. Ginny pats his shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

“It’s gonna be fine, love. I promise no one…” She pauses, considering what exactly she’s willing to promise to her boss, “...Will get arrested.”

Andrew grunts and it’s almost pained-sounding. Their gazes are drawn by a loud whooping and laughing from the group of men behind them. Ginny peeks over Andrew’s shoulder at the already rowdy squadron of bachelor party-bound men with a whisper of a conspiratorial grin. It rights into a confident, optimistic, responsible smile when Andrew looks back at her.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, I trust you, it’s two days, it’ll be fine.”

Ginny’s brows lift. “Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”

Andrew huffs again and Ginny can see him start to scroll through the list of reasons building in his head that maybe he really should skip those meetings in LA and just go with them and --

“Andrew, it’s two days,” Ginny assures him. Andrew seems to settle again. He and Ginny exchange a hug and with a few calls of ‘good luck’ and ‘no felonies’ to the guys, he’s out the automatic doors of the private terminal at Toronto Pearson.

Shawn is the first to notice Ginny’s unoccupied. He turns from the group and smirks at her. She wiggles her eyebrows and glides over to him.

“You ready, mate?” she teases, looping her arms behind her back.

Shawn laughs. “Definitely not.”

Ginny giggles along. “Smart boy. I didn’t plan this stag do with the intention of us making it out alive.”

Shawn makes only half an attempt to disguise the awe on his face as she skips away to wrangle everyone.

Shawn’s wedding gift to Josiah is the bachelor party of the century, and Ginny’s gift is to plan it. He told her to use his black card and when she asked about a budget he just shrugged weakly.

“Go nuts, Gin.”

That was his first mistake.

The second, he’s thinking, while he watches her strong-arm the already tipsy band of six twenty-something guys to their chartered jet, is not backing out when Josiah insisted Ginny come along.

She tried to demure her way out of it, insisting it was her gift to him, that she was perfectly fine planning it and not coming along, but Josiah dug his heels in.

“Honestly, Gin, if you don’t come, Shawn’s going to be the default responsible one.”

At that, Ginny blinked in horror and agreed.

It’s not that Shawn doesn’t want to hang out with Ginny, obviously. He’s just… it’s a weekend in Ibiza on private jets in fancy villas drinking and dancing and wearing very few clothes. It just might be tricky.

Tricky. An understatement, he thinks with a wince.

He finds himself chanting in his head the same words Andrew was muttering to himself only moments before. They’re drowned out by the music already playing on Geoff’s Bluetooth speaker as he steps onto the plane, the last of the group.

They’re spread out among the seats as the stewardess, thankfully already chuckling at them instead of looking annoyed and full of dread, takes drink orders. Shawn smiles at her when she walks past and murmurs for a beer with a quiet “thank you” that has her blushing and heading for the galley with her head ducked.

He turns back to see Ginny holding court. She’s gripping two seats, standing in the center of the aisle, laughing at something Josiah said and grinning wickedly. When she whistles through her fingers, she gets the attention she wants easily. The bleary eyes of the boys settle on her and their mouths seal shut. She relishes their reverent silence before she speaks.

“Gentlemen,” she begins in her silky West London brogue, “We’ve gathered this weekend for a very special occasion. Our good friend Josiah,” She pauses to allow for raucous applause and shrieking, “Has met the love of his sweet little life, Sami.”

“SAMIIIIIII!!!!!” Chris, one of Josiah’s hometown buddies, cries from the far end of the plane, beer in hand. The boys laugh and lift their various beverages in a toast to the bride-to-be.

“And to celebrate this glorious union,” Ginny continues, hamming it up for her audience, “We retreat to the one place on earth more suited to a stag do than Sin City -- the island of Ibiza.”

They’re eating up her theatrics, Shawn included. He howls along with the rest of them, drumming the flat of his hand on the leather seat in front of him. He feels a surge of adrenaline. They were already excited, but Ginny’s ringleader speech has got them fucking wired.

“So, boys,” She lifts her bottle with a quirk of an eyebrow, “Here’s to Josiah, may we keep him alive to see his wedding day.”

The group laughs and gathers to knock their bottles in cheers. Josiah, being Josiah, manages to clink his bottle in one hand while taking a picture with the other. He stows his phone and commands the group’s attention before they stray.

“And to Ginny for planning it!” he barks, swinging an arm around her neck to drag her onto the couch next to him, planting a kiss on her temple. The boys cheer again, seeming to never tire of a reason to scream about something.

Ginny stays where she is and Shawn feels her distance. He inches closer, shifting from seat to seat in what he hopes is a somewhat subtle way until he’s buckling into the seat beside hers with a sheepish grin.

“Hey, you,” she greets, pleased to see him. Shawn beams back. Sometimes Ginny’s attention feels like the sun -- warm, life-giving, essential. When he doesn’t have it, he craves it like a junkie.

He sits back in his seat and watches the runway past her curls as they begin to taxi.

“Thanks again for doing this,” he murmurs earnestly. It feels especially intimate over the bounce of “Careless” by Dusky on the speakers. Ginny turns her head from the window. She flashes that dangerous smile again that makes him shift in his seat.

“Don’t say that until see your next credit card statement.” She clinks the neck of her bottle against his. Shawn rolls his eyes and forces himself to look away from her.

+

If the flight is any indication as to the way the rest of this weekend is going, Ginny will have her hands full.

Getting them drunk on the plane was a strategy. The flight was long enough for them to get drunk and sober up again, long enough for her to observe their drunken behavior in a closed, controlled environment. She had to study up.

Chris is a sleepy drunk, he should be easy enough. Jack is a happy, loud, laughing drunk. Gabe is somehow both sleepy and loud all at once.

Geoff, Shawn and Josiah are no mystery, though. Geoff is rowdy, the troublemaker. Josiah is affectionate and happy and… sloppy. Shawn?

Shawn’s a tricky drunk.

It makes sense. He’s such a good boy most of the time. He gets told to be places all day every day. He’s nice to everyone all the time. He’s under insane pressure and refuses to crack. So when he’s got some whiskey in his system, he’s like an easily distracted giant Pomeranian puppy with too much energy. He bounces around, dances, laughs, bolts away from the group on his long, powerful legs just to be obnoxious. He’s a pain in the ass right until he crashes and then? Then he’s impossible.

At least on the plane when he crashes, they don’t have anywhere to be. Ginny remembers once before they got together that he once crashed in the cab heading back to a hotel in Madrid and Ginny had to physically drag him, mumbling and mostly asleep, out of the car. He’s a heavy nightmare when he crashes.

Ginny is a mom drunk. She can seem like she’s trashed, having as much fun as everyone else, getting just as rowdy and wild, but the moment someone responsible is needed, she snaps into sobriety so fast it’s like she never had a drink at all. It’s handy with people like Hannah and Shawn, both of whom will whine at her to “drink more! Catch up!” if they feel insecure about being drunker than she is. Plus, both Hannah and Shawn get tricky at the most inconvenient times.

Just before the crash, Ginny feels it in the air and passes out water bottles and aspirin. No hangovers on day one, she won’t allow it. She plants herself in her seat next to Shawn looking very self-satisfied as she turns down the music. She props her feet up on the edge of Josiah’s seat while he naps, head tilted, long, silky hair billowing with each of his heavy, gin-soaked breaths.

Shawn looks up from her warm brown legs and smiles drowsily. She mimes sipping water and he obeys, his tricky Gremlin side stowed for the time being.

“Were you the mom friend for Hannah’s bachelorette party?” he slurs.

Ginny tilts her head at his voice and laughs. “I was.”

Shawn grumbles under his breath and starts peeling at the wrapper on his bottle. Ginny lifts her eyebrows and hums. He sighs.

“You should let loose more, Gin. Let someone else be repson-- I mean… respond… responsible.”

He’s so cute. Ginny wants to lean over and squeeze his ruddy cheeks. She giggles, flexes and points her feet in flower printed Keds. Her legs are so long. Have they always been that long? He drunkenly wonders.

“Oh yeah? And who would you nominate in my place, then? Geoff?”

Shawn snorts and knocks his knees together, swinging them back and forth so they bump into hers.

“No. Geoff would kill us all.”

They share a glance at Geoff whose face is smashed into a pillow propped up against a window. His arms are crossed. They snicker in unison until Shawn looks back at Ginny. He tilts his head back and sighs dramatically.

“I could be resp--”

“You can’t even pronounce responsible, love.”

Shawn’s smile is slow-spreading and so sexy Ginny’s thighs press together. God, her legs are looooooooon--

Wait.

“You haven’t called me ‘love’ since before we broke up.”

Ginny’s head jerks at the rapid change of subject. She blinks quickly. “What?”

“You used to call me ‘love,’” he explains with another sigh, like slowing down to catch her up is totally cramping his style, “All the time. Even before we were together. And when we broke up you stopped.”

Ginny’s lips come together as if sucked in by the corners. Shawn studies them, imagining if he pressed a napkin against them he’d come away with a perfect lip print. He remembers her lipstick is long wearing and huffs.

“I won’t call you that then,” she replies breezily, reaching for her water bottle.

“‘S fine,” Shawn says with a shrug, knocking his knees back and forth again, slumping down further in his seat, “I don’t mind.”

Ginny’s face softens. She takes a slug from her water bottle and picks at her own label. They’re quiet for a few seconds. Ginny looks over, inhales to speak, but the words stop in her throat when she sees him asleep, pouty lips parted, head hanging heavy against his shoulder. She blinks slowly and sinks her teeth into her lower lip. She presses her finger into the recline button on his armrest that sends him slowly, gently into a more comfortable position. He settles in, smacks his lips and wriggles until he’s comfortable. Ginny sips more water to feel like her heart isn’t exploding out of her chest.

She’s mostly successful in keeping the hangovers at bay by the time they land. Due to her excellent planning, the massive dark-windowed SUV is waiting for them on the tarmac. The boys’ praise is slightly less enthusiastic than pre-flight, chalked up to the fact that they’re still recovering from their mile high party.

It’s another story when they pull up to the villa.

Climbing past expansive Spanish style chateaus and gaudy marvels of architecture, they arrive outside a two-level modern mansion planted on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. It’s gleaming white against the battling blues of sky and sea, dotted with massive windows, floor-to-ceiling on the side of the house that faces the infinity pool, which seems to spill straight into the water below.

The praise is ebullient as they roam the house -- “look at this fucking fridge though!” “Is that an infinity pool?!” “Fuck, we’re never fucking leaving!”

Shawn watches with pride that he supposes isn’t really his to feel when Josiah sweeps Ginny into a swinging hug on the deck overlooking the pool. When they separate, Ginny looks to Shawn automatically and his heart gives a squeeze, like she’s waiting for his approval.

He grins and holds out an arm. She hurries up the stairs to tuck herself under it, wrapping her arm around his waist as they look out at the idiots gleefully throwing themselves fully clothed into the 82-degree pool.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that right?” Shawn offers, quietly enough that it’s just hers. She chews on her lips and cocks her head like a bashful puppy.

“He deserves a kickass stag,” she replies, like anyone would’ve and could’ve done this. Shawn squeezes the arm around her shoulders.

“And you deserve a goddamn crown for this.”

He swipes his thumb affectionately over the skin of her bare shoulder just once before letting her go, running to launch himself, $250 jeans, Chelsea boots and all, into the deep end, jackknife style.

Ginny squeals, laughing heartily with the rest of the guys as he pops back up, shaking his head like a wet labradoodle. This time it’s his turn to look back to her for approval. She lifts her arms over her head to clap. He preens, splashing around, insisting she jump after him.

It doesn’t take much coaxing for Ginny to kick off her Keds and send herself after the screaming boys by way of the best cannonball any of them has ever seen. She emerges into a wall of rowdy boy voices over the pounding of “One Kiss.” She floats on her back, closing her eyes at the almost throbbing cornflower shade of the sky, not feeling Shawn’s eyes from a few feet away.

+

The night, as is everything else, is pre-planned perfectly. After a few hours of romping in the pool, hitting a joint rather inexpertly rolled by Chris, they retreat to their rooms to nap. Ginny wakes up around 8pm to Shawn plucking at his guitar quietly, wandering around the house like a traveling minstrel.

Dinner is a truly terrifying amount of pizza ordered to the house eaten in the outdoor lounge with the day’s football highlights (in Spanish, of course) on the TV. Ginny mutters bitterly, as is customary, about Arsenal’s “chronic full back problem” through tiny bites of pizza and huge slugs of Stella.

By around 11, pizza and beer are put aside for harder stuff. Some switch to liquor, some carry on with weed, everyone gets ready for their first night out.

Shawn, in signature black skinnies, Chelsea boots and a silky black button up, finished his hair routine earlier than expected and wanders the west end of the house aimlessly, pretending to study the odd modern art and furniture. He’s fiddling with his necklace and second guessing his bracelet choice when he hears her voice.

Shawn follows the lilting sound of it singing The Temptations down a hallway he doesn’t even think he’s found yet because god, this place is huge, like he’s Prince Philip searching for Aurora in the forest. He finds her door and knocks twice with a light rap of his knuckles.

“Come in!”

Shawn lets himself in and gravitates to her, glowing in the slightly orange light of her bathroom. With a tube of MAC lipstick and her vape pen in one hand, Ginny is hovering about two inches from the mirror, her finger poking at her eye.

“Hiya,” she hums, wincing when she makes a jab that misses its target. He wrinkles his nose and steps closer.

“What are you doing?”

Ginny recedes from the mirror and blinks, moving her finger. There’s an uneven patch of gold leaf clinging partly to the inner corner, partly to her finger. Shawn chuckles. She pouts.

“Looked easy on YouTube…” she defends weakly, leaning back in to the mirror, closing one heavily mascara-ed eye to focus on fixing the other. Shawn watches her prod a few more times before he steps in with a clearing of his throat.

“Kay, let me try?”

He’s tugging on her arm and leaning in before she can answer. She flutters both eyes shut and feels the gentle pressure of his fingertip in the corner of her eye, adjusting gently until he’s satisfied.

“There.”

Ginny looks up. His smile is placid, his cheeks are pink. She blinks quickly and checks the mirror. He matched the other eye perfectly. She grins.

“For that you’ve earned a hit of this.” She offers the vape pen with a wink. Shawn accepts it, inhaling deeply, holding the vapor in for a few seconds and releasing it slowly behind her as she swipes on her lipstick.

He likes watching her get ready, always has. He used to be a bigger pain in the ass, standing behind her, sucking on her earlobe while she was trying to apply eyeliner or something. These days he stands back and watches her work.

While she’s distracted by carefully outlining the plump curves of her lips, he can check her out subtly. She’s in a deep maroon crop top and clingy skirt set that makes her deep caramel skin seem to shimmer. She smells like her coconut body oil, the only kind of fragrance she ever wears. Her curls are springy and bright. She’s unabashedly tall in strappy platforms that have her at his height even without her hair.

She’s fucking radiant. He won’t say a word about it.

She pulls back from the mirror for a look. She’s abandoned her signature red matte lipstain tonight for a dark burgundy shade that matches her outfit and sports a glossier finish. It makes him lick his lips and try not to wish he was licking hers. He tells himself it’s the weed talking. He takes another hit from her pen.

“Gonna share, Mendes?” she prompts.

You? Never.

Yep, the weed is going to his head. He hands off the pen willingly and watches her lipstick leave a splotch of her behind before she tucks it into her little clutch and leads him outside.

He’s got to shake this. He’s been so good about not indulging in his feelings, all of them, any of them, that pertained to her. Up until this weekend. They’ve had six months of good, solid recovery time since the break up. With the way his mind is babbling at him right now, it’s like it wants him to fuck all that up. He can’t let that happen.

At least not until he knows he’s ready for her.

He accepts the swig of scotch from the flask Geoff offers him as they’re piling into the car to take them to their first stop, Pacha.

A flash of Shawn’s smile is all it takes to get them ushered quickly to their reserved table in the VIP section behind the DJ booth. Once again, the boys look impressed, so Ginny sits smugly with her legs crossed, gazing around the club. It’s high season in Ibiza -- Pacha will be filled to capacity all night with a line snaking around the block until they close at 6am. They won’t stay that long, they have another table waiting for them at Amnesia, a 15 minute drive inland.

This is not Ginny’s first tangle with the White Isle. She’s been flying out for weekends here and there since she was 17. Ibiza has long been a favorite of Ginny’s and Hannah’s, but Ginny has never experienced it like this. Like everything else that comes with Shawn, it’s a step above. The table is already littered with booze. A very attentive and attractive waitress makes herself available immediately. She watches Shawn grin up at her politely and order a whiskey ginger, and then looks to the waitress to watch her shoulders drop, her smile spread and her giggle rise up in her throat. Ginny tries not to roll her eyes.

“Take it easy, Mendes, the megawatt smile is a lot for the uninitiated to take.”

Shawn’s at the part of the night where he smirks at her instead of blushing and insisting he’s just being polite, that he doesn’t know what she could possibly mean by that. He sits back in his chair and bites at the inside of his lip.

“Uninitiated? What does the initiation involve?”

Ginny plays along, leaning across to him as she thinks. He watches her eyes turn up to the light rigging in the ceiling and lets himself indulge in admiring her.

“Well first comes the superstar smile. Once you can handle that without your knees turning jello-y, you come up against the gentle Canadian boy modesty and the ‘eh’s and ‘a-boats’ that come with it,” She pauses to watch Shawn tip his head back and laugh hard, “And the trifecta. That laugh that makes me want to put on a performance and make you laugh all day long. I’d raise hell for that laugh.”

The silence that follows is as charged as the room around them that they ignore. They stare at each other in a way they haven’t in months. Neither looks away while they try to understand the moment, and even more so, try to make it last because neither of them knows when they’ll get the chance to look at each other this way without the possibility of getting caught by the people that constantly surround them.

Ginny breaks first, being the more sober of the two. She clears her throat and tucks a hand through her hair, scrunching some curls back into place. Shawn keeps watching.

The chance of being caught by friends or fans is very low. First of all, their friends have scattered to explore the pulsing club, scouting for girls or for other celebrities. Secondly, Shawn is not nearly the most interesting famous person in the room tonight. On their way into the VIP section, Ginny spotted at least half the cast of The Only Way is Essex plus Martin Garrix plus Paris Hilton and their corresponding crews, all of whom attract more attention than the sweet Canadian kid who doesn’t get tricky until at least three drinks in.

Ginny stops Shawn just short of “tricky” and gathers the boys into the car again to skip off to Amnesia. They stick together this time, tucked away in another VIP booth that feels more private than the first. Ginny is bouncing Euro coins off the table and landing them in her friends’ drinks with a wild gleam in her eye. When she catches him watching her, she slips him a coin of his own with a wink.

The coin corresponds with drink number four. Shawn gets creative, positioning a coin on one end of a spoon and smacking the other to aim it at his friends’ foreheads. When he gets Chris in the eye, Ginny takes the coin back, plucks it out of Shawn’s scrabbling fingers as he apologizes profusely.

David Guetta goes on at 3am for a special set and gets the rest of the guys off their asses to dance. Shawn, even at his trickiest, doesn’t get on the dance floor. Ginny usually can be persuaded, but tonight, she hangs back with him, her chin propped on the table as she flips the coin against the surface by pressing onto the edge with her thumbnail.

She’s mouthing the words to “Titanium” but her chin is flat to the table so her head bobs oddly as she opens and closes her mouth. In his drunken state, Shawn is mesmerized. The motion of it, rather inconveniently, reminds Shawn of other times when he watched her head bob rhythmically like that.

“Hey, do you remember the last time we had sex?”

Ginny looks up, looking less startled than he imagines they would if they were both sober. She pulls her brows together and looks thoughtful.

“I think so. The first night in Tokyo.”

Of course she remembers. She’s Ginny. She remembers everything.

Shawn turns his head down guiltily to his lap. “I don’t really remember.”

Ginny smiles at her secret. She presses the pad of her thumb into the coin and decides to ignore potential consequences of getting into this with him.

“We were unpacking in Tokyo. You couldn’t keep your hands off me,” she relays with a smirk. He doesn’t argue. That sounds like him.

“You were mumbling something into my neck about the schedule for the next few days but you pushed your hand into my leggings at the same time. I kissed you and told you we can either talk schedule or fuck, but we couldn’t do both at once.”

Shawn grins at the memory she’s dug out of his subconscious. “I picked fuck.”

“You certainly did.”

Ginny doesn’t choose to elaborate further about the way he grunted with each heavy stroke into her body, that he felt like he was chasing something down inside her and she was willing and eager to let him try. Ginny lowers her gaze, thinking now that whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

“Sometimes with stuff like that you wish you knew it was the last time,” Shawn muses.

Ginny swallows awkwardly against the table and lifts her head. She props up her elbows and knows her brain will shift to overanalysis when she’s sober about the fact that he basically just admitted that he wasn’t planning for very long to end things with her. There’s a lot to unpack there.

“You remember the last time we kissed?” he prods. She looks up again. She shakes her head.

“Me neither,” Shawn breathes, “You deserved more from me.”

Her eyes flutter shut. She doesn’t know why he’s talking like this and she doesn’t know why she’s not stopping him.

Her eyes startle open again when she feels his fingers link with hers across the table. She looks down at them because it’s safer than looking at him.

“Let me give you something good, Gin.”

She’s nodding before he even says her name. When she looks up, he’s leaning halfway over their table, scooping his hand under her chin to press his lips to hers. Despite his intoxication, he’s smooth and slow and molten hot, murmuring gently into her mouth before he sucks on her lower lip and releases her.

“Oh god, yes,” Ginny moans, reaching up to yank him back in by his collar for more.

Shawn’s lips are wet and swollen; he’s been chewing on them all night. They’re both drunkenly panting into the kiss, it’s not a particularly sexy kiss to witness, but to them, it’s everything they’ve been craving since they let each other go last year.

Shawn grunts when he tries to get closer and feels the edge of the table jut into his ribs. He pries himself away long enough to scurry around it and climb into the booth next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and sucking her back in.

If they don’t think about it, it’s not bad. This does not have to be a disaster. This can be just a bachelor weekend thing, the equivalent of them hooking up with strangers, only it’s safer because Shawn runs a risk any time he takes home someone who could open her mouth and blab about it on the internet. This way, with Ginny, he’s safe.

Plus, they’re just making out. No way this leads to fucking. I mean, it could. And maybe that wouldn’t be so bad either. Not unrecoverable, at least. It’s just fucking. It’s a biological imperative. And after all, who are Ginny and Shawn to turn their noses up at biology?

Shawn sucks at her tongue and makes her moan into his mouth like a porn star. She actually feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up from where she’s raking her fingers through his curls.

“Goddamn, we leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re trying to swallow each other in public,” Geoff groans from over Shawn’s shoulder. Shawn’s closed eyes squeeze and he pulls away to Ginny’s cheek. When he collects himself, he turns his head to glare at Geoff.

“What do you want?”

Geoff looks delighted to have interrupted. He nods back to Gabe and Jack who have one of Josiah’s arms over each shoulder.

“Time to go. Groom to be’s had it.”

Shawn looks back to Ginny who, in true Ginny form, already has her phone out texting the car service to meet them in the VIP pickup area.

They stay close, though. Ginny hands him a napkin to swipe at the purple lipstick all over the lower half of his face, but she doesn’t drift. While they wait for the car, she even lets him kiss her again, and it’s less frantic and hungry than in the club. It feels more like it did when they didn’t know which kiss would be their last. Shawn likes it better this way.

They continue kissing in the car, ignoring the barfing noises the other guys mime to drown out the wet sucking noises of their lips. They kiss at the front entrance while Ginny hands Jack the keys to the villa. They kiss while they walk down the hall all the way up to where Ginny presses Shawn into his door and nips at his lower lip to feel him growl one more time.

She slides her long fingered hands up his chest and pushes away. Her bleary eyes meet his. He looks half fucked, lips almost comically swollen and again smeared heavily with her lipstick that he’s licking at like it’s melting ice cream, eyes glassy, hair a wreck. He looks like a caricature of someone who’s been necking for 45 minutes.

Ginny takes a deep breath and nods once, all business. “Goodnight, Shawn.”

She twists his door handle and lets him stumble backwards inside enough for her to close it behind him and disappear, clomping away in her loud shoes to her own room.

+

Ginny wakes with a start at the sound of a splash from the pool. Her shoulders clench, her back tenses, her fingers tighten around their grip on the pillow she’s smashed her face into. Her heart sprints for a minute until she recognizes she is, in fact, alone.

She pushes up on her hands, sniffs and sighs. She’s stark naked, having shed her clothes in a haphazard line from door to bed. When she opens her eyes, she winces at the sight of her pillow, which looks like her face melted into it -- patches of foundation, mascara and lipstick dotted with two bits of gold leaf right where her eyes would’ve been.

Thank god she went to bed alone. It is her only mercy from the night before.

She stumbles into the shower and scrubs at what remains of her face. Tequila leaks out of her pores. She throws on a red cotton romper that skims the swell of her ass and goes outside to find the boys and hydrate.

Half are lazing in the pool playing more EDM that for some reason sounds a lot less appealing than it did yesterday, half are sitting under the cover of the outdoor lounge. Someone made bloody marys. Someone ordered breakfast burritos. Ginny grabs a water bottle and makes a beeline for Shawn, splayed on a couch in a t-shirt and boxers with his guitar in his lap.

“We are morons,” she announces on her approach, flopping down across from him, propping her feet up and taking a sip.

“Fucking idiots,” he agrees without looking up at her, bobbing his head as he riddles out a melody.

“We’re ok, though, right? No feelings hurt?” she checks, ignoring the wailing voice in her head that reminds her of her own stupid feelings.

Shawn does look up now, an easy smile on his lips, smooth from practice, a smile that doesn’t hint at all at the crying of the voice in his own head. “All good. No worries, Gin.”

The day is lazy. There’s napping, smoking, football and more bad takeout. Night two is at Ushuaia and it goes unspoken that Ginny and Shawn are to stay sober and, more importantly, away from each other.

They’re successful. Ginny shimmies in body glitter and a rusty orange bikini. Shawn is in a tank top and skinny jeans again and the body glitter he borrows is his idea, not hers, and he doesn’t ask her to help him put it on. They stay ten feet from each other all night, spinning like tops, trying not to be the one who falls down first.

Please help cure my Ibiza hangover and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist:  @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @stillinskislydia @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisathot @sinplisticshawn @mutuallynotmutual @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fluff #drunk!shawn

[happysunshinebois]

Hey I know you're probably swamped with requests, but I figured I might as well ask. If you're up for it can you do a RFA+ reaction hc thing for the RFA walking in on MC dancing and singing to Careless Whisper? I love that song so much and I'm always singing it when it comes on now matter where I am lol thanks!

Hi hello this is so long overdue I’m so sorry. You were like one of my first requests. This was honestly so much fun to write and you got me into Careless Whisper so bad I literally listened to the 10 hr version bc I needed to listen and also I loved it so thank you so much. I hope these scenarios are good! I tried to mix some things up so they weren’t all the same but I hope you like them nonetheless! 

Zen:

As the music dies something in your eyes calls to mind a silver screen and all it’s sad goodbyes

Some backstory: he had to learn this song for a performance, he has a routine and everything and he remembers all of it

But he puts the choreography this time and when he walks in after hearing the song and your door being cracked open

He’s a little surprised to see you fluidly dancing around the room with an invisible partner and when you switch to “playing the sax”, he has to stifle a laugh

He doesn’t know how you haven’t noticed him standing in your doorway yet

But he crosses his arms, leans on the door frame, and watches you with the softest expression on his face and love in his eyes

You eventually spot him out of the corner of your eye and are only a little startled

Definitely didn’t fall on your butt or anything 

Zen chuckles and walks over to you, holding out his hand

As you take it, he restarts the song on your speaker and takes the place of the “invisible” partner you were so lovingly dancing with before

Seven:

I should have known better than to cheat a friend and waste the chance that I’d been given so I’m never gonna dance again the way I danced with you

Maybe it’s better this way we’d hurt each other with the things we want to say

As soon as he walks through the door, he hears the first few sax notes and he rushes towards you, whips out a sax, and proceeds to play the entire solo

This is the only thing he knows how to play on the saxophone, trust me on this

You’re loudly mouth singing the sax solo in various “Bow now now now”s and bouncing across the floor

Alternately

He’s always taken the lyrics to heart, especially when it comes to you

So when he walks in on you singing and dramatically acting and dancing along with the lyrics, he starts to hum along and eventually makes his way into your arms

You sway together and hold each other just as tightly as the other

You know

If he’s in a more lighthearted mood (or feels more sure in your relationship), the two of you dramatically act out the song together, not really taking the lyrics to heart

The surveillance camera in the living room captured it all

Yoosung:

To the heart and mind ignorance is kind

I feel so unsure as I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor

He’d been back and forth between playing LOLOL and studying for his upcoming finals

And man are finals brutal

You know that

He knows that

And tbh between all the commotion, it feels like he hasn’t spent time with you properly

Quick meals, a peck on the cheek as one of you rushes out the door, and legs sometimes brushing if you’re both at the kitchen table studying together

So when he rips off his headphones and lets out a long sigh, he realizes all he really wants to do is hold you in his arms

The trickle of music is playing from your room and he can’t help it so he sneaks on over and when he sees you swaying with your arms wrapped around yourself and singing the lyrics, he’s just in awe at your beauty and how you somehow seem so easygoing

He sways himself over to you to the sound of your voice and lightly taps your shoulder

He’s standing very close

Half of it is just that he wants to cover his blushing face

As your singing falters, his picks up with the lyrics and he wraps his arms around you

A wide grin breaks out on your face as you wrap your arms around him and the two of you spin yourselves around the room, laughing, singing and yelling the lyrics, and at the end, falling onto the bed

You both try to catch your breath but your soft giggles take much more air than expected

You roll over and throw an arm over his waist and he cups your face gently in his hands, looking at you with love in his eyes and blush over his cheeks

You both hum the chorus until you fall asleep

Jumin:

I’m never gonna dance again guilty feet have got no rhythm though it’s easy to pretend i know you’re not a fool

He’d been away on yet another business trip and no matter how much you tried, he insisted that as much as he’d love you to, it’d be better and safer for you at home

It was only a week

A week without you

It’s fine

….

It wasn’t fine

You sent texts rapidly to each other and calls when you could

You were even able to get a few video calls in

On the fifth day of his trip, he could hardly take it anymore

It took all his self control just to not fly back to you immediately

Somehow five days felt more like months

He called you to video chat late that night

He expected that you’d answer

What he didn’t expect was for a blaringly loud sax solo to come bursting through his laptop speakers

He was shocked to say the least, but then he settled for looking at you in admiration through the screen

“…Guilty feet have got no rhythm!! Up, my love, you’re dancing with me!”

He thought it best not to argue, but he wasn’t about to go waltzing around his hotel room with his laptop in his arms

….

Until that’s exactly what he started doing

If he couldn’t hold you, then this would have to do

“MC, would you please move your face closer to the camera?”

You did so quizzically, still singing out the words in heavy breaths from dancing around your room

Once you realized he practically had you in his arms (as much as he could long distance), you quickly picked up your laptop as well and spun round and round as Jumin did the same

Your face flushed knowing he missed you as much as you missed him and as your motions slowed you blew him a kiss and he acted as if he caught it through the screen, even if he was hundreds of miles away

He made sure for every time he was away for long, he’d call you and the two of you would pick up your laptops and dance with each other to this song

(Also I picked this GIF bc I liked how they were different colors and separate so it kinda gave the vibe that they’re together but in different places, ye?)

Jaehee:

We could have been so good together we could have lived this dance forever

The song had come on in the coffee shop, in the middle of your shift

*LOUD GASP*

“MC, what’s wrong????”

Baehee is confusion

You don’t startle too many customers

Tbh they find it kind of funny and it gives the cafe some personality

Jaehee admires how much of the song you knew and just watches in

She hadn’t heard it until today, but she makes sure to slip it into the cafe playlist more often than not, just to see your face light up the same every time

You catch on eventually to what she’s doing and while you’re both closing down one day, the song comes on

You’re facial expression turns determined and you oh so gracefully rip her away from whatever task she’s doing and guide her to the cleared space

You make that face, like you’re up to something but she finds it humorous and goes along with it

You twirl her and move your way around her like it’s a performance, belting the lyrics and dramatically recreating the “scenes”

It makes her giggle and she hums along to the tune

She glides her hand from your elbow down to your hand and holds it tenderly with her own

She won’t admit that the two of you didn’t get out of the cafe until about midnight but what’s a girl to do when all she wants to do is hold you and see you smile?

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme headcanons #mysmes #yoosung #jumin #seven #saeyoung choi #jaehee #zen #ill try to get on a better schedule #maybe post more than once every six months oof