#accidentally made him extremely shiver coded

[natypinkns]

had this octopus design in mind for like a year. finally came around to properly drawing him

#splatoon #splatoon oc #grim #<- thanku kell for the name suggestion <3 #adding another lesbian 2 my collection #accidentally made him extremely shiver coded #btw hes from bennus past in the domes. they were besties but also it was Bad and they dont talk anymore

[rendy-a]

Here it is! The winner of the reverse trope poll: Accidentially kidnapping a mafia boss! I had a lot of fun writing it and hope you enjoy it as well!

An Accidental Deal

'Think of the puppies and kittens,' you tell yourself sternly. You stand outside of Ramshackle Shelter and try to psych yourself up for this confrontation. Countless affirmations run through your head. You can do this! The question still remains in your head; when they arrive, will you be able to do it?

The news has been tremendously shocking to all the volunteers: Ramshackle Shelter was all but sold to an entrepreneur to build a branch of a popular ocean-themed cafe. You'd heard of Mostro Lounge but never dared go to such a place. Not because the cafe wasn't nice sounding, no, it was due to the owner. It was an open secret among the residents of your city that the sly restaurateur Azul Ashengrotto was, in fact, mafia boss Don Azul. And now that scummy bastard was this close to shutting down your shelter.

You'd protested at city hall to block the zoning (failure), written to the paper to get the community to object (failure) and tried to raise funds to buy the place yourself (failure). Now, you were down to extreme measures only. So, this was it; you were really going to kidnap someone. You pat the pocket of your jacket where you have a cloth soaked in chemicals to knock someone out. Just one small thing stands in your way, abject fear.

Don Azul was terrifying. You'd expected an aura of danger and power, but when you saw the teal-haired gentleman step from the limo and adjust his hat, you realized you'd grossly underestimated him. He looks like he could bite your arm off... and would probably enjoy it. By contrast, the silver-haired fellow who emerges next in plain shirt sleeves seems far more kidnappable. 'Why can't you be Don Azul?' you think sadly. You watch from your alley hiding spot as the formidable Don and his secretary(?) head inside to inspect the building.

You hurriedly cross the street and slip into the side entrance. You had all the access codes from your years of volunteering, so it was easy for you to navigate the halls quietly and arrive behind the little inspection party. The two men were talking, and the secretary was gesturing in a way that made you feel like they were discussing how to set up the space. After they threw you and the animals out. You grit your teeth and scowl silently at the figure of Don Azul and pat your pocket again; he'd get what was coming to him soon enough.

Then, in a moment that takes your breath away, Don Azul looks up and into a mirror on the wall. For a moment, you think you meet his mis-matched eyes. You feel your heartbeat race as you enter panic mode. Then the Don sneezes, which breaks the illusion. You back your way down the hall and into a storeroom. Maybe you couldn't do this after all. There was no way you could face down that man when you couldn't even stand to meet his gaze.

You need a Plan B. Fast. The adrenaline causes you to shake and you rest your shivering form against a wall to think.  What can you still do in this moment? You tap your pocket with the cloth, all set up to abduct someone. Well, that's a waste. Or was it? Your mind strays from the intimidating Don Azul to his companion, the secretary. Was a mafia secretary worth anything as a hostage? You consider the possibility that he might know a great deal of Don Azul's secrets.  Maybe that was enough to negotiate for them to leave this place alone?

You hear barking from beyond the hall and guess they've opened the door leading to the dog kennels. In this moment you are decided; for the animals, you can do this. You were kidnapping that little secretary of Don Azul’s. The barking intensifies and then fades to a dull drum. You figure they've gone in back and closed the separating door. It's the perfect time for you to get into some sort of position out front for an ambush. You creep into the entrance room and jump back when you nearly bump into Mr. Secretary. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. His light blue eyes flicker to the door where the frightening Don had disappeared.

"Didn't go in with the boss?" you mutter softly. "The boss?" he questions quietly before his eyes return to the door, and he puts it together. "Ah, yes. I'm sensitive to the dirty, ah, I mean, delightful animals." You scowl at him, "They aren't dirty. And they are a lot more charming than you."  The mild man gives a shrug of his eyebrows as though to say, ‘If you say so.’  He seems tired as he sighs heavily and gives you a once over.  You’d guess he’s done this any number of times while by the Don’s side.  He is experienced and appears to have sized you up in one simple glance.  “I take it you were affiliated with the location’s prior business?”  This rubs you the wrong way and you whisper shout back, “Its not ‘the location,’ its Ramshackle Shelter and I’m not so sure it’s a prior business either!  I’ve got some points to talk over with your boss!” 

The man gives you a pitying smirk and another sizing glance.  You appear to have been found wanting as he replies, “Is that so?” in a condescending tone.  You frown hard, both angry and embarrassed at the interaction.  “Anyway, it’s not up to you.  I’m not here to make deals with some nobody secretary,” you tell him mockingly.  His eyes widen for a moment and then you see the visible effort he makes to hold in his laughter.  Ok, this has gone on far enough.  Plus, you need to make sure you leave before the evil Don returns.  You approach him in what you hope is a decent appearance of menace, “You better just come along quietly.”  Finally, he appears to take you seriously as you see his chest expand to take in a large breath before a shout.  Unfortunately for Mr. Secretary, you prove faster and thrust the cloth from your pocket over his mouth before he can sound the alarm. 

It works like a charm and the small man is very easily knocked out.  You run to the storage room and drag out a flat-bed cart used to haul animal kennels back and forth between the entry and back.  On the cart is a large and empty kennel big enough to hold a great dane, so you figure one skinny secretary will fit pretty well too.  Except, passed out mafia secretaries are significantly more difficult to shove in a kennel than a dog.  You heave and shove his limp form until you mentally decide he isn’t so small after all.  Fortunately, you manage to get him marginally concealed in the kennel and out the back before you hear the barking of dogs that signals the Don’s return.  Time to hustle this cart down the back alley and into the waiting warehouse. 

After getting your (not so little) secretary back to the warehouse, you look at him laying limp in the kennel and decide that’s a little too cruel for your taste.  So, again, you take the effort to haul his limp form from the kennel and get him settled in what appears to be a reasonably comfortable position on a chair.  Then you take a seat in another chair to wait for him to regain consciousness.  Plus, you need the time to plan.  Before, all your ideas had stemmed from having Don Azul as your hostage.  Now that you only had his secretary, you were no longer sure how to even let him know that.  Can you just call up the mafia and ask to speak to the Don?  That…didn’t feel like a real thing. 

You were pondering your options when a groan brings your attention to your hostage.  You wait for him to open his eyes, place a tentative hand to his head and groggily ask you what happened.  “I kidnapped you, of course,” you cockily reply.  He holds up his unbound hands in front of him, “Shouldn’t you have at least tied me up then?”  You feel your mouth fall open as you look forlornly at the hands held out for you to see.  “Are you going to keep gaping like that?  I might mistake you for a guppie,” he states in a cold tone.  You slam your hand against a crate and shout, “Better watch that language or I’ll have you singing with the fishes!” 

He gives you a startled look and then starts to laugh, “Singing?  I think you mean sleeping.”  Ok, this could be going better, but you can’t back down now!  “I said singing!  Maybe I want to hear you sing me a little song, beautiful.  I’ve got to get the most out of my little captive princess before I turn her back over to her family,” you finish with a mocking leer.  The barest hint of ‘beautiful?’ can be heard coming from the secretary’s mouth.  You point at him and declare, “You’ve got two options; stay over there and start talking or walk your pretty little self over here and sing me a song.  What’s it going to be, Princess?” 

The man gives you a look from deep beneath his long lashes and says, “Those are quite the options.”  Then he flushes and gives you another one of those sizing up looks.  This time, it takes him several minutes to make up his mind, which you suppose is an improvement.  Finally, he narrows his eyes in challenge and says, “Very well, if that’s how you’d like it,” and stands.  You don’t quite know what to do when he marches over and sits in your lap.  Then he looks at you coyly and whispers, “Did you have any requests?”  This certainly wasn’t in your plan.  You shrug helplessly and finally from the depths of your throat you hear, “Row, Row, Row your Boat?” emerge from your mouth.  The corner of his lips curl up momentarily before he schools his expression, “Of course, as you wish.”  Then he begins singing. 

You feel silly for having requested such a childish song but, to his credit, he gives it a serious effort.  And he sings amazingly.  You listen attentively and when he finishes, you apologize, “I’d clap but I’m afraid that would knock you from my lap.”  He smiles for a moment before replying in a serious tone, “That is an important point to consider.  Perhaps you could join me in a verse instead.”  Then he runs his thumb along your bottom lip with a coy gaze and breathlessly starts another round of Row, Row, Row your Boat.  You feel a bit silly, but it would be rude to refuse after all that, so you timidly join him.  When you finish, he smiles, “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”  You suddenly remember that he is The Enemy and frown sternly.  “Come now,” he chides playfully, “I’m just pointing out that I’m not that difficult to work with, Angelfish.” 

“If you lot were so reasonable to work with, then why is my shelter being closed down!” you shout with tears forming in your eyes.  You hate this feeling, like you are the vulnerable one when he is the one who is kidnapped.  He looks deeply into your wavering eyes and finally sighs, “That place is really important to you, isn’t it?”  You look up at him and answer passionately, “Not just for me but for all the animals.  They have nowhere else to go.  No one to look after them.  If we turn them away, what will happen to them?”  You can’t stand to look at his sympathetic gaze and turn to look at the floor instead, “Your boss’s café could go anywhere.  Why take this from me?  From them?” 

The man, who you decide is far more gentle than you originally thought, appears to genuinely be considering your argument.  For the first time since you met him, you give him one of your friendly smiles, “I know it isn’t your fault.  You aren’t the boss.”  Then you pat him gently on the back.  “Don’t worry about it too much.  I’m going to fix this somehow.”  His breath catches and he whispers, “You just might at that.”  You give him a grateful look, “At least someone has confidence in me.  I feel like I’ve done nothing but mess up all day.”  The gently man is having none of this, “I don’t know what you mean, Angelfish, you seem to be doing quite well from my perspective.”  You laugh and give him a grateful smile, “Well thanks for that.  I think I needed some cheering up.” 

The kind (you’ve upgraded him to kind) man gives you a small caress on the cheek, “Is there anything I can do to help?”  You look deep into his beautiful eyes and remark, “I wouldn’t mind another song.”  He brushes a stray hair from your forehead and begins to sing again. 

And that is when they find you.  An amused chuckle from the door alerts you to his presence and you stop your duet immediately to turn, horrified, to face Don Azul.  You fearfully meet the eyes of the lovely man in your lap and stammer, “It..its Don Azul, he found us.”  Your statement causes the intimidating man to open his mis-matched eyes wide.  Then, he bursts out into an unhinged laugh.  Your fear compounds exponentially when you hear another voice emerge from the unguarded back entrance, “What’s so funny?  Go ahead, I’m in the mood for a joke.”  You turn your head and can’t help but blurt out, “Holy shit, there’s two of them!”

Your companion gives a resigned sigh and stands up, “Jade, Floyd.  Come along.  We’re leaving now.”  You look up at him, entirely overwhelmed.  He meets your eye and then smiles sadly, “In case you aren’t quite finished with me yet.”  Then he reaches into his breast pocket, retrieves a small case and extracts a business card.  He slips it gently into your hand and then walks confidently past the intimidating man (Jade?  Floyd?) and out the door.  The frightening twins give you amused (and terrifying) smiles as they silently turn and follow him out the door.  It is several minutes before you regain your senses enough to turn over the card in your hand.  It reads in flowing script: Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Lounge.

-Several months later-

You sit at your desk and page through another document.  In the background, the sound of barking dogs is almost soothing to your ears.  Then, a nervous volunteer practically runs into your office, “Director!  Someone is here.  I…I think he might mean to tear up the place!”  You calmly look up from your desk, “And then serve you tea afterward or burn the place down?”  The volunteer looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.  A moment later, a fearful comprehension crosses their face as they mutter, “Oh my god, there are two of them!”  You nod, so, it’s both. 

 When the pair of twins saunter into your office, you smile welcomingly, “Jade, Floyd.  How nice it is to see you today.”  Floyd comes around the desk to drape an arm over your shoulders, “Hey Shrimpy, bossman sent us to pick you up.”  You nod agreeably, “That’s right.  Its opening night.”  Jade places a palm to his chest, “The newest branch of Mostro Lounge will be most delighted to have the Director’s patronage for this special occasion.”  You nod and direct them to wait out front as you finish things up back here. 

When they leave, the fear struck volunteer questions you, “Who were they?  They look like the mafia!”  You shrug, “As far as I know, they are just employees of Mostro Lounge.  As far as I know.”  They give you a look, “Isn’t that the place that nearly shut us down a few months ago?”  You grab your long purple jacket and give them a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Yeah but we’ve come to an agreement since then.”  The volunteer gives you a considering look and backs a half-step away, as though suddenly wondering if they’d misjudged the familiar Director of Ramshackle Shelter.

You understand, you’d been there before, so you pay them no mind.  Brushing past the volunteer to flick off the light, letting them hide in the darkness of your office.  Then you head out and wave to your waiting escort, “Come on boys.  I’ve got a date with the princess.  Time to make him sing for me.”  Your inside joke never fails to amuse them, and they laugh appreciatively. Your relationship was a complicated thing.  You weren’t sure who was supposed to be the hero or the villain in the whole story but, you supposed, you didn’t really care.  Floyd held the door of the long black limo for you, and you stepped inside.  You could ponder the morality of the whole thing later; you had your Princess waiting for you tonight.  And, if you were lucky, you’d have Azul sing your song for you again.  Ah, life was but a dream.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #reverse tropes

[echo-three-one]

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

This is Chapter 6 (is everyone still counting)

Link to the beginning here

Prev (V - Alex)

Next (VII - Alex)

Reviews and comments appreciated as I would like to grow as a writer

Content Warning ⚠️ below chapter title as to avoid spoilers (if anybody cares about being spoiled)

VI - Samantha

CONTENT WARNING : Kidnapping, Mind Control and Being bound and gagged.

Her back leaned against the cold stone wall sending a jolt of shivers across her body. She wriggled around, trying to move but despite not being bound ang gagged, she couldn't talk.

She found herself in an empty room, an interrogation table with a swinging lightbulb at the center ominously matching its swing with the thunping of her heart. No one was pushing it but instead of swinging slowly like it should be, it went faster and faster along with her heart.

She blinked. Maxine sat across the chair behind the interrogation table. Eyes and mouth covered, her expression almost lifeless. She tried to call out her name but no voice came out. She blinked again. Two shady men with heavy thumping boots marched toward her. Their steps matching along with the heartbeat and the swing of the lightbulb.

She closed her eyes permanently praying this will all be over soon. Afraid that when she opened her eyes another set of horrors would appear.

"You're safe here." a faint male voice echoed against the room, lighting up the whole area. She peeked slowly as the room was now well lit, she saw the abductors run away from the light, bringing Maxine with them. She tried to scream out her name one last time but she was slowly being guided by what seemed to be polica authorities back to safety.

"We'll get her back soon. Don't worry." She remembered Alex telling her that before she slept. She couldn't trust a normal person to say that to her so she starts to doubt the credibility of this man.

~

Samantha took a deep breath as she slowly came back to her senses. It smelled quite odd which made her whiff again. It's way too far from Maxine's shampoo or cologne, it almost smelled...

Manly.

That's when she remembered. Her eyes quickly opened to the view of a bare chest followed by a very well carved set of abs and her thighs just below it. Her heart raced once again as she slowly tilted her head up to look at the man whom she was leaning to.

It was Alex. He looked peacefully asleep, his arms bent behind his bed showing off the colored tattoes covering his biceps. A soft snore escapes his mouth as her head starts to feel the rising and falling of his chest.

She can't believe the circumstances she found herself in, shaking her head in disagreement, slowly moving away from him in an attempt to not wake him up. 'Really Samantha. You didn't even let him wear anything?!' she said to herself in shame as she slowly steps out of his apartment. Mentally apologizing for stealing his shirt and sweatpants.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She has to find Maxine. She quietly closed his door and descended to the streets of her city, making her way back to her apartment. Her thoughts were clouded with circumstances surrounding her dream, Maxine, the abductors, the voice that lit the whole room. She convinced herself it wasn't Alex, it could probably be someone else... someone she's been trying to forget but she can't. But then again, those words would fit Alex at all. Maybe because he was beside her whole night. Maybe she heard him from way outside her dream.

Her cheeks suddenly turned red as she once again remembered how she clung on to Alex. If she did that for the whole evening, then she possibly couldn't see him ever again. It was too embarrassing for her to cross paths with him again. She knew full well that what they had going on was not gonna be what she wants to happen. She could feel him having no actual interest in her, he was just being friendly because she believes he's trying to pry information from her. She's convinced that Alex is somehow involved in Maxine's loss.

Shaking her head and clearing her mind from all thoughts regarding that man she won't name anymore, she slowly ascended the wooden steps of her apartment, hoping for Maxine's safety.

She swung the door open, peeking at their room seeing Maxine plopped on the sofa.

"Maxine!" she shrieked in excitement as she grabbed her and hugged her tight.

"Hey Sam, why the tight hug?" She asked, patting her back and escaping from her warm embrace. Tears fell from Samantha's eyes as Maxine pushes her and tried to ask her about her weird behavior.

"What's wrong with you? I just went out last night. Oh and by the way I met a pecuiliar guy at the bar last night. He says he knows you.

Samantha's head pinged and she looked at her with raised eyebrows. Could it be...

"Does he go by Alex? You know, brown hair, blue eyes and a whole lotta tattoos on his arms?" Maxine's eyes widened at the accuracy of Samantha's description.

"So you met? Since when? I was still about to set you up today!" She got up, looking shocked.

"That was last Friday night! You went missing just last night!" Samantha corrected.

"I swear I'm right. That's what my mind could recall." Maxine trailed off to the kitchen as they make breakfast.

Samantha wanted to go back to Alex. She had a feeling he would know what to do. But because of last nights embarrassing act of stupidity, she'd best be letting this mishap slide.

~

Samantha noted that at certain times of day, Maxine would just stare out the window, and everytime she calls her out, Maxine wouldn't respond. As if she couldn't hear her even at close proximity. At this point, she began to extremely worry and texted Alex about her friend's situation not minding meeting him again. She thought that she shouldn't let personal things interfere at this kind of danger.

But she was all too late. She didn't expect that she was dazed for a reason. She wished she never left Alex's apartment. She wished she kept on hugging him for just a little more while.

Her eyes were open but she couldn't see a thing, her mouth was open but she couldn't say a word. She was bound and gagged, but this time it's for real. She didn't show any sign of struggle as the foreign people pushed her, babbling using their language it almost felt they were bickering.

And then she found herself in a laboratory of some sort, wincing as the harsh lamp light flashed across her. An old man donning a lab coat covered the light.

"We finally got you, Samantha Coleman. Smile at the camera so I can send this to your father dearest." The old man spoke, each word irritated her. A tear fell from her eyes as she remembered how her father tried to promise her that his work wouldn't interfere her. She knew it isn't his fault entirely but somehow fate tangled her up to thid point. She isn't gonna survive this.

"I want something that you have. You may not know it, but I know you saw it." He cackled injecting her with some sort of anaesthetic. She knows this because as soon as 30 seconds she already felt sleepy and her mind began to black out.

***

Samantha found herself by the pier, just beside Charlie, her boyfriend's families' yacht. They're out for their annual family summer outing and she can't join as she has to look after her mother who's at the hospital.

"Babe, I'll send you pictures once I get a signal. I promise. I'll also pray for your mom while we're there..." Connor smiled at her, the strong seaside gust blew his collar, as she held her sun hat tight.

"Thanks honey, you take care there, okay?" Samantha's words started to echo in the background as the horizon quickly shifted from day to night.

Maxine sat beside her as uncontrollable tears flowed out of her eyes. It has been a full day since she last heard from Connor and word was his whole family hasn't returned yet.

"Do we need these?" a muffled voice was echoing from the sky. Samantha just sat there, unbothered by the strange noises in the sky, her tears start to fall on her real body.

"It's still a failed project. It's supposed to look for memories but this is the one she's recalling."

"So how do we know if she'll show us her memories of the code?!" a loud slam translated as thunder in her dream.

"I don't know Boss Nero, maybe we could influence her to think of the code."

"Listen, Princess. Think of your childhood memories. Think of what you saw when you accidentally looked on your Daddy's drawer."

Samantha winced as her memory swirled back to her childhood. She heard excited laughter from the sky as she found herself in her room, as a kid. The radio from her dream immediately interrupted her as news flash about a missing yacht, cruise ship and cargo ships that sailed on that fateful day when Connor had his family vacation. Hundreds of people were either dead or missing and the main cause that was officially declared was a storm and big waves. Many speculate about possible pirate invasions but their wreckage wasn't found.

She found herself back at the pier. The sky started yelling curse words angrily toward her. Then another loud sound manifested as thunder.

"Boss Nero, we're being compromised! Multiple armed forces are out for us.

"Gah! Of course they're catching up to us! Quick evacuate and do not engage whenever possible. Let's save our numbers for later."

"What about her?"

"She's still induced. She's just going to be a pain to carry. Leave her be. If they successfully retrieve her they won't be after us." Nero commanded as they left the scene.

Samantha on the other hand, was trapped in her own personal memory realm, flashing about the moments where she felt utter sadness when she found out that her boyfriend was gone forever.

#wow that's longer than usual #chapter 6 #codmw #codmwfic #Alex x OC #hello people reading my tags

[aikrus]

Far From Freezing

Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia, My Hero Academia Warnings: Fire, Cold Weather, Passing Out, Reference Nudity, Reference to Sex, fluff Words: 2k388 Requested By: Anon Summary: Winter’s here, not that this effects the doting girlfriend of the half hot half cold idol of class 1A

      The bus ride had always been Y/n’s least favorite part of any given day. Attending the most prestigious hero school was a dream come true- but it came with prices big and small. One of which was the half-hour commute from the L/n house to the building. Her parents were both long gone by five thirty in the morning- and, not wanting to wake up at dawn to be ready on time, Y/n settled for the six thirty bus ride to Musutafu. 

Had it just been the rocky streets which pestered her journey she’d be fine- cursed with headaches and vertigo, but fine. She could take the annoying passengers which surrounded her as well; they kept their distance, and headphones worked wonders nowadays. Y/n could suffer all of this- she could handle it all, except the cold. 

Born with a temperature dangerously below what the human body required, Y/n’s parents knew early on what quirk she would have. Absolute Zero- the ability to slow the kinetic energy of anything she touches. Having a naturally cold body temperature meant she was constantly in layers and searching for a heatsource in anything she touches. While it wasn’t a serious issue, it was a constant bother to the teen girl. 

So there she was, sitting alone in the back of a shaking bus, with a scowl on her face as the familiar ache in her fingers came back. Desperate for relief, Y/n ignored the self-inflicted pain and rubbed her covered hands together. This bus ride went on far too long.

---------------------------------

“Stupid bus, stupid cold weather, stupid freaking shoes,” soft muttering fell from Y/n’s lips as she swapped her winter boots- which excellently trapped the heat from the heating pads her socks concealed- to the thin indoor shoes the school mandated. She took two steps away from her locker before deciding the ache already taking over her heels was far from worth it, and she swapped back to her large and fuzzy winter boots; dress code be damned. 

Y/n couldn’t help but glare softly at the other students of class 2-A. While she loved each and every one of them dearly, seeing her best friends happily chatting away the warm air in their chests left her with undying envy. It didn’t help the cold that freezes over her heart come winter either. Her classmates, who she typically hangs off of and adores, had a tendency to ignore her come november. 

They meant no harm, and Y/n’s pretty sure they do is subconsciencly. She slows the air around her, causing the temperature to cool- whether her classmates noticed or not they steered away from her. In addition to that, Y/n had a very different atmosphere in general come the holidays. Blame the ache in her bones, her abandonment issues, her parents who were always too busy to celebrate festivities, blame anything you’d like- but the only thing Y/n enjoyed about winter was the beautiful moments of solitude.

While she was normally very outgoing and attentive to others, Y/n took the frozen season as a time for herself. She cherished the heavy blankets and knitted sweaters- fuzzy socks and fireplaces, watching television with a mug of hot chocolate, ten layers of wool and heating pads while music for only her played. Y/n loved the rare alone time the snowy season provided, but the biter-sweetness of it all never seemed to fade. 

Can you really blame her for the blood-freezing glare she sent the class representative? Don’t get her wrong, Y/n follows the rules and get’s some of the best grades in the class. She was a threat to whoever opposed her, but she was very stubborn. Perhaps that was the only feature she inherited from her spit fire of a mother. 

So there she was, perched at her desk, arms folded, ignoring one of her friends. Iida glared directly back, lecturing her on the importance of following the dress code and how it’s their not only for aesthetic purposes but for their own good. Once she realized he couldn’t understand why she was wrapped in five layers in the heated room, Y/n stood from her seat and walked over to him. Noticing the shivers that coursed through his spine as she approached, Iida took a half-step back from her. She confidently placed her hand on his blazar covered shoulders.

“This is what I feel like right now,” she spoke- her voice a whisper which replicates a howl in the wind. Iida- now much colder than he once wan- nods and lets her off with a warning before returning to his seat, discreetly starting his engines in order to heat up once again.

She wishes for many things- but above everything she wished her hero-phobic parents would have allowed her to stay at the dorms. Anything would have been better than this. The cold from the metal walls still nipped at her skin an hour later, and Y/n was ready to tap out and go to the nurses office so she could lie atop a furnace to heat up once again. 

Sadly, Mr. Aizawa refused to allow that. Quirk training had officially started, and he considered this endurance practice for the aspiring female hero. While the other students worked on pushing their quirks to the limits and beyond, she did the same. Stripping of her wool layers down to her uniform- taking of her shoes and socks. 

Her quirk worked through thermal equilibrium, her body needs to be colder than the object she touches to slow the atoms in it. While she could slow her body at will, she lacked the ability to speed it up again. This is a bridge she couldn’t cross any time soon. So, instead, she was told to focus on slowing her body as much as she can. While her body is meant to withstand cold temperatures, the coldest she has ever gotten was negative one hundred and sixty degrees degrees before falling asleep. While that was a remarkable feat, she was sure she could go lower.

That’s how she got into her current predicate. With Aizawa’s encouragent, Y/n breathed slowly and steadily, attempting to reach or break her current record. The time she had gotten that cold was under extreme stress- a fire had started in the daycare her little brother attended. She and the teacher were the only ones there who weren’t children- and they hadn’t been informed of the newest quirk-manifestation. This child was the first in the school to gain their non-mutan quirk, and it had been a complete surprise. 

The child was playing with her brother and didn’t want Y/n to take him away- thus he accidentally sent flames in her way. While he wasn’t very strong, Y/n’s little brother had been born with their mothers quirk- Enhancer. He naturally multiplied the quirks strength of whoever he touched. When he tried to move his friends hands away from his sister- he greatly increased the heat of the flames. Y/n was quick to respond and she was left unscaved- with only a minor fear of children from that day forward. 

Now, she was determined to gain that kind of control again. The air in the building began to drop and Y/n relaxed her body. Once it had dropped ten degreed in a matter of seconds eyes looked over at both Todoroki and Y/n. When Shoto shook his head, showing he had made no ice, all eyes fell on the so called ‘Winter Hero’, Frostbite- as the tabloids happily referred to her as. 

Aizawa kept a trained eye on her figure, noticing the increase paleness of her skin. While she was typically much paler than the average person due to her resting body temperature of 75 degrees, a noticeable blue undertone started to form. 

As the room became colder and colder, all practicing stopped. The students shivered in the freezing room, as their body heat no longer kept the temperatures up. The one a-little-warmer-than-comfortable 90 degree room fell to fifty degrees and showed no sign of stopping as the girl kept her focus. As she continued she opened her eyes, becoming aware of the silence now surrounding her. She had become much stronger than last year. She scored very well on all quirk testing, but she could only get her body temp to around negative ninety degrees. Now, with all her practice, she reached that in no time. 

As he watched his other students begin to shutter at the sudden cold and rub their hands together for warmth, he wonders if he should stop Y/n for the day. Still, he needed to know her limit. This is what the day was for, to determine who needed extra supervision and would need immediate assistance in case of a vilain attack. He’d just have to deal with the consequences of his decision after she was done.

Still, despite how rigid her posture, despite the blue hues taking over her skin, despite the ice which froze in the air around her, she kept going. Colder and colder until breathing became difficult for the other students. The ground turned to frost, and the students became slower and slower until they too were stuck in place. Standing next to the thermostat, Aizawa watched as it rapidly declined. Once her eyelashes had frozen together Y/n’s annoyance only fed her need to grow stronger. 

So wrapped up in her own world, she finally snapped out of her inner monologue long enough to realize a hand was on her shoulder. Aizawa could only touch her for a moment before hissing in pain and withdrawing it. Even through her blazer the cold attacked him, and the skin on his hand had ripped and cracked. He shook his head at his own stupidity. Still, Y/n stopped lowering her body temperature. 

“You beat your record by one hundred and ten degrees, you can stop now.” Y/n couldn’t understand what her teacher was saying, but she knew he was talking to her. Swaying in place, Y/n only recognized a sudden heat before passing out.

------------------------------

Waking up in the infirmary was something Y/n had a love-hate relationship with. While she despised the idea of either losing control or being injured, the nurse always turned up the temperature unreasonably hot in her office whenever she was admitted. It always made Y/n feel a little special, knowing a faculty member would withstand an above one hundred degree room just for her comfort. It was nice. 

Still, the heat felt different than the other times she awoke in the medical bed. Shuffling closer to the warmth, Y/n finally opened her eyes to find a beautiful sight. Shoto was asleep next to her, wearing a baby blue turtleneck and looking angelic. It wasn’t rare for the two of them to cuddle with his fire side against her- he was well aware of the downside of Y/n’s quirk. He was a little cautious at first, but he soon linked her to the stray cats which followed him during winter. They would constantly sit against his leg once the cold air came back- finding comfort in something he was once scared of.

Now, he loved it. He adored that he could help his beautiful girlfriend. She had once told him that the only time she went extremely low in temperature she had entered a coma, and it took two weeks for the hospital to find someone with a fire quirk strong enough to comfort her. Now, he was there. 

Sure it was a little awkward, after all, she had been stripped by the nurse so he could send fire at his unconscious girlfriends body. It was more than a little questionable, and had not both parties and their parents consented to this being a solution (and this not being the only circumstances he’s seen Y/n naked in before), Shoto always felt guilty, like he was taking advantage of his sleeping girlfriend. While he never touched her, and her figure was obscured by the flames, he always covered his eyes. Yet, he still felt guilt chew away at him until she woke up. Until she reassured him she was fine with it, he felt like without her verbal consent he was destroying her trust in him- and it was an emotional wrecking ball every time. 

No matter how many time’s Y/n tried to help him understand her appreciation for him, Shoto always felt the desire to dote on her for at least a day afterwards. It was his own special was of saying “I’m sorry,” despite Y/n feeling like he was never in the wrong. 

Either way, Y/n wasn’t gong to complain- especially today. Watching him stir awake, Y/n moved slightly away- only for Shoto’s arm to wrap around her and pull Y/n back into his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” his lips rested against her hair while he spoke- eyes clenched tight as he tried to preserve the sweet atmosphere.

“Thank you,” Y/n responded, looking up to his face and kissing his noes. 

“I called your parents,” he explained, hugging her close and snaking his arms around her waist. 

“Yeah?” She smiled- already knowing how that conversation probably went. Her parents loved Shoto; the already treated him better than either of their biological children. They were hesitant at first, hateful on their worst days. While they generaly were distrustful of heros, the L/n’s were known to despise Endeavor.

That said, it took two visits to her house for Y/n’s parents to adore Shoto, their opinions of him completely switched when they learned of the mutual hatred the tree of them held towards his father. It was a cute family bonding moment, one Y/n can’t help but wish she caught on camera. Ever since then, Shoto was their favorite child. He was the one who they couldn’t say no to. 

“They said they’re okay with you spending the night in my dorm,”

“Of course they are,” Y/n linked her hands behind his neck and peppered kisses across his face, “they love you. If I get pregnant they know you’ll most likely propose, and that’s what they want more than anything else.”

He hummed in a light hearted response, nuzzling closer to her and kissing her quickly. “Are you still freezing, love?”

“Trust me,” she moved her lips against his again, losing herself in his heat in his scent, “I’m far from it.”

-------------------------------------------------

I hope you all liked this! The first day of December is coming to an end- only 24 days left till Christmas!

Check out the December Requesting Event! Some Days are Still Open, so Don’t Miss Out! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays

#Shoto #Todoroki #shoto todoroki #Todoroki x reader #Shoto x reader #Shoto Todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #touya todoroki #bnha christmas #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #16)

(cw: drug withdrawal) ----------

01/04/88 12:02 AM Hey.

I don’t like this part.

That’s nothing new.

As I was waking up, a small, ghostly memory of your trailer floated around in my head again. Blame it on the couch, I guess. I thought I heard you rummaging around in the kitchen and talking to yourself, but it was short-lived. Reality woke up slowly after I did, growing like a huge, hot light that burned my eyes. You were still gone. I still had no idea what to do about it. I’d still been murdered without actually dying. The entire arcade was still against me. I was still up to my eyeballs in withdrawal. And, of course, it was just Fix-it I heard, going about his morning routine. When I asked him who the hell he’d been talking to, he said it was me. Apparently, I’d been carrying on a sparse conversation with him since he got up. That was just splendid. I didn’t ask what we’d talked about. I figured, on top of everything else, I was better off not knowing.

Fix-it asked if I wanted anything, but I was still too sick for breakfast. I didn’t want food, anyway. All I wanted was Boosts. But I couldn’t very well say that, could I? He knew I’d been taking buffs on the regular, but I didn’t think he knew my sickness was withdrawal, and I wanted it to stay that way. Let him believe it was just stress-induced. The last thing I needed was him throwing together some sort of intervention or something, totally blowing out of proportion a tiny, accidental dependency that would leave my system in under a week. Blink, and it’d be over.

Not to say it didn’t suck while it was happening. 

We lingered in extremely awkward silence for far too long after Fix-it finished making his breakfast. He sat at his table and ate quietly, pretending to gloss over some papers I didn’t care to identify. I shivered on the couch, struggling with the fact that the arcade would open soon, and I’d have to find something to do with myself. Eventually, the atmosphere became too suffocatingly heavy to bear. Whether I was ready or not, I had to leave. I’d figure something out.

When I stood up, I realized just how disgusting I felt, like a lukewarm, moist, smelly sock. My code itself felt swollen stiff. I grabbed my clean clothes, which Fix-it had folded in an annoyingly neat pile, and went to have another shower. I was just about clean when I heard a knock. 

At first, I was understandably irritated, and called out, “Can it wait?”

But he didn’t answer, which was somehow more irritating. Like he’d knocked and run off just for the fun of it, completely in the wrong context for that kind of prank. Once I turned off the water, though, I heard him talking just outside of the door. 

I called out again, “Uh, y’know I can’t hear you, right?”

“No, no, it’s okay, Mavy, it’s the front door.”

Great, I thought. Nicelanders. I’d scarcely been in less of a mood to deal with them. I also had no idea what Fix-it would tell them about the night before, intentionally or not. I turned on the sink faucet so he wouldn’t get suspicious, and put my ear to the door. 

Whoever was at the door was too muffled to hear, but I could just barely hear Fix-it’s side of the conversation. He sounded anxious.

“--course not, but you know, she’s feeling quite under the weather, so she’s staying with me for now.”

Stayed with him, I wanted to say. 

“What do you mean? ...Yes, I know… No, I know it’s not, but it’s not exactly a normal situation, either.”

I grasped the door handle, ready to open it and punch him out if he said absolutely anything about the night before. But then things took a turn unlike any they had taken in the past. A firmness crept into his voice, relative to his usual overly friendly tone.

“I understand your concern, but it’s a private matter… Yes, a very private matter… No need, I’ll handle all that before we--... Exactly what I told you… I’m afraid I’ll just have to ask you to trust me, and carry on-- and, and... not get involved. Not even a little bit.”

I could hardly believe it -- suddenly, there was a note of anger. It was faint and mild-mannered, but still there.

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware of what you think, but it’s not what I know. I do not appreciate you behaving as if you know my cousin better than I do. Now, I can’t change your ridiculous opinion of her, but I’ll not hear another hurtful word about her from you, or anyone else in this building. Are we clear?”

He scolded a Nicelander for me.

“Very good… I’ll see you in the morning huddle. Good morning, Gene.”

I heard the door close. 

He scolded Gene.

Where in the eight bits was that four-and-a-half years ago!?

I took a generous amount of time getting dressed before I left the bathroom. By then, Fix-it was obviously ready to go, and seemed like he might have been waiting on me. The emotional loop-de-loops were really starting to give me vertigo, so I hoped he’d keep whatever he wanted to say brief.

He asked if I had plans for the day, and I said I didn’t know. He said I was welcome to stay in his apartment and rest, and I told him it would be hard to rest with the building getting pounded. He offered for me to take the puke bucket with me, and I told him I probably had a few in my hoard. He told me that I was still welcome to come back and spend the night. I told him I’d think about it, and at the time, I meant it.

When it was really time to part ways, he squeezed his hands anxiously, and said with grating sincerity, “Mavy… you’ll make it through this. I believe in you.”

In the usual way, his words seemed to force my gaze away. I just stared at the curtains and fidgeted, unsure of how to proceed. I didn’t want to say anything -- there were lots of things I could have said, I guess, but I didn’t want to. I appreciated a few things about that whole ‘visit’, but none of them magically fixed everything about us. If we’re really a family, we’re a pretty poor excuse for one, and I couldn’t see that changing.

But I think I’d be lying if I said, after all I’d been through, I wasn’t at least a little glad to hear it.

Eventually, I settled on mumbling, “Yeah. ‘Making it’ is kinda my thing.”

We ended at that. He hovered towards the door, but mostly watched me open a window and get ready to fly out. Freshly fixed brush in hand, I went to paint feathers on my heels. But when I looked down, there was just… a sheet of yellow paint splattered over my heel.

Needless to say, I was confused. I had a perfect grasp of all the colors in my head, so wetting my brush with them should have been as easy as flexing my fingers. But, for some reason, only yellow was showing up, no matter what I tried. Just short-lived splatters of yellow paint.

This had never happened before, but I tried to stay calm. I called Fix-it over and asked him to hit my brush and paint can with his hammer again, thinking it must have glitched or something the night before. He complied.

At first, I thought it did something. I hadn’t exactly tried to produce red or orange before calling him over, but I found that I could after his fixing attempt. But that was still just it: Red, orange, and yellow.

I asked him to do it again. Nothing changed. I asked again. Nothing. My attempt to stay calm flew straight out the window, like I should have. I threw down frantic splatters, all disappearing and reappearing right after another. 

Red, orange, yellow. Red, orange, yellow. Red, orange, yellow.

My brush didn’t work anymore.

Hey... Remember when I said that things weren’t about to look up any time soon? Well, I wasn’t kidding. I wish I had been.

Before that, I already thought I’d lost everything that mattered to me. Now the Devs were coming for things I’d never even considered that I could lose before. They took the very fabric of what makes me who I am and shredded it. I’m supposed to be a chaotic twister of rainbows. After that, I was nothing but an analogous smear on the wall. 

I could feel something terrible about to burst from me. I held my brush in my hands like a dead bird, shaking so hard I could have dropped it. Fix-it looked just about as mortified and panicked as I’d ever seen him, looking from my brush to his hammer, turning it around like something might have been wrong with it, too. 

“Hey,” I said, barely stopping myself from shouting. I grabbed the glass from the coffee table, poured it out on the floor, and stomped it beneath my foot. “Fix this.”

He did as he was told quickly, seemingly just as much for himself as for me. Flash of light, and the shards were completely whole again, forming a glass that looked even better than before I crushed it.

“I’m-- I’m so sorry, Mavy, I don’t-- I don’t know what’s wrong! I mean, this hammer fixes everything, even things that aren’t broken in the first place, and it’s never done this before, so I have no idea what to--”

He went on babbling quicker than his mouth could keep up with. At a certain point, I couldn’t hear him anymore. I felt like my insides were about to crawl out of my mouth. 

It wasn’t his fault. I know that, now. I probably knew it deep down, back then, too. But if he wasn’t to blame, then it meant there was something wrong with me. Something that, if it had even resisted his hammer, could very well never be fixed. I just couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t let myself believe I was broken, not when I needed to be strong more than ever.

I’m not proud of it. But blaming him was all I could do.

“Hey, it’s okay, maybe it was a fluke.” I strode back to the window, grabbed the curtain, and yanked it so hard, the curtain rod broke away and sent drywall crumbling down. “Fix this.”

He leapt up, panicking even harder than before. I could see it in his face -- he knew what was coming, and he wasn’t prepared. By the time he reached the window, I was already across the room, blocky lamp in hand. 

“Can you fix this, too?!” I threw it full-force at him, and he just barely ducked in time. It exploded into pieces on the wall right where his head had been. 

He may have made some sort of plea for me to calm down, but I was having none of it. I’d started to rage, and, as we both know, there’s no stopping me once the momentum builds. It was going to run its course, one way or another. And its course led me right into the kitchen. I swung open the lower cupboards and kicked them off their hinges. I opened the fridge and swept an entire shelf to the floor, breaking a few jars. I grabbed armfuls of plates and glasses and shattered them on every surface available. I trashed everything I could get my hands on, all the while screaming things I barely remember, things like... 

“C’MON, HANDYMAN!! WHERE’S YOUR MAGIC HAMMER?! FIX IT, FELIX!! FIX IT, FELIX!!”

I’m not even sure what Fix-it was doing during all that. I lost track of him -- it didn’t matter to me anymore. He was probably appalled, keeping a safe distance somewhere, maybe trying to get through to me, more likely crying or something. I honestly don’t know. I didn’t see him again until after I’d flipped his kitchen table and grabbed one of the chairs. Even then, I avoided looking directly at him, like I’d rupture something if I did. 

I took the chair in both arms and swung it at one of the windows, hearing a boing indicative of Fix-it springing out of the way. The glass took a few hits to break, and I found myself screaming with every swing: “THIS!! CAN’T!! BE!!--”

The glass shattered.

“--HAPPENING!!”

Then, with a whole-body spin, I flung the chair at Fix-it’s wall of medals. It busted a huge fold into the drywall and more than a few shiny medals hit the floor. Suddenly, I had nothing in immediate range to break, but my body threatened to crumple in on itself, quaking with the thunderous rage still rolling inside me. It had to get out somehow. I just grasped my hair, closed my eyes, and screamed so hard, it hurt. In such a small space, it was ear-splitting -- at least for Fix-it.

Then, well. You know all too well what happens when there’s nothing left to break. The stinging in my eyes could not have been a clearer cue to hightail it out of there.

I didn’t stop to say anything, didn’t even look his way. I just made a beeline for the window I meant to leave through earlier. But I was so out-of-it and desperate to make my escape, I just threw my legs right out into the open air. Forgetting that I couldn’t paint my shoes mid-fall anymore. I just barely caught the sill in time to plant my feet against the brick wall.

Naturally, Fix-it appeared, at his wit’s end, trying to help me back up, but I screamed “DON’T TOUCH ME!!” before he could. He shrunk back, and I climbed over onto the fire escape, like an earthbound loser. I hate, hate using that thing, but I had no choice. I tore down the stairs as quickly as my weary body could handle, and started to run towards my den. But my balance lurched and my vision darkened. It was a miracle that I hadn’t puked from all the exertion already. So I had to slow to a walk. Broken code, buff withdrawal, on the verge of tears, walking.

I know my game’s forest by heart. It’s not really my home, but I’ve lived in it for almost my entire life.

But when I reached the tree line, I froze to the spot. My trees look drastically different from the ones in Dragon’s Lair, but it didn’t matter. I stared into the darkness, and, for the first time in my life, I was too afraid to go in.

Then, inevitably, the tears came. I folded up on the grass, clutching my brush close, crying in the most pitiful way imaginable. I just wanted it all to stop. Just once, I wanted to believe that things couldn’t get any worse, and be right. 

More than anything in the world, I just wanted my best friend back.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #turbo #gene #original character #homesick

[ak47stylegirl]

Sick days: Chapter 8

Okay, I got chapter 8 of sick days finished finally!😆 I hope you guys enjoy this 😁😄😆 (poor Alan sure isn't lol😅😈😆😅) 

Rest of fic here 

————

Scott pov.

"Sweetie, please calm down.." he pleaded as he lowered his crying baby brother onto his bed, tucking him under the blankets before sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hand finding Alan's cheek, "you're not doing yourself any good, come on, it's alright…"

His baby brother was a sobbing, shivering and shaking mess, he thought as he caressed his baby brother's cheeks, which had tears steamrolling down them while Alan's red nose ran like a faucet. 

"I don't...I don't beel bell Scotty!" Alan sobbed as he scrubbed at his wet and irritated eyes, a feverish flush on his cheeks, "By...by head hurts an-and by throat hurts an-and I c-c-can't-"Alan hitched, his little nose starting to twitch and flare, exposing the red and inflamed inner membranes of his nose. "I….I c-can't st-sto-"

Alan sneezed into his hand, his body launching forward with the force of the sneeze before collapsing back down onto the bed with a weak, sickly groan, a trail of snot running down past his lip.  

He grimaced lightly to himself as he reached for a tissue as another sneeze, this one even messer then the last, shook Alan to the core. 

 Alan whimpered, his face a complete mess. "Scotty…" the kid whined, looking up at him with wet missable blue eyes. "i... I don't beel well..." 

"Oh baby, shhhh…. I know.." He comforted as he gently cleaned up the mess under Alan's little sore and swollen red nose, being extremely gentle. "I know..." 

Alan sniffled, hitching slightly. 

"Blow your nose for me, Alan..." he spoke softly as he held a tissue over Alan's nose. "We need to get rid of all that gunk, so give me a good strong blow, okay?" 

The noise that followed was nothing pleasant, sounding damp and wet as Alan blew his nose into the tissue, the act seeming to drain Alan of the little energy he had left. 

Alan hiccuped weakly, tears still steamrolling down his cheeks. 

He threw the tissues into the yellow bucket by Alan's bed, looking at his baby brother with a sad look. He laid the back of his hand gently against Alan's forehead, feeling the heat radiating from his little brother. It broke his heart to see Alan like this...

"S-Scotty.." 

"Shhh, …it's alright..." He whispered softly as he laid down next to his baby brother, letting Alan snuggle in close, "I'm here baby, I'm here..." he stroked Alan's soft blond hair back gently as he held his baby brother close, "It's alright..." 

"Don't go.." Alan croaked as his little hands clenched at his shirt, his little head resting against his chest, "I….I don't want to be alone…" Alan sniffled, "I...I don't like being alone..." 

"Shhh, I know…" He sighed deeply as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, "I know kiddo...I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart.." He whispered softly as he stroked Alan's blond fringe back and placed a little kiss on Alan's temple. "I'm staying right here…" 

"now, please, I need you to go to sleep..." he whispered softly, his hand running up and down Alan's back, "you really need it, baby..."

————

Virgil POV 

It had been about an hour since Scott left the living room with Alan. In that time, he had started preparing their dinner as Gordon didn't really need his help with his homework at the moment, he thought as he glanced over at his teenage brother at the dining room table, who was busy working on his homework.

He was slightly surprised that Gordon wasn't rushing through his homework; usually, the kid couldn't wait to be finished, he thought as he chopped up vegetables into bite-size pieces. He had a feeling that the fact that Alan was sick had a part to play…

Speaking of Alan, he was making the kid's all-time favourite meal, chicken and corn soup, with little star-shaped and smiley-faced croutons on the side, of course.

Soup was a no brainer really, Alan was sick, and his throat was most probably really sore, So simple soothing soup was on the menu tonight…

And most probably tomorrow as well, he thought as he made a mental note to freeze some of the soup. It would be easier in the long run if they had already made food in reserve, just in case this bad cold spreads to the rest of the family.

Which he'll be honest, it was inevitable. Colds always got shared between them, even as kids, if one of them caught a cold, the others were sure to follow. So he was damn well preparing beforehand...

He glanced up from what he was doing as Scott re-entered the room, his big brother looking emotionally drained and exhausted. He didn't blame him, looking after ill brothers was not easy…

"Hey…" He spoke softly as Scott re-took his seat at the kitchen bench, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "How is he?" 

"Asleep, finally…" Scott signed as he slumped forward against the kitchen counter, looking at him with sad and exhausted eyes, "The poor baby would not settle unless I was lying next to him and even then, he was still terribly upset and...well just feeling terribly sick.."

"Poor kid…" He grimaced as he threw the chopped up vegetables into a pot on the stovetop, his concern for his youngest brother doubling, "Do you think we should take him to the doctor?"

"Already handled that Virg, I got him booked in for a doctor's appointment at eleven tomorrow.," Scott explained as he took a sip of his coffee but pulled back with a grimace, the coffee obviously gone cold. "So I'm taking tomorrow off work; hopefully, this is just a nasty cold and not anything else…" 

"Yeah, it's most probably just a bad head cold but... better safe than sorry..." He spoke as he got the precooked chicken for the soup out of the oven, "Well... I'm making his favourite soup for dinner tonight, so hopefully, that will cheer him up a bit.." 

"Chicken and corn soup?" Scott smiled slightly as he stood up, cold coffee in hand as he walked over to the sink, tipping the coffee down the drain, "Yeah I'm sure that will make him happy, you need help cutting the croutons?" 

"Yeah, if you don't mind…" He smiled as he got the chicken stock out of the fridge, adding it to the pot of vegetables before working on cutting up the chicken into bite-size pieces. "Make sure to make lots of stars, Allie loves those…" 

"Oh, I know…" Scott smiled as he washed his hands before grabbing the bread out of the fridge, getting to work on those croutons. "The kid gets so upset when there isn't any, though I swear he plays with them more than he eats them…" 

"Ooh! Ohh! Scotty!" Gordon waved from the dining room table, getting both his and Scott's attention, "Can you make little fishes as well?!" Gordon asked, a big grin on his face as he gave Scott his best puppy dog eyes. 

Scott rolled his eyes with a chuckle, "If you promised to focus on your homework and get it done tonight, sure I'll think about it…" Scott answered with a small smirk, looking at Gordon with a slightly raised eyebrow as he set up a cutting board. "Deal?" 

"Yeah! Yeah, deal!" Gordon nodded with a grin as he turned back to his homework with an excited expression which quickly faded with a grimace, "though where's John when you need him? Stupid maths…" 

He chuckled softly, overhearing Gordon's muttered comment. Math had always come easy to John, he swears his red-haired brother thinks in code and numbers. John always felt more comfortable around tech than people…

Speaking of John…

"Hey, isn't John's train going to be here soon?" He wondered out loud as he looked at the clock on the far living room wall. Scott glanced up from cutting the shaped croutons, a nice little pile sitting next to his cutting broad.

"Yeah, it is…" Scott frowned, looking slightly conflicted. "I normally pick him up on my way home but Alan…" Scott glanced at the hallway that led down to their bedrooms, biting his lip in concern. "I don't want him waking up while I'm gone but agh…" 

"I can go pick John up instead if you want?" He offered as he added the chicken stock to the pot, seeing his brother's internal struggle, "The soup just needs to simmer and cook now, anyway.." 

"Thanks for the offer Virg but.." Scott sighed softly as he finished cutting the croutons, arranging them on a baking tray, "but it shouldn't take me too long to pick up John and be back, Alan will be fine..."

The last bit was more Scott talking to himself than anything else...

"Anyway, I would most probably burn the soup accidentally knowing me.." Scott smiled at him, chuckling softly to himself as he put the tray in the oven, "Don't leave me in charge of food, Virg, you know that's a bad idea…" 

"Ha! Yeah, I agree!" Gordon called out from the dining room table, butting his way into the conversation, "I still have that burnt taste in my mouth from the last time Scott cooked.." 

He chuckled as Scott's eyebrows shot up, big brother looking slightly offended despite, not a moment ago, he himself was saying the same thing...

"Hey! That roast was not that bad!" Scott called back with a barely concealed grin, "It was only slightly charred, and that wasn't all on me, if I remember correctly, mister..." 

Gordon's cheeks went red, and suddenly Gordon couldn't look them in the eyes anymore. 

"Wasn't that the night that Gordon and Alan got stuck up that really big tree?" He wondered out loud, watching his brothers with a steadily growing smile. "Didn't we have to get the big ladder out?" 

Gordon's cheeks went redder as the teen slouched lower in his chair. "I wasn't the only one stuck up that tree, you know.," Gordon muttered, crossing his arms with a mega pout.

Scott ignored Gordon's comment, "Oh yeah! It was that exact night!" Scott nodded with a laugh as he washed his hands, "Just as I was about to get the roast out of the oven as well, so really... I can't be solely blamed for that mess..." 

"Though…" Scott sobered slightly, looking at Gordon with a slight frown, "I definitely gained a couple more grey hairs from that little stunt..."

Scott was only half-joking...

Gordon just poked his tongue out at Scott, turning back to his dreaded homework. He and Scott both chuckled lightly, rolling their eyes at the childish act, the atmosphere of the room feeling lighter than it had previously been…

"Well, okay…I better go and get John..." Scott sighed deeply as he grabbed his car keys, "Look after Alan while I'm gone-"

"Like we wouldn't?" He grinned at Scott, giving his big brother a brotherly nudge. "Go and pick up our space case, you smother hen…" 

Scott rolled his eyes at him with a little chuckle, "Don't let John hear you calling him that..." Scott called back as he left the room, the laughter evident in his voice. 

"I won't!" He called back with a grin. 

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #alan tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #normal au #sick days #sickfic #sick character

[almostrealdudes]

The Heat (Peter Parker x fem!S/O)

A/N: You guys are insane! Thank you for all the messages and replies I’ve been crazy happy for the last two days! Also, 1k subs??? stfu this is mental! Thank you all for subscribing, im absolutely thrivingggg thank you for reading my pieces, for leaving likes and comments, and for joining the almostrealfam <3 I am hereby posting the second part of Heat. Get horny on main, my dudes!! Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!S/O Word count: 2k, strap in Warnings: SMUT SMUT and SMUT. As NSFW as it gets, you better sit down

PART 1

In a desperate need to catch a taxi, she literally threw herself in front of a car, urging it to stop. Getting an inviting gesture from the driver, she jumped inside on the passenger seat and spat out the address.

“Go go go, please, I need to get there as fast as possible,” she babbled, opening her chat with Peter and starting to type rapidly.

“Geez, what’s the hurry?” the driver asked, turning his wheel and merging with the car flow.

oh my god

“My boyfriend is in trouble,” she said, shaking nervously.

oh my god peter im so sorry

im omw

“He needs me,” she said quitter, finishing her last message.

please hang in there im coming

“Sorry to hear that,” said the driver, throwing a quick look at her, “but it’s rush hour, lady. I’ll try to get you there as fast as I can, but your boy chose the worst time to be in trouble. No offense.”

“None taken. It’s on me. I should’ve known it was about to happen, but I completely forgot.” Her leg was shaking in a nervous tick as she watched the road lights change from red to green, hoping they’ll make it through the next one.

“My, what is it with your boy?”

“He has a… condition,” her cheeks flushed red. She imagined Peter’s possible state, all hot and bothered, unwillingly edging himself, desperate for human contact. For contact with her. She pressed her thighs closer together. The situation, although alarming, was extremely arousing at the same time.

“A condition? Is it dangerous?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know… is it lethal?” asked the driver nonchalantly, taking another turn.

“Oh god, no! God, I hope it’s not!” her eyes grew bigger as she let the frightful thoughts enter her mind. She heard her phone beep, notifying her of a new message, making her heart beat even faster than it already was. She opened the chat again.

please hurry

its bad

“Ah. See? I told you. Rush hour.”

She looked up to see a wall of red lights in front of her. All the cars were frozen in place, all the rows were stuck dead until the very end of the road, which was pretty far away. She pressed her lips tightly together. This won’t do. It will take her forever to get home if she continues like this.

She had to run.

“You know what? I’ve got this from here.”

She took out the money and slammed it onto the car dash, unbuckling her seatbelt and quickly getting out of the car.

“Hey! Careful, you punk!”

It was the last thing she could remotely hear her driver say before she took off. To say she ran fast would be a huge understatement. Never in her life has she run as fast as she was running now. Gladly, they managed to make some progress on the road, and the apartment was not as far away. Checking the time, she maneuvered through the crowd, getting gradually closer. When she could see her building at the end of the street, she picked up the pace as if seeing the finish line at a marathon. At the front door, she tried to dial the entrance code, making mistakes thrice, because her shaking fingers kept missing the right buttons. After hearing the buzz, she flew into the main hall and rushed up the stairs, getting the keys out of the bag in advance. Finally, at the apartment door, she started going through all the keys with her shaking fingers, struggling to find the right one. Mailbox, office, parent’s house… there, the apartment key. She shoved it in and turned until a click, smashing the door open.

Peter couldn’t move a muscle. All the energy was going from all the parts of his body straight into his cock, which was glowing from how red, swollen, and tense it was. Peter has never felt worse in his life: it was a feeling of constant, unflagging, ongoing edging. His body was in an insufferable pre-orgasmic state, and Peter’s mind was going absolutely insane from all the hours of denied relief. He was crying, letting out desperate sobs, unable to take it anymore. His hand was fixated around his shaft, pumping it without pause for god knows how long, without any results.

When the door was thrown open, he thought he was hallucinating. But then, a strong, wild, dizzying smell filled the apartment, making Peter’s body shudder in anticipation. It was perfume, sweat, and her natural scent, which made the veins on his length pulsate with renewed vigor. He moaned, inhaling every last bit of it, its hints stimulating every living inch of his body.

The state of him was heartbreaking. But god how extremely sexual it was: Peter’s body, covered in sweat and precum, twirling and quivering in wrinkled sheets, his cock squeezed tightly in his hand, leaking from his hyperarousal. Her folds clenched at the view, leaking from the mere thought of his pulsating cock inside her.

And fuck did he feel it. Her presence in the room after hours of sexual solitude felt like a whole new world of sensations. He could smell her fluids slowly soaking her underwear, he could feel the heat coming from between her legs and it drove him absolutely crazy.

“Oh, Peter,” she said quietly, astounded.

“Ple-ease,” he sobbed, “I—I—I ca-an’t, I—”

“Yes, yes, Peter, I got you, I got you,” she mumbled, quickly undressing completely and climbing onto the bed. She was afraid to touch him first, it could worsen the situation. So she loomed over his cock, positioning herself more comfortably. Peter could feel the time slow down as she was slowly lowering her head to his member. He could feel all of it: the heat coming from her parted lips, the wetness inside her mouth. His own mouth opened in anticipation, saliva dripping from the corners. And then, her lips covered his tip and Peter screamed. His hips immediately jerked up, desperate for her to take him in deeper. She quickly complied, having no intention in torturing him and took his entire length in one motion.

“A-a-ah!” Peter threw his head back, into the cupboard, his hands grabbed at his hair, simultaneously covering his face. His head was spinning. Rushing to relief him, she moved her head quickly up and down his entire member, her tongue flickering his tip. Peter’s body got immensely tense as he shuddered, raising his hips higher, gravitating towards the heat behind her lips. Then, she brought her hand closer and cupped his balls, squeezing them lightly, and Peter absolutely lost it. Screaming her name, his back arched and his hips bucked into her mouth as he unleashed a thick spurt of cum down her throat, his entire body trembling.

She made an attempt to swallow, but Peter released so much it started spilling from her mouth, down his cock, and onto the sheets, as she continued to suck him through his orgasm. By the time he stopped ejaculating, all she could think about was how overwhelmingly wet she was: her pussy was dripping all over the already wet bed.

Peter’s cock was still rock hard, even after the blowjob. Hours of him lying on the edge of orgasm without achieving it led to a lot of unleashed sex drive and sperm, which had to be released in more than one go. She looked up at him, wiping her lips. Peter’s breath was heavy, he was looking at her through the daze in his eyes, completely disoriented. She started to slowly make her way up his body, her breasts accidentally caressing his tip. Peter whimpered, his cock spasming from the sensation. Even after orgasm, he was still immensely sensitive. She slipped her hands up his torso, her body gently sliding against his, making Peter moan shakily. He was flaming hot, his body felt like an open fire, few degrees higher and it would actually burn her skin.

She positioned herself above him, her pussy inches from his cock. It was magnetizing, drops of lube were dripping on his tip, and it made Peter’s body shiver. Locking her gaze with his, she parted her outer lips with her fingers and slowly slid down his length with sloshing sounds, mewling from the feeling of Peter inside her. She could feel his cock pulsating and it made her walls clench around him harder.

“Oh g-god,” Peter sobbed, his hands raising to find hers and intertwine their fingers. “Ple-ase, mo-ve, a-ah, please please ple-ase.”

She let out a trembling breath and started grinding her hips against his lap, parting her lips from the sense of flaming friction. Peter’s hands squeezed her own tighter, and she raised them up to the sides of his head to fixate him. His cock was never huger, it must’ve been from the long waiting in heat. It was tearing her apart, spreading her walls. She moaned with her mouth open, saliva dripping onto his chest. Peter leaned in and smashed his lips against hers in a sloppy kiss, their teeth clashing. “I’m so-sorry,” her voice was lewd and jumpy from the thrusts, “I’m—a-ah!”

Regaining some strength, Peter removed his hands and squeezed her waist tightly and started slamming her down onto his cock in aiding motions, his hips jerking up for additional impact. She cried, licking and biting at Peter’s neck, sobbing into his ear.

“So good, so-o go-od, yes yes ye-s,” she praised him, tears spilling from her eyes. She lifted herself up a bit so she could see Peter’s face, their noses touching. Peter’s face was red, veins pumping on his forehead.

“I wa-anted it f-for so lo-ng,” Peter sobbed, losing his breath, “it feels so-o good, so good.”

He repositioned himself and began to pin her down with renewed force, his hips smashing into her from beneath. The tip of his cock was pounding into her cervix, making her stick her tongue out in ecstasy. 

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop,” her voice got higher with every word as her body twisted, anticipating release. Peter groaned, his fingers digging into her hips.

“I’m gonna cum gonna cum,” he breathed shakily, raising his head and caressing her lips with his.

Moments before the high, she started choking from the thrusting force. She threw her head back, her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and she screamed Peter’s name, slammed into her orgasm. She proceeded to jump on Peter’s lap rapidly, riding through her orgasm and mewling from overstimulation, seeing Peter’s tense face as he reached the same edge he’s been on for the last four hours at least. From one of the thrusts, her folds clenched tightly around Peter’s length and he cried, arching his back, pressing his head into the cupboard, hit with the strongest heat orgasm he’s ever had. His vision went black as he covered his face with his arms, shivering with all his muscles. She lied powerlessly on his chest, his cock still inside her, having no strength to get off it.

Letting a few quiet sobs, Peter went quiet, his breath gradually becoming steady.

“Peter,” she whispered. Not receiving any reaction in response, she raised her head a bit. “Peter. You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah,” he croaked, barely able to speak. “I think I passed out.”

She chuckled. “Let’s not forget about the heat again, yeah?”

Peter chuckled tiredly in return. “Yeah.”

She gained her strength and got up from his cock. There was so much sperm, it began to spill down her inner thighs. Peter opened his eyes and moaned quietly.

“Oh no, please cover yourself,” he said, covering his eyes.

“Hm?” She tilted her head in question.

“I can’t look at you,” he said, covering his face with a pillow.

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m about to have a boner, and I’m not ready for another one of those for like, another week.”

She looked down and, realizing what he was talking about, quickly pulled a bed sheet, covering the lower part of her body. Smiling, she lied next to Peter, peaking underneath the pillow and removing wet strings of hair from his tired face. “Also,” he began quietly, averting his glance.

“Hm?”

“I think there are now videos of Spiderman, lying on the ground with a huge boner and humping the asphalt.”

She laughed, getting closer and covering them both with a pillow.

“I always knew he was a kinky perv.” She closed her eyes and kissed Peter softly, feeling him smiling.

“I love you,” he said the moment after they parted their lips.

“I love you more, Peter.”

“I love you most.”

My (first!) tag list: @lousimusician @campcampie @calypsolotus @mlt2000 @zelda2248 @imarockstar45 @jackiehollanderr @bluediamondsevie @professsionalsinner @hae-bee @madisonn-chapman @itsbqueenthings @dean-the-smol-bean @notobsessed-justobservant @peterbrokenparker @pxkajesus @jxhnten @oais-sis @avngrsinitiative @russian-potatoes @iamburdened @mirenkristina @cin-sweetie @onyxbunny22 @maryhuffxoxo @danicarosaline 

#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x oc #tom holland #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #marvel

[bangtanstanst]

Act Natural | 3

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five • part six • part seven

You didn’t exactly plan on dating someone you work for. But, now that it is happening, all you can do is keep it between the two of you – no matter how hard that ends up being.

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: fluff, hint of angst, secret relationship au

warnings: none

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hi guys! I think I’m doing an oopsie by uploading my third joon fic in a row but oH WELL I’ve got a good supply of them so why not share, right?😏😏😏 I hope you like this one! :)

masterlist

You’re starting to think Namjoon has forgotten the meaning of ‘careful’. Those texts that almost tipped Yari off about the two of you? Yeah, he hasn’t stopped sending them, or even toned it down in any sense of the word – he’s quite honestly made you work harder on your poker face than ever before.

But he’s really pushing his luck tonight.

You’re on a once-in-a-blue-moon company dinner, the night before the group’s short work trip to Japan. The entire team is seated at the enormously long tables the restaurant has arranged for you, with you and Namjoon as far away from each other as possible – as you decided earlier today. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from reaching out to you.

J💕

[20:33] Babeeee [20:35] BABE

[20:36] Yes, BABEEEE?

[20:38] You’re so prettyyyy [20:38] :((

[20:40] I thought you’d be happy with that :((((

[20:42] I am!! [20:43] This is a face of extreme happiness [20:43] So prettyyyyy :(( [20:43] See?

You put your phone down, suppressing a laugh, your eyes involuntarily drifting over to where he’s seated. When he catches you looking, he pouts at you and mimes a tear rolling down his cheek. It makes you snort, and you quickly look away before you burst out in full-on laughter – but you’ve already brought yourself in danger.

“Y/N!” shouts Yari from beside you, hitting the table with her palm. Her cheeks are rosy from the drinks she’s already had and you know that her voice will only get louder than it already is, will she continue drinking at this pace. “What the hell is going on with you?”

Her question pulls the attention of a few of the coworkers sitting around you, who briefly pause their conversation to look over at you. Your eyes widen as you turn to her, feeling your cheeks heat up as you feel your coworkers’ eyes pricking in your back. “What?” you inquire, trying to stay calm.

“You keep grinning at your phone like you’re looking at the answer to the universe!” she exclaims leaning forward in an attempt to reach for your phone. “What the hell are you doing on there?”

You swipe the device off the table before she can grab it, your composure starting to fade. She doesn’t know it’s Namjoon. Come on, you can talk your way out of this. Think of something. “I uh…”

“I accidentally sent her this double chin picture and I told her not to show anyone,” Jimin says from two seats over, somehow having heard your plight through his own conversation. Or perhaps Yari’s voice tipped him off.

You glance at him and he nods encouragingly, eyes quickly darting to your phone before he looks back at you, throwing back a shot of soju.

“I call bullshit!” Yari shouts in the meantime, once again hitting her palm on the table. “That’s the smile you get when you’re talking to a guy,” she says, pointing at you with an empty shot glass, eyes narrowed as they peer into yours. “Who are you talking to, Y/N?”

Your eyes widen even more and you force a laugh, looking away, desperately hoping that you understood Jimin’s gestures right, or you’ll be fucked. “I was talking to a guy!” you defend, unlocking your phone. Your heart skips a beat when you see that, indeed, Jimin has sent you a picture of his best double-chin face, followed by a text pleading you not to show anyone this ‘accident’. “See?” you exclaim, proudly turning your screen to her, which gets you an offended gasp from Jimin, along with a weak flick at your hair.

“I told you not to show anyone!” he shouts, mouth open.

You glance back at him with a smile. “What can I say, I’ve got to defend my honour when it’s being challenged.”

He huffs at you, narrowing his eyes – and you would’ve thought the annoyance was genuine, had you not known for sure he’s just pretending. “I’ll remember that for the time you accidentally send me a stupid picture.”

Snorting, you pry your phone from Yari’s hands, who’s still looking at it with eyes narrowed to slits, as if she’s trying to find some sort of secret message in the text conversation you’re showing her. “Don’t hold your breath,” you tell Jimin, putting your phone back on the table with the screen turned down, lifting your eyes to Yari’s as she drinks from her large glass of water. As if that’ll counter all the shots she’s downed so far. “So, satisfied?” you ask her, noticing that your coworkers are turning back to their own conversations.

“No, but it’ll have to do for now,” she says, drinking the last of her water and filling her glass back up with the pitcher on the table. “I just don’t see what’s so important about this guy that you have to keep him a secret from us.”

You fall silent, feeling your heart sink, and you hide your flushed cheeks behind your glass. “Sorry,” you mutter, momentarily speechless as you try to find a way not to give her more details, or at least a way in which you won’t have to lie to her anymore. Putting your glass down, you sigh. “I’m just... waiting to see how it’ll turn out,” you tell her, trying your very hardest not to look at Namjoon. “I don’t want to make a bigger deal out of this than I have to.”

She leans her chin on her hand, pouting at you. “Can’t you at least tell me his name?”

You just give her a look, subtly shaking your head, taking another sip of your water.

“Hair colour?”

Silence.

“Is it a guy, at least?”

You sputter on your drink, her words having conjured up the picture of Namjoon wearing a wig, clad in women’s clothes – and it’s especially funny to you because that has actually happened. More than once. “Yeah, it’s a guy.”

A small smile breaks out as she turns back to the table and stuffs a small snack into her mouth, seeming satisfied with your answer. “I’ll take that. For now.”

You snort at her, hoping your red cheeks will go unnoticed in the low lighting. Stuffing some food into your mouth yourself, you feel your heart pounding in your chest, involuntarily glancing in Namjoon’s direction – but his chair is empty. Putting your glass down, you let out a breath and pick up your phone, opening up the conversation with Jimin back up.

Chimchim

[20:59] Did you just have that ready?

[21:00] … [21:00] No comment.

[21:01] 🤔 [21:01] THANK YOU THO

[21:01] OFC

Just before you put your phone back down so you can go back to mingling with your colleagues, a notification pops up. It’s one you almost ignore, lest you have to talk yourself out of such a situation again – but you can already catch the gist of it from the notification.

[J💕: Join me in the bathro…]

You excuse yourself and leave relatively unnoticed. All you do is stand up, announce to Yari that you have to pee, and then you’re off without more questions – which, admittedly, is the way it usually goes, but you’re a little on edge right now, expecting obstacles to pop up whenever and wherever they please.

The handicapped bathroom, where you and Namjoon often take your ‘breaks’, is close to the back of a wide corridor, the door right next to the entrance to the other bathrooms. Quickly glancing to your right, then to your left, you check if someone has followed you. Once you’re sure that’s not the case, you knock on the door with your standard password – the morse code for ‘hi’.

A mere second later, the lock clicks and the door opens, allowing you to slip inside. As soon as you’re in, you whirl around and lock the door behind you, a serene silence washing over you when the door mutes your colleagues’ chatter. Heaving a sigh, you lean your forehead against the cool surface of the door, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

You open your eyes and turn around, pressing your back to the door of the clean, spacious bathroom. Namjoon is leaning against the sink, arms crossed as he smiles at you. “And you should stop it with the flirty texts at work dinners, but we can’t always get what we want,” you return with a grin, feeling your heart flutter when his smile widens and his dimples show.

He doesn’t say anything in reply, his long legs carrying him to you in less than two steps – and then he has your face in his hands, his lips on yours, your back pressed harder against the door. He tastes of the soju you’ve all been drinking, his lips soft and warm and oh so inviting, and they slot so nicely in yours that you can only sigh and lean into him, that you can only want more of it all.

But then he pulls away, trailing soft, languid kisses down your cheek, your jaw, your neck, never lingering in one specific spot. “God, I’ve wanted to do this so badly all night,” he mutters against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You have no idea.”

You laugh, pressing your lips to his temple. “I think I might,” you reply. “You really got us in trouble back there, Joon,” you add, only half-serious – you just have to say it before his lips make you forget everything.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his girlfriend?”

A grin breaks out at his wording – he doesn’t get to call you his girlfriend very often, so every time the word does leave his lips feels special. “Just buy Jimin some food for his trouble. I had to show Yari his double chin.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest and he pulls away. “As if she hasn’t seen us at our very worst,” he returns with an amused smile, raising an eyebrow.

You narrow your eyes at him, but you can’t think of a comeback – because he’s most definitely right. In all your years of working on their team, you and Yari have had to paint away countless undereye bags, hangovers, puffy eyes, anything you might imagine.

“Point taken. But do it anyway,” you insist, grinning as he nods quickly, muttering ‘yeah, yeah’ before leaning back in and pressing a kiss to your lips, a feeling you’ve somehow grown to miss in these few seconds that he hasn’t been kissing you.

You hum in content, resting your arms in his neck, lazily kissing him back like your friends and colleagues can’t just start wondering where you are – no, you take your time, relishing in every second of his warm lips on yours, his sweet scent overwhelming you in all the best ways. You don’t even stop him when you feel your hands brush the bare skin underneath your shirt, nor do you pay it any mind when that same shirt starts to hike up – you only pull away when you hear voices.

They’re muffled, but undeniably people you know – your money is on two of your stylist colleagues. You and Namjoon stare at each other with wide eyes, listening intently to their voices, their footsteps, their laughter. The both of you are holding your breath, afraid to make even the tiniest of sounds as you hear one of the bathroom doors open.

When the door finally falls closed and their voices mute, you relax and let out a breath, arms dropping down to your sides. You both feel more sobered up than ever and the mood is most definitely ruined now. Instead, you’re faced with the reality you’re in – the trouble you could’ve been in, had you been… further along than simply making out against the door.

With a sigh, Namjoon turns and sits down on the closed toilet bowl, rubbing his face. A heavy air hangs over you, your heart still pounding and your mind racing.

“We really have to stop meeting like this, huh?” you joke softly, hoping to break some of the tension.

He looks up at you with a small smile, though the frown on his forehead tells you the mood has definitely not been lightened as much as you were aiming for. “Probably,” he says with another sigh, looking down at his fidgeting hands. “Sorry for almost getting us in trouble a hundred times tonight,” he adds bitterly, lifting his eyes to you with such a look in them that you can’t help but pout.

Walking over to him, you pointedly sit down in his lap, putting your arms around his shoulder. “It’s okay, it was cute,” you reassure him, though you know that there’s a lot more behind his words than just his frustration with tonight.

“You thought I was going for cute?” he returns with a shake of his head, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Where did I go wrong?”

“Okay, okay, you were hot, too, I guess,” you relent with an exaggerated heavy sigh, letting your shoulders slump.

He chuckles, nodding firmly. “Glad to hear it.”

You fall silent for a few seconds, just when the bathroom door opens once again and the women’s voices echo through the hallway. You’re relaxed this time, just waiting until they pass you by and you’re in the clear to speak again.

But when the voices are gone, you don’t open your mouth, simply resting your head on his shoulder instead. You close your eyes, imagining yourself somewhere better, somewhere more romantic, more comfortable than the toilet bowl of a restaurant bathroom.

Letting out a breath, he rests his head on yours, slowly swaying back and forth for a few minutes, neither of you wanting to think about the others noticing you’ve been gone for a while and probably thinking you’re pooping.

“We should go on an actual date soon,” Namjoon says lowly, even the gentle sound of his voice pulling you out of your thoughts with a jolt.

You flutter your eyes open, still resting your head on his shoulder. “After the trip?”

“I guess that’s as soon as possible, right?”

You breathe out a laugh. “Yeah. We should probably –”

You’re cut off when you hear another set of footsteps move down the corridor, then Yari’s voice echoing through the hallway. “Y/N, you’re missing out on all the free alcohol! You …” You can’t hear the rest of what she says, her voice disappearing into the women’s bathroom.

It takes you a full second to realise that Yari isn’t going to find you there. You immediately jump up from Namjoon’s lap, eyes wide as you rush over to the mirror to fix your hair and clothes – luckily, a lot of trial and error has made Namjoon quite skilled at avoiding permanently messing up any part of your hair or outfit for the night, and the knowing smile teased across his lips tells you he knows it damn well, too.

“I’ll go out first, you wait until I’m gone, okay?”

Namjoon simply nods, rising to his feet as you make your way to the door. Yari’s voice is still not back from the women’s bathroom so you wait for a few seconds, hand gripping the doorknob.

“I’ll miss you,” he teases.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, sending him a small smile. “I’ll miss you too,” you return, standing up on your tiptoes when he leans in to kiss you once more. It’s short and sweet, soon interrupted when you hear a door open and Yari calling your name. “Bye,” you whisper, turning back to the door, taking a breath and rolling your shoulders to get ready.

“I’m in here!” you shout, taking a breath and then turning the lock, slipping through a small crack and carefully closing the door behind you.

“Why would you go in there?” Yari wonders with a frown, glancing at the door behind you.

“Because the women’s bathroom was occupied, why the hell else?” you reply, hooking your arm into hers to pull her away from the bathrooms. You’re hoping the speedy answer will allow you to pull her away from Namjoon without her getting suspicious. “Did you become a detective tonight or something?”

She laughs. “Yes, when you told me you have a secret boyfriend,” she teases as you walk back to your table, the loud chatter of your colleagues overwhelming you. You clear your throat, fixing your gaze ahead of you in an attempt not to show her how nervous her words make you. “You won’t tell me anything, so now I’ve got to get the scoop on my own.”

Great.

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a/n: thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it!! Oof how long will these two be able to keep their relationship secret?? Who the heck knows at this point fjsdkl but anyways, let me know what you thought and what you think will happen next, or what you might like to see! I’d love to hear from you :)) I hope you have a great day/night♥♥♥

masterlist

#bangtanarmynet #bangtan bookclub #btsguild #hyunglinenetwork #bts fanfic #bts fluff #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fluff #bts angst #namjoon angst #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #kim namjoon #bts rm #bts #my fics #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts imagines #namjoon scenario #rm scenario #namjoon fic #rm fic #rm fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #rm fanfiction #rm fluff #rm angst #bts rm fic

[uglypastels]

CONGRATS ON 1.1K BBY YOU DESERVE IT SO SO MUCH!!! could I have a ✏ I really love to write and a title is "how to be your own hero" idk thank you so much have a great day!!! ❤🧡💛💚💙💜💗

Aawww thank you so much!  💙💜💗❤🧡💛💚 

Okay, so I have to admit, this title was a pretty hard one. After a long time of thinking I came up with an idea and I hope you like it. Sorry if it isn’t what you expected/wanted. 

It also turned out more like a “medium” story than a “short” story, but yeah… here it goes. 

How To Be Your Own Hero // Peter Parker

“Whatcha doing there?” Peter asked, sliding into the seat next to (Y/N). Startled at the sudden presences next to her, she jumped up, closed her notebook quickly. She must have realized soon that it was, in fact, Peter who sat down next to her, because her shoulders lost the tension and she smiled.

“Oh, uhm, nothing. Just writing.”

“New or old story?” Peter leaned on his arm as he talked.

“New.” She said, opening her notebook again, writing down a sentence and closing it again. She did that often, Peter had noticed. She always walked around with the notebook in reach so anytime inspiration hit, she would be able to write it down as quickly as she could.

“Cool. Will I get to read this one?”

“Absolutely not.” She scoffed, putting the notebook away in her bag. Peter was a bit surprised by that. She almost never put it away. And if she did, it was into her pocket. Never so far into a backpack that she couldn’t reach it in two seconds if needed.

“Seriously, when are you gonna let me read something? You are like, so good.”

“Wow, thanks.” She gave him a tight smile. One that Peter wasn’t sure of if it was genuine. No matter the answer, he decided to ignore it.

“Can you at least tell me what you’re writing about?”

“If I tell you, I would have to kill you,” she said in a stone cold tone, causing Peter to laugh. That, however, faded when he realized she wasn’t joining him. She looked straight into his eyes for a good five seconds, before giggling. “That was a joke, Parker. You’re a loser, you know that?”

“Pretty much.” he shrugged with his shoulders. Then, the bell rang, motioning the rise of all the students at Midtown High from their lunch tables and the big march to classes followed. Peter and (Y/N) repeated the actions of everyone else in the cafeteria. During their walk to class, Peter kept on nudging her and tried to get something out of her. Did she find it annoying? Probably. But he was too stubborn to care at the moment.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” they sat down at the desks next to each other. “I don’t get it why you won’t let me read anything. I can read the stuff you write for school, so why not this?”

“You already answered your own question, Parker.” She said casually as she started to get the things out of her bag, including her little purple notebook. “That’s for school, so people will read that anyway. This,” she ticked on the cover of her notebook, “is mine and I would like to keep it that way.”

“Right, sorry,” Peter leaned back in his seat and their conversation ended as the teacher started the class.

________________________________________

A few more hours passed and it was finally the end of the day for everyone… except for the decathlon team. They were seated in the library, everyone around one big table, making notes and looking through at least a hundred different books to prepare themselves for the upcoming regionals.

It was quiet. Like most of the times when they had their meetups in the library. Everybody would work on what they were assigned, mostly keeping to their own business. Sometimes they would have little breaks from the silence, just to ask questions about things they didn’t understand. In the end, they would go around the table and share with the group with the progress that they had made.

Usually, Peter had no trouble with this format of working. He worked best alone. But today, he couldn’t concentrate on a single word in any book he tried to read. His eyes kept finding their way over to (Y/N), who was sitting right next to him.

Unlike him, she was actually doing what had been asked of her, researching as much as she could about… Peter couldn’t remember what she was assigned to do. Neither could he remember what he was asked to.

Every now and then, she would stop reading and something down. Sometimes it were notes about the text, sometimes it was in her own mystery notebook. Peter tried to catch a glimpse at what she was writing. He didn’t even know why he wanted to read her writing so badly. It was probably the fact that she didn’t let him that made him so curious. He also just wanted to know what it was that his friend did every minute of every day.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until it was too late. His eyes were transfixed in a dazed state on her hands as she scribbled down words. Suddenly her hand stopped moving, but Peter’s eyes were still locked on the pen she was holding. He was completely zoned out. A cough brought him back.

“What are you doing?” It was (Y/N). Peter looked up at her face. His eyes dry from not blinking too long. She raised an eyebrow at him and Peter felt his cheeks heat up.

“Uuh, sorry,’ he scratched the back of his neck. He looked away, too embarrassed to look at her now.

“You zoned out back there.” then she laughed a little. “Anything on your mind?”

“What? No… kind of the opposite.” He admitted. It was true, his mind was blanking and it annoyed him.

“Hmm, I see.” She gave him this kind of look that made Peter shiver. Her bright eyes seemed to go right through him. Her mouth opened to say something else, but MJ chimed in. “I’m gonna go find some more books. Anyone care to help?” She looked around the table.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you. I need to go and find something about Francis Crick, anyway.” (Y/N) smiled and the two girls went off, disappearing behind some bookshelves. Peter had followed them with his eyes until he couldn’t see the last rogue curl from MJ’s ponytail. His eyes fell back to his stack of open books, already getting slightly overwhelmed by all the information he had to cram into his head. After one attempt at trying to read a paragraph, he gave up, leaned back in his chair and sighed.

He looked around at the rest of the team, nobody was paying attention to him, too busy reading and writing. Then his eye caught a glimpse of (Y/N)’s part of the table. It was much neater than his own or anyone else’s for that matter. All the books she had used were stacked in a small pile. Her notes were color-coded and written in a perfect handwriting. It was an organizers dream. But it was not what caught Peter’s attention.

There, next to her notes, under her pencil case, lay the purple notebook. The edges of the pages were uneven from water damage and it’s frequent use.

Peter had to keep in any urge to grab it and read what was written inside. This was probably the only chance he had to ever do it. But it was wrong, (Y/N) didn’t want him to read it and she probably had a good reason for it too. It was really none of his business what was in that notebook. Then again, that never stopped him doing stupid things before.

Very casually, he leaned forward to pick up the pencil case and slide the notebook towards him. He probably didn’t have much time before (Y/N) and MJ would come back from their library book haul. He opened the notebook on a random page in the middle and quickly scanned the words, not reading it thoroughly, just enough to understand whatever the story was.

But he didn’t even need to read that much to understand what he was reading. He knew this story already. He had lived it himself. He was reading about last weeks Chemistry class. A collective groan escaped the whole class as Mr. Cobwell announced a surprise test for today’s class.

Peter remembered that. He browsed through the pages, just glimpsing at different parts of the texts. He stopped when he caught a glimpse of his own name. He went back to the page he saw it on and started reading. Peter just sat there, not listening to the people around him talk. Too consumed with his own thoughts. Though his body wasn’t showing it, his dark mahogany eyes filled, yet still sparkling, with concern and confusion.

There was no dare around the text, so he had no idea when (Y/N) wrote this. Before he could get a proper look at the rest of the writing, he heard footsteps. His senses told him it was (Y/N) and MJ coming back to the table. (Y/N)’s happy laugh confirmed it completely. Without thinking he closed the notebook and slid it back to (Y/N)’s spot at the table. This was not a smart idea, as the action caused all of her things to move around and the notebook was still far away from its original placement.

The two girls came back, both laughing at something. Peter looked down at a book in front of him (he didn’t even know which one) hiding his face from them with his arm. He didn’t look up when they came around to the table; he didn’t look up when (Y/N) walked back to her seat next to him and he definitely did not look up from his textbook when she froze in her spot, looking down at her things. It was obvious she knew what happened.

Fortunately, she didn’t call Peter out in front of everyone. Instead, she sat down, re-organizing everything around her. He could feel her eyes on him. Oh, she definitely knew it was him.

For the rest of the hour, Peter didn’t dare to look away from his book. Too scared of what would happen if he accidentally found his gaze wander off to (Y/N) again.

“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” MJ closed a book in front of her nose. Peter cringed at the loud sound. Everyone around him started to clean up their things. Peter did it extremely slow, hoping that in the end, he would be the last one to leave the library. That way he could maybe avoid walking back home with (Y/N). The possible confrontation was giving him all the anxiety he did not need right now.

“Peter, you coming?” his head shot up from his pen. He had been holding it for a few seconds, not really sure what to do with it. In front of him stood Ned and MJ, waiting for an answer. Peter glanced to his side, where he was greeted with an empty seat. (Y/N) had already left, but he still wasn’t feeling like he wanted to leave the library.

“No, you guys go without me. I still have some homework to do.” his two friends nodded and walked away, waving and saying their byes before walking through the heavy doors of the library. Peter sighed. He didn’t have any homework to do, but he couldn’t leave now. That would just raise eyebrows.

He was browsing through some random books around the table when the hair on the back of his neck raised. There was somebody behind him. Or at least near him. Before he got to turn around, he could also hear them… no, her. “Oh, everyone left, I see.” It was (Y/N). Peter cursed under his breath. Of course, it was her. Still not daring to look at her, he mumbled: “Yeah. I thought you had left too.”

“No, I was just bringing some books back.” She sat down next to him. Peter didn’t understand why she had to sit back in her old spot if all the other seats were now free too. But then, as she was going through her notes again, she said it. “So, you’ve read my notebook, huh?” It made sense now.

He was caught and had no way to run. It was pointless to deny it. He closed the book that was laying in front of him and turned to look at her. She was still reading her notes. Highlighting a few loose words every now and then.

“I did. Look, (Y/N), I’m sorry. You told me not to do it and I was a selfish idiot and did it anyway-”

“It’s okay.” the words surprised Peter. He looked at his friend with wide eyes.

“W-what? You’re not mad?”

“No, not mad. A bit disappointed, but not mad.” The words made her sound like forty-year-old soccer mom talking to her children. “I mean, it sucks that you read it behind my back without asking, but hey, it happened so let’s not get out panties in a twist.” Peter was stunned. He couldn’t believe it that she wasn’t angry at him. Saying sorry once definitely didn’t feel like doing enough… so he said it again. “I’m really sorry.”

“Peter, it’s fine. Honestly, I wanted you to read it, but-” she stopped mid-sentence, her cheeks flushed a pastel pink, “I was just kind of embarrassed, seeing that I write about us.”

“About us?”  

“Urgh, I mean, about everyone. School, classes, decathlon, lunch breaks.” Her cheeks turned even redder. Peter started to feel embarrassed he misinterpreted her first words. Of course, she had meant it like that. They were just friends.

“Right, yeah. I knew that.” he tried to play it off cooler than he actually was. He had the feeling that his own face was heating up like hers. As embarrassed as he was, he was still curious: “Do you mind me asking, why do you write about us? I mean, you can come up with so many original stories, why high school?” She thought for a second before answering Peter’s question.

“People are always envious of the heroes they read about in stories, so I thought, why not just become your own hero?” she looked down, her finger tracing the doodles on the cover of her notebook that has collected there over the weeks. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“No, it’s pretty cool.” Tom assured her, “and it’s probably also a good way to practice writing, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Her smile came back.

“Besides, I’m flattered that you think my dark mahogany eyes are sparkling.” with a little smirk, he fluttered his eyelashes mockingly at her.

“Oh, shut up,” she nudged him in the ribs, still laughing.

“Hey, it’s your words, not mine.”

The End 

> my follower celebration

> masterlist

#uglypastels answers #anxieteaandbiscuits #request #follower celebration #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfics #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker writing #peter parker insert #fanfics #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland

[starryeyes-oneshots]

whiskey on ice : part two

[A/N: so I might have accidentally planned this out into a little mini series so I hope you like it (: ] Find the first part here

***

It had been nearly week since Taylor had seen the unfathomable Joe. She spent her days at the school, teaching several music classes to children who didn't really have much interest in what they were doing, and her nights marking note identification quizzes and recording grades into her scorebook. That part of her life moved monotonously, never straying too far from the routine.

It was her heart that was working double time since she had gone out with her friends.

Taylor hadn't stopped thinking about that Friday night for more than an hour. Everything about Joe was a mystery to her - a mystery she wanted nothing more to do than to solve.

With her curiosity came anxiety, and with her anxiety came fear. Fear of being rejected. Fear of feeling something that he couldn't reciprocate. Fear of falling in love again with someone so quickly, so vibrantly, so wildly. The thought of being in a relationship again made her insides shiver. But she couldn't stop thinking about him.

It could never work, she thought.

Not even something as simple as a friendship.

Long distance was something she didn't want to step foot in.

She'll just have to tell Joe that it's not going to work, not even being friends.

But how could she do that to him? He gave her his coat and kissed her cheek on the night they met. He was obviously interested in her. He obviously saw something in her that her string of ex-lovers didn't.

She missed that night terribly. The whiskey. The coffee. The beautiful park in the middle of the chaotic city. It was peaceful and beautiful. Everything about her time with Joe calmed her immensely. It was new and exciting. But this excitement also sparked a lot of fear and anxiety.

The elementary school teacher gathered her book bag from the subway seat beside her and stood up, as the train came to a stop at her station. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and exited the subway car, walking a few blocks to her apartment building.

She greeted her doorman, before punching in her code to unlock the main door into the area with the elevators. The elevator ride was relatively quick, even though she lived in the middle of the very tall apartment tower in New York City.

Walking through the narrow hallway, she pushed her hair out of her face a few times before coming up to her door and nearly tripping on something below her feet.

The blonde woman looked down, her eyebrows furrowed and face puzzled until she realized the meaning of the vase of flowers sitting at the base of her apartment door.

Before looking at the note, a part of her prayed that he had sent them. Telling her that everything would work out and that she didn't have to be scared of this blossoming friendship. Yet another part of her hoped that these were goodbye flowers, indicating that he didn't want to dabble his toes into a long distance friendship - or relationship with her either.

Taylor set her book bag from work down on the carpeted floor, dropping her keys beside it before picking up the vase and glancing at the card that was sticking up near the top.

She opened it carefully with her fingers, his words scribbled out on the white card stock paper in black pen.

Friday was beyond amazing. I wanted to send you these because I never got your number, so here's mine. Call me.

Joe.

Taylor stared at the note in front of her for a few moments before a bright smile engulfed the majority of her face.

She took the vase inside her apartment, setting it up on the counter in the kitchen: keeping the note nearby and reading it over and over. Debating whether she should call or just stay away. Was she ready? He knew she wasn't looking to rush into anything, but this somehow, some way: this felt extremely different to her. It was raw, and real, and right.

Taylor picked up her phone, holding the note open with her fingers as she pressed the correct buttons on her screen. It started to ring and she could barely breathe.

What was she doing?

The whiskey was getting to her.

The phone rang for a few moments before it connected and a thick British accent flooded through the speaker and into her ear, "Hello?"

Taylor gulped, holding the phone up to her ear, "Hi..uh, it's Taylor." She stuttered slightly, her cheeks growing continually red. Thank goodness he couldn't see her blushing face.

Even though she couldn't see him, she could feel the smile form on his face, "Taylor! Hello! You got the flowers!" He replies, his voice bright.

She giggled softly, "I just got home from work. I almost tripped on them."

"Well I'm happy to hear that they made it there. I was worried your doorman wasn't going to come through for me." He explained to her. He couldn't express how happy he was to hear her voice again, "'m glad you called."

"I'm glad I did too." She smiles, looking at the flowers intently. He had good taste.

Joe cleared his throat on the other end of the line, "I know what you said Friday about not rushing into anything right now, and I totally respect that. But I was wondering if...if I've convinced you enough to go on a real date with me."

Taylor blushed again, biting hard down on her lip as she couldn't contain a smile from her lips, "A real date?" She asked, just to hear him repeat those words back to her.

Joe nodded, even though she couldn't see him, "A real date. With me. Tonight."

"I will go on a real date with you, Mr. Joe." She replies, tapping her fingers softly on the countertop in her kitchen.

He ran his fingers through his hair, an undeniable smile on his face too, "I'll pick you up at 7?"

"See you at seven." She smiles, hanging up the phone before she said something completely embarrassing and stupid.

Was she actually doing this? He knew she wasn't ready for something as vulnerable and emotional as a relationship. What he didn't know was that she had a huge difficulty putting emotional trust into people after her messy breakup. Would he accept that?

It was time to take a step forward. Time to feel clean from what happened five months ago. She needed to let go, and do it in the best way possible.

This was her letting go.

This was her moving on.

This was her starting over.

This was her beginning again.

She stood in the full length mirror in the corner of her bedroom with ten minutes to spare. Letting out a deep breath, she dropped her shoulders and pushed them back - her posture tall and as confident as it could be.

The next thing she knew, she was standing in front of the man who had completely lifted her off of her feet: surprising her in so many ways with his kindness, his attention to detail, and his warm and welcoming nature.

Joe's jaw dropped slightly at the sight the girl in front of him, feeling underdressed  in his dark jeans and Nikes, compared to what Taylor was wearing.

"You look...you.." He stutters, his cheeks blushing as he struggled to find the right words that described how she looked to him, "You look gorgeous."

Taylor beamed, her bright blue eyes nearly twinkling in the remaining sunlight left in the day, "Thank you for saying that! So do you."

After a few moments of small talk, the two young adults hailed down a cab and climbed into the back seat, Joe absentmindedly reaching to wrap his arm around Taylor: en-route to one of his favourite restaurants.

"I have a question for you Taylor." Joe says, picking up his glass of wine and taking a sip, "What odd talent to you have that I have yet to know?"

Taylor giggles softly, sitting back in her chair as they waited for their food to be served, "I play a mean game of scrabble. What's yours?"

"Photographic memory." He answers, running a hand through his wispy blonde hair that was swooped to the side, "Helps me with my work."

She nods, fiddling with her fingers nervously in her lap. She could feel her cheeks blushing, and knew that Joe could most likely tell, "Have you ever played scrabble?"

"Oh of course! Who hasn't?" Joe exclaims, setting his wine glass back down on the white tablecloth, "Now I feel like we have to play a game to see who wins."

Taylor laughs, crossing her leg over the other, "Now it's time for me to ask you a question." She smirks softly, finding herself unusually very comfortable with him, "What was the last thing you bragged about to your mom?"

Suddenly, Joe's cheeks grew red and Taylor was wondering if she had said something wrong, "I'm sorry..I-"

He chuckles, "No, no. It's just that..I bragged to my mom about this girl I met at a bar last week and that I was sending her flowers because I wanted to see her again."

Her eyes light up, "Really?" She asked, almost in disbelief.

"Of course!" He assures her, "Friday was so fun and I'm...I'm really interested in you."

Blush covered her cheeks, as a smile formed on her face, "Do you go to bars often?" Taylor wondered, furrowing her eyebrows ever so slightly, taking another sip of her wine.

Joe shakes his head, "Hardly ever. I hate the smell of alcohol and my feet sticking to the floor."

"Yet you drink whiskey on ice?" She countered, questioning him light-heartedly.

The British man nods, "It's the only thing I drink, Miss Taylor."

The night went on quickly, moving forward in every direction possible. Just as she grew more comfortable with him, he grew more comfortable with her. It was one of those weird and magical situations where two people feel as if they have known each other their whole lives. This was clearly not true, but Taylor felt as if she had met Joe in grade school, someone who she played on the playground and split her cookie at lunch with.

The two friends finished up their meal and after Joe insisted on paying it in full, they made their way out to the front of the restaurant, the moon shining brightly above them.

"I don't want this night to be over." Joe admitted to the beautiful girl standing in front of him, "It's been absolutely amazing."

Taylor agreed, nodding her head and folding her arms in front of her, not sure what to say next, "I don't either."

A serene silence fell over the two of them as they looked at one another, thinking about the night that had just played out and how each of them was feeling about the other. He watched as her ocean blue eyes sparkled in the light from the restaurant and the city around, getting completely lost in her eyes. She watched how his gaze shifted, becoming more and more noticeable that he was somewhere off in his deepest and most personal thoughts. A large part of Taylor hoped he was thinking about her.

"I feel like I really need to experience you playing a mean game of scrabble." Joe beamed, slowly moving closer to her with his hands down at his sides - desperately wanting to move them to her hips.

Taylor laughs, biting down on her lip hard, "You might hate me if I beat your ass though."

He shakes his head, "Nah, I could never hate you," Joe smiles somewhat shyly, "I have a board back at my apartment, what do you say?"

The words came out of her mouth before she could even comprehend what she was saying, "I'd love to." Taylor spoke quickly, making sure she could get her answer out before either she or he changed their minds.

With a smile and a nod from Joe, she knew she had made the right decision, "It's a bit of a hike, so I'd understand if you don't want to go - or just call a cab from here."

"I've got nothing else to do...Let's walk a bit." Taylor nods, and before she knew it they were off and running - well, walking. Far apart enough that each of them had their own space, but close enough that Taylor could feel the heat radiating off of Joe, and vice versa.

Joe's hands stayed down by his side for nearly half the walk, before he intentionally moved slightly closer to Taylor - their hands brushing up against each other. She could feel her heart beating fast in her chest the moment she felt his hand brush up against hers, bringing back the feelings of being in fifth grade with a crush.

She couldn't deny how she was feeling: extremely confused. A part of her wanted to just let all of her guards, walls and defenses down and completely be open to having maybe a relationship with this guy she had somehow, by a twist of fate, gotten to know very well. Another part of her wanted her head to make all of the decisions and stop what was blossoming between them, in fear of getting hurt again.

"This is it." Joe stated, swinging open the black door to the apartment he had found to live in while he worked here temporarily, "It's not a million dollar place or anything, but it works."

Taylor nodded, taking a minute to look around the place from the front door, "Do you have any animals at home?" She asked curiously as he took her coat from her and draped it over the back of the couch.

"We used to have a dog, but he passed away a few years back." He opens up to her, moving into the kitchen, "Did you want something to drink?"

Taylor followed him, standing next to the counter - unsure if it was okay to sit down on the bar stools at the island in the middle of the light-coloured kitchen, "A coffee would be great, thank you."

"Coming right up." Joe chuckles, his thick British accent prominent, "A coffee at nine at night is a bit rebellious, don't you think?"

Taylor shrugs softly, a genuine smile on her face, "I've got nowhere to be tomorrow. Do you?"

He laughs, giving her a 'no' for a response, waiting for the coffee to be finished brewing. He grabbed two mugs from the upper cabinet and filled both of them with the hot dark coffee, "How do you take your coffee, love?"

"Cream and sugar please." She smiled, watching him finish off their drinks with cream from the fridge and sugar from the cabinet.

Joe hands Taylor one of the coffee mugs with a smile, "Very classy, Miss Taylor."

They enjoyed their coffee for a few minutes before Joe ushered her into the living room, grabbing the Scrabble box from the cabinet and setting it down on the large coffee table, "What if I told you that there's a Scrabble championship in the UK and I, Joe Alwyn - own it." He smirks, sitting down beside her on the couch.

Taylor raises an eyebrow, looking at him suspiciously, "Where's your trophy?"

"Back in London." He counters, smiling brightly at her before opening the box and setting up the game for the two of them.

Three hours and two coffee cups each later, the two were still battling it out in a very intense game of Scrabble.

"...and it's a triple word! I win!" Taylor squeals, pointing to the little wooden blocks she had just placed down on the board.

"Good job, Taylor." Joe smiles, wrapping his arm around her and rubbing her arm with his fingers, "You do really play a mean game of Scrabble."

Taylor laughs, unintentionally leaning into his body slightly, "I told you I love scrabble."

In that moment, Taylor felt as if there was no time between them. Everything was moving in slow motion as if the world had stopped just for them. Just for her and just for him.

"Maybe you'd love this too." Joe mumbles huskily before leaning in and gently pressing his lips against her soft ones.

She pressed back without even realizing because everything felt natural. Everything felt real and everything felt right - and she knew that's how it was supposed to be.

#taylor swift fanfiction #taylor joe fanfiction #jaylor #taylor swift #joe alwyn #whiskey on ice

[gotbangvixx]

Shy gf when they see their (BTS)  “interest” in them.  *coughcough*

Seokjin

Seokjin may look like an angel but rest assured he is a devil in disguise. He knew that you were going to notice his hard on. It was mostly because at this point it is impossible to hide. You two had been cuddling and watching a scary movie. Well you tend to cling when watching scary movies so by the time the movie was halfway over you were in almost in his lap and well... he had a perfect view down your shirt. He tried not to look. He really did but it didn’t last long. So when you threw your face into his shoulder and peeked at the tv you gaze fell downwards to his lap and you lept off of him like he was on fire. Your face was bright red and you started stuttering about needing to get some more popcorn... even though the bowl was still full. He got an evil glint in his eyes however and pulled you back down to the couch and kissed you softly leading down to THAT spot on your neck that never fails to send shivers down your spine. 

“How about we just forget this movie... and lets go to bed early tonight.”

Yoongi

It had been awhile alright? Between your job and his job there hasn’t been much time for the two of you. In fact it had been almost a month and a half since you two had done anything even remotely close to sex. You tended to be very shy when it came to it and he never pushed. He always let you make the first move. Which is mostly the reason why you two hadn’t done anything in awhile. You were tired and he was of course tired too but he would never push for anything. Well now you two just so happen to have a half day at the same time you take advantage of it with glee. That means your fridge is stocked with the quick comfort foods, the Netflix is queued with his and yours favorite movies, and you were in comfy clothes. He was in comfy clothes as well but it was a different type of comfy. You tend to overheat easily so your comfy clothes were a pair of boy shorts panties and one of Yoongi’s over sized t-shirts. Also known as the sexiest thing on earth. Yoongi was in the process of warming up some kimchi jjigae when you waltzed into the kitchen happy as could be. It was an instantaneous reaction and Yoongi didn’t have a chance to hide it before you froze and stared. You slowly backed up blushing furiously and looked everywhere but at him. Yoongi panicked and grabbed the nearest thing (a bowl that had been on the drying rack) and covered his crotch. He felt horrible because he normally had better control of himself and he did not want to make you uncomfortable. 

“I- I am so sorry Jagiya... I um... I am going to go... somewhere.”

Hoseok

This sweetheart. You being shy was so endearing to him that he tended to coo and dote on  you when you have a shy episode. Although this time was a bit different. You two had only been dating for a month or so and you two had yet to take that final step into intimacy. He wanted to take it slow and not rush anything preferring to build an emotional relationship with you. That worked out perfectly for you because while you wanted to intimacy with him you also were very shy about it. It was just one of those things that you never quite found a way to get over. You two had of course been dancing in the middle of the bedroom when he claimed he could do more girl group dances than you could. Let the Great Girl Group Quiz begin! You two had been at it for about thirty minutes when you started doing Sistar - Touch My Body. Hoseok missed the bed when tried to sit down. He fell to the floor with a thump and stared at your energetic dancing and what you thought were just innocent cute expressions. Damn. Hoseok always did have a weak spot for that wink. He didn’t even realize how he was reacting until you had finished the song and you looked at him still sitting on the floor with one knee propped up and his other leg extended out and his hard on was on full display. You blushed and immediately looked away kind of gesturing with your hand at his lower body. He looked down and felt himself blush as well when he realized just how bad that looked. He quickly jumped up and did an aeygo to try and relieve your shyness. It didn’t stop the blush now traveling down your neck but it did make you laugh.

Namjoon

If Seokjin was the devil then Namjoon was his best henchman. Namjoon tended to tease you when you get shy during sex. You two had been dating for 3 years and you still insist on the lights being turned off (at least at first) and you NEVER talked about it in public. This means that Namjoon and you now have a code for sex and he would causally mention it just to get you to blush and lightly punch him in the shoulder. It was his way giving payback for every time you would tease him about breaking something. Or catching something on fire. Or both at the same time. However he would always be quick to stop when your shyness turns into embarrassment. Which is exactly what happened when you two were at the park and got caught in a sudden rainfall. This normally wouldn’t be a problem but you happened to be wearing a white shirt that day and it quickly became transparent as you were drenched. You two had made a run for the nearest shelter but it was too late. You were soaked from head to toe and Namjoon could see everything. You didn’t realize it at first because you were mostly concerned about your mascara and eyeliner that was surely running down your face. When you turned to ask Namjoon how bad was it you realized he wasn’t even looking at your face but rather his eyes were locked on your breasts. Because he was also soaked by the rain when he started getting hard it became SO obvious. Like so so obvious and you couldn’t help but feel the familiar feel of a blush cover your face. You looked away but he already caught the blush and he started teasing. For some reason however it was affecting your deeper than it normally did and instead of laughing at his crude joke you actually became embarrassed and your eyes started to water. He immediately stopped teasing you and drew you into his arms apologizing. His hard on disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Ah shit. Sorry Jagi I didn’t mean to take it to far.”

Jimin

A spontaneous hard on was not apart of the plan. You had put a lot of effort into your 100 day anniversary and he had full intentions going with the flow. Well evidently he went along a little to well with the flow because when you and he started slow dancing to your couple song in the middle of the living room his body started following the flow too. The flow down south that is. You had a beautiful red dress that was a little form fitting and when you two were pressed together smoothly moving through your dance he could feel your ass pressing against his crotch. Shit. This was not good. He tried to delicately maneuver you away from his body but you didn’t seem to get the message because you pressed even closer. He groaned softly and you froze against him before twirling around to stare at him embarrassment flooding through you. You stuttered out an apology but he stopped you with a soft kiss careful to keep it light, more of a comforting kiss than anything. He pulled you to come sit on the couch softly brushed the hair from your eyes. You blushed harder when your gaze strayed to his crotch where he was clearly still hard. You jerked your gaze away and he gave his famous eye smile and kissed your forehead before stepping away to calm down so you wouldn’t be shy anymore.

Taehyung

It’s morning okay? And when someone with a penis wakes up in the morning they sometimes happen to have  boner. It happens. What does not normally happen is that you were there to see it. You two had plans to go to the zoo that day and you both wanted to get an early start because it was supposed to get hot. You let yourself into the apartment with your key (you and Taehyung just celebrated your 1 year anniversary) and you were surprised to see him still sprawled across his bed asleep. This was not the plan! He was supposed to be awake so all they have to do is leave when you got there! You told him as much as you started shaking his shoulder and being the cuddle bug that he didn’t really wake up as much as he just grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into bed. You struggled knowing full well that he isn’t really awake and this is normally something Seokjin goes through but it didn’t really help your case because no one else was there. You kept struggling and calling out Tae’s name until he sleepily looked at you and asked you name confused. You sigh exasperated and carefully scooted out of his arms (you didn’t want to accidentally fall out of bed) and glared at him. You told him that he was supposed to be awake! This caused his eyes to widen and look a the clock before he jumped out of bed and apologized profusely as gathered his clothes for the day. You gave a laugh at his shock but your laugh died out quickly when your eyes fell onto his morning erection. He was just wearing a pair of boxers and tank top to bed so there really was nothing to hide it. The tips of your ears went bright red and you gave a startled squeak looking away. He looked at you confused then down at his crotch. He blushed as well and quickly covered his hard on with his clothes he was holding. He tried to find something to relieve your shyness but his brain had yet to wake up so instead he just grabbed the rest of his clothes and literally ran out the door.

“So I am... I am going to just.... yeah.”

Jungkook

Seokjin often teased you about how the both of you get shy. It was adorable when Jungkook would blush when he kissed you in front of people or when you looked at him for to long. The same could be said of you though because you tended to become extremely shy anytime sex becomes a topic. You and Jungkook had only been dating a few months and because of your shyness you had yet to get very far. It was fine with Jungkook because honestly as long as you were his girlfriend and happy then he was happy too. You felt bad though because you knew Jungkook was teased by his hyungs and while it was innocent when they teased him his face would always go bright red. You worked at trying to keep from getting embarrassed so easily and decided tonight was the night. Tonight you and Jungkook were going to have sex. He was spending the night (not for the first time because he and you tend to get into anime marathons and loose track of time) and you had everything planned out. Everything went smoothly and perfectly. The food was perfect, the wine was perfect, the music was perfect, and even the excuse you gave to run to the bathroom for a moment was perfect. You slipped into a modest red silk nightie and quickly brushed your teeth. When you stepped outside and walked into the bedroom where Jungkook was currently turning down the bed for the night he froze. He swallowed hard as he took in your beautiful form and stepped close to you to kiss you softly. He had hoped this was what you were wanting to do tonight but he didn’t ask because he didn’t want to inadvertently pressure you. He stepped back pulling you to the bed and you gave him a small smile but your eyes widened and quickly looked up at the ceiling because you had seen his hard on. It was pretty much an instant boner when you had walked into the room and it really wasn’t going to go anywhere soon. He was not really ashamed of it but he did feel a bit bad that you were still shy about it. He pulled you to the bed had you sit down while he went around lighting some candles and then turning off the light. The soft glow around the bed room was enough to see Jungkook’s face but nothing else much. It was a perfect way to try and ease your shyness about it.

“Hey I know you want to do this and I really want to do this too but you know we don’t have to right? I can deal with my hyung’s teasing for years as long as you are happy.”

Hi!! So in answer to your question yes we do smutty requests! However in this scenario I couldn’t really see any smut things happening. I feel like if you were shy the boys would not push for anything and would tend to put you at ease before anything else happened. I hope that was okay!

Requests are OPEN please feel free to send in anything your little stanning hearts desire!

-Starfish

#Bts #Bts reactions #Jungkook #Taehyung #Jimin #V #Namjoon #Rap Monster #Yoongi #Suga #Seokjin #Jin

[duskisnigh]

Or Just Some Human Sleep (Snow White AU)

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9914666

Rating: Teen

Word count: 2328

Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov, Eventual Victuuri

Warnings: minor descriptions of violence, temporary character death (magical slumber), fic mocks and discusses the problematic elements of the original tale, which includes issues concerning consent and indebtedness

Summary: 

“No, thank you,” Yuuri insisted, holding the broom in front of him like a weapon. “I may be fourteen, and I may have lived a relatively sheltered life, but I am not stupid, and I’m pretty sure you’ve drugged that apple.” 

The aftermath of the first image in this comic

“No, thank you,” Yuuri insisted, holding the broom in front of him like a weapon. “I’m think I’m good.” 

The friendly demeanor of the apple vendor had gone, replaced with something more sinister. She now stood in the way of the cabin’s only exit, face hidden under indoor shadows, an eerie figure silhouetted against the soft afternoon light.

Tension filled the tiny cabin, so palpable Yuuri imagined he felt it crackling on his sweaty skin like sparks of malevolent magic, taunting with the promise of harm. Perhaps that was what it was. Yuuri glanced over the dark-cloaked figure, her crooked nose and skeletal fingers, the folds around their eyes and the stretch of skin around her toothless grin, and he thought of a childhood’s worth of warnings against witches.

The witch lifted the apple higher, shook it in Yuuri’s direction. “But this is a magic wishing –”

“I may be fourteen,” Yuuri interrupted, every effort devoted to keeping his voice steady, “and I may have lived a relatively sheltered life, but I am not stupid, and I’m pretty sure you’ve drugged that apple.” 

Even as he tightened his grip, only slightly aware of the bark of the crude broom digging unsympathetically into his palms, Yuuri felt resignation sink heavy in his stomach. He had been petrified by the demonstration of strength when the door was forced open, torn off its hinges completely and flung across the floor.

He thought now it might have been magic, but regardless of which, he knew he had no chance of emerging victorious should a struggle arise. He continued to cling to his broom solely for some comfort in the illusion of control.

In the end, it took barely a minute.

Leo will have a hard time fixing the door, was his thought when an invisible force ripped the broom violently from his hands. Guang Hong won’t be pleased with the mess, was what came to mind when he was lifted off his feet, fingers still burning, and slammed against the wall above the fireplace. Jars and decorative mirrors atop the mantelshelf tumbled to the ground, shattering.

Phichit- Phichit’s pie will burn in the oven.

The hand around his neck was raw-boned and mercilessly cold, but most of all it was unabashedly eager. Amidst the haze of pain and breathlessness he saw the gleeful glint in the witch’s eye, but before he could wonder how he could have possibly wronged her to warrant such hatred, the red, wet heat behind his eyes reached across his field of vision in an overwhelming, suffocating black. 

Surely, he thought, as what he imagined must be a piece of apple was being shoved down his throat, there must be an easier way to kill a person.

He woke up to six teary dwarf faces surrounding him, and the smell of roses too strong under his nose.

“Phichit’s resting in bed because of a bad stomach,” Guang-Hong said, when he caught Yuuri ‘s gaze searching. His tired smile was laced with a familiar sort of exasperation. “He ate your pie anyway,” he continued, by way of explanation.

“Oh, Phichit.”

Sitting up, muscles objecting from disuse, Yuuri did not take long to realize what had happened. He observed the meticulous arrangement of white roses around him, shivering from a sense of displacement that raced cold down his spine. He tried not to think too hard about magic (more specifically, its apparent ineffectiveness), but allowed the dwarves to fuss over him, taking time instead to appreciate what had been done for him: someone had taken out the splinters in his palms, rubbed his hands in ointment and bandaged them.

More effort than necessary for a dead person, Yuuri thought, feeling tears beginning to gather.

Only after he had properly thanked each of the dwarves for their care and ushered them inside the cabin did he direct his attention to the lonely figure shifting uneasily under the big oak, a little distance away from the burial ground.

His upbringing would demand it be done, but Yuuri was not keen on conversing with the stranger. The stranger, whom the dwarves referred to as Prince Victor, had seen him at his most defenseless. Yuuri’s body was only placed uncovered in the clearing because these parts of the woods were meant to be hidden away from the rest of the world. Victor had unwittingly stumbled into what was supposed to be a space for private mourning.

“Your Highness,” Yuuri greeted, hoping he had kept the anxiety out of his voice. The knowledge that he had been laid completely vulnerable in front of this unfamiliar person twisted and rolled uncomfortably in Yuuri’s gut, like he imagined charcoal pastry would.

But manners were manners. “Seung Gil said I would have remained quite dead if it weren’t for you, so I understand I owe you at the very least my gratitude.”

Yuuri grimaced. The words tasted as metallic in his mouth as the wedge of poisoned apple.

“Um,” Prince Victor said, intelligently, and there was a curious pink to his cheeks. “There’s no need, really.”

“They also insisted they would rather I heard the story from you,” said Yuuri, slowly, not entirely sure he wanted to. There had been a very suspicious hint of a barely repressed grin on JJ’s face. 

“There’s honestly very little to it,” Victor mumbled. Yuuri noticed that Victor’s shoulders were visibly tense. He attempted not to derive too much satisfaction from the fact that Victor felt apparently just as unsettled by the circumstances, despite his physical and social advantage over Yuuri. 

Faced with Yuuri’s expectant silence, Victor sighed. “I was returning from my morning hunt. I took a wrong corner, got lost, and the next thing I knew I was showing up uninvited at someone’s funeral.” He had the grace to look extremely sheepish.

“I was going to leave immediately, but I recognized the royal crest on your mantle, and I’m aware Queen Mari has been sending out search parties for her missing brother – ”

“Wait, Mari is queen?” 

“She ascended to the throne a week ago,” Victor replied.

“What about my step-” Yuuri said, but something prudent within him stopped him mid-question. The sharp, icy leer of the witch pierced into the forefront of his mind, and there was an uncanny sense of familiarity there that Yuuri did not want to delve too deep into, afraid it might cut a little too close to the heart, that the chill might stay a little too permanently. “Never mind. What happened after?”

“I confirmed your identity with the dwarves, and I thought, oh well, this is really unfortunate,” Victor said, and the manner of which he phrased it might have been slightly unpolished – considered flippant, even rude, perhaps, if Yuuri were his parents – but Yuuri thought he could empathize with the need for some degree of dissociation. Discovering the dead body of a neighbouring monarch’s little sibling in your woods was a delicate, even terrifying, position to find yourself in.

“I wasn’t sure what the right course of action would be,” Victor continued, dragging a hand down his face. He looked rather drained. “So when the dwarves mentioned their suspicions of magic being involved, my mind wandered to those ancient tales of princes and princesses that discuss chivalry in a magical context, so I thought, I don’t know, should I just kiss you or something?"

“You WHAT?”

“Which, I quickly realized, was a horrible idea,” Victor hurried on, hands raised in front of him, looking more like a gesture of surrender than one of mollification, “because the old literary greats had little concept of consent, and it would be unwise to blindly adopt the then-romanticized practices formulated upon an antiquated understanding of the knightly code.”

Yuuri looked only very slightly chastened. Victor shifted from foot to foot.

He cleared his throat. “I eventually told the dwarves I wanted to take your body back to my castle -" 

“Excuse me?”

“- where your sister is, because that is also where the diplomatic meeting with my father is currently taking place!” Victor added, quickly. He appeared as though he wanted nothing but for the story to end immediately, and rather regretful that he had gone into any detail at all.

“As we were moving your coffin, I may have accidentally dropped you.” The pink in Victor’s cheeks, having mostly faded over the course of the relation, was back in full force. "The piece of fruit lodged in your throat fell out of your mouth and you woke up by yourself. You –” 

He cut himself off. Then he made a gesture with his hand, to show that he had concluded.

“When I woke up, “ Yuuri said, watching Victor’s face carefully, “I scared you, didn’t I?”

Victor bristled. “I think it’s fair to say you scared everyone.” He threaded a hand through his bangs, pushing his hair back, perhaps to disguise the real purpose of hiding part of his blushing face with his arm.

Receding hairline, Yuuri thought, rather unkindly, but then again, Victor had dropped him.

“Well, thank you, regardless,” Yuuri said finally, and the stretch of silence that preceded wasn’t as long or as uncomfortable as it could have been. The dwarves were right; it was still the direct result of Victor’s actions that he could be standing and talking right now. Had Phichit been there instead of Victor, Yuuri doubted he would have let any of his brothers send him tumbling to the ground.

Then Victor made an aborted movement, like he had wanted to reach out to Yuuri, and all of a sudden Yuuri was remembering too clearly his lessons about royal indebtedness and obligation, an overlapping of voices of teachers, instructors, advisors, all grim with warning, warning against being a prince and beholden.

“What are you going to do now?” Yuuri asked uncertainly, throat dry.

What do I owe you now?

It was surely just the cause of his anxiety, the demon that too often took his thoughts on a voyage through rough uncharted waters and stranded him with no means of return, the demon he had tried all his life to exorcise. But he could hear his father’s voice, ringing, admonishing.

Death before dishonor, it said.

“Yes, what are you going to do now?” a voice cut in, loudly, before Victor could open his mouth. It was Chris, the oldest of the dwarf brothers, making his way over and situating himself between the two of them lazily, like he had always belonged within the conversation. “Yuuri’s quite beautiful, isn’t he?”

Flushed with embarrassment, Yuuri was about to protest, to ask what his appearance had to do with anything, when he felt the small but firm tug at the back of his trousers, behind his knee right above his boot, where he found Chris’s hand gripping him.  

Chris’s eyes, like always, were smiling, and as usual, the edges of his mouth were curled upwards in a non-committal way, but Yuuri stared in wonder at the newfound tightness of Chris’s jaw, a kind of rigidity alarmingly incongruous to the rest of his body, character and way of life as Yuuri knew.

It registered, then, that Chris’s strange way of holding himself in front of Yuuri was not unlike how he had held Yurio behind him when Yuuri first arrived at the cabin, giant and foreign and begging for shelter. Chris gripped him now as he had gripped Yurio, with all the caution and preparedness born from an older sibling’s protective instinct. Chris, who may have lived longer than Yuuri and Victor combined, who must have witnessed things and heard things and whose wariness surely must mean –

“Uh”, Victor said, looking completely lost. He had the panicked air of a person knowing he was being tested, but hadn’t the slightest idea what on. 

“Uh,” he said again, circumspect, eyes darting from Chris to Yuuri, as if they would somehow spare him and surrender the answer.

“Well?” said Chris, unrelenting, lifting an impatient eyebrow.

“I suppose? He’s…cute,” Victor eventually decided. He hastily turned to address Yuuri directly, so as to avoid further discourtesy. “You’re cute?” he said, bemusement still evident, all ungainly limbs and fidgeting, and Yuuri understood that when Victor looked at him, he saw someone with eyes still too big, a face still too round, and a heart too willing to open itself to the world.

He sees me as a child, Yuuri thought.

The feeling in his chest, Yuuri realized, was relief. 

“I’d like to give you a ride back to my place, where you can reunite with Queen Mari.” Victor paused. He was still eying Chris nervously. For all that he was three times the height of a dwarf, he appeared to be extremely intimidated. “If that’s what you want.” 

“It is,” Yuuri said. Chris’s grip on him had loosened. “Thank you.” 

 And for the first time since he had awoken, Yuuri smiled at Victor, a gesture Victor hesitantly returned. The warmth that blossomed beneath Yuuri’s ribs was gratitude, and it was genuine.

Fifteen years later, Victor Nikiforov would look back to that time he accidentally brought Katsuki Yuuri back to life as one of the most stressful experiences in his life, and he would laugh.

And then he would tell anyone who would listen that their falling in love had nothing to do how he saved Yuuri from his enchanted sleep, for the two of them would not find love in each other until years later, when Yuuri’s kind and open heart became less of something to nostalgically envy and more of something to wonder at and admire.

No, their marriage – when it eventually happened – had little to do with duty or obligation (and here, Victor would make a face) or even gratefulness, but instead everything to do with how Victor won the heart of his beautiful, headstrong prince over bit by bit, one diplomatic meeting at a time, one romantic gesture after another, until seduction lost its purpose.

End

#victuuri #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #yuri on ice #snow white au #yoi #fic #this wasn't so much about Yuuri's anxiety as how I imagine he would be if he were in snow white's situation #it was more of what would have happened if he hadn't opened the door #anxiety gets a small mention #I mean there's a bit in there where his mind gets ahead of itself and he thinks the worse of Victor #kind of like when the fandom thought Victor was COUGH evil COUGH #con crit is absolutely welcome #please tell me how I did