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#even if you fall asleep in public transport there's this vulnerability to it and for the most part people respect the sanctity of sleep

elsyrel · 1 year

Text

Arcana headcanons: main 6 and how they give physical affection

More cheesy headcanons \o/!! Kisses, Hugs and caresses... with their respective favourite forms of affection in the first place!

Asra

Asra's kisses are never the same. Sometimes sweet, sometimes spicy... slow and deliberate, or delicate and subdued as the touch of a feather. There is always a slight indescribable sensation, a special warmth that connects you both, but that you wouldn't know how to describe with words. It's like electricity, an ancient sensation like the warmth of the sun, a feeling of transcendence that transports you to a higher place where only the two of you exist. There's something exotic about the way his lips press against yours, but at the same time there's something familiar that makes you feel safe.

His hugs are very sweet and warm, they never feel forceful in any way. Usually he holds you lovingly while he strokes your back, squeezing gently. He has a gift for calming you down as your auras melt into each other. Yet you always sense a hint of despair when he wraps his arms around you; a faint fear, as if he was afraid that you could disappear at any moment.

He loves to hold hands. Whenever he can, specially if you two are walking on the street side by side, he will reach out to take your hand. Sometimes it begins with a light touch with the tip of his fingers, an attempt, and soon after he entwines all his fingers with yours. He uses his thumb to stroke the back of your hand, or gently rubs his palm against yours. He likes to use caresses as a form of meditation; sometimes, when you need to calm down, he will gently instruct you to focus solely on the contact of his fingers on your arms, hands, and face.

He has a thing for scratches, both giving and receiving. The back is his favorite place, he will fall asleep in a matter of a few minutes if you scratch him there. He lets out short, breathy laughs when you reach a specially nice spot. When it's your turn, he runs his delicate, filed nails across your skin, soft enough not to hurt you, but strong enough to leave faint lines on your skin.

Nadia

Nadia’s favourite form of giving affection are caresses. Her touches vary in form all the time: scratching gently with her nails, walking her fingertips gently, squeezing her palm firmly against you... she loves feeling your skin and reactions, and has a gift to make you shiver; she always chuckles when she feels your hair standing on end. She will caress you all the time: absentmindedly while you talk, sweetly while you take a walk together, brushing your lips lovingly with her thumb while you are lying on bed... and provocatively while you are in public situations in which you definitely shouldn’t be caressing each other. She feels a special pleasure in caressing you in secret while you are in company of other people; unseen caresses under the table, rubbing your knee or thigh... if you get flustered, she’ll find it amusing and next time she’ll become even bolder.

Her kisses are demanding and fierce, her lips full and thick. She almost always leads, and she likes to drive you to the limit until you are breathless and have to stop for air. She uses her tongue... a lot. You feel at her mercy, which she has none. Also, she bites. However, some other times, on special occasions where she feels a little lost... her kisses are really vulnerable, with an almost invisible touch of insecurity.

She doesn’t give hugs very often but, when she does, they are firm and strong, possessive. More often than not, she hugs just with one arm: she surrounds your waist and pulls gently but demandly until your body is pressed against hers. When she gives a full hug, the air leaves your lungs, and you feel both completely protected and safe, but also a little small.

Unless you ask otherwise... she will give you SO MANY love marks. She even gets a little smug about it. However, she is sensible and prudent, and always leaves the marks on hidden places, like the inner thigh... she feels like those marks are little secrets you two share.

Julian

Soooooooooo sweet when giving, soooooooooo brutish when receiving. He’s an addict for love marks, hickeys, bites and scratches. His love language is “letting you do whatever the fuck you want to him”, and will lose his mind if he sees the mark of your teeth on his skin. Even though he is so willing to let you put all your marks on him, he is a little reluctant at first to do the same to you (he doesn’t want to hurt you). However, if you insist juuuuust a little bit, he will succumb to temptation: he will observe the purplish marks appear on your skin like he’s witnessing a fucking miracle, incredulous that he was the one who did it.

Julian’s kisses are fervent like in a fever. If you kiss him a just a liiittle passionately, after you finish he will look at you like his head is still spinning. He wets, bites and licks his lips a lot, his lips are always a little swollen and reddish after you two kiss. But he also has a sweet side: he always asks for pecks on the cheek, and gives them in return too. He gives pecks for literally everything, every time: he’s going to work? First he needs his cheek kiss. He goes shopping? Cheek kiss. He goes to throw out the trash? Cheek kiss. He goes to the fucking bathroom? CHEEK KISS.

He likes to spin you around when he hugs you, and he always laugh when he does. He says he has everything under control, but it's not true: you're going to end up on the ground nine times out of ten... and somehow, he always looks surprised of that result. He's skinny and his arms are a little lanky, so his hugs aren't the most comfortable ones... but there's something sweet about watching Julian try to accommodate his long arms and hands around you.

His caresses are devoted, admired, almost timorous... as if he was praying to a saint and wasn’t totally sure to be allowed to touch them. He’ll make sure you like the contact by checking your expression all the time... but, to be honest, he lets the caresses almost always for the sexy times. Nonetheless, he is really fond of pats on the back, hand shakes and the like.

Muriel

He gives the sweetest hugs you will ever receive in your life. It’s unbelievable how, as big as he is, he can be so delicate, warm and soft. You can bury yourself in him, his wide chest and big arms feel like the safest place on earth. His chest always rumbles with the low and deep drums of his heart; it’s adorable when he gets embarrassed and his heart starts going fast... and suddenly he wants to end the hug so you don’t notice (too late, you always notice cause he’s not subtle). He gets addicted to hugs, he wants them aaaaall the time. After some time, you instinctively know when he wants one. He gives you that look, like an abandoned cub, and you know already that he’s desperate to cuddle.

His kisses are very chaste, you must not expect very steamy sessions out of him. He mostly gives sweet pecks; his lips are always soft, warm and a little humid (he unconsciously licks his lips a lot when you are around). It won’t come out of him to use his tongue or anything like that... but if it is YOU the one who gets steamy, you will presence a real show of him getting really into it while simultaneously wanting to run away in a matter of seconds.

Any caress you give him will make him sigh with contentment. He falls asleep easily if you caress his back or his arms: he loves cuddling together in silence for HOURS. He will be the happiest person on earth if you scratch his scalp, and then he’ll try to reciprocate shyly. He is very generous, and will absentmindedly rub your back or play with your hair for as long as you’ll take it.

He will never dream of giving you any mark, he is so careful... if by accident he gives you a faint scratch or mark, he will stare at it frowning everytime he sees it, until it disappears. However, he gets a strange high from you giving him hickeys; it a weird mix of embarrassment and feeling proud.

Portia

BEAR HUGS TM. Her body is so chubby, soft and warm, her arms so strong and reassuring. Her body feels like a giant pillow where you can sink to rest. When she hugs you it feels like you passed away and went to heaven, it’s like swimming in clouds. She always smells so good, with a faint sweet scent that reminds you of pastries or petrichor. She likes to pick you up with her strong arms and spin around until you both are dizzy (it doesn’t matter if you are tall or short, big or small... she will manage somehow). Portia is a A+ hugger... except when she chooses to give you a “Soul Crusher“. In those moments when you can see the mischief in her eyes and ear her theatrical evil laugh... you better run.

Her kisses are almost always short, playful pecks... she gives so many of them. She likes to play a game to give you as many kisses in your face as she can, as fast as she can... and she makes it a competition. You cannot win, she will give you a million kisses in two seconds! You both will end up laughing and with your whole face wet.

An expert on body care. She has lots of skin creams and oils,soaps and shampoos of all kinds of smells. She even tries to make her own, and then asks for your opinion on them. Sometimes, she will just say that you need to hydrate your skin, open up some bottle, and moisture your face or legs with its mysterious contents. Her hands are always warm, even in winter, you don’t understand how; but you don’t complain: feeling her hands against your skin is the best thing in the world (even if they're a little calloused from all the work she does).

Bad news... she loves to tickle. Tickles are a love language, and she speaks it too well. She just can’t help it... you look too cute!! When she thinks you look adorable, it activates her Cute-Aggression instinct, and she must just attack you with all the fury of her fingers.

Lucio

The King of Kisses. Lucio has an undeniable "Gomez Addams" style: he loves to charm you by kissing your entire arm, from the hand, wrist and inside of the elbow, to the shoulder and neck. He takes his sweet time in every kiss, like each is the last: his kisses are deliberate and wet, he does not mind leaving a faint trail of moisture behind him. He pouts and fervently presses his lips against your skin, he's a little messy and sloppy. Actually, he loves to kiss you anywhere: legs and feet are also some of his favorite spots; he’s not ashamed of a little body worship. If he's kissing you on the lips, his kisses can be bruising and demanding, but if you take the lead he'll submit immediately and he'll let little moans scape his throat.

His hugs are needy, like a child in search for comfort and reaffirmation. He especially likes to hug you while you lie down, while he rests on top of you; then, he buries his face in your hair or your axila, rubs his face against your chest, bites you... he whines a lot if you don’t comply, and can be a little annoying at times. The more you give the more he wants, so you’ll have to put a stop at some point or he will hug you at the most inconvenient of times. However, if you reciprocate and do the same things to him, he will absolutely melt at the spot.

He loooooves caresses, specially massages. Lucio loves taking turns to make each other relax, and he’s not sure what he likes more: feeling your hands wandering around his body, or watching your reactions when his hands wanders yours. He NEEDS continuous contact, at all times, no matter where you two are. Are you just talking or chilling? Ok, but just touch him somewhere. Even if it’s just your feet or knees touching, but something, or he will die of cold and loneliness :(

He’s just playing, but sometimes Lucio goes a little overboard with his bites. If he loses control and bites harder than he pretended, he will be the first one to get surprised and will sheepylish apologize with a nervous smile (it was a little oopsie?).

#the arcana #The Arcana Game #asra alnazar #nadia satrinava #julian devorak #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #muriel #count lucio #lucio morgasson #ilya devorak #headcanons #the arcana headcanons #I'll probably make a lemon version of this at some point #for now here you have the chaste version lol

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screaminglillith · 1 year

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Groped on the Bus.

You were standing & waiting at the bus stop, the searing heat of the city reflecting off tall skyscrapers and burning your skin. The air was heavy with humidity and you were sweating. Wearing black was a good call last night when drinking with your bestie but now, in this heat you felt you were being slowly cooked. Your gorgeous skin was glowing with sweat when you noticed something. Across the street was a man dressed head to toe in black. Wide shoulders, bit of a stomach on him but he was attractive still. He was staring, brazenly, at you. Even when you looked directly at him, his gaze unwavering. Eventually he turned and entered a nearby shop and you were just happy not to be getting eye fucked by some stranger.

Almost within minutes of this, the bus you needed to take home arrived and you climbed on. It was crowded with barely any room to stand but the air conditioning provided some respite from the brick oven like outside. You breathed deep and paid your fare, moving towards the back of the bus and standing overlooking a lady who was half asleep. You found it amusing that she could fall asleep in public transport like this as someone brushed against you and you felt your mind rush into its deep, fantasising self. You felt the tinge of ‘please brush against me more…’ but you almost immediately dismissed that thought. But, that’s when you felt it again. Someone brushed into you again. And this time, it felt deliberate. Like this person wanted to touch you. So you turned your head in the tight space and noticed the edge of the shoulder of the person behind you and you realised it’s the man from opposite the bus stop. You immediately tried to move but there was no room in the bus and you had to stand there as this man now blatantly moved his hands onto your ass, gently caressing you through your yoga pants. He let out a deep sigh when his hands travelled up to where underwear would normally be, because he realised your commando. You moaned a little and pushed back onto his hand but said ‘stop it please’ in a low voice. He shushed you and spoke to you for the first time in a deep voice… ‘what a contradiction you are, no undies on… wiggling your ass closer to me and yet, asking me to stop??’ You felt his breath on your skin and felt him grab your ass for real as you let out a loud gasp. It shocked you to be touched like that but more so that no one noticed you making a noise. Not one person looked at you. This man continued to touch and grope you, the bus moving through broken roads making sure his hands were all over your ass and pussy. You tried to stifle your moans when you heard him say ‘don’t hold back. They can’t hear or see you. They’re under my spell. They wouldn’t even see it if I murdered you right in front of them…’

When you heard that your heart skipped a beat but it really started to pound in your chest because you could feel his bulge rubbing against you as his big hands grabbed at your stomach to pull you closer to him. You could feel he was probably the biggest dick you’d ever been even pressed up against and your hips instinctively wiggled on his shaft. He chuckled and called you a pathetic slut as he ripped your yoga pants open and dropped his pants, rubbing his rock hard cock between your thighs and mocking you for being so wet. He adjusted himself to get closer, groping your tits and kissing your neck, breathing in your sweaty smell and saying that he loves how vulnerable you are in his arms. You tried to protest by saying ‘please stop this… stop it now…’ and he shushed you again. He slapped your face hard and slid your panties aside, rubbing his tip at your hole. You moaned when he did this but no one noticed and that’s when he reminded you that no one can hear or see a thing.

This man was no ordinary man, clearly had magical powers of some kind and that made you feel so gushing wet for him. He felt it too and he said ‘I’m gonna use you now. Like a flesh light. Gonna be rough and hard because your stop is coming soon and I need to cum…’ as he slid his thick cock into you. You cried and shouted, protesting that he was too big but he just held you in place and thrusted. You had never felt deeper or heavier strokes in your entire life, your cunt gripping his thick dick for dear life as he pounded you. Ample tits jiggled as he reached around and exposed them, kneading them in his hands as he used your holes in a trance like rhythm. Your slutty instinct took over and you started to meet his strokes, throwing your ass back on his cock, matching his force as you both let out lewd sounds. Your pussy clenched when he grabbed your neck and brought you up against his body to lick your face and slap you. You felt his cock flex and pulse, strokes getting more energetic but erratic. You knew he was close and begged ‘please… please not inside me!! I’m ovulating today please.’ And that’s when he said ‘I know you are baby… I can sniff out a girl at her peak breeding capabilities from miles away. That’s why I chose you. You’ll make such a beautiful mom…’ he grunted as he slammed his hips deep into you, growling in a deep voice as he painted your insides with his thick and hot cum.

He fucked his cum deeper into you, before kissing your neck and holding you straight upright. He covered up your tits again and slid your undies back on, making sure his cum never escaped from you. He kissed and nibbled on your shoulder, giving you the smallest of marks. Your legs shuddering from being taken like that and cumming so hard before being filled by a fat load. You heard your destination being announced on the bus and you smiled, in a dream like state as you floated towards the exit door. Just before you got off, you looked around and didn’t see him. The mystery man who groped you in the bus. But you felt him. In your torn yoga pants, in your sore thighs and throbbing pussy. On your shoulder in the hickey and most importantly, inside your womb where his seed was embedded into you, breeding you like you deserved to be.

You walked hurriedly home, getting wet at the thought of what just happened to you in that bus. Wishing it would happen again. You made a promise to yourself, in your mind, to visit your best friend more often. Hoping to see the man who groped you om the bus, again every single time.

🥵🥵🥵yes please touch me on the bus and don't let me say no

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naughtybabysdesires · 1 year

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Groped on the Bus.

This is so sexy. Sad it never happened to me when I took public transport 🥰

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pinkdollglitter · 9 days

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Almost within minutes of this, the bus you needed to take home arrived and you climbed on. It was crowded with barely any room to stand but the air conditioning provided some respite from the brick oven like outside. You breathed deep and paid your fare, moving towards the back of the bus and standing overlooking a lady who was half asleep. You found it amusing that she could fall asleep in public transport like this as someone brushed against you and you felt your mind rush into its deep, fantasising self. You felt the tinge of ‘please brush against me more…’ but you almost immediately dismissed that thought. But, that’s when you felt it again. Someone brushed into you again. And this time, it felt deliberate. Like this person wanted to touch you. So you turned your head in the tight space and noticed the edge of the shoulder of the person behind you and you realised it’s the man from opposite the bus stop. You immediately tried to move but there was no room in the bus and you had to stand there as this man now blatantly moved his hands onto your ass, gently caressing you through your yoga pants. He let out a deep sigh when his hands travelled up to where underwear would normally be, feeling your soft and round flesh. You moaned a little and pushed back onto his hand but said ‘stop it please’ in a low voice. He shushed you and spoke to you for the first time in a deep voice… ‘what a contradiction you are, no undies on… wiggling your ass closer to me and yet, asking me to stop??’ You felt his breath on your skin and felt him grab your ass for real as you let out a loud gasp. It shocked you to be touched like that but more so that no one noticed you making a noise. Not one person looked at you. This man continued to touch and grope you, the bus moving through broken roads making sure his hands were all over your ass and pussy. You tried to stifle your moans when you heard him say ‘don’t hold back. They can’t hear or see you. They’re under my spell. They wouldn’t even see it if I murdered you right in front of them…’

This man was no ordinary man, he clearly had magical powers of some kind and that made you feel so gushing wet for him. He felt it too and he said ‘I’m gonna use you now. Like a flesh light. Gonna be rough and hard because your stop is coming soon and I need to cum…’ as he slid his thick cock into you. You cried and shouted, protesting that he was too big but he just held you in place and thrusted. You had never felt deeper or heavier strokes in your entire life, your cunt gripping his thick dick for dear life as he pounded you. Ample tits jiggled as he reached around and exposed them, kneading them in his hands as he used your holes in a trance like rhythm. Your slutty instinct took over and you started to meet his strokes, throwing your ass back on his cock, matching his force as you both let out lewd sounds. Your pussy clenched when he grabbed your neck and brought you up against his body to lick your face and slap you. You felt his cock flex and pulse, strokes getting more energetic but erratic. You knew he was close and begged ‘please… please not inside me!! I’m ovulating today please.’ And that’s when he said ‘I know you are baby… I can sniff out a girl at her peak breeding capabilities from miles away. That’s why I chose you. You’ll make such a beautiful mom…’ he grunted as he slammed his hips deep into you, growling in a deep voice as he painted your insides with his thick and hot cum.

I'm so fucked up. A man using my body to please himself and gifting me his baby in return🤤🤤😍 The fact I'd ask if he was enjoying himself because I want to make sure my pussy is giving him maximum please even when I'm crying and fighting him to get off me. Just a hole

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arvandus · 3 years

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Congratulations on the big 500 ^-^ I'm so happy for you! Could I get a fluffy #24 with Dabi, pretty please? 🥺👉👈

I’m finally getting to thissss! I’m so, so sorry for the delay. For some reason I struggled with this one for a while, then suddenly something clicked, and inspiration took over. I really enjoyed writing this, it felt very cathartic. It might feel a little heavy/emotional at first but trust me when I say that it ends with fluff.

#24: You're The Only Thing That Matters

Pairing: Dabi x GN!Reader

Word count: 1825

Warnings: light angst(?), fluff

---------

You hadn’t meant for this to happen. Then again, no one ever does. It’s not like anyone ever plans for their apartment to get broken into, their personal items stolen...

Then again, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, not with a neighborhood like this. But it was the neighborhood you could afford. Now here you are, hanging out across the street at the local market, too afraid to return upstairs to your ransacked home. You don’t have a car to drive yourself to a motel to stay the night, you don’t trust nighttime public transportation, and you don’t have enough money for an Uber. But you have to go somewhere. So, you take your phone and called the first person that comes to mind...

Dabi.

You can’t help but laugh that his number is the first one you think to dial. From the surface it makes sense – you two have been seeing each other, so of course he should be someone you can trust enough reach out to. But this is Dabi. Even with your intimate relationship with each other, he is often distant and, more often than not, entirely unavailable. It doesn’t surprise you too much... he’s a villain, after all, and sometimes that villain life requires him to disappear for periods at a time.

Which is why you are honestly surprised when he picks up.

“What?” he says gruffly, like he doesn’t have your number saved in his phone; he knows it’s you on the other end.

You bite your lip before answering. “Um, hey, Dabi. It’s me.”

Already you’re struggling to keep your voice from quivering with unshed tears. If you let yourself cry now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and this really isn’t the place for it. You watch as an old man pushes a cart past you at a snail’s pace, his gnarled fingers grabbing a bag of rice from the shelf.

Dabi must have heard the emotion in your tone though, because his next words come out slightly softer. “Hey, doll. What’s up? Ain’t it a little late for a phone call?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just...” you take a steady breath through your nose in an attempt to ease your jitters. “My place got robbed, and... I need a place to stay for tonight.”

You hear voices in the background, and Dabi growls at them to ‘shut the hell up.’

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Am I bothering you? I didn’t realize you were working...”

“It’s fine, doll.” Dabi replies. “Yeah, you can crash here.”

More arguing. But a moment later, you hear the click of a door being closed and the background noise disappears.

“I’m headin’ over.” Dabi’s voice comes through clearer than before now that there are no other voices coming through the receiver. His deep tone makes your pulse slow down to a manageable pace, and you take a deep sigh a relief. “Where are you?” he asks.

“I’m at the grocery store across the street.” You reply.

“Stay there.” His words are an order, his voice unusually firm. Is that... concern you hear?

“They close in fifteen minutes.” You say nervously.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You hear the click and the call ends, and you really wish it didn’t. Then again, there was no telling where Dabi was, or what he was in the middle of when you had called.

The minutes tick by slowly as you wait, each minute dragging on longer than the last until you’re certain that you’re in hell, watching time slow to an endless crawl. The ten-minute mark comes and goes, and Dabi is nowhere to be found, and now you’re struggling to keep the panic down. What if he doesn’t come?

But just as the dreaded thought enters your mind, he’s there, appearing next to your shoulder like an apparition, a dark angel disguised in a black hoodie, his mouth covered. You nearly jump out of your skin when he puts an arm around you before you quickly realize it’s him, your protector.

Already you can feel the tears brimming in your lashes, but his words quickly interrupt the flow like a stopper.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispers in your ear. “None of that now.”

He guides you out of the store into the dark night and you stare across the street at your apartment complex. The building is tall and old, looming over you like a bad dream as visions of your ruined home flash in your mind.

“D’ya need to grab anything from your place?” he asks. You shake your head. You don’t want to go in there, even with Dabi present.

“Didja lock the door?” he asks again, and you shake your head again.

“Whoever it was broke it.” You reply. “Please, I just want to go...”

He stares at you for a moment, his blue half-lidded eyes reading the look on your face before he looks away.

“Well, c’mon then.” He says. He guides you to the subway. Once you get on the train, you sit next to him and rest your head on his shoulder as the empty train car sways and bumps on the tracks. You can feel the fear begin to fade away with each passing of the flashing lights through the dirty windows, graffiti carved into their acrylic surface. You interlace your fingers in his, and for once he doesn’t fight it, doesn’t recoil his hand to the safety of his pockets.

The ride is silent and so is the walk to his hideout. He leads you in through the rickety door with the dented doorknob where a ragtag group of people lounge on dirty couches. Your body stiffens instantly, your hand tightening around his as if doing so would fill you with courage you didn’t have.

A man with white hair with the slightest tint of blue-grey glared at you with red eyes. “I thought we agreed on no outsiders?” his voice comes through with a growl, carried on a sneer past scarred lips.

“Shut up.” Dabi snaps at him as he leads you past the group to another door that leads to a hallway.

A couple doors down and he pulls you into what you can only assume is his room – after all, it’s your first time being here; Dabi had never let you visit him before.

“It’s not much, but it’s safe.” Dabi comments as he closes the door behind you.

The bed is messy, the mattress old. You don’t care though. The space smells of Dabi, and as soon as your brain registers that you’re no longer in danger, you buckle down onto his bed and begin to cry with your face in your hands as the aftermath of emotions overflows into your palms.

Dabi removes his hoodie and kneels before you. He watches you in silence, the glaze of his eyes never betraying the emotions tucked away in secrecy. He hates seeing you like this, hates watching you fall apart in front of him. It makes him feel useless. Cautiously, he reaches out and takes your hand from your face, holding your fingers in his warm palm. He can feel the wetness of your tears on them, and he fights the urge to increase his body temperature, to evaporate the evidence of your pain from his skin. Your eyes catch his, red and puffy, and before he can react you throw your arms around his neck and fall into his lap. He catches you – how could he not? – and holds you to him as you empty your emotions into his shoulder.

When the well of your tears has finally dried, you wipe your eyes with the heel of your hand and pull away from him slightly. Dabi can see the exhaustion falling over you in real time, your shoulders slumping and your hold on him loosening into a relaxed grip.

“I’m sorry, I... I just... it’s been a really bad day.” You say, your eyes downcast.

Dabi can’t help but give a dry chuckle as he helps you up to your feet. “Yeah, no shit.”

He sits on the bed and pulls you with him until you’re both lying down on his messy sheets, with you curled into his side.

“Thank you for coming to get me...” you whisper as you rest your cheek against his chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he teases, but his smile falters when your breath hitches and you don’t answer.

It cuts him deeper than he expects, but at the same time he’s not surprised... he hasn’t exactly been the best boyfriend – is that even what he is? Is that what he’s been to you? It wasn’t like you two ever discussed it; you two just... were. He’s given you so little...

Dabi swallows before he continues, his voice quieter this time, quieter than he’s ever been with you before. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.” The confession feels weird on his tongue, like a foreign language, but he pushes forward, determined to say what he should have told you sooner. His voice drops even lower to a barely audible whisper. “I’ll always come for you.”

Despite the hush of his words, they feel like a shout. The admission leaves him feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, and a part of him wishes he could take them back, simply because of what they mean. But they don’t come without their own reward - you relax at his words, your body molding against his as your arms tighten around him. It’s the first time he’s been so open with you and the nervousness in his veins gives way to a light euphoria at your acceptance. His arm tightens around you as if he’s afraid you’ll melt away, as if his touch is the only thing keeping you real, his perfect dream come to life. Within minutes, your breaths become deep and even, and Dabi realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on him, your body giving way to its exhaustion after all that had happened. He stares down at you for a long, quiet moment, watching you sleep on him.

Dabi had never put anyone else first before, not even you despite your closeness. But when he answered your call and heard the fear in your voice, it was as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, his entire world thrown into chaos. If anything had happened to you... If you’d gotten hurt in any way...

His grip on you tightens a little more and he brushes his lips against your hair. Maybe it’s the bravery he’s feeling at your acceptance of him. Or maybe it’s the fear of what could have been. But his next words come out in a hushed whisper, a secret confession meant more for himself than you.

“You’re the only thing that matters.”

And even though you’re supposed to be asleep, your soft words hum into his chest, burying themselves like sunflower seeds.

“I love you too.”

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #Dabi #dabi x reader #soft dabi #dabi x gn!reader

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realcube · 3 years

Text

randomly falling asleep with hq!! characters 💤

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you anon for this cute request!

characters: ushijima, tsukishima & yachi

content warning: swearing, mentions of sexual assault

thank you to anon for this cute request

wakatoshi ushijima

♡ he shows affection in his own...special way 😊

♡ by that, i mean that if you fall asleep while sitting next to him and he thinks you look cute, he’ll just stare (●__●)

♡ like deadass if he was anyone else, it’d be creepy as hell but he’s your bf so-

♡ he stares bc not only do you look precious, but he doesn’t want to touch you as he’s afraid that he might wake you up

♡ though, if you’re in public (like sitting next to him on the train) he might gently put his arm around your shoulders to make sure that onlookers know that you’re safe with him

♡ also, it only takes one time for him to catch on to your habit of disappearing and falling asleep in the most unconventional places and istg he is the BEST at guessing where you are - it’s a gift

♡ like he’ll arrive home and if you’re not there to immediately greet him with kisses, he’ll take a moment - let him boyfriend senses take over and walk him over to whatever room is giving him ✨(y/n) vibes✨, open the door and there is a 99% chance you are in that room sleeping

♡ and he probably got it right first guess (which is a pretty big deal considering y’alls house resembles a sims fkn mansion made with motherload money)

♡ he’ll open the door to the storage cupboard to find you sleeping with the mr muscle spray and it’s such a shame bc he was going to be a clown and make a ‘why are you cheating on me?’ joke but you were in REM sleep 🙄

♡ or he’ll walk in to the conservatory and see you laying in the fetal position on the floor and that is the ONLY time he interferes with your sleep bc he doesn’t want you to fuck up your back 🥺

♡ like he has an obsession with your posture - like if you are slouched he will tell you to stand up straight or if you are sitting hunched in a chair, he’ll creep up behind you to start massaging your shoulders while fixing your posture

♡ not to be rude though- just bc he cares

♡ also, he never questions how you end up falling asleep in the most random of places, he just goes with it

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

ushijima sighed as he hung up his jacket, realising that this was one of those days were you won’t come scurrying to the front door to greet him with kisses and instead he had to hunt through in search of you. although, it wasn’t much of a hunt considering his gut instinct said you’d be in the study room and there you were, cuddled up by the bookshelf.

however, your back was hunched over in way that didn’t look to comfortable so ushijima thought it was his duty to transport you to somewhere that there was a lot more appropriate and fit for sleeping.

so he gently slipped one hand behind your back and the other under your knees to slowly pick you up and carry you to your shared bedroom. is efforts may have been in vain though as he noticed one of your lids flutter open out of the corner of his eye, “good afternoon, sweetheart.” he hummed, steadily shifting his hand from your back to the back of your head to tenderly caress your cheek with his thumb as you cuddled into his chest. “are you awake?”

“No.” you groaned.

“Shame, I was going to suggest going out for walk on the beach--”

“I’m awake! Let’s go!”

kei tsukishima

♡ he probably calls you lazy but he’s really just jealous of how well you can sleep

♡ coz he just lays in bed till 4AM staring at the ceiling

♡ i imagine that if you were to fall asleep next to him in a crowded, bustling place - like on a train - he’d take off his headphones and clasp them over your ears so the loud announcements don’t wake you up

♡ he doesn’t fall asleep on transport btw (not even planes) so don’t worry about missing your stop

♡ though he’s not usually a fan of PDA, he’ll hold your hand without a second thought to lead you out the train when you’re still recovery from the post-sleep haze because of course he doesn’t want to lose you in the crowds of people or anything

♡ and if you have a cute lil sleepy face then he might take a picture but he’d probably edit the picture with snapchat or something and draw like a moustache on you, put a sarcastic caption or something then send it to you

♡ (but he’d save an unedited version of the pic bc you’re adorable-)

♡ like tsukki leaves you on delivered most of the time on snapchat bc he believes if you have something important to say, you’ll just message him normally but the rare occasion you do get a snap from him, don’t get your hopes up bc there is a 99% it’s just something like a picture of you with a drawn on crown and the caption ‘sleeping beauty 🙄’

♡ ‘so you think i’m a beauty 🥺’

♡ then he leaves you on read

♡ he will not carry you under any circumstances in public btw

♡ and at home, if you were to fall asleep on the couch next to him while y’all were watching a movie, there’s a 50/50 that’d he carry you to bed

♡ but if he doesn’t take you to bed, he’ll set down a pillow for you on the couch and shift you around so you were laying in a more comfortable position, then drape a blanket over you

♡ in regards to when he comes back from work, you’re usually already asleep in bed - but there is one time that you were not in the bedroom, and he still teases you for it until this day

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

most of the time, you’re sound asleep in bed by the time gets home but tonight you weren’t - in fact, you were no where to be seen. he had searched everywhere, called your phone multiple time and he looked at your schedule, but it appeared as though you were supposed to home right now - so hours, he was sitting fretfully on the couch, contemplating calling the police.

however, all his distressed pacing really worked up an appetite so he poked his head into the pantry to grab a snack but his soul almost left his body when he noticed you laying on the floor, fast asleep, with the cat curled up in your arms. who he didn’t even noticed was missing lol

usually, he wouldn’t even think of waking you up but the rage and shock that shot through his body resulted in him barking out, “what the fuck?! what are you doing here?! i’ve been looking all over this damn house for you and--”

he was cut off by the cat springing out of your arms from the surprising sharpness of his voice and scurrying off, leaving you confused on the floor on the pantry, half asleep, wondering how you got here and why tsukishima was yelling at you? “hm? what’s wrong, sweetie?” you hummed, rubbing your eyes while tilting your head up to look at his tall, slender figure looming over you in the doorway.

as much as tsukishima wanted to stay mad at you, upon noticing how cute your bedhead was along with how soft your voice was, he quickly realised that there was no way he could continue yelling you. so instead, he scoffed and slowly kneeled down to sit next to you on the floor, looking at you with kind yet concerned eyes as he inquired, “why were you sleeping in the pantry?”

it took you a moment to try and remember but once you did, you blurted out, “oh, berry was having trouble sleeping.” yes your cat is called berry. don’t question it. her full name is strawberry tsukishima shortcake. “so i cuddled with her in her favourite sleeping spot and she slept like a baby. but i guess i did too.” yo chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck.

tsukishima mentally cursed you out as he was expecting a silly explanation but shit that’s cute. why does he lowkey want to join y’all next time?

hitoka yachi

♡ gsrbtrhryh she gets so flustered and nervous when you fall asleep with her

♡ and she always does tbh bc she has no idea what to do

♡ like she thinks you look so precious and angelic so she really wants to take a picture and - if she thinks you’d be okay with it - she clicks a photo and probably sets it as her background or posts it on her private story

♡ she is just so head over heels for you tbh that everything you do just astounds her

♡ she just stares at you like ◉_◉ for half an hour bc you are so beautiful then something inside her just prompts her to lean in and just *mwah* and at first she is quite satisfied bc she has expressed her affection

♡ but then a few seconds later her soul just leaves her body and guilt just washes over her

♡ ‘OMG I JUST ASSULTED MY OWN S/O’

♡ she feels horrible

♡ this close 👌 to calling the police on herself

♡ when you wake up, prepare to be bombarded with her apologies

♡ once you reassure that it’d fine bc it was just a lil peck on the cheek and she is your girlfriend after all, it brings her the slightest peace of mind

♡ so you peck her cheek while she is asleep to call it evens and that basically fixes it

♡ but anyway, she is so careful around you when you sleep - like she will literally do the most just to ensure that she doesn’t interrupt your REM sleep

♡ however, that can lead to extremely sticky situations - like the first time you ever fell asleep around her

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

You were on the 5th movie of your barbie movie marathon when she looked over and noticed you had fallen asleep half way through, so she immediately paused it so the noise wouldn’t wake you up. This was the first time she had ever seen you sleep and she felt somewhat flattered that you felt safe enough around her to be vulnerable - even though, yachi never really considered herself to be a rather daunting or intimidating person.

she couldn’t help but just sit and admire you for a few minutes before realising that she should probably transport you to somewhere more comfortable as you were currently sitting next to her on the pink beanbag in her room. and although it was kinda comfy, the preferable alternative - her bed - was only a few feet away.

so she knew what she had to do.

she hopped to her feet and before she did anything too hasty, she stretched to ensure that she wouldn’t pull a muscle while doing what she was about to try. she inhaled deeply before crouching down - instead of bending over as she remembered what coach ukai had told her, ‘lift with your legs!’ - then snaking her arms under your torso and knees.

then, she sprung back up and immediately rushed over to the bed as even though you weren’t too heavy, she was afraid that if she held you for too long, you’d wake up. so once she reach the foot of her bed, she tossed you on so your neck was being supported by her soft pillow and yanked her duvet over you.

she gazed lovingly down at your cozy figure laying on her bed and she couldn’t help but smile.

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angelisverba · 4 years

Text

no need to be sorry

in which y/n realizes she loves Jason, and he can’t touch himself to the thought of her because it makes him feel guilty

word count: 12.8k

pairing: y/n and her brother’s best friend, jason

warning: strong mentions of sexual trauma and abuse. please read at your own caution if you are not comfortable with that .

author’s note: originally this was supposed to be a super long piece (and the last one) but i wanted to put something else to make the last part even longer :) THIS IS NOT EDITED, sorry not sorry hehe

March is a very confusing month.

For y/n, it meant SAT cramming and intensive camps for the retake in may. A maxed out speed on her brain as to keep up her grades (and even improve them because God knows her math grade needs urgent care) and constantly keep her nose in her books because finals were approaching soon.

For Jason, and the entire senior class for that matter, it meant renting out tuxedos and making appointments at the beauty salon in preparation for prom, buying tickets for prom, finding a prom date, asking out said date in a cutesy way that was memorable for both parties.

It meant asking y/n to be his prom date, but not drag her away from her studies because that just wouldn’t be fair.

Hell, Jason still hadn’t taken his girl out on a second date because she was such a busy bee, and had to settle for ‘study dates’. Really it was just him watching her chew on her bottom lip as she transferred notes from her chemistry textbook to her notebook, his own work splayed out in front of him, meaning to be completed but his attention diverted elsewhere. She’d glance up with burning cheeks to tell him that his glasses were sliding down his nose, and Jason— quite nearly in a hypnotic daze— would smile dopily at her and say ‘you’re so pretty’. She would shush him and tell him to get to work, or sometime ask for his help, and Jason would use that as an excuse to wrap his arm around her waist telling her ‘gotta whisper love, come close’ and proceed to explain how the law of gas, ideal gas, and Dalton’s Law of partial pressure differentiated from each other.

He didn’t mind this. Any time he got with her he treasured, but god did he want to keep her tucked at his side at all times to show him off. It was selfish of him to be jealous that she wasn’t spending time with him when all she wanted to do was study for her future; for college. Selfish because Jason already had everything worked out. He’d gotten a scholarship to his dream school via football and his good-ish grades. Dorming and transportation was all set-up; he was 100% ready to go.

But y/n? She’d confessed to Jason that she had no idea what she was doing with her life. That she was studying and doing all these things to look good for her college application, but her biggest fear was that they still wouldn’t accept her and she’d wind up going to community college. There were times where her bouncing leg would violently shake their table in the library so much, Jason would drag her out of the chair and take her on a short walk around the library (if her eyes were teary he’d sneak her into a corner and peck at her eyelids softly until she giggled). An effective strategy that resulted in a noticeable tent at his crotch, and a dreamy-eyed y/n that peeked up at him through her lashes with heated cheeks.

He’d say, “Are you relaxed now? Or should we go home?”

Home was his house. Y/n had her home, and Jason had his- respectively- but he referred to his place as ‘home’ and she never bothered to correct him. More often than not (once it got to this point) y/n would nod and they’d head over to his place.

And, well, who was she to pass up that opportunity?

Y/n enjoyed reading her dog-eared SAT book on Jason’s bed and falling asleep on her crossed arms. Only because she would wake up an hour or so later, glued next to his side, with him also napping, lips puffy and hair extra fluffy. His hair, how a complete chocolate brown color, closely cropped since he’d cut off all the blond, fanned on the pillow and curled around the frames of his tortoise-shell glasses that he never remembered to take off.

She’d always take them off for him, and the movement would startle him awake, his green eyes fluttering awake, eyebrows furrowed in a confusion that disappeared when he realized that it was just her. His sweet y/n with sleepy eyes who took his glasses off ever so gently, and reached over him to place them on his bedside.

They were wrapped up in their own little personal heaven when they were together, alone, and it was only disrupted when it was time for Jason to take y/n home. Grabby hands and kissy faces consumed them when she received a questioning text from her parents or brother, and the whole ‘do you really have to go’ ordeal took its course. And maybe- just maybe- Jason enjoyed the goodbyes because y/n always put extra effort into her goodbye kiss, leaning and pressing up against his mouth so their noses were squished against each other, her hand at the collar of his shirt to pull him even closer, communicating to him how much… how much she would miss him.

She knew that Jason understood, and when they broke apart with a wet suction noise, and her eyes fluttered open to meet his, Jason knew that she knew that he knew what she was trying to say. It was a slight moment of vulnerability on her part, because it was the closest they’d get to admitting/discussing the sexual parts of their relationship. Or rather, the lack of.

But never mind that, it didn’t matter to any of them. They could be intimate without having sex.

Right?

* * *

Jason was confused.

As silly as it was, prom was a big deal. It signified the closing of an era in a teenager’s life; the end of high school. A party to honor their struggles and begin a transition to a period of more struggles.

Traditionally, you attend a dance with a date. A girlfriend, a crush, a last resort. One could go with friends but, Jason has a girlfriend now and he’d be damned if he didn’t take his pretty girl and show off that he was the one that got her in the end.

The only issue was: the prom-posal.

He knew that y/n and him didn’t hang in the same crowd, and while they were both mellow, y/n held a little more reserve to public announcements.

She was shy.

Needless to say, Jason had a very big quest on his shoulders; to find a way to ask y/n out to prom in a way that was memorable and attune to her likings. He thinks he doesn’t think he'd be able to get over it if he messed this up.

“Jason? Bro are you even listening?” Andrew asked from across the lunch table. Kent stuffed french fries into his mouth, and glanced from both his friends.

“Sorry, man. What was that?” Jason presses the lock button on his phone, and places it down on the table.

“I was talking about the rager at Greg’s, is everything alright? You’ve been distant for a few days now, not having issues with y/n are you?” Andrew’s facial features darkened slightly, the deep concerns for his sister shining through his demeanor. Kent picked on the change of atmosphere, and his chewing stops.

Jason sighed, his shoulders slanting downwards and the fabric of his letter-man jacket coming to a close at his chest. His heart-shaped lips come to a pensive pucker, debating if he should tell his best friend what was on his mind.

At the troubled look on his face, Kent smiles encouragingly, and says, “You know you can tell us anything, J.” Andrew turns to look at his Kent while he’s speaking, and when he turns back to Jason, he nods, a knowing glimmer in his eyes.

“What’s up?” His girlfriend’s brother leans forward, prepared to listen.

“I don’t know how to ask y/n to go to prom with me.”

Andrew and Kent’s facial expression drop to a deadpan, and Jason’s eyebrows furrow in response, confused at their reaction.

“What?” He looked back and forth between his two unimpressed friends, who suddenly burst into laughter; snickering and pointing fingers at him through wheezed words.

“You’re fucking whipped,” Kent said, slapping a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and doubling forward.

“My sister,” their laughter calms down momentarily, “has you this upset?” And at his comment, the boys start laughing again, loud enough that it drags the attention of nearby tables.

“Guys,” the corner of Jason’s lips struggle to stay down. “It’s not funny.”

“Yeah, it is. Your panties are in a twist because of y/n,” Kent said, “Where is she?” He stands up from the bench and glances around the cafeteria, looking for her.

Jason’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops, amazed at his friend’s response. “Dicks,” he mutters. “She’s with her English teacher, preparing for an exam.”

Andrew’s chuckles die down again, and he shakes his head while rubbing his fingers on his forehead, grinning. “Deadass?”

“Yes!” Jason juts his head forward, nodding wildly. “Help me!”

Kent sits again, and places his chin on his palm. “Just go with what she likes, man.”

“Gee, thanks so much.” The stressed boy looks away, defeated.

Perhaps, it was a mistake bringing it up. Instead of receiving help, they were taking the piss out of him. He thought that maybe, because Andrew was related to the girl he was dating, he’d be a bit of hel-

“She keeps bugging me to take her to the aquarium.”

Jason whips his head around to look at his friend, crossing his arms on the table and leaning with interest.

“The aquarium?” He asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, they remodeled a few exhibits and she’s been wanting to see them. Sent me a text about it a few days ago,” Andrew reached back to pull out his phone from his back pocket, unlocking it and pulling up a thread of texts from his sister. “Look.”

The boy takes the phone from his friend’s hand. Y/n had sent her brother a link to the aquarium’s announcement of a reopening that occurred a few weeks before, along with ‘pleeease can we go? pleeease?’ and a puppy-eyed emoji. Andrew had only sent a curt ‘we’ll see’ to which the girl responded with screenshots of seals and penguins.

A pang hit him straight in the heart, and he was saddened that she hadn’t asked him, given that he had refrained from taking her out in fear of distracting her from her studies. Yet, here she was asking to be taken to the aquarium, and Andrew showed no interest.

“Take her. Ask her there. The only reason why I haven’t taken her is because she’ll ask for something from the gift shop and they’re expensive as fuck.” Andrew shrugged.

Bingo.

With a composed look, he clicked off the phone and slid it back. On the inside, he was hopping up and down, pumping his arms with joy because everything had clicked, and he knew exactly what to do.

* * *

Y/n still felt butterflies every time Jason looked at her.

Every girl wanted to be looked at by someone the way he looked at her.

A soft, dreamy daze that took over his face, eyes shining with an enamored gleam. Lashes fluttering adoringly, and lips coming together in a smirk, like he held all kinds of secrets and wanted to share them with her. His look alone said it all. I want you and only you.

It was overwhelmingly passionate. So intimate; an open admission with no shame.

“You’re not even paying attention to me,” she whined, flopping over onto her back and throwing an arm over her head.

They were- as usual- laying on Jason’s bed, with one of y/n’s textbooks spread open in front of them.

“Can’t help myself,” he pushed up his glasses and raked his hair back. “You’re so pretty it’s distracting.”

At that, y/n turned herself over so she laid next to Jason again, but her face was still nestled in the crook of her arm where her cheeks flamed. “Stop it,” she said, words muffled.

“I’m serious.” She felt his weight dip on the bed, his hand coming to brush away hair that blocked the side of her face, and then puffs of air on her arm. Tilting her head so her eye peeked out, she saw that Jason’s mouth was hovering millimeters away from her skin, and when her eyes glanced up, an intense emerald gaze fixed on hers. “Like an angel, you are.”

Fire, heat, tingles littered the areas where his lips pressed against a trail into his skin. A blossoming feeling of affection imprinted onto her arm, and up to her cheek, where his lips lingered right underneath her lashes.

It became too much for her to handle, her heart and mind becoming muddled and confused through the overwhelming sensations that traveled throughout her nerves. Her cognitive senses seemed to refuse to acknowledge the difference between welcomed attention and… unwanted but forced attention. And, in efforts to prevent a hysteric scene or breakdown, she sprung up from her position, pressing a quick kiss into Jason’s cheek so he wouldn’t suspect anything, and sitting so she was almost completely off the bed.

Jason watched her with… rejection. But, she wouldn’t know that because she refused to meet his eyes. Instead she said, “Have you got marshmallows in the cupboard?”

“Uhh,” Jason cleared his throat, standing up and heading out of his room. “Yeah, I think so.”

She followed after him, shoulders hunched; ashamed. Mentally, she was pushing away repressed trauma from what seemed like yesterday. A haunting memory that refused to leave like paranoia.

“Tiny ones or…?” He heads straight for the silver door knob next to the fridge, stepping in to squat at the lower shelves. Y/n stands in the doorway, hands awkwardly at her sides.

“The big ones, please.” She doesn’t look up when he extends his hand to give her the fluffy white bag, and he doesn’t ask what's wrong.

Silently, y/n walks over to the kitchen island to pluck a skewer out of the drawer, and pops her hip to shut it. Jason lifts himself to sit on the countertop, his white shirt lifting to expose the pale sliver of skin that escaped from his grey sweatpants. Out the corner of her eye, she could see the enticing movement, and it caused her hands to shake, but she hid it in the twisting wrist movement of turning on the stove.

A tearing noise comes from behind her, blending in with the clicking noises of the stove turning on. Jumping at the startling disruption, she turns to see Jason with an Oreo midway to his mouth. He gives her an open lipped smile, eyes wide as if shocked, and it makes her burst into a chuckle.

“Can I get one?” She asked.

Wordlessly, he passed her a cookie. She took it, and it seemed that he purposely grazed his fingers over her palm.

Y/n yanked her hand away like he’d burned her.

Alarmed, Jason hops off the counter and moves to stand next to her.

“Y/n, is everything al-”

“Do you want a marshmallow?” She interrupted him, her breaths tense.

“Uh, no.” He said, his head slightly shaking in disbelief at her actions. Had he done something wrong?

The girl stabbed the skewer through the white candy, and twirled it over the flames, the edges quickly turning a golden color.

“Baby, what’s wr-”

It catches fire, and her lips blow them off before it turns completely black, the fuh noise that escapes overpowering Jason’s gentle words. She was scared of breaking in front of him. She was scared to show him how much she was holding in.

“Can you hold this?” Voice small and squeaky.

He took the skewer out of her hands, holding it while she opened the oreo cookie. Knowing what she was gonna do, he gingerly placed the melted marshmallow on top of the frosting covered cookie, and pulled away when she sandwiched the top cookie on top.

Y/n takes a bite out of the treat, and relishes in the slightly burnt, woodsy taste of the white taffy and how it melts on her tongue and slides with ease down her throat. So much so, that a small noise of appreciation comes from the depths of her chest.

“S’good?” Jason asked, a breathy-uneasy- laugh whooshing through his nose.

She’s nodding before she looks up at him, and her head stills when she locks eyes with him.

It’s the same, intense, focused look from before.

The one that promised so much. And it just- god she was so confused.

So confused that she leaned forward to kiss him, disregarding the fact that- in that moment- she didn’t want affection. She needed a bit of distance and time to process her emotions.

And instead of doing so, she lunged and connected herself to him in a smoldering embrace of their mouths. A sudden flood of inexplicable physical impressions, claiming, pleading.

Jason didn’t hesitate to respond, his hands appearing to cup at her cheeks, thumbs gingerly rubbing on the apples of her cheeks. He breathes deeply; a sharp inhale into her mouth that pulled his frame taught against hers. The forgotten treat pressed up against the divot of his pectoral muscles.

The instant his tongue snaked into her mouth, he was bombarded with the warm and sweet taste of her mouth. Marshmallows and just her essence crowding over his taste buds; his nose also breathing in the fruity scent of her hair and woodsy burnt candy. Urgently, his lips suckled on her lower lip, y/n gasping at the sudden, ardent actions.

Had she been any other girl, that would have been the night she finally let herself have sex with Jason.

The mood was right; they were both bleeding mad for each other.

But, y/n was y/n and that’s not how she was wired to go. Her mind began again with the confusion, her heart rate picking up double the rates from both the proximity of the boy and what was going to happen if the kiss continued. Did she want this? Fuck, of course she wanted this! Why was she…

“She’s not gonna do it because she’s a prude!” said one of the girls in the room.

“No, I’m n-”

“Yeah, you are y/n. You’re a virgin. Probably wouldn’t even know what to do,” said the same girl.

Y/n had been invited to a party that the cheerleaders in her class were throwing, and boys from rival school had been invited to. They were all sitting in a circle- enough people to fill up the living room of a rich man’s house- playing a game of truth or dare, and they’d just gotten to y/n.

She’d gotten dared to give one of the football players of the opposing school a blowjob… in the middle of the living room, with everyone watching. When they all saw her face fall, redden, and then pale, no one wasted time to verbally pounce on her hesitance.

“Look at her! She’d pathetic Marcy, she’s not gonna do it.” The girl who invited her, Marcy, looked at her with a smirk.

Embarrassed, and just numb to everything that was going on around her as well as what may come depending on her decisions. All she knew is that she needed to do this because she’d look bad if she didn’t. She didn’t want to be known as a prude. Even if she was a virgin. She didn’t want to be thought of badly.

“Yes, I will.” Her meek reply had silenced the whole room.

“Come over here, and blow me.” Chris was a sophomore that was known for his promiscuous ways, and the fact that he had a big… that was evident when y/n came to kneel in front of him.

Shaking, she sat in front of him with wide eyes, her back burning with stares and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her hands.

Throughout it all, she felt disgusting. Ashamed. And unable to breathe because the guy wasn’t letting her come off, holding her down with a strong grip in her hair. Tears burned on her lashes and down her cheeks, partly from being unable to breathe, and the other because she was scared.

God, she was so scared. What would happen to her when this got out? What then? When everyone knew what she’d done? There were more than enough witnesses present to attest that she’d given head to a guy she didn’t even know.

She’d felt a hand on her breast, and her eyes snapped open from their painful clench; alarmed. The guy sitting next to Chris had leaned over to touch her, and at her scared look he only laughed and continued to do it. His hand trailed lower and lower, and eventually she felt something hot spill down her aching throat. Her ears were ringing, her eyes bleary.

Much of how she escaped had been... blurred through her panic.

But the feeling… that dreadful, terrorized feeling. It was what deer felt moments before being impacted by a car.

She’d never forget it.

It was the same feeling creeping up on her then. The niggling, freezing, ambushed fear. It’s the reason why she pulled away from him, and said in a wet whisper, “I can’t.”

She hugs her arms across her chest, oreo still in hand, and turns away with her eyes dropped to the floor. Y/n’s mind is reeling, utterly confused and just so scared scared scared.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jason asked, trailing after her to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. His lips are a dark shade of pink, the skin of his cheeks a flushed color; if one were to look down, they’d see the heather grey color of his sweatpants was slightly lifted. But his arousal was pushed aside by his concern towards the small girl, who shivered when his fingers grazed her shoulder. He could see her eyes were shut closed, but a tear escaped to roll down her cheeks, and at that the thick hairs of his brows dipped to crinkle on his forehead. “Y/n?”

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, her words hitching and cracking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Jason pulled her into his chest, his head shaking no no no to her apologies. “There’s no need to be sorry, dovie. It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“But I am! I so sorry, Jason. I-” Her words died on her tongue, collapsed by a series of sobs that ruptured out of her lips. She was guilty. So so guilty. She felt like she was lying to him by not telling him of what had… occurred.

“Baby, baby, hey. Y/n,” He pulled back to cup her face with his hands again, forcing her to gaze into his calm, forest eyes. “Listen to me. Deep breaths,” he began to inhale, his chest expanding with the intake of air. “You’re okay. I’m not mad at you for anything, dove.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Y/n sets the cookie on the counter, and goes to wipe at her eyes roughly, Jason tugging at her wrists and doing it himself, shushing her as he does.

“Well I can’t be mad if I don’t know, yeah?” He gives her a small smile. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“N-no,” she shakes her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay.” He nods, still smiling. “That’s okay. I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready.”

Y/n just nodded and gave him a sad attempt to seem happy, but her chin began to tremble, crinkles appearing underneath her lip, and she rushed to dig her nose in the crook of Jason’s neck.

“Oh, sweetheart, I wish you’d tell me what’s got you so upset.” He murmured into her hair, his arms wrapping around her.

“Please, Jason. I don’t wanna,” She sniffled. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Alright. I’ll stop asking. Don’t wanna stress you out anymore, dovie. You need a break as it is.” Jason rubs a warm hand up and down her back soothingly when he feels her nose dip into his collarbone.

She sniffles some more, a slight hiccup in her breaths, and Jason continues, “speaking of breaks,” this catches her attention, and y/n tilts her head so she’s able to rest it in his shoulder and look up at his side profile. “Would you like to go to the aquarium with me next week?”

At this, her head springs up so she’s eye level with Jason, her wet eyes gleaming as a surprised smile plays on her mouth. “The aquarium?”

“Yes, the aquarium.” Jason laughed at her response, his eyes flitting between hers. The skin of his chin crinkled because he was looking down at her, and y/n wondered how he still managed to look so good with a double chin. “A little birdy told me you’ve been wanting to go.”

Squealing, she said, “Oh my gosh, Jason please! Can we?!”

Jason pressed a small kiss to her nose, “Of course, silly. It’s why I asked.”

“I’ve been asking Andrew but he….” she trails off, and her eyes become squinty, “heeey, did he tell you?”

“Mayb-” She jumped suddenly at the feeling of her phone vibrating in her back pocket. The Simpsons theme song blaring through the quiet kitchen, and letting her know her brother was calling. Most likely to tell her it was time to come home.

“I’ll go get your stuff,” Jason mumbled, separating himself with a wistful look in his eye.

Y/n mumbled a ‘thank you’ and fished her phone out of her back pocket, pressing the green call button and holding it up to her ear.

“Hey, lover girl. Mom says it’s time to come home. See ya,” and he hangs up before y/n can even respond.

Rolling her eyes, y/n heads upstairs to help Jason pack her stuff with all her troubles plaguing her heart like weeds.

* * *

Y/n had eased up a little on her avid studying habits because the SAT had passed, and she studied hard enough that she wasn’t planning on re-taking the exam-- no matter the score. In addition to that, there was enough to place on her shelf to make her look… well, better than good. Years worth of community service work, volunteering, participating in and starting clubs, all about to finally pay off. It was surreal. Kinda stressful, too, but now that she had time off she wanted to decompress. Enjoy herself some.

To begin with, much of it was taking time off with herself. Meaning, no Jason, or Andrew, or her parents. Just her. She didn’t even have to explain to Jason that she wanted to be alone because after her initial comment of taking time off alone, he’d kissed her palm and murmured about how proud he was against her skin. No bitterness or spite attached. He’d even made a joke about ‘bro time with Andrew’.

The gym nearest to her house was offering a free month trial-- which just so happened to be the amount of time she was planning on taking to relax before starting to study for finals again-- and she took it up instantly when she found out that they offered yoga and guided meditation classes. It was most likely the best thing she’d ever done.

Apart from getting an hour of physical exercise a day (because yoga is harder than it looks) she was the most relaxed ever. Her sleep was the best it’s been in so long, and her body felt so light. Time to reflect, she’d decided, was very important.

Plus, her self-esteem had gone up knowing she was doing something to better herself for* herself.

For the most part, that was how most of her days went.

Go to school, sometimes she’d eat lunch with Jason, get a ride home from him (the goodbye kisses ignited her), head to the gym, come back home and fall right asleep. She took advantage of the first three periods to finish any work that she had to turn in.

It’s only logical that she’d be nervous the day of her date with Jason, since it hadn’t been on her mind at all, and she hadn’t been spending time with the boy so his presence has not consoled her. An anxious fervor had plotted itself in the depths of her belly, goading her like a devil on her shoulder. Better watch how you act, it said, or you’ll fuck this all up.

Jason was the same way.

The poor boy had also taken to working out to release his...stress. Sleepless nights were spent with the weight-rack in his father’s home gym- arms aching from the strain of bench pressing. Shirtless torso draped in a sheen of sweat, flushed a pink color and littered with prominent veins as he pulled his body upwards, jaw clenched and mind focused, having already reached the point where he listens to his body’s begs for mercy. Rhythmic release of tense breaths escaped through the hard line of his lips, muscles defined under a glint of perspiration beneath the lights of the room, shorts low on his hips. His curls dripped salty beads down the line of his nose, and matted on his forehead.

He lost himself in the repetitive movements, body going numb until his brain turned off.

It was almost better than sex. Hell he did it to forget about sex.

He swears his body chose to betray him every time he was getting ready to fall asleep, projecting filthy images of a girl so sweet, he felt guilty just humoring them. Swollen red lips, hot mouths, soft hands, perky breasts blotchy with his marks. These pictures were so explicit and vivid in his brain about y/n, who was nothing but sweet and kind, and had never come close to even insinuating the things he imagined.

Hell on earth-- torture is what it felt like, having to ignore sticking a hand down his pants and pulling at himself until he found relief with such an innocent girl on his mind. It made him feel icky and gross because she was so pure. Jason preferred to turn to exhaustion of his body rather than pleasure. And, more often that not he greeted his father’s gym with a scowl and determination to distract himself, pushing himself until he was nothing but a breathless, strained heap laying all tired-out on the bench, salty beads running a path down his forehead and dripping down his neck where his shoulders drooped-- defeated.

Waking up the next day was a burning adventure; muscles feeling as if they’d been shot through and pricked with needles over and over again.

But, his dignity was still intact and he was able to look y/n in the eyes with no remorse. The one time he’d jerked off to her, he was a sweating, burning mess as he made his way up to her in the halls.

He’d learned his lesson then.

His nerves didn’t run as deep as y/n’s, but he did second guess himself the more intricate his plan got. Take a certain route, be there at a certain time so there wouldn’t be so full, alert the personnel of his presence.

Jason had approached his mother, Anne, the night that she had come home, and questioned her about her friend’s sister that worked as a zookeeper, to see if she had connections to the aquarium. Turns out, she did and-and,

“Honey, what’s the sudden interest in Penny’s sister?” She looked up at her son while chopping green onions.

Stammering, he rubbed his neck and said, “I was kinda… wondering- maybe, uhm… you could call in a favor for-for me…”

“What for?”

“I wanted to ask… y/n to prom at the uhm.. The aquarium,” his cheeks go pink and he can’t keep steady eye-contact with his mother. She’s smiling at him knowingly, smiling at him from underneath the lip of the wine-glass she holds up to her mouth.

She smacks her lip, “Y/n? The prom? When did this happen?” Anne smirked at him, scraping the onions off the cutting board with a knife onto the pan.

This would be the moment where the distraught teenage boy goes off on his mom for being absent and not knowing a single thing about him. Slam his firsts against the counter-top while sneering.

But Jason loved his mother and they maintained good communication, so there would be none of that. “Start of February…” He bites his thumb.

The sound of sizzling onions is what fills in the silence of their gazes. His mother slowly nodded her head, and Jason blushing.

“I knew it.”

Jason furrowed his eyebrows at his mother’s statement. “What?”

“I knew this would happen. I knew it the day she first came in with Andrew. The instant you said her name, I knew.”

Jason furrowed his eyebrows at his mother’s statement. “What?”

“I knew this would happen. I knew it the day she first came in with Andrew. The instant you said her name, and that look in your eye…” She gleamed at her son. “You love her, don’t you?”

The boy gaped at his mother. Had he really been that transparent from the beginning? So much so that not even he had noticed his feelings? “You knew?”

“Course I did. Pushed you out of me didn’t I? Know you like the back of my hand.” His mother set the glass down and continued cutting vegetables. “It’s a mother’s instinct to know when her boy has been swept off his feet.” A soft pat on the cheek meets a dazed Jason. “Now, what’s this favor you wanted?”

* * *

Y/n was scared to admit how deep her feelings were for Jason.

Scared to admit that the usual fluttering gnaw at her ribs had developed into an inferno that took over her entire body, centering at her heart and spreading through her nervous system, leaving her skin a tingling network of her emotions.

Basically, take puppy love, and remove ‘puppy’. She loved him. With her entire being and more she loved him. She could see her life with him more secure than anything in her life, which was a big admission because the poor girl was all about security. And Jason made her feel more comfortable than anything in her life at that moment; he made her forget about anything that wasn’t them together in that moment.

The morning of their date was like one of those scenes in movies where the character just has that really big realization, and all her feelings hit her at once. Y/n pieced it all together in a few seconds. How much he meant to her, how she loved him* and how scary it would be if she were to admit her feelings and receive nothing in return.

It was at cause of these thoughts that her nerves revved up to their max, mind overthinking different ways that her feelings might cause this date to go wrong. Like something might slip from her lips; a rushed, urgent proclamation of her devotion full of jumbled stutters and met with a stunned look and a freshly single boyfriend.

“Honey, Jason’s here!” Called her mother at the base of the stairs.

Y/n watched herself grow pale in her reflection, teeth sinking in her bottom lip. No turning back now.

“Coming!” She took one last look at herself, pulling on the sleeves of the cardigan she layered over the long, white-eyelet dress she was saving for an occasion like this. It was a light, summer material with white embroidered flowers and a nice frilly detain around the waist. The creme cardigan served no purpose other than the fact that she was nervous, and covering up calmed her down. There wasn’t much to cover, but bare shoulders made her heart want to start a riot, screaming at her that people were looking and it was time to get anxious about whether she looked good or not.

She forced herself to tear her eyes away from the dewy makeup on her face, drawing her mind away from picking at it until it was perfect because it would never be that and it’s okay. Instead, she focused on what lay ahead of her for the day— and maybe that was a tad bit worse but that didn’t matter because she was already in the witch’s pot and the brew was boiling— her date with Jason looming with possibility. Not to mention, she’d finally be getting to see the newly added exhibits she was longing to see.

Cute baby sea lions, penguins and jellyfish that quickly outweighed all the disastrous scenarios filling her mind.

Skipping down the steps with an eager smile on her lips, y/n struggled to hold in all her happy squeaks because downstairs Jason was waiting for her and-

“There she is!” Her mother greeted her at the base of the stairs, and winked at her daughter with a smile, a cheeky expression displayed upon the fact that what was happening was a surprising event. Her little y/n going out on a date with none other than her favorite out of Andrew’s friends, Jason.

This would have been the moment in the movies where everything freezes and everyone else disappears. The camera comes to a zoom in on Jason and y/n’s faces, the screen split in half but it the same, dreamy, loved-up expression on both their faces. Y/n’s cheeks warmed with a soft flush and a cheek splitting grin on her mouth, lips that shined with the gloss she had put on them, and eyes that shined under the kitchen lights with an extra sparkle that had floated up from her chest that had become the cavern where she shoved all her emotions.

Jason is equally stunned, unsure of how his girlfriend could get any more beautiful. Bunny teeth on full display, hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. He wore a satin bomber jacket with a tiger on the lower right side of his abdomen that was perched on snow-capped mountains that stretched up to his chest, a swooping eagle on his left breast. Two buttons were left unclasped, the collar of a white under-shirt peeking out, and the dip of his breast-bone on display, highlighted by the glint of the golden cross necklace his grandmother had given him when he was eight.

Meanwhile he took in the sight of her, y/n did the same as well, eyes roaming all over his figure and settling on the eyes that were already set on hers. He loved how she turned a pretty bothered color when they locked dreamy gazes. How her demeanor changes to shy glances when he smiles at her all toothy- his dimples prominent on his cheeks. The boy straightened, looking proud to be able to take her on a date.

“Well are you guys gonna stare at each other all day, or go to the aquarium?” Andrew asked. He was standing at the kitchen entrance, a bag of Cheetos in his arm, and one cheek bulging with chips.

“Andrew!” His mother playfully swatted his bicep. “Be nice! You’ll be the same, just wait.”

“Ready to go?” Jason asked, giving a sluggish nod towards the door, his being still transfixed in y/n, who nodded equally as slow even though her heart raced a mile a minute. “Alright, let’s go then. I’ll bring her home before 10, Mrs. Y/L/N.” Y/n walked towards the hand that Jason stretched out for her to grab, her hand swimming in his. It suddenly made sense why he was able to launch a football 400 meters. His hands were big, with a wide palm and nimble fingers that wrapped around hers, the top of it striped with the pleasing ridged of his veins.

“Bye, hunnies! Have fun…. But not too much fun!” The mother clutched at her chest, her eyes soft at the sight of Jason opening the door for her daughter.

“Ew, mom!” Andrew said, crumbling the bag to a close and retreating up the stairs, presumably to his room. He stopped at the base, and turned to say, “And I’ll be here, the brother forgotten by this best friend, woe is me!”

His friend twisted around with a hand on the doorknob, “You know I love you, babe!”

Andrew said something stupid along the lines of ‘show me, ya stud!’ before his mother shushed him up and waved at the couple that it was okay to leave, approaching the doorway to lock up.

Y/n peeked sideways at Jason, finding him already looking at her with a cheeky smirk.

“Caughtcha looking,” He said, taking hold of her hand again and giving it a mall squeeze, leaning over to peck her cheek. “Missed you, y/n.”

She wanted to stop and pull him in by both sides of his face to smash their lips together, but she knew that her mom was probably watching through the window. “Wanna kiss you good so bad, but my mom’s probably watching through the window and I don’t wanna hear about it later.”

“It’s okay, baby, I know. Wanted to ravish you when I saw you coming down the stairs, but that’s not the most appropriate thing to do when my girlfriend’s mom is present, is it?” They reached his car, and he sped up slightly to open the door for her, placing a hand on the small of her back. The grip on her phone increased at the sudden warmth on her body, her mind jumping to dirty assumptions on where this could lead to.

She got in the car with a quiver in her belly, and it jolted away when Jason shut the door behind her. What was she thinking? Their relationship was built upon glances and sly touches, and how she was flustered in a non-sexual way over him? Strongly?

“Did you wanna get food anywhere before?” He said when he opened the door to his side, leg hiking up and to the side to take a seat. “Dunno ‘bout you, but I’m really really craving those chicken-avocado paninis from that one little coffee shop, and I know you really like their milk tea, what do you say?”

“I say that’s a really good idea.” Y/n said, nodding with a pinch on one side of her face, her true feeling hidden. Eyes trained at the way he held the steering wheel; one hand at 12 while he turned the key into the ignition. Maybe he would hold her neck while the other rubbed at her…

What the fuck? She needs to cut it out.

Clearing her throat and looking out the window she said, “I could definitely go for a milk tea right now…”

“Yeah? Are you excited for today?” He twists to check behind him before pulling out of his parallel position to the curb, and y/n uses that moment to glance at the smooth skin of his neck, imagining how it would feel underneath her fingertips… her mouth…

“Yes,” She chokes, saliva collecting at the back of her tongue and slipping through. There’s a small pause where she coughs, and Jason plucks a bottle of water from the glove compartment, the back of his hand grazing her knees and the tops of her thighs, which only makes her cough harder.

“Are you okay, my love? Here,” using the flat of his wrist to take hold on the steering wheel while he opened the bottle, “drink some. I don’t want you to die before you’ve seen the jellyfish.”

A feeble ‘thank you*’ left her lips before the water bottle occupied it. The liquid washed out anything that had agitated her, and she drank extra to fill the time for at least a few more seconds. She was terrified of doing something wrong.

The car was pulling up the parking lot of their local cafe when she placed the bottle in the cup holder between them. Jason didn’t have a clue what was going through her head, or the fact that he should be concerned because her thoughts had traveled to him fingering her while she made a mess of his seat. He was simply so grateful to be spending time with the girl who he loved.

Who he loved.

The boy had realized the extremities of his regards after his mother had spoken them aloud.

You love her don’t you?

Yes, yes he did. He had known that it was there. The guzzling, spritzy feeling he felt over his chest- like when a sip of a freshly opened can of Sprite goes down your throat- when he saw her, felt her touch, thought about her, had always been there. Always. It was there the day he bumped into her outside of the locker room, her tiny frame going unnoticed when he rounded the corner of the locker room where she was waiting for her brother because he was busy texting some girl, but the moment he heard a squeaky ‘oh, I’m so sorry!’, it was there.

In some aspects, Jason was a bit dense, and this was one of them. He didn’t act when he should’ve. Or at least recognized what was going on in that broad chest of his-- he doesn’t think he would’ve acted because Andrew wouldn’t have held back. They hadn’t developed such a strong bond to come to the understanding that they did (Jason had made a really bold statement about life long partners and Andrew had been too blown away to stay mad).

Jason loved y/n, and he always would; that was just facts.

“Wanna stay in here or go inside with me?” He asked her, taking the key out and placing a hand on the door.

She was lightning quick to say “With you!” a bashful look overcoming her when he looked at her all knowingly, like he could see right through her. “I’ll go with you so you don’t have to carry everything,” y/n blubbered in efforts to reclaim her dignity, and stepped out of the car.

He feigned being hurt, “Owie, that stung. Are you saying I’m not strong?” Jason followed after her, a playful pout in his lips, “Tell you what,” he placed an arm around her neck, tugging her close to him and putting his lips by her ear, “I can carry you and the food, at the same time.”

Tables with umbrellas were located at the front of the cafe, people sitting with their computers open or having a chat with friends. Some looked up, some didn’t, but the stares of those who did made y/n feel thousands of times shyer than what she felt.

The girl couldn’t help but squeeze the fabric of her sweater around herself, her thoughts getting the best of her, the feeling of his lips an enticing action that drove her mad…

He knew it too, chuckling to himself as he opened the door.

Inside, only a single person made up the line for ordering, and she was already in the process of giving the man her card to pay. Jason and y/n stood side by side, looking up at the menus as if they were thinking over their choices, but really just thinking about each other.

“Nex- Well, well, well.”

Y/n doesn’t think she had ever forgotten that voice. And hearing it ten, with Jason at her side, brought back the fear she hadn’t even begun to overcome. Her face went white, her lungs freezing, and her feet glued to the ground.

Shock, was the medical term for it.

When your body is submerged into temperatures it can’t handle, it goes through a series of procedures to attempt survival. It begins to slow down to conserve energy, shutting down to keep in heat, or await help. Hearts slow, lungs slow, and in extreme, abrupt situations, a person can faint.

At the appearance of Chris after nearly an entire year, y/n wanted to faint. She wished she had, that way she wouldn’t have to endure Jason’s confused glances, and Chris’s malicious, salacious smirk.

“Y/n, long time no see, baby.” He said, a piece of gum that he had hidden in his cheek appearing as he started to chew, leaning forward on the counter and giving Jason a once over. “Who’s that?”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed at the audacity this guy had, calling his girl ‘baby’. Y/n wasn’t looking at him, she couldn’t- she wasn’t aware of what was happening anymore, retreated into deep parts of her brain- but had she, she would’ve seen a bone-chilling, intimidating look of dominance in his usually kind green eyes. “I’m her boyfriend, who are you?” He said, stepping forward so his thighs were flush with the edge of the counter. His body was pulled tight like the strings on a violin, one pluck away from releasing a disastrous melody.

Y/n’s eyes began to tear from not blinking them, her heart going from beating normal to beating so hard she could feel it in her fingertips, her stomach dropping like it had been ripped to her feet.

“Who am I?” Chris licked the inside of his cheek, and y/n gagged. Repulsed, her feet tripped over themselves in attempts to get to the trashcan by the pickup site. “There wasn't even anything in your mouth, babe! Guess that thing they say about muscle memory is true, huh?”

Jason didn’t pay attention to the last thing that he said because he ran over to hold his girlfriend’s hair, rubbing her back and whispering that ‘it’s okay, my love, take deep breaths’. Her body started to tremble when nothing came out, her eyes emitting actual tears now, feeling undeserving of Jason’s affection because of what she’d done.

“I’m so-rry,” she whispered, her face a splotchy, red color that made him panic on the inside at what could plague her. “Can we go?”

“Yeah,” He nodded quickly, no questions asked.”Yeah, let’s go.”

Y/n shot up then, practically running out of the store while Chris laughed a belly-clenching laugh that pushed her out further. Jason looked back at him once, anger on clear display because whatever the guy had done, it was bad if it made her this upset.

When he turned around, y/n’s figure was disappearing through the view of the store’s window, arms clutching herself as she ran to the parking lot. There were more stares than when they first arrived when he ran out after her with a call of her name.

“Y/n!” He turned the corner to see her yanking violently at his door handle, tears streaming continuously down her cheeks now. Her shoulder jerked back and pushed forward until her knuckles collided on the material of the car. She was hurting herself. “Hey!” He yelled, yanking her back and wrapping his arms around her torso to restrict her movements.

She thrashed for a few seconds, sobs leaving her until she went limp, which was when he let her go. His eyes were wide with concern, not being able to believe what had just happened.

“Dovie? Look at me, dovie,” With a curled finger, he gently encouraged her to look at him. Irritated, doe eyes blinked with... fear.

“Do you want me?” Were the words that left her mouth in a breathy tremble.

“I always want you,” Jason said, not hesitating to respond to her abrupt inquiry. His thick brown eyebrows were still knitted, however, and she knew that she owed him answers. As much as she couldn’t bring herself to give them up, y/n said,

“Would you want me even if I was used?” She shut her eyes tight, not being able to bear looking at him. It felt as if she were the one using him then, comforted by his presence, but lying to him as well.

He scoffed, head shaking. “Yes. Even then I’d still love you.” Jason’s composure remains the same,neither alarmed or shocked that he had let it ‘slip’ past his lips because he hadn’t. He loved her and he told her.

Y/n, on the other hand, burst into tears and dropped her head, her forehead on his chest, chanting a pathetic, “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Y/n, I need you to tell me what just happened,” He crooned into her ear, his lips kissing her head in attempts to show his affection to comfort her, “Let me help you.”

She shook her head, and the gold zipper of his sweater scratched her forehead when she did. “No. No, I’m sorry.” She looked up at him, her voice pleading, “I don’t want to ruin our date. Can I tell you after?” Jason looked at her with lips pressed into a firm line. “Please.” She begged.

“Not gonna ruin our date, dovie,” He kissed her right cheek, and her eyelid, the bridge of her nose, and nudged his forehead against hers, “Spent so much time waiting for you, that I’m not gonna let a silly thing break us apart. I’m willing to fight, y/n. I already have.” He fumbled behind her, unlocking the door and propping it open before he pressed a kiss to her lips. A deep press that conveyed everything he just said. I love you.

A shaky, relieved breath left her when they parted, her eyes still shut when he said, “Get in the car, my love,” with another, plushy kiss to her lips before he stepped back to see her get in the car. Her eyes opened slowly to see him smiling at her, no trace of anything strange in his eyes- like he had forgotten everything that happened in the past 10 minutes.

Y/n mumbled an ‘okay’ and got inside, putting on his seat belt as he closed the door and walked over to his side. She wondered if this was it, if this was her messing up and at the end of the day she would be crying into her pillow because he’d broken up with her. If e was just playing nice because that was just Jason, his MO.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice that he had turned on the radio until he started singing along to it. An oldies station that he always had on if there wasn’t any music coming from his phone. It was in the middle of Prince’s Nothing Compares 2 U to which Jason didn’t hesitate to start singing.

“I went to the doctor’s and guess what he told me, guess what he told me,” he looked over at her while he was singing, a playful look in his eyes, and he shimmied his shoulders. It was a classic ‘sing to your girlfriend so she’ll never forget this song and always associate this song with you’ moment.

“He said girl you better try to have fun no matter what you do,” his singing voice was a direct reflection on his character, smooth like honey, but deep and slightly scratchy like the comfort of burning wood, “but he’s a fool.”

Just then, his voice gets a little louder, “Cause nothing compares to you.” He placed a hand on her knee, his lips forming an exaggerated ‘o’ shape on the ‘you’. Jason was clearly singing to her, his eyes flickering from the road to her as a sweet gesture to direct his words to her.

Y/n sniffled and laughed, using her finger to trace the veins on the back of Jason’s hands, looking up at him while he sang to her. She had the sudden urge to reiterate what he had confessed in the parking lot. How it swelled in her chest, and consumed her.

But she couldn’t. It was hard and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he didn’t know the whole truth about her. Instead she wrote it on his hand. Her caresses going from random to spelling out letters on his knuckles. He noticed this. How the movements were calculated now, and the singing stopped. Green eyes went from the road to her eyes, to the road to their hands.

I love you, too.

She wiped her hand over his when she finished, and didn’t dare look up at him, so she looked out the window but left her hand in his hold. He brought it up to his lips, and kissed her knuckles, rubbing his lips over them repeatedly.

* * *

Jason stepped out of the car, and took long, quick strides over to her door, y/n admiring how long and muscular his legs looked in his jeans. He pulled the door open, leaning back so the door could swing past his torso, but staying relatively close to the car, giving her just enough space to get out. Y/n didn’t think anything of it, until she stood, and was face to face with his face, her nose swamped with the toned down scent of fresh, spring scented body wash merged with the soft smell of his skin.

Given how close she was, she could see the lines on his cupid's bow where his skin color changed from a golden tint to the strawberry of his lips.

“Can you kiss me properly now, baby?” He said, voice low and raspy. Hands came to flatten on the hood of his Prius, caging her in so she was close to his torso. A blush formed from the way he stared at her mouth like he was starved.

“P-properly?” She muttered, her hands taking purchase on his hips, and smoothing up his sides, the material cool under her hands.

“Yeah,” He licked the inside of his cheek, his head tilting, “Like this.”

Jason pushed forward until her back hit the car, and their hips were flush, y/n’s hands stuck between them, but she maneuvered them to she could palm at his chest, her nails digging in like cat’s claws when his lips found their way together, pillowed between each other in a passionate embrace that warmed her to her toes.

“Mmph, baby ‘ya marking me with your fingers,” He spoke in a sotto voice, heavy breaths and wet noises of their smacking lips resonating through their ears.

It took everything in her not to moan, and she knew that if they kept going it would be inevitable, so she unclenched her hands with a reluctant squeak, and ducked her head into his neck. Breath hot on his neck, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no. I… uhm, I liked it, my love. You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t be shy.” He flexed his jaw, his eyes rolling at the back of his head at recalling the feeling of her hands- dainty and small, and sweet,, and god* it was just her*- clawing at his chest. Jason dipped forward, and kissed her neck. His lips staining her skin with scorching heat, the soft skin creating a magnetic force between them.

She moaned at that, her teeth scratching at his neck tentatively. “Stop it,” Her head felt floaty, her limbs soft, “Wanna see the fishies and the way that you’re…” “The way that I’m what, dovie?” He’s stunned by her moan, his brain haywire. “Tell me.”

“The way you’re talking is gonna me make me wanna stay here, and I really wanna see the fishies. Please?” She’s whining; voice an embarrassingly high pitched tone. Her hands gripped the collar of his sweater for stability because her knees were shaking.

“Alright. Alright, let’s go see the fishies, baby.” Jason pecks her one last time at the juncture of her neck, and takes a step back to grab her hand. “Come on.”

* * *

“So, they’ve got McDonald’s, Tam’s Burgers, Ruby’s Diner, and Sushi.” Jason holds a tri-fold directory of the aquarium in one hand, and y/n’s hand in the other.

“Sushi? At an aquarium?” She skews half her face to the side like she tasted something sour.

“I know right?” He copies her face, “The irony. Up for burgers? It’s all they’ve got.”

Y/n’s stomach grumbled at the mention of food, and she giggled when Jason noticed and laughed at her. “Burgers sound good,” she said, rubbing her stomach comically. Although she was still heated by their earlier interaction, both were pretending like nothing happened, and like they didn’t have a big thing waiting for them at the end of the day.

Like she wasn’t going to reveal how sh-

“Anything for you, baby.” Jason Jason held up the tri-fold again and blew out of his lips as he made out the route to Tam’s burgers.

When they both got there, they ordered the same thing: one cheeseburger with a vanilla milkshake. Oh, and they were sharing chili cheese fries.

It was the epitome of a perfect date for a young couple in love. They chose to sit on the same side of the booth because they were greedy to get everything they could from each other. Unnecessary touches were made more than the amount of things they said to each other. Him brushing hair behind her each, hand on her thigh, rubbing her cheeks, feeding her, wiping her mouth, her arm hooked through his, pecking his cheek after a sip of her milkshake, nudging his feet with hers, caressing his thigh. It was on the rubbing his thigh part where things would get slightly heated, and Jason would stop to kiss her, licking into her mouth to taste the vanilla that was also on his tongue.

Jason paid for their meal, much to y/n’s begging, and then walked her over to the penguin exhibit.

“Heard one of their eggs just hatched, and I want you to see it.” He said, swinging their hands between them.

“Really?” She asked, her features lifted with excitement. “Well then let’s go!” Y/n ran ahead of him, looking back at him and pulling at his arm. Laughing, they swerved around people and ran past the large tank that represented the reef ecosystem, blue light from the sun that streamed through the top of the tank dancing on their skin like shadows. It was a magical moment, even though they looked like weirdos. In their head they were in their own movie, their own world.

“Jason, honey? Is that you?” A woman in green cargo shorts and the customary blue shirts with the aquarium’s logo on the left breast called from the inside of the penguin expedition. She had raven black hair in a low bun, and red lipstick paired with a bright smile. She was feeding the animals from two buckets on the edge of the pool where they were jumping in.

“Hey, Janet!” Jason called out, waving from behind the glass barrier. “Long time no see, have you gotten younger?”

She laughed and turned around, walking through an archway and disappearing from view. A male walked out, and smiled towards the couple, nodding once and turned his attention towards the penguins. He whistled once, and they all came to him, huddling around him expectantly.

Then he bent downwards and placed the back of his hand on the penguins tummy, pressing back and they waddled backwards. He did the same to four others, pressing them so they were in a straight line, and they stayed where he placed them. Janet came out then, with black objects in her arms.

“What are they….” Y/n asked, confused as to what was going on because she had been to this aquarium several times and had never seen such things. “... doing?”

Janet removed one of the items from her chest, and y/n could see that they were large letters. A ‘P’ which she placed at the feet of the first penguin. ‘R’ on the one following. They rested against their bellies, and after an initial peck at it, they left it alone and watched their keepers expectantly, presumably for food. ‘O’ followed, then ‘M’. And as the question mark was being laid on the last penguin, Jason turned to watch his girlfriend’s face, waiting for the realization to hit. It didn’t take very long.

“Oh my gosh, Jason, look! Look it spells prom!” She pointed at it excitedly, a smile from ear to ear as she looked on at the animals, amused by their antics. She looked over at him to share her glee, and found him watching her with a dreamy smirk. “Look at the animals! Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Will you go to prom with me?”

Y/n’s jaw dropped, the full realization hitting her. This had been planned, more specifically, Jason had planned this. “You did this?” She asked. Looking back and then at him again as he nodded slowly, still waiting for an answer. She stood there for a moment, stunned, and after a blink she jumped into his arms. “Yes! Yes! Yes, I want to go to prom with you!”

He didn’t waste any time in wrapping his hands around her waist and twirling her around, laughing. Kissing her cheek, he set her to her feet and she was watching him with bleary eyes, a pout on her lips. “You did this for me?”

“Technically, my mom did, but yes. Had her call in for me. Did you like it?” He put his hands in the pocket of his bomber jacket, his lips puckered as he tried to conceal a proud smile.

“I love it, so much, Jason I-” She’s left speechless, and she glances up at the animals again, where Janet and the other keep were throwing fish at them. “Thank you.” The tips of her fingers came to cover her mouth, tears of joy threatening to slip.

“Don’t cry, dovie. You weren’t supposed to cry,” he cooed, slipping his hands out again to wipe at the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Leaning up on her tip-toes, y/n abruptly yanked at his jacket, and crushed their lips together.

“There we go! Your mother would love this!” Janet whooped, and her cheers caused the couple to split from each other with red faces, laughs covering their embarrassment.

“Hush up, and let me kiss my girl will ya?” Jason pointed a finger at her and pretended to scowl. “We’re leaving to somewhere where we can smooch in peace!” Nearby people laughed at his jokes.

“Bye, sweetie! Tell your mother I said hello!” She waved goodbye, and returned her attention to the penguins at her feet.

Y/n waved a goodbye along with Jason, yelling a ‘thank you’ as she walked away. Her brain was still trying to process what had happened when they turned the corner and walked into the new exhibit of the darker layers of the ocean. A long, winding hallway where the only light was the glow coming from the bio-luminescence animals in the water.

An influx of serotonin swimming through her veins, squeals leaving her where she noticed where they were.

“The jellyfish!” She left Jason’s side to stand in front of the large glass. An abundant amount of jellyfish bobbed up and around each other at slow, hypnotizing speeds. Glowing, long tentacles swaying in their trail; networks of veiny light streams present in each of them. The blue hue reflecting off of her skin, and onto the pane where it showed her amazed reflection.

“They’re beautiful,” she mumbled. Jason caught up, and stood besides her, his figure also appearing on the glass pane that held the jellyfish. “I could watch them all day.”

His eyes drifted from the jellyfish to her side profile, admiring how ethereal she looked in that moment. Her face was soft with curiosity and wonder. “Me too.”

“You’re not even looking at them.” She gives him a side-eye glance.

“I know.” He turned so his feet pointed to her, and combed his hair back because a few curls were tickling his forehead. “Can’t believe I’m gonna have the prettiest girl as my prom date.”

Y/n’s nostrils flared and she sucked in her lips to suppress a smile. “Stop it.”

“S’true. Everyone’s gonna be so jealous of me.” He sucked in a breath, “Gonna have to hold on to you so no one steals you from me.”

She knows he means every word that leaves his lips. And that the words are meant to tickle her heart with their honesty. While they do so, they also break it. Y/n thinks she’s living a lie. Not her relationship with him, but the way she acts and portrays herself. So much of herself, she kept hidden. It hurt knowing that he was being so genuine, and she wasn’t. It hurt more than knowing he could break up with her if he knew the truth.

So, she decided to come clean. Even though they decided on the end of the day, her conscience wasn’t letting her live.

“Jason, I have something to tell you.” She said, her throat closing up on the second syllable of his name, and crying by the end of her sentence.

The boy brings his palm to her lower back, and moves his thumb up and down comfortingly. “Deep breaths, y/n. I’m listening.”

“That boy?” She tilts her chin so she’s looking at him, and he nods when they make eye contact. “From the cafe? I knew him from a party.” Deep breath. “We were playing truth or-” a sob leaves her, shoulders sagging as her composure breaks.

Jason raises his hand from her back to her shoulder, and steps closer so she’s pressed against his chest. “It’s okay. I’m right here, baby. I’m not leaving you. Take your time.”

It would’ve been a lot more embarrassing if people were passing, but they were the only ones there. Had there been someone, they would’ve seen a terribly emotional y/n and a very concerned Jason.

A creeping feel of panic like the one from that night teased her toes, anxiety of her confession crawling up her spine. But she had to push through. She needed to get this off her chest.

“We were playing truth or dare, and… and I got dared t-to suck him off in front of everyone else,” another hiccup interrupts her words, and she had to stop to take a deep breath like Jason said, giving him an ashamed, fleeting glance. Not long enough to see that his eyes were wide with astonishment, eyebrows furrowed with bubbling rage.

“What?” He said, more on the rhetorical side to encourage her to keep talking. His mind kept jumping back to the guy at the cafe and the way he said ‘there wasn’t anything in your mouth, babe’ with a knowing look in his eyes. How he practically violated her with his eyes. Rage filled him; all he wanted to do was punch the guy in the face.

Anger made itself present in his stunned comment, and y/n took it as a disgusted comment. She jumped to explain herself, “I didn’t want to do it! I swear I didn’t put they started calling me names, a-and I didn’t want them to be upset with me so I-” another collapse of her words, chest rising and falling with desperate breaths. The panis increased, rising up to her chest and gripping like a boa.

Jason knew that she needed reassurance on that moment and said, “Sh, sh Dovie, deep breaths. It’s alright, I know you didn’t, my dove. That’s called peer pressure.”

It was clear that this was something she struggled with for a long time, and it hurt him so much inside that he had so blindly lived in the presence of her pain. Held her, touched her, and never noticed that she was so deeply in pain. The anger in him became a mix of bitter remorse at the fact that he had done nothing to push at her, or present himself in a way that showed she could trust him. He was unaware he was crying too until his own vision became blurry with moisture.

“I left right after he… after he…. Because the other boys started touching me, too. That was when you found me under that tree. Remember?” Shiny doe eyes glimmered with the light that came off the jellyfish at him. They seemed to beg him for forgiveness, for understanding that she was sorry.

“Yes, sweetheart I remember.” Soft fingers crawl up her cheek, caressing like silk at the tears that still fell. Kisses were littered in her temple with strong pressure, a display of his comfort. “Oh, I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I should have said no. I should’ve l-left or something…”

“No. No, y/n this wasn’t your fault. This wasn’t on you. You were under pressure, and they were bullying you as well… Oh my god, baby, this- You don’t want to tell authorities?”

“No! No, no, Jason I can’t l-let anyone find out I did…” Her eyes shut with distaste, “That. Please, don’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He nods.

“Do you still want me?” Her cross, and her nails dig into her arms. Y/n bowed her head and sniffled. Jason took note of this, and pried her hands off so she wouldn’t bleed. His heart clenched at the tone of desperation in her voice. It hurt him to even think that he’d leave her so easily, and his words came out more emotionally tainted than he would’ve wanted.

“Y/n look at me.” His hand cupped her cheek, and the other held both of her wrists. She wrapped her hands around his wrists and squeezed him tightly. “I’m not leaving you. Can’t you understand that I love you, baby? I’m not leaving you, not now.”

“God, Jason. I don’t deserve you.” Y/n leans into his touch, sniffling.

“No, dovie. You’ve got that all twisted. It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. You’re so good to me, so kind, and sweet,and I’m so so sorry thing happened to you. But it’s gonna be okay, yeah? We can work through this, I’ll be there by our side. I won’t leave.” The boy followed after her eyes, wanting to maintain eye contact with her, but she was shifty with her gaze. He wanted to be able for her to see-- in his eyes-- that he meant every word.

“I love you.” Y/n jumped into his chest and wrapped her hands around his neck, happy to be free of guilt, and blissfully happy that she had Jason. That he loved her, and she was able to tell him that she loved him.

After a moment of just standing in each other’s arms, head’s buried in each other’s neck with Jason muttering into her ear just how much she meant to him, they stepped back to look at the other, and y/n laughed halfheartedly, wiping at her eyes and underneath her nose. Quiet ‘thank you’s were exchanged and they took one last good look at the jellyfish in silence. Y/n suggested they go home, and Jason said he wanted to stop by the gift shop first. Something about how how he needed a polar bear to hold onto at night.

In reality, he bought her the sea otter she wouldn’t stop petting, and a key chain with the date engraved on it. He didn’t give these to her until they were in front of her house, and he reached into the bag behind her seat.

“These are for you.” He said, placing the stuffy on her lap, and the key chain on her open palm. “A memoir. The first time we said I love you... among other things.”

His tone was serious, mouth set in a grim line, but y/n was smiling.

“I knew something was up when you told me to wait outside. Thank you.” Leaning over the console, they both met each other halfway, and kissed each other goodbye. At the first taste of her lips, he removed his hands from the steering wheel in favor of having them on her face, holding her too him a few seconds longer than she usually would have let herself stay kissing.

“You’re welcome, dovie. I love you.” He said, pecking her lips once more, and then her nose, making her laugh through her nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’ll call you tonight. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, too.” She opened the door, and waved once more at her boyfriend who smiled at her from inside the car.

Y/n was slightly upset over he fact that he hadn’t gotten out to walk her up the steps, and in any other situation, he would’ve. But out of his eagerness, Jason waited until she was inside, and lifted his hips to get his phone out of his pocket, calling the one person he knew would have his back if he wanted to set things straight.

It rang three times before he picked up.

“Andrew. It’s an emergency. Come over to my house tonight. Don’t let anyone see you leave.”

#IM SUCH A SOFTIE FOR JASON IM SORRY #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff oneshot #fratboy harry styles

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eldritchsurveys · 3 years

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1089.

1 - Aside from the necessities (eating, breathing etc.) what is something you do every single day, without fail? >> Check gmail, tumblr, discord. Do my Flight Rising dailies.

2 - Do you use cash or card the most? Do you find yourself using card or contactless methods more since COVID hit? >> I use card almost exclusively (some of the less technologically up-to-date stalls at the farmer’s market make me run back to the ATM sometimes, but other than that I never carry cash). This was even before COVID, so nothing has changed for me there. 3 - Is there anything you enjoy that’s considered childish for your age? What is it? >> I don’t call anything I enjoy “childish” and I don’t think other people should either.

4 - Who’s your favourite voice actor? What’s the best thing they’ve been in? >> I don’t have one. Keith David has a great voice, though, I do love him. And of course there’s Ron Glass (RIP) :’(

5 - How many times a day do you use the bathroom? >> Like twice, normally. Three or four if I have a lot of beverages.

6 - Do you need caffeine to wake up in the morning? What’s your drink of choice? >> I don’t need anything to wake up in the morning -- sleep is one area I’ve never had serious problems in, and thank god for that, because imagine how much worse my mental health would be if I did...

7 - Are you more of an introvert or an extrovert? If you’re an introvert, do you feel like you live in a world built for extroverts? >> I prefer being alone or in very small groups (and infrequently, even then), let’s just put it that way.

8 - What do you do with old clothes you no longer want or need? >> I usually end up throwing them away, unfortunately. I used to give them to Goodwill but then I realised how much of that stuff eventually gets thrown away anyway because it doesn’t get sold and they just get way too much stuff. COVID kind of interrupted this year’s possibilities, but in the future I’m probably going to look up local nonprofit homeless services and see if they need anything I have. 9 - How old were you when you got your first pet (not a family pet, but one that you were solely responsible for)? >> I have never had this particular experience.

10 - What is something popular or fashionable that you consider to be a real waste of money? >> ---

11 - Do you donate to charity? >> No.

12 - Do you live somewhere with lots of livestock or wild animals? >> Livestock, yeah, because there are a lot of farms once you get even a mile or two outside of the city. Not so much wildlife, just your general squirrels and crows and the occasional deer family.

13 - Would you rather live somewhere rural or urban? >> More rural than urban, but not so rural that it’s an all-day affair just to get groceries, you know. Also, I like having the Internet.

14 - Is there anything (a hobby, for example) that’s guaranteed to always make you feel better when you’ve had a bad day? >> Honestly, just... being Inworld. That’s my safe zone. Even if it doesn’t make the bad feelings go away right away (that’s not always possible), it is always at least grounding and comforting to be hugged by Can Calah, or to hear D or Bruni’s voice.

15 - If you’re struggling with your mental health, who are you most likely to open up to, or would you bottle it up instead? >> I bring that stuff Inworld. It’s really difficult to be that vulnerable outworld, although I try to make small forays into vulnerability on places like my blog or certain Discord servers. They’re still small forays, though -- I’m really just testing the waters, not actually swimming like I probably should be if I want to really work at it.

16 - Do you get your five portions of fruits and veggies everyday? >> Not every day, no. I wish it were easier for me to pull that off, but it really is not.

17 - What room of your house do you spend the most time in? Is this through choice or necessity? >> My room, by choice. I like it in here, it’s my space. The first space of my own I’ve had since 2009, which was the only other time I had space of my own (and then I didn’t even enjoy it because I was horribly depressed and isolated and constantly broke).

18 - If you have pets, do you snuggle with them when you’re having a bad time? Does it make you feel better? >> That’s a thing Sparrow does, but it doesn’t do anything for me. Maybe if I had an emotional support dog...

19 - Would you ever sign up to be in the military? What if there was enforced conscription, would you go or would you object? >> Fuck. No. Fuck no. Nope. Fuck no. I’d literally rather commit suicide. Did I make myself clear?

20 - Would you ever want to go to any kind of fitness bootcamp, or does that sound like utter hell to you? >> That does sound like utter hell to me.

21 - What’s the worst job you’ve ever had? What was it that made it so bad? >> ---

22 - If you could design your own garden, what would you have in it? Do you think that dream is ever going to be achievable for you? >> I have always been most interested in the kind of gardening that was just about caring for native plants and helping them to flourish. Learning the complex intricacies of the ecosystem around me and doing my part to preserve it. Like if there needs to be more pollinators, having some hives. Or if there was once a planted lawn on the property I live on, rehabilitating the soil and replacing it with native grasses instead. I would also like to grow herbs and vegetables, and any kind of flower that is native or at least not invasive to this particular environment (especially if it’s yellow! I love all yellow flowers). I imagine it would be perfectly achievable if we ever moved into a house.

23 - Do you believe there’s life on other planets? If so, do you think it’s anything like humanity? >> I think it’s highly probable that there’s life elsewhere, but highly improbable that it’d be like humanity. But maybe like other life on this planet, particularly microbes, sure.

24 - Does it take you a long time to fall asleep at night? What do you if you’re really struggling to get to sleep? >> No, I usually fall asleep within a half-hour of laying down, as long as I’m not doing anything brain-intensive.

25 - if you drive, how many times a week do you have to fill up your car with fuel? If you don’t drive, how much do you spend a week on travel/transport? >> I don’t go anywhere, period. When I used to go places (pre-COVID), I probably spent about $30 a month tops on public transportation. Usually more like $15.

26 - What did you get the last time you went out for fast food? >> The last fast food we had was Steak and Shake, but through DoorDash. I got the jalapeño crunch burger, like I used to, but I won’t be ordering burgers anymore because I think my GI tract is over red meat (or, at least, the highly processed variety).

27 - Do you tend to snack when you’re watching TV or sitting at the computer? What’s your favourite thing to snack on? >> I like to watch something while I’m eating a meal, but I don’t really snack for the sake of snacking or anything. I just plan the two things to happen at the same time whenever I can.

28 - When was the last time you went to a zoo or wildlife park type place? >> Uh... Labor Day last year? I think?

29 - Do you think it’s cruel when people keep exotic animals as pets? Or do you think it’s okay as long as they have the space, time and money to dedicate to them? >> I do think it’s cruel. I don’t see how any sort of condition could be okay for this, no matter how hard you try. Just... go on a safari. Watch a nature documentary. Why do you have to keep wild animals in your house? Domesticated dogs and cats and lizards and shit are literally right there (and a lot of them are in shelters, just waiting for a dedicated caregiver!).

30 - If you eat meat, is there a particular animal you’d never eat? If you don’t eat meat, what’s the reason for it? >> I don’t eat a lot of meat because I don’t really crave it. Like, it doesn’t strike me as necessary for a meal, probably because I was raised not eating it. I eat chicken most often because Sparrow makes a lot of meals that include it (and fried chicken sandwiches are my kryptonite). My preference for meat-eating is to eat from local sources that employ sustainable, ecologically-informed farming practices -- but, you know. I also live in America, as well as below the poverty line for a two-person household, so this stuff is difficult. It’s often easier (and insanely cheaper) to just not eat meat at all, which may be partly how that became such a big fad.

#surveys #survey #random surveys #not for reblogging *glare*

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heart-on-her-sleeve · 4 years

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Character Development Questions -- Michael Scofield

Curious about Michael Scofield? He’s a deep character with a lot of layers that are begging to be explored.

Questions based on this ask meme

What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional.

While in prison, Michael slept on his back or side - this was the least vulnerable position for him to sleep in

At home, Michael sleeps on his side or his stomach, as this is the most comfortable for him after being on guard 24/7 for so long.

Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etc.

Michael is missing two toes due to a prison incident, as well as having a large burn scar on his right shoulder blade. There are other scars that he received while in prison. (Stabbings, burns, etc)

Does your character have an accent? What does it sound like?

Michael has a general american accent, generalized around a Midwest accent. Says things like “outta” instead of “out of,” “gotta” rather than “got to/have to.” He also carries many of the typical Midwest slang and colloquialisms that are popular in the Great Lakes/Chicago area.

Do they have any verbal tics? Do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?

When there is a lot of emotion stirring within Michael, he can tend to have more outbursts. He can also be very quiet if he’s calculating something in specific detail.

What are their chief tension areas?

Michael’s primary tension area is in his neck & hands.

If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?

“Save Me” - by Remy Zero

How does your character perceive themselves? Positive? Negative? Neutral?

Michael sees himself as an overall good person, but sometimes even the best people have to do bad or hurtful things to get where they need to be.

Are they a quick thinker or do they need time to sort through their thoughts?

Both. Michael was diagnosed with something known as low latent inhibition, meaning while one person sees a doorknob as a doorknob, Michael sees the doorknob for every single part, even the ones the naked eye cannot see.

He’s a quick thinker most of the time, but when the plan he had set doesn’t go exactly as he had planned and set up, he needs time to think and sort through things.

Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness?

If he dreams, it’s usually a nightmare of some sort. Fox River changed him, causing more trauma on an already traumatized person. Usually the dream/nightmare consists of losing someone he loves while he is helpless and can’t do anything to aid them.

Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time.

There were many sleepless nights while Michael was incarcerated. He spent them planning and re-planning the escape, making sure every minute detail was fully planned for. When the original plan backfired, he would pace his cell, trying to figure out a new plan.

After his nightmares, he can never fall back asleep, so he thinks about time with Lincoln and LJ before everything happened. He reminisces on the good memories they had together.

If they had a choice, would they prefer a subway or a bus for public transportation?

Train, because there is less stimuli for his LLI to get fixated on, and he can put some headphones on, pull a hat down over his eyes, and have some control of the stimuli.

What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?

Michael is a Christian, but it’s not prominent in his life. While at Fox River, he attended chapel as a time to see his brother. He speaks about God occasionally, but isn’t really much of a church-goer or a man of prayer.

Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.

Creative Genius, due to his low latent inhibition & high IQ

unflappable determination

taciturn

Stoic

teetering on the edge of psychosis

Have they ever been so overwhelmed they had to stop and take a break from something?

Sometimes the amount of incoming stimuli is too much, and Michael’s brain powers down for him, saving him from falling into complete psychosis.

Rarely, Michael notices that he’s overwhelmed and can take a step away from things and let himself cool down and be in a quiet place.

Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?

Michael has only known being on his own or with his brother. He prefers to go things alone, but when faced with certain situations, he can be a team player.

Being a team player is actually one of his faults, because he puts others before himself, making huge sacrifices to help others, and is often more concerned with other people’s welfare than his own.

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time?

Yes. He can to do both, but if there is a lot of incoming stimuli (pretty much always), he must only focus on one thing at a time

What are their best school subjects? What are their worst? List five of each.

Best

Math

Physics

History

Architecture

Art

Worst

Science

Home Economics

Economics

Music

Gym

Is your character an introvert or an extrovert? How do they handle big crowds of people?

Introvert. Michael doesn’t do well in crowds, so he tries to stay close to the edge of larger crowds. During Rec time at Fox River, you could usually find him alone, somewhere along the perimeter of the fence. During block time in Gen Pop, Michael typically stayed in his cell unless he absolutely needed to talk to someone.

Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?

Michael prefers to lead, because he knows if he doesn’t, shit won’t get done properly.

He also knows when to delegate tasks to other people and when it’s appropriate to sit on the sidelines and/or follow.

If your character was suddenly challenged, would they rather run away or stay and fight?

Depends on the situation, honestly. Michael feels a great deal of pain and suffering from those around him, and he has a severely low sense of self-worth, meaning he will let himself get beat to a pulp. The only time he fights back is when threats have been made to his family, or a family member or close friend is relying on him to stay alive.

If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why?

Michael is not one to murder. The memories would haunt him and torture him for all of his life. I think even if he had the chance, he still wouldn’t take it.

Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?

Happiness and health for his friends & family

A relationship with his parents

(to be determined)

Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?

Michael trusts very few, especially when it comes to his safety and the safety of those he cares deeply about. He also can lead people to believe that he’s trustworthy, when in reality Michael can be pretty untrustworthy at times.

Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?

Michael has been touched starved nearly his entire life, so when he shows affection, it’s huge for him. The quickest way to his heart is through words of affirmation and positive physical touch. If a touch is unwanted, unwarranted, or unexpected, Michael will pull away.

Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?

Due to his time in prison and the connections he made (or lack thereof), Michael has racked up his fair share of enemies. Some in the Chicago Mob, some because he somehow wronged them while in prison.

Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?

How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?

Michael follows a usual routine when getting ready for bed. This routine helps him to have some semblance of control in his otherwise hectic life. The routine usually starts with brushing his teeth, washing his face, and changing into pajamas before crawling into bed and reading until he starts to feel drowsy. Then, inevitably, he puts his book away and is wide awake, tossing and turning for another hour or more with his racing thoughts before he actually falls asleep.

If your character had one thing to say to their parents before they died, what would it be?

Michael would hug his mom, and tell her how much he loves her. With his Dad he would just want to ensure him that he forgave him.

Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?

Michael fears death just as much as the next person, but he also doesn’t care about it. I think he fears the pain before death more than death itself.

Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?

Michael longs for solitude & silence. When he’s surrounded by others, the voices, sounds, and movements can be too stimulating for him. If he’s in a group and leaves suddenly, he’s taking the steps to remove himself from the situation and stop himself from overstimulation.

Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?

Honestly, as silly as it is, i think it would be cornbread. There’s something about the simple food that he enjoys so much. It’s sweet, but salty.

#muse: michael scofield #abuse tw #violence tw #stabbing tw #ptsd tw #death tw #queue

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gotnoshame · 6 years

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what each song from youngblood reminds me of

youngblood: the heartbeat in your throat and adrenaline rush in your ears as you teeter on the edge of a rollercoaster’s first hill, the satisfaction of telling a past love that they hurt you, a raw throat from screaming angry lyrics in your car

want you back: the sound of rain against your bedroom window, fuzzy neon lights in a big city, evening glow sifting between curtains, tears dripping tentatively off your jaw

lie to me: overthought glances to a stranger on public transportation, the crack in your voice just before crying, tangible loneliness in crowded spaces, realizing that someone you used to know is now unknown to you

valentine: smeared lipstick, the soft wet warmth of someone else’s breath against your thighs, prickly rose stems, licking the frosting off of the knife after cutting the cake

talk fast: driving fast down an empty highway at night, squeezing your eyes shut at a camera flash, trying to catch your breath, the sense upon first meeting someone that you two will fall in love

moving along: hungry for something you can’t have, open and shameless vulnerability, curling your fingers around a stone for so long that it hurts to finally uncurl them, laughing in self-deprecation

if walls could talk: tiptoeing through a sleeping house, red-hot-itchy embarrassment creeping up your neck, eavesdropping from the next room, the buzzing behind your lips after promising to keep a secret

better man: dancing into lightheaded bliss, the tingling in the corners of your mouth before an inadvertent smile, holding hands with someone for so long that it’s damp between both of your palms yet refusing to let go

more: the revving of a car engine, dull headaches from clenching your jaw, cracking knuckles, the smell of gasoline, desperate fire fire fire

why won’t you love me: jumping just before the elevator dings to a stop, waiting and waiting to speak to someone, the involuntary and jarring jerk before falling asleep, reaching for a hand that no longer fits into your own

woke up in japan: a warbled hangover, buzzing fluorescents, gasping into someone else’s mouth, misty memories from the night before

empty wallets: holding soda in your mouth just to hear the fizzle, finding a tails-up penny on the sidewalk and leaving it in fear of bad luck, anxiously seeking somewhere to let loose

ghost of you: blurry afternoon light coursing in from the crack in your blinds, a mattress sunken in on one side, a cold shower, hearing an older song and being taken back to an easier time

monster among men: the sound of lazy ocean waves lapping the shore, that clichéd “if this is wrong then i don’t wanna be right” mentality, the smell of citrus, doing something because you know you shouldn’t

meet you there: sweat dripping down your chest, the headrush from standing up too fast, all-encompassing attraction to another person, the static feeling under your skin when your foot falls asleep

babylon: the opening sequence of a vintage action movie, hot angry tears, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth, watching embers from a bonfire flicker and fade into the night sky

#5sos #youngblood #5 seconds of summer #sostrash #writings #1k #reminds me of

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cricket-scribbles · 5 years

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NSFW Alphabet | Diego x Eudora

Prompted by @detectivediego! Hope you like it, lovely! ♥ Check out Ao3 for extra visual aids *winkwink* Masterlist

A: Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

Diego is very tactile after sex. He knows he can be a lot to handle for many reasons and he wants to make sure Eudora is comfortable, sated, and well-cared for. He likes running his hands over Eudora’s skin, feeling every post-orgasmic shiver and twitch of her muscles. He also likes to scoop an arm around Eudora’s waist and pull her on top of him, draping her over his chest until every inch of her is pressed to every inch of him.

Eudora cozies up to Diego, rests her hand on his chest or his back. Presses lazy, contented kisses to the side of his neck probably where she bit him a few times earlier.

B: Body part (Favorite body part - on themselves and their partner)

Diego’s favorite body part on himself: abs. He’s not shy about it either. He worked hard to get them and he’s proud of that.

Diego’s favorite body part on Eudora: hands. The way she holds him, the way she threads her fingers through his hair then pulls with a delicious burn to his scalp, the way her fingernails bite into his back. Her hands are capable of anything and he loves toying with her fingers, kissing her knuckles, her palm, her wrist. Eudora’s favorite body part on herself: breasts. Especially when Diego falls asleep with his head there. Or kisses between her breasts. Or pinches her nipple between his teeth. Or the rasp of his stubble scrapes the curve of her breast - she’s off the moon.

Eudora’s favorite body part on Diego: Arms. When he holds her, she feels safe and secure in a way that she’s never felt before.

C: Cum

Eudora is a highly active woman. She takes extra precaution when it comes to pregnancy risks. So even though she’s on the pill, she makes sure Diego still wears a condom and he will not be cumming inside her.

Heaven for Diego is Detective Eudora Patch cumming on his tongue with her thighs clamped around his head.

D: Dirty talk (Do they engage in it? Do they like it?)

Diego has the filthiest mouth on planet earth. And he never stutters. When he’s talking dirty, he talks more than Eudora has ever heard from him before. What he says depends on his mood and his partner’s mood. Sometimes it’s sweet and sexy. Other times it’s rough and raunchy.

Eudora is a bit more sparing with her dirty talk. Only because she knows exactly the effect it has on Diego and she wants to make sure he stays hungry for it. She’s very discerning with a well-placed phrase or two whispered in Diego’s ear as her fingers wander down his chest and below his belt. She knows where the switch is to light Diego up in a heartbeat and she uses it to her full advantage.

E: Experience (How experienced are they?)

Eudora and Diego are equally experienced.

Although Diego was the first one to really show Eudora the pleasures of leather, bondage, and the head rush of adrenaline.

Eudora was the first one to show Diego the pleasure of vulnerability, how good it felt to let himself fall into Eudora's hands with complete surrender and know she will take care of him.

F: Favorite position

Doggy all the way for both.

But then there was that one time when Eudora was asleep in Diego’s bed, lying on her stomach, sheets pooled around her waist, exposing her bare back. Diego traced his fingers down her spine, over the curve of her ass, nudging the sheets aside.

Eudora woke to Diego laying on top of her as if he was shielding her from the rest of the world, his cock sliding into her to brush against her G-spot so perfectly that she gasped a shaky holy fuck into her pillow.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Diego whispered in her ear.

That became their #1 favorite position. Eudora could still reach over her shoulder and pull Diego’s hair the way he liked. Diego could say all manner of depraved dirty talk, mumbled in Eudora’s shoulder, neck, and hair. Eudora went out of her mind every time she heard Diego moan and she felt him thrust into her all the way to the hilt, completely filling her, his body covering hers protectively, his hand clutching her hip with a death grip.

Doggy is great for a quickie but this...this hit all the right spots for both of them. Literally.

G: Goofy (Sense of humor during sex or not?)

It took a while for Diego and Eudora to discover their lighter, happy side. Sex is usually a release of adrenaline and frustration for them. It’s rough around the edges, it dances along the edge of danger, teeth gritted, grasping and biting and the friction of skin on skin to forget everything else.

Once they finally relaxed and became familiar with each other, every now and then Diego lets a joke slip or a wry comment and Eudora just cracks up. And it absolutely thrills Diego to see Eudora laugh like that when she’s usually so serious on the job.

He doesn’t ham it up all the time. He’s (adorably) shy about being cheesy and playful with Eudora but she loves to coax it out of him when she can.

Though tickling is off limits for both of them. It would simply end in a blood bath.

H: Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Diego prefers to keep any and all body hair short. Less hassle that way.

Eudora stays trimmed but only once in a blue moon will she wax. She’s too damn busy for it otherwise.

I: Intimacy (What are they like in the moment? Are they romantic or not?)

It takes a looooong time for Diego and Eudora to actually be intimate and romantic with each other. At first, sex was fast and rough and that was it.

Months later, Diego is the one to show his romantic side. Eudora had a really bad week at work so Diego set up a nice dinner for her (which he ordered from her favorite restaurant since he can’t cook for shit). He takes her hand and pulls her close, slow dancing to the muted music emanating from an apartment or a night club about a block or so away that makes it sound like it’s from another world. Eudora was utterly shocked and teased Diego a little about it which made him duck his head and look away, self-conscious. But Eudora kissed his cheek and rested her head on his shoulder, sending Diego’s pulse skyrocketing through the roof. They hardly talked, there was no sex, and they just held each other for an hour or two.

After that, romance and intimacy factored into their lives more. Eudora loves giving Diego massages - she gets to run her hands over the muscles in Diego’s back for as long as she wants, and she catalogs every new bruise and scar that Diego never explains. Plus it turns Diego into a puddle of goo - he’s more relaxed than she’s ever seen him.

And Diego really, really loves kissing every inch of Eudora’s skin. It’s not enough to run his hands over the swell of her breast or the arch of her neck - he wants to taste her, to feel her skin against his lips. He doesn’t always have the patience for it though because he gets distracted by how good she smells or the way she hooks a thigh up around his hip.

J: Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

After a night of vigilante-ism, Diego’s blood is pounding and if he’s not too beat up or dead on his feet exhausted, he’ll do a quick jack off session before falling into bed.

Eudora has a wide range of masturbation methods that she likes to utilize from shower heads and bullet vibrators to dildos. She doesn’t get to do it as often as she would like, especially when it comes to stress levels from work and Diego’s escapades. But on her weekends, she definitely takes some time to treat herself right.

K: Kink(s)

Danger. Just...danger. For both of them.

Also:

Diego - BDSM (obviously) Lingerie, black is better but Eudora convinced him that red is sexy too. Stockings Almost getting caught Hair pulling (his more than hers)

Eudora - Blindfolds Orgasm denial (hers as well as his) Hot and cold play

L: Location (Favorite places to have sex)

At first, it was just quickies in a back alley or in a restroom. Neither Eudora nor Diego wanted to open their living spaces to each other. They just wanted to fuck each other senseless.

But those were locations out of convenience, not preference.

Later on, for Diego, it was the gym. Plenty of opportunity for bondage. Had the perfect echo when Eudora got vocal. And it was just enough of a public space that there was a thrill of almost getting caught if anyone knocked on the door, looking for a late night gym session.

Until Five transported into the gym with a giant bag of popcorn in hand. The gym was a no-go after that. (Somehow, miraculously, Five got out alive with all appendages in tact. Though he still keeps a safe distance between himself and Diego at all times.)

Then it was Eudora’s apartment, or a motel room on the city’s outskirts where they were both far away from their lives.

M: Motivation (What turns them on?)

Diego: Eudora’s everything. Bonus points for when Eudora, out of the blue, sidles close and whispers something like, “I want you to fuck me against the wall. Now.”

Eudora: Diego’s shoulder holsters. When he bites her lip in the middle of a kiss. Every damn time he wears leather (which is a lot and she’s in agony).

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do. Turn offs.)

Diego - He will. not. draw blood on Eudora. Ever. If things get rough and he sees his hand print a little too dark on Eudora’s skin, he will screech to a stop, whether the safe word was used or not. He’ll call the whole thing off and pull Eudora into his lap, cradling the back of her head in his hand, kissing her shoulder in apology.

They like to tease that boundary between pain and pleasure but it makes Diego physically ill to think of seriously hurting Eudora.

Eudora - She can’t bring herself to call Diego even slightly demeaning/derogatory names. She did it once, in the heat of the moment when they were first getting together, and he didn’t flinch but there was something in his eyes that made her stomach drop. Like he believed he deserved it. Like he’d heard it before many times to the point that he’d accepted it.

She only praises him now, tells him how good he is for her. He doesn’t believe it, but she hopes he will one day.

O: Oral (Giver or receiver? No go altogether?)

Diego - Giver and receiver with equal enthusiasm. There’s something about eating Eudora out, bringing her to climax with only his mouth, lips, and tongue that fascinates and thrills him. He doesn’t have to picture words in his head. His mouth won’t clam up on him or fail him. He won’t trip over his tongue. For once, his mouth does exactly what he tells it to and he could watch the results of his efforts for days as Eudora babbles his name over and over.

Eudora - She receives more than gives, mostly because Diego is so attentive. But when she gives, she gives very, very well. She knows every spot that will make Diego arch right off of the bed, fingers fisted in her hair, in the sheets, and the most colorful obscenities pour from his mouth.

And she LOVES working him into an oversensitive state. It’s like crack to her, watching brooding Diego become a breathless, panting, squirming mess.

P: Pace (Fast or slow?)

For both Eudora and Diego, 90% of the time, it’s fast.

5% is slow and sensual. Romantic and sweet. Doesn’t happen often. But they’re working on it.

The last 5% is so slow that it’s sheer torture - basically orgasm denial.

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies)

For the first few months of their not-relationship (because they refused to give it a label), all Diego and Eudora did were quickies. It took them at least six months for their first sexual encounter that lasted more than five minutes.

R: Risk (Do they experiment? Or not?)

Oh boy do they experiment! They need to learn where the breaks are ASAP. They just plunge in and don’t slow down. The thrill of riding that danger line gets them both revved up.

They have a safe word of course. But it’s a matter of pride and principles and pure buttheadedness that they never use it.

S: Stamina (How long can they last?)

Diego has more stamina and can generally go for another round pretty quickly. But overall, neither one lasts very long. They generally play hard and fast.

T: Toys (Do they own any? Do they use any on their partner? etc.)

Toys galore between the two of them.

Diego has all sorts of toys, mostly used on his partner. Handcuffs, ropes, etc.

Eudora has a decent sized collection of a variety of toys to use on herself. Due to the unpredictable and demanding nature of her job, there are stretches where she’s flying solo a lot. She doesn’t like to rely on someone else to give her pleasure when she can give it to herself.

Also, when she’s fighting with Diego, she refuses to be the first one to break.

U: Unfair (How much do they tease?)

Diego is 50-50 on teasing. Sometimes, he’s too impatient for it. Other times, he likes to work Eudora into a frenzy and see her completely unraveled because of him.

Eudora is a master at teasing. She craves leaving Diego right on the edge, not letting him cum for hours. It takes a long time to break Diego’s iron will, but she always gets him to that pleading point eventually.

V: Volume (How loud are they?)

Eudora is fucking LOUD and Diego loses his shit over it every time.

Diego is at the medium noise range. He’ll talk dirty a mile a minute but he prefers to listen to Eudora go off.

If it’s hate sex/make-up-after-a-fight sex, sweet lord, get some noise-cancelling headphones for the entire block.

W: Wild card (Random headcanon)

Diego and Eudora are both fairly dominant personalities which is why they butt heads so often. Diego exercises his dominant side in the bedroom more often than Eudora does, simply because Diego is so used to keeping his submissive side under wraps in case someone uses it against him as a weakness.

So the first time Eudora yanked on a fistful of Diego’s hair and said very softly, “On your knees,” Diego just about came in his pants then and there.

As sexy as it is when Eudora gives orders, it’s also Diego’s knee-jerk instinct to retaliate against those same orders. So he gets VERY mouthy and bratty, to Eudora’s delight.

X: X-ray (What’s going on down below?)

Diego’s cock is...intimidating, to say the least, at 8 inches long, heavy, and thick. Every time Eudora sees it, she wants to wrap her hands around it, squeeze him or stroke him until she gets a reaction.

Eudora used to wear boy briefs or lacy underwear. Until she went commando once and wound up at Diego’s place. When he found out she wasn’t wearing any underwear, she could see the physical reaction come over him - a hard swallow, lips parted in pure, unveiled, raw hunger.

She goes commando as often as possible now, just to make Diego go a little nuts over it.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Diego - high. When he’s at a crime scene with Eudora and she has that gun strapped to her hip, he wants nothing more than to get his hands on her right then and there.

Eudora - high. One look at Diego with those knives, wearing all that tight black clothing...her mouth goes dry and all she can think about is pinning him down until he moans.

It leads to a lot of pent up sexual frustration on both sides.

Z: Zzz... (How quickly do they fall asleep afterward?)

They both stay awake for a little while. But Eudora usually drifts off first. Mostly because Diego can’t bear to close his eyes around Eudora in case he wakes up and realizes she was just a dream and now she’s gone.

....whoops I made it sad

#the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #eudora patch #didora #diego x eudora #diego hargreeves x eudora patch #cricket ficlets #and tumblr is going to smother this post with censorship #oh well #long post

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quercussp · 6 years

Text

Let your balalaika sing

Rating: T

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Dan and Phil go to Russia during the Interactive Introverts tour

Authors note: This story is written for the @phandomficfests tour fest. A huge thanks to my wonderful betas @megiaolf and @terpia, to @templeofshame and to my husband for support and inspiration.

Warnings: mild sexual content, short reference to violence and death, implied/referenced homophobia, mention of anxiety.

[read on ao3]

They arrive in Moscow early in the morning. Well, morning might be the wrong word, according to Dan. 4:30 am shouldn’t be considered morning, it’s practically the middle of the night. But the sky outside of the plane’s small window is lit up by the rising sun, and the city they are descending on is beginning to wake up, with cars that look like small toys driving across tiny ribbons of roads.

Dan considers waking Phil up so he can see the view from the airplane as they are arriving. He looks to his side and finds Phil sound asleep, his head tilted back, mouth open and a tiny bit of saliva trailing down his chin. Dan smiles softly and decides to let him sleep. It’s been a long night and they have a big day ahead of them, and he knows that Phil gets really grumpy when he is sleep deprived.

Just as the plane lands Phil jerks awake, with a confused look on his face.

“Where… we there?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and feeling for his glasses that are in the seat pocket in front of him.

Dan doesn’t answer. The morning feels thick and heavy, and the air outside seems grey. He can barely make out what the pilot is saying because of his heavy accent, but he is assuming that it’s the standard “welcome and thank you for flying with us” message.

They get out of the plane and walk through the sleepy airport, their bags in hand, towards the passport control stands. Dan leads the way as Phil still looks as though he hasn’t woken up properly yet, and he also tends to get lost even when he is at his sharpest. He knows that Marianne and the rest of the crew are somewhere behind them, but he is too tired to look back and wait for them.

They join a small queue of people standing in front of a passport booth labeled “all visitors”. Everyone around them seems subdued and sleepy. There is a big family standing in the neighboring line, with a crying toddler sitting on a large plastic checkered bag, while the mother is looking through her purse and a person he assumes is the grandmother is speaking very fast on the phone to someone.

It takes them about twenty minutes to get to the border agent, a tired looking young woman, who asks them the goal of their visit in a sleepy voice.

“We are doing a show here” answers Dan, but for some reason it comes out as a question. The woman in the booth flips and stamps their passports with a bored look on her face and hands them back to Dan.

It takes them another 30 minutes to get all of their luggage and reunite with their crew. All Dan can think of is coffee, and he can see that Phil is practically falling asleep on his feet.

Their entire party walks through the green corridor into the arrivals zone, where a small group of people are gathered around, waiting for other people. Marianne leads the whole group to a tall bald man holding a sheet of paper with Marianne’s last name on it.

“I’m Konstanstin. You can call me Kostya. Welcome to Moscow!” the man introduces himself. He has an accent and his voice is a bit croaky, but his eyes are twinkling and his hand feels warm and strong when Dan shakes it.

“You ready? Let’s go” says Kostya, leading them out of the airport to a road where dozens of taxis are waiting around, with drivers shouting “Taxi! Taxi!” at them.

Kostya has arranged a couple cars to come pick them up. He helps them arrange their luggage, and then gets behind the wheel of one of them. Marianne joins him in the front, while Dan and Phil slide into the back.

They drive out of the airport and onto a highway. Kostya looks around the car a little nervously, perhaps debating whether or not he should start a conversation. But Marianne is already deep in her phone and Phil has fallen asleep, leaning against the window, so instead Kostya turns on the radio and continues driving.

The drive is a long one. There are barely any cars on the road as it’s so early, and Dan spends his time watching the landscape pass out of the window. The radio is playing some kind of pop music in Russian and he doesn’t understand a word they are saying. Dan feels like he is on another planet.

When they decided they wanted to go to Russia for the tour, it was more of a hypothetical idea. They saw multiple people telling them to “come to Russia” on twitter and younow, and they always answered with “we would love to”. Now that they are here, Dan can’t help feel like it might have been a mistake. Perhaps it’s the sleep deprivation, or the leaflet he was given at the embassy back in the UK that recommended them to stay away and wipe all their phones, he feels oddly nervous. Logically, Dan knows that he and Phil were totally safe. They have a guide and everything is arranged for them, they heard multiple people assuring them that everything will be fine, and just in case, they had hired a second bodyguard. But it still feels as though they are entering a world where the rules are different, where they are vulnerable and exposed.

By the time they get to the hotel Dan feels a bit nauseous, and he desperately needs to pee. He pokes Phil to wake him up and they all pile into the lobby of the hotel, dragging their suitcases behind them.

The lobby is posh and dimly lit, with classical music playing quietly in the background. Marianne and Konstantin walk over to check them in, while the rest of the crew sits on the plush couches near the hotel bar.

In a couple of minutes Marianne walks over to them and passes out hotel keys. She also passes Dan an envelope of Russian money she exchanged for them and two sim cards.

“Your plans won’t work here, Kostya got you temporary mobile numbers. You have your spare phones, right?” she asks.

“Yeah, they’re in my bag” Dan answers, while Phil takes the hotel keys from her and starts walking towards the lift.

Their hotel room is on the 9th floor. It has two beds and a walk-in shower, and a great view of the city.

“Is that the Kremlin?” Phil asks, gesturing to a pointy building that could be seen in the distance, towering over all the other structures.

“Isn’t the Kremlin supposed to be red?” replies Dan. “It also isn’t that tall, right? It’s really old. Maybe it’s one of those 7 skyscrapers Andrew was telling us about”. He walks into the bathroom, finally peeing in the toilet, then shedding his wrinkled clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water makes him feel a little more alive and after shaving and brushing his teeth, he almost feels human. He walks into the room, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, and signals to Phil that the bathroom is free.

While Phil showers, Dan puts the sim cards into two old iPhones they bought for this specific trip. The pamphlet they got from the UK ministry told them to avoid using their phones as a precaution against hackers and to protect their personal information. It also told them to stay away from crowded places, not make eye contact on public transport, avoid showing expensive technology and to not be affectionate to each other in public.

It’s not that Dan and Phil didn’t follow the exact same recommendations when they were in London. They tend to avoid large crowds, partly because of social anxiety, and partly because of the very high risk of being recognized by fans. They also do their best to never engage with anyone while taking the tube or bus, because a tired angry Londoner traveling home from work in an overcrowded train car isn’t someone you really want to be all close up and personal with. They try to not wave their brand new iphone Xs around in crowded spaces, as both are aware that pickpockets are common in London. And they also don’t show affection in front of strangers. For obvious reasons of fearing their audience seeing it, but also because none of them have the energy to deal with people’s reaction to it.

But for some reason, the fact that those things were written out in an official document issued by their government makes Dan really uneasy. It fills him with a nervous energy, the type that makes you tremble and jitter, and makes breathing seem like almost an impossible task.

“Do you want to take a nap?” asks Phil, as he walks out of the shower. His skin is pink from the hot water, and his hair messy and wet, hanging across his face. Dan suddenly has the strongest urge to be as close as possible to him. Perhaps it’s nerves. Or maybe it’s a feeling of doing something illegal. Or just the fact that they haven’t had sex in three days.

Dan walks over to Phil and pulls him into a hug, resting his cheek on Phil’s shoulder.

“Yes,” he mumbles, snuggling deeper into Phil’s neck. “Marianne was thinking of going out to breakfast, but we have a couple hours before that”.

“Just let me put some pajamas on,” murmurs Phil, pulling out of Dan’s embrace. Dan instantly feels cold and jittery again.

They both put on some boxers and settle into one of the soft plush hotel beds.

“Why do hotels always have so many pillows,” grumbles Dan, as he pushes three decorative pillows out of the way and onto the floor in order to reach the four big fluffy white ones.

After a bit of adjusting, they end up spooning with Dan wrapping his arms and one leg around Phil’s body. It’s soothing to feel Phil’s gentle breaths and steady heartbeat, to inhale his familiar scent, just a bit tainted by the smell of the hotel body wash. In about three minutes, Dan is fast asleep.

*** They end up going out for brunch. Konstantin meets them in the lobby, all smiles and cheery greetings, and leads them out into the city. He asks them what would they like to have and unanimously everyone answers coffee.

Kostya leads them to a Starbucks, where they get some lattes and pastries and sit down on a sofa near the window.

For some reason Dan finds it surprising that he is in a Starbucks. He feels stupid to be surprised, as he has never yet been to a city that didn’t have one, but it still feels weird. He points it out to Phil, who chuckles and tells him: “yeah, it’s almost like the people here are just the same as anywhere, and also like overpriced American coffee”.

They finish eating and Kostya takes them to the metro. The city is busy and loud around them, there are people hurrying in every direction, and all of it looks so similar to London.

Kostya helps them pay for metro tickets and leads them through the gates and to the escalator. He is telling them something about how the Moscow Metro is the deepest one and how it was used as a bomb shelter, but Dan is only half listening. Instead he is watching the people passing him on the escalator, some of them grumpy looking and looking down, some talking with their friends in loud voices, some listening to music. No one pays them any attention.

The escalator is really really long. Kostya wasn’t joking when he was talking about how deep they are underground. It takes them a full two or three minutes to get all the way down, and when they do, Dan is immediately struck by the sheer grandeur of the station they are on.

“This is a tube station? It looks like a freaking castle!” Phil exclaims, and silently Dan agrees with him. The whole station is covered in marble and fancy molding, the ceilings are as high as in a cathedral, and the walls between massive arches are covered by mosaics, showing battle scenes, with soldiers brandishing red flags. The station is illuminated by lights that hang from brass chandeliers. If it weren’t for the people running all around them and the signs pointing to different lines, Dan would easily mistake this for a grand hall of some sort. Konstantin leads them through the crowd and towards an arriving train.

After some Russian words Dan can’t understand, he hears the announcer say “the next station is Smolenskaya” in English and the train plunges into the darkness of the tunnel.

It takes them about ten minutes to get to their destination. The train makes several stops and every time Dan is amazed by the architecture of the stations. They all seem different and over the top grand. The people around him seem to care very little about the beauty of the stations, they go on and off the train, some of them carrying coffee cups, others looking at their phones or reading books. They look so very normal, but everyone's advice about being careful keeps him on his toes, and he feels the anxious and uncomfortable feeling returning.

They spend the morning walking around the city center. They visit the Kremlin and Red Square, go to the GUM and some museums. They meet many subscribers, they buy some ice cream, drink some more coffee. The whole day feels so… so un-unusual compared to their other tour stops. Sure, it’s a new city in a new country, but for some reason Dan expected it to be much more different. He keeps noticing similarities to other places he’s visited. The streets are filled with the same stores with the same brands of clothing, fast food restaurants on every block, and Dan has counted that they passed five McDonalds and three Burger Kings just in the morning alone. Perhaps the only difference is that most people speak a different language, but then again just a couple of days ago in Amsterdam they had the same experience.

Throughout the day Dan starts to relax a little. Konstantin leads them around, talking animatedly about the history and architecture and telling silly stories from his life. They go into souvenir shops where Phil annoys the salesperson by asking them to show him the biggest and the most ridiculously expensive matryoshka doll and then buying a super cheap one. They notice that all the souvenir shops sell t-shirts with Putin’s face on them and Marianne jokes that Dan should buy one ironically. Dan laughs and threatens to fire her, but in the end buys a fluffy hat with ears with “Moscow” embroidered on it because why not.

They walk past the Kremlin, talking animatedly to each other and start walking on a wide stone bridge across the Moscow river.

“What’s that?” Phil asks Konstantin, pointing at a heap of flowers lying on the side of the bridge, surrounded by lit candles.

“Oh, that’s where Boris Nemtsov was shot. It’s his memorial,” answers Konstantin without a pause. He continues to talk about how the memorial keeps getting vandalized and how people continue to restore it and bring flowers every day, and then about how in the winter it’s hard to keep the sidewalks clean from snow and moves on to explain that there is an ice rink constructed on the Red Square every winter.

There is a cold feeling in Dan’s chest. He remembers reading about this story in the news, about how a politician who opposed the government was shot in the back right in front of the Kremlin a couple of years ago. He remembers reading about it, but until now he couldn’t picture it. That it happened in the heart of this city. Right where he and his crew are walking around taking pictures. 100 feet away from where he took a selfie with some excited and out of breath fans. Less than 5 minute walk from a Starbucks.

***

They eat dinner at a traditional Russian restaurant and of course Dan spills bright red beet soup all over himself. The food is good, but the jitters are back and he feels exposed and out of place. He sees Phil looking at him every now and then with a concerned expression, but doesn’t say anything.

Later that night, in the hotel, Dan finds himself wide awake even though he is exhausted. Phil is lying next to him, playing some app on his old iphone. He wants to ask Phil if he feels the same way, but can’t find the words. Instead he snuggles into his chest and asks him what they should talk about tomorrow in the intro to the show.

He thinks Phil understands the unspoken question though, because he puts down the phone and combs through Dan’s curls, softly telling him that they should talk about the souvenir shop.

They end up making love, both being quiet and overwhelmed a bit, but overcome with affection and gratitude for each other. It’s the kind of sex that Dan calls “stress sex” in his mind. The type which has the main goal of reminding them that they are here, and that they are together, and that they can overcome anything. He falls asleep with Phil’s dick still inside him, feeling ridiculously small and fragile in Phil’s arms.

***

The next day is busy with setting up the show, sound checking, and then suddenly the meet and greet has started, and they are hugging people and taking photos and smiling. Dan is grateful for all of that, because he knows how to do this. This is his job, it’s what he’s best at. So he smiles and hugs people and takes selfies.

Some of the fans they meet speak very poor English, but they do their best to understand what they have to tell them. For some reason their stories feel particularly important to Dan. Perhaps it’s because every once in a while someone tells them that they have no one to talk to other than the people they’ve met through the phandom. Some tell them that watching their videos made them speak English better. A shy 16 year old mumbles how they inspired her to come out to her parents, and how she is here with her girlfriend. One fan asks them to sign a pride flag and something clenches in Dan’s chest when he does it. He catches Phil’s eye and he sees the same tension that is grasping his heart right now.

The show is as always a success. They laugh and have a blast, and Dan is drenched with sweat by the end of it. The audience gives them a standing ovation and they leave the stage exhausted and worn out, but excited and pumped with adrenaline.

They end up ordering room service to their room. Dan decides to mess up the second bed just in case, to make it seem like someone slept there, but his effort is screwed up by Phil yelling “Dan, babe, could you bring me my contact lense solution please?” from the bathroom at the exact moment as the hotel employee is carting in their dinner. To Dan’s relief, the man doesn’t flinch even a little bit, but politely smiles and tells Dan to enjoy their dinner, shutting the door behind him.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms again. Phil falls asleep first and Dan listens to his steady breathing. For some reason he can’t shake an image from his mind. The grey stone barrier of a bridge, covered in flowers, some dried up, some new, with candles lit all around and a framed photo of a smiling man with a black ribbon wrapped around it.

#phan #phanfiction #my fic #phandomficfest #tour fest

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eleventoes · 6 years

Text

the story of us | oneshot

pairing: yoongi x reader; broke-up-but-getting-back-together!au | so much fluff and lots of pining, with almost non-existent angst word count: 7.1k ♪: when night falls - punch, can’t love you anymore - iu and oh hyuk warning(s): none synopsis:

Three times you cross paths with Min Yoongi, and that one time you both find your way back to each other.

***

Yoongi’s mind was empty, for the most part, when he first enters the subway, mundane thoughts like whether he’d let the cat out this morning swirling languidly in his hollow brain. The automated sound system rings from above, politely informing him that it was currently five past twelve and that service would cease soon, as if he doesn’t already know that from having spent the past three months bolting out of his studio at 12.02am on the dot to catch the last train home.

He yawns, lazily glancing around the empty seats and emptier cabins.

Yoongi doesn’t love many things, (his music and his cat made for a grand total of two) but he does love the quietude of the midnight crowd—which was next to none, really.

Then he freezes, mid-yawn and unglamorous, when he catches sight of your familiar figure slumped over the thick plastic of the subway seats, eyelids snapped shut and teetering dangerously to your side whenever the train jerks abruptly with a low rumble.

You were falling asleep, fast, and Yoongi feels the sleep draining from his eyelids as alarm took over and, before his singular brain cell could tell him to walk away, walk away you fucking idiot, he was dropping everything in his arms, knapsack and notebook be damned, to reach over and cup your head gently in his hands. Perfect timing too, because a minute later and you probably would have landed yourself face-down on the grimy floor. And of all things he chose to remember, he remembers that you were a deadweight when asleep.

So no, he couldn’t leave you alone.

A good twenty seconds later and he was nestled comfortably by your side, your bodies snuggling into the other like puzzle pieces that were never part of the same puzzle, but fit perfectly together anyway. Your voice was sounding in his head again, sort of like the kind of habit too far instilled in him to kick, and he quirks a smile at how you would have teasingly tugged at his cheeks claiming that he was a big softie. Because you were right—he doesn’t protest; not even an inaudible squawk of indignance, when the tiniest bit of drool slipped from your lips and onto his denim sleeve, instead glimpsing down at your fluttering lashes and concluding that providence worked in mysterious ways.

Your features were akin to something he’d know better than himself, his memory of your expressive eyes, that gentle slope of your nose, and the natural reddish tint to your lips that has never really faded away, even if it has been a year since the sonorous shattering of rose-tinted glass and scathing words that neither of you could ever dream of taking back.

In spite of everything, he finds his fingers instinctively winding themselves in your soft strands, smoothing it down soothingly and methodically; the two of you have enjoyed all too many late night cuddles for him not to commit the motion to muscle memory after all.

And many people have told Yoongi very matter-of-factly that he wasn’t one to smile often, but if they knew him well enough, they would have known how easy it was for him to smile when you were around, so much that Taehyung, that dramatic asshole, would lament that the world was ending whenever he wasn’t wearing his gummy grin around you; the one where his eyes curve up in crescents, and the one you proclaimed to be your favorite.

So frankly, Yoongi doesn’t know what it means when your mere presence (light snoring and all) still manages to elicit a soft smile from him despite the gap of a whole entire year, but he does know that he missed this.

That you-shaped hole in his heart still remains gaping and empty, squeezing ever so occasionally with the hard pangs of longing.

He missed you, and it hurts to miss you.

It hurts to have everything about you seem so incredibly familiar yet unfamiliar all at once, like how he knew that vermillion scarf around your neck was a handmade gift from your grandmother that you cherished with all your heart, yet he has no inkling of how you had torn a hole in its frayed edges, or whether you had cried like a baby when you did.

He knew you adored the comfort of oversized graphic hoodies, yet it felt odd to be staring at the Pokémon print smacked obnoxiously over the front of your slate-grey hoodie, knowing full well that it wasn’t his.

And he knew you were beautiful since way before, yet you look different, with the yellow hues of the flickering subway lights grazing the curves of your cheekbones, contrasting starkly with the pitch black slathered over the slightly misty windows. Different, but effortlessly ethereal nonetheless.

Yoongi shifts a little, and then maybe it was because it has been a while since he’s allowed himself to be consumed by recurring questions all revolving around you, but for a moment, he decides that he’s done suppressing every other thought he has about you on any other day, and could at least give himself the liberty to wonder freely; without pricks of guilt and the multitudes of ‘what ifs’ holding him back.

For as long as the subway kept on moving along the uneven and gravelly tracks, suspending the both of you in what seemed like a slight timeslip away from your otherwise divergent lives, he’d allow himself this much.

He wonders if the sharper definition of your jaw had something to do with that law internship you had been jabbering excitedly about since over a year ago, and as if it was nearly second nature to him (it was), he immediately worries if you’ve been eating right, or if you’ve been skipping meals the way you were accustomed to whenever you get too caught up in all that’s going on around you. You had a tendency to forget things like that, though truthfully, so did Yoongi, because you know the couple’s a match made in heaven when the both of you had multiple dates in a convenience store at ungodly hours in the morning, bonding over missed meals and anxiety-inducing deadlines.

The faded shade of the pretty pink of your lips—somewhere between the color of peach and cherries—makes him ponder if you had moved on, found someone else who made you laugh as wide as you used to, someone who’d take your freezing hands into theirs and emulated the kind of warmth that made you flush all the way to the tips of your ears, or someone who’d smudge your lipstick as easily as he had once did. Of course, Yoongi couldn’t deny that you would deserve that and everything more, but he couldn’t deny the green-eyed monster clawing at his heart either, the jealousy inching into his gut, along with a small sense of defeat and resignation.

And then he muses if it had been a mistake to have had his heart on a platter, to have been so innocently naïve to have his life so tightly intertwined with yours, to have left himself so explicitly vulnerable to losing everything that could have possibly mattered—but the two of you had been young and so stupidly in love. Too young to not flounder around clumsily all whilst pretending you knew what you were doing, too stupidly in love to have learnt that love wasn’t quite about knowing how to protect yourself above all else.

It was almost predictable, what Yoongi thinks about next.

Would it be selfish of him to wish to try again?

The lady over the speaker system robotically announces that the train was approaching its final station for the night—your stop. Huh, he’s missed his stop (around twenty minutes ago actually, but technicalities).

Truth to be told, Yoongi should probably be fretting about how he was going to get home in the middle of the night with public transport now out of the question, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care.

He wasn’t afraid to admit to having tunnel-vision, and all he could see right now was you.

“Hey,” Tentatively, he prods at your shoulder in a near-futile attempt to stir you awake. Tentatively because if everyone thought Yoongi was a force to be reckoned with when woken up, you were something else altogether; he’s learnt his lesson after that one time you had tackled him to the floor in a sleepy haze. Not that it hadn’t ended up in an almost instantaneous makeout and cuddle session, but that was obviously not happening anytime soon.

You do, however, end up jolting back to semi-consciousness. Though it could hardly be attributed to that hesitant poke of Yoongi’s finger, because you had brushed it off irritably (Yoongi would argue that it was adorable, but eh, who was he kidding), only coming to your senses after hearing a raspy voice far too familiar for it to be a coincidence.

“Yoon—,” Your voice emerges soft, diffident, and too guarded for him to even be remotely comfortable, “Yoongi?”

You clamber away from him within a span of the next two seconds, which would have been borderline offensive had he been any other well-intentioned stranger sharing the same commute, but he only shoots you a wry smile. He’s reminded of all the times you’ve woken up on your own accord—always on Sunday mornings, because it was universally known that every Sunday was Sleep-in Sunday—and how you’d always loved to bury yourself back into that corner of his body he has carved out for you.

It was amazing how much difference a year could make; how much distance it could drive between two people who had once been very much in love.

“It’s the last stop,” He finally replies, surprised at how well he could keep the emotion out of his voice. Then again, maybe his inability to emote how he really felt had been one of the biggest downfalls of your relationship, “Come on, let’s go.”

Yoongi rises to his feet first, and offers you a hand that you don’t take immediately.

Even as the two of you stumble onto the platform in frigid silence, he finds himself still hoping for your heart to be beating as thunderously as his own.

***

If anyone were to take one look at the auburn-haired man sitting before you, they’d say he was graceful, and you wouldn’t fault them for admiring the fluidity of his movement, apparent even while performing menial tasks like sipping on his cappuccino. He did dance a lot back in high school, and was good enough to have been scouted by a couple of major talent agencies.

The Hoseok sitting before you, however, spits out his coffee inelegantly, with about as much grace as a duck on stilts.

You roll your eyes and throw him a couple of napkins you had swiped from the countertop.

“You what?” He all but shrieks, a tad too shrill for two interns who were huddled in a corner of the break room despite not actually being on break.

“I saw Yoongi on the subway last night,” Staring down at the pretty swirls of cocoa in your mug, you try your best not to subject yourself to Hoseok’s incredulous gaze, cursing silently to yourself when the words don’t come out as casually as you had hoped they would. Yoongi was always better at putting up a stoic façade, you were mostly in-charge of being the transparent one.

Your best friend responds by quietly dabbing at the sepia stains seeping through the front of his white button-up, and you knew the silence meant that he understood. The relief, the turmoil, the longing— you knew he’d understand it all.

Not a surprise, given the strange nature of your relationship with Hoseok. The two of you had clicked in Chemistry lab back in high school and that was it. Here you were. The pair of you didn’t need daily texts or anything like that to just get each other, and if you really think about it, it was odd how you barely needed to hear a peep from each other throughout the course of an entire week, yet you both knew exactly when to seek each other out for a good chat over coffee (so what if Yoongi had some part to play in your unrivalled love for coffee?). It was safe to say, you hadn’t had much faith in platonic soulmates before meeting the sunshine himself, and it was a pure stroke of serendipity that you had both been accepted as interns at one of the most prestigious law firms around.

“How are you feeling?”

What you love about Hoseok was how he never shies away from talking about things right out in the open, preferring open and honest communication as “functioning adults do”, but you scowl at having to talk about feelings anyway.

But he knows you well enough to glare from across the cafeteria table, gesturing for you to go ahead and blurt out feelings and shit.

You groan, but comply, “I’m scared, Hoseok.”

“That’s not enough for me to work with, and you know it.”

“Fine,” Burying your face in your hands, you somehow choke out the words lodged deep in your throat, and if Hoseok notices the slight tremble of your fingers, he doesn’t comment on it, “It’s been a good year since I’ve last seen his shadow, and now I fall asleep on him on the subway, and suddenly I’m weak in the knees all over again.”

You wished you were lying, but your knees had decided to bail on you the minute you had alighted the train last night, alarming Yoongi and also embarrassing yourself to infinity and beyond.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long and he still has this hold on me that I can’t seem to shake off.”

Hoseok appears to be thoughtful, and that stain marring his crisp white shirt lies forgotten. Typical Hoseok.

“But do you hate it? The way you feel around Min Yoongi,” He presses, and lord knows you hate it when he presses, but then again you know he’s only trying to help you figure things out, albeit in a straightforward manner that makes it all the more painful, but you should at least attempt to be cooperative.

“I don’t—I don’t hate it, I just, hate that I don’t hate it. I hate that I’m not indifferent, and that I’m still so goddamn vulnerable,” The confession spills before you could make yourself shut up; you had that uncanny habit of always saying too much, “I may as well be holding up a sign for him to just break my heart. Again.”

No, that hardly sounds right; you had broken his heart as much as he had broken yours.

“Like how I shattered his,” You add lamely, leaning back abashedly in your seat after your tiny outburst, realizing that your shoulders had been up to your ears the entire time, all too tense for a friendly conversation.

“I think you need closure,” Hoseok finally speaks, in that comforting tone of his that never fails to calm you down, “I’m not pushing you to do anything you don’t want to, but I don’t think avoiding him would be a good idea. If you see him again, that is.”

“If you’re afraid, confront it. There’s probably a good reason why you aren’t able to really move on,” He continues, downing the last of his caffeine.

“I know, but it’s just—easier said than done.”

Setting his porcelain mug down on the rickety plastic table, Hoseok angles his body forward to land a good flick on your forehead. A surprise attack, if you will.

“Idiot, no one ever said heartbreak was easy.”

***

Yoongi was, for lack of a better word, a wreck.

Not the kind that rolled off bed in the late hours of the afternoon, living amongst endless empty piles of what used to be cup ramen, week-old drool still catching on the corner of his lips. The kind that seemed to have switched off all cognitive functions and had chosen to live out the rest of his days as an amorphous lump burrowed in a nest of Star Wars-themed blankets, a pasty hand reaching out every couple hours for a tub of ice cream.

That was the category he had undoubtedly belonged to a good year ago; the immediate aftermath of having lost someone whom he had considered his other half, but Yoongi was better than that now.

Slightly, but it made all the difference.

He was still fully functional, springing awake every morning promptly at 7am, mechanically washing up and getting clothed (he’s been wearing the loose shirt for about five consecutive days now, but if no one had noticed, he sure as hell wasn’t going to call himself out for it). He still reports to the studio diligently, pouring his all into producing for the artists signed onto the label he works for (namely Taehyung, but he doesn’t have to know he’s Yoongi’s favorite), and bantering over beats with his co-producer, Namjoon, but something feels a little off.

“You’re spacing out again,” Namjoon had blurted through a mouthful of pork belly one day, looking at Yoongi as if he’d grown another head.

Yoongi usually gets away with it by mumbling some lameass excuse about how he was thinking about getting a dog (not a complete fib, because maybe a doggy companion would be ideal for his resident feline grump, but it’s definitely not the truth). Deep down he knew no one was going to buy it any longer, and soon even the company’s board director might demand for Yoongi to explain the reason why he kept naming his tracks wrong and sending the demos instead of the finalized studio recordings.

Fortunately (or maybe not, but no one’s really certain at this point), you don’t occupy his thoughts for long, because about a week later, you were occupying a spot in Aisle 14 of that supermarket two streets over. He’d be laughing if he hadn’t been stunned speechless—he’d dreamt up just about a dozen scenarios in which he’d be able to see you again, but none of them had gone like this.

You stare, gaze unnerving and relentless, and he stares back.

Then the two of you simultaneously glance down at what you had both been vying for moments prior: the last box of Lucky Charms on the shelf.

What the actual fuck.

“You hate Lucky Charms,” Quick to recover and looking all too mortified, you gasp, accusation lacing your bewildered tone, and if Yoongi didn’t know better he’d have thought he had sinned against humanity, “What happened?”

You adored it, so I eventually did too.

Was the answer bubbling in his throat, but unfortunately that wasn’t on the list of Appropriate Things to Say to the Ex You’re Still Hung Up Over. That and Yoongi was not one to be this dramatic over cereal.

Yoongi’s wince precedes his own response.

“I was, uh, charmed,” He vocalizes plainly, the words tasting flat even on his tongue, and heart pulsing at about a million beats per minute. Even Yoongi doesn’t produce beats this fast, and that was saying a lot.

In between the uncertainty and the unmistakable twinge of yearning, he had been worried. Would you stiffen and turn away? Or would you plaster on an obligatory smile, act as if you were strangers and pretend to have never felt the soft pressure of his lips on yours, or the warm hold of your hand in his?

The Subway Incident™ (as he had so eloquently termed in his head) had left Yoongi pining for more than just a hurried glance and a quick ‘thank you’, because every cell in his body had been begging to ask you to stay a little longer, but you were gone before he could even swallow the lump in his throat.

And you have always been full of surprises, Yoongi knew as much, but he’s still taken aback when you do neither, a careful smile adorning your lips as you quip back, “Is this the Seokjin effect? I thought you were better than this, Yoongi.”

The curve on his lips mirroring yours comes involuntarily, more of a reflexive action than anything else, “Can’t help it, you know he’s aiming for world dominance with those terrible dad jokes.”

The initial tension that lay thick in the atmosphere has fallen away (no doubt thanks to Seokjin, but he doesn’t have to know that), and Yoongi thinks to himself that it was fascinating how fluidly the both of you could engage in easy conversation, almost like the casual banter could nullify all the hurt and regret still lodged deep in your guarded hearts.

It couldn’t, but it got pretty damned close.

Yoongi was instantly brought back to the very first morning he had spent with you, the sight of you twirling around in his kitchen stinging at the back of his eyelids, and all the fondness and endearment surging in his gut as he had watched you whip out all the culinary expertise you had accumulated over the years to magic out two bowls of cereal. He remembers the salmon-pink coloring your cheeks when he first told you about his innate hatred for Lucky Charms, the faux fury lining your irises when you found out he was more of a Cheerios kind of guy, and the way your blush had spread all the way to the tips of your ears when he had eagerly finished the breakfast you had made, Lucky Charms or not.

One of the many things he loved (loves) about you was how openly you expressed your emotions, the simplistic way he could read you like a book and how honest you were when it came to telling him how you felt. You weren’t good at masking your emotions, and Yoongi would have thought that it would make you more vulnerable than anything; but you use your candor by means of defending yourself, and he had thought you were incredible, since if there was one thing Yoongi couldn’t do to save his life, it was expressing himself.

This makes it all the more painful, now that you’re here and treading very carefully on thin ice. That much was apparent, because Yoongi was so in tune to your emotions and body language that he knew you were being more than a little wary.

“Uhh.”

The pair of you snap your heads towards the source of the wavering voice, eyes landing on a taller (and evidently younger) part-timer hovering awkwardly between the both of you. ‘Jungkook’, his name tag reads, and he looks every bit as confused as Yoongi could imagine.

“You don’t have to fight each other for the cereal or anything,” Jungkook finally croaks out after stretched silence, “We have more in the back.”

Right, to any other onlooker, the two of you would have appeared like two ludicrous idiots having a stare-off over a puny box of fucking Lucky Charms.

“Oh, um, you can have this then,” Eyes comically widened, you loosen your hold on the incriminating object, before turning on your heels to trail after the part-timer, “Bye, Yoongi.”

By the time Yoongi had caught on to all that was going on and had suspended his hand in the air in some sort of half-wave, you were already turning the corner.

He sighs.

***

You don’t know what you’ve done to deserve this, but here you were, stuck in Jimin and Namjoon’s shared apartment with a sleeping Min Yoongi on the couch, dead to the world.

In retrospect, you should have known Jimin had something up his sleeve from the moment he’d invited you over with the promise of pizza. As much of an angel as he was, free food was taking it a bit too far. But you came over anyway; since refusing free food was definitely stretching it too far.

“Please, Y/N, I just need to head over to the company real quick,” He had pleaded, his weapon of choice being the pair of puppy eyes no one could ever say no to without feeling at least some semblance of guilt, “I don’t want to leave Yoongi all alone here when he’s sick.”

“Where’s Namjoon?”

“Locked in the studio with a broken phone. Basically, unreachable.”

“Taehyung?”

“He has a fansign in Hongdae today.”

“Seokjin?”

“He’s out of town for work, remember?”

You had bitten down on your bottom lip hard, contemplative for a beat or two before taking all of two seconds to agree.

And here you were, hugging your knees to your chest with your ass planted firmly on the floor, facing the man-child who still holds your heart captive.

It was a known fact that Yoongi tends to neglect his health, what with his irregular meal times and messed up sleep schedule, so unsurprisingly, his body fails him often. Multiple times over the span of three years you would worry yourself to death, checking up on him every ten minutes and making impromptu runs to the nearest pharmacy (the old man behind the counter recognizes you and makes small talk sometimes).

Needless to say, you knew exactly how his body functioned; what works for him and what doesn’t.

Rather than the typical dose of paracetamol, ice packs do a better job of cooling down his fever, and nothing does the trick better than honey ginger tea for his hoarse throat.

Right, and a feverish Yoongi also made for a delirious Yoongi.

“Is this a dream?” He whispers for no particular reason, having woken up a couple of minutes ago disoriented and confused, eyes glazed over with so much raw emotion it almost hurt to hold his gaze.

“No,” Lifting the soothing drink to his lips, you couldn’t help but smile when he sips at it obediently without putting up a fight as he usually would have, “Not unless you want it to be.”

“You’re not being fair,” Still whispering, he mumbles in your ear, hot breath fanning across your neck, “You’re not supposed to be nice to me. That’s not how—

He chokes.

—breaking up works.”

Ouch.

He was so, so painfully close, so much that you wouldn’t even have to reach over to feel his warmth encase yours, and he was so, so painfully close, that it hurt so much more to have to pull away.

“Yoongi,” Good, your voice came out steady, very much unlike the flurry of whirlwind emotions you were holding back, “You’re not yourself right now. We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.”

“No we won’t. You’ll leave before I can try.”

You grimace, but you did deserve that one.

With Yoongi, the lines are almost always blurred, yet the end had been crystal clear—you had walked away.

Not enough time has passed for you to truly determine if it had been the right choice to make, if it had even been your choice to make, but the beginnings of penitence were starting to ebb away at your heart.

The final year of college had always been the busiest, where everybody was gearing up to face adulthood, to salvage cherished relationships, to get their lives together; and it was a struggle, to have to wonder what kind of person you were trying to be while cramming for finals at 4am in the mornings, or to be sobbing over a mid-life crisis thirty years too early. It’s easy to forget, in the process of finding yourself, the people around you who made you who you were.

As life picked up its pace, the apartment you shared with Yoongi grew emptier by the day. He had been cooped up in his borrowed studio next to campus, busy with trying to perfect his submissions for his final assignments, juggling the plethora of offers from various record labels at the same time. As for you, law school was hardly a walk in a park; you were spending nearly the entire day stuffed into some shabby corner at the campus library, nose far too buried in your books to even notice you were missing all the important calls.

Lunch dates went forgotten, texts went unanswered, and post-its left all around the apartment went unread. The two of you had drifted apart without having realized it, spinning in different orbits altogether, yet still under the illusion that everything would be okay once the final semester had ended, and life could return to normal, with your worlds still revolving solely around each other.

Normal; like groggy mornings flipping burnt pancakes, quiet afternoons spent doing everything and nothing and all that’s in between, and nights used to bicker over your unfounded desires to be the big spoon for once and Yoongi insisting that your ‘shortass’ arms could barely wrap themselves around the circumference of his waist and that he’d crush you as soon as he rolled over (it doesn’t matter, because you end up falling asleep curling into each other).

Maybe, for a little while, everything had been okay, and the two of you had each other, if nothing else.

And then everything was spiraling out of control again, with Yoongi being offered a contract with a record label based halfway across the country, and with you struggling to land yourself an internship with any of the major law firms around. Suddenly, priorities were being shaken up, and the rapid speed of change had taken a toll on the both of you.

Fighting with each other no longer felt as unnatural as before, and words wielded as weapons had easily slipped out into the open when the two of you were buckling under pressure, a routine that better suited strangers than lovers falling into place.

Hurt, you had no longer tried to initiate contact, and in turn, Yoongi no longer tried to initiate conversations.

It felt as if a part of your heart had been wilting with every night spent missing the familiar warmth that had usually enveloped yours.

And then it snapped; everything, that delicate string barely holding the relationship together, the little dance the two of you do around each other, both too afraid to be the one reaching out, and too terrified of being the one to shatter everything.

What made everything a thousand times worse was that you could hardly remember what the fight had been about; only that it carried the weight of months of having shoved the problem aside in favor of denying its foreboding presence, which had manifested into something far bigger than you would have ever imagined.

And then you had walked away, looking back only once before not looking back at all.

In any case, you would be the first to admit that Yoongi’s accusation doesn’t come without reason; and you completely understood where he was coming from.

“I promise, Yoongi,” You breathe softly, pulling up a blanket over his lithe form, “We’ll talk. One day. And you know I don’t break promises.”

“I know,” He responds after a pregnant pause, before adding in a small voice, looking the most sincere you’ve ever seen him, “I really miss you.”

Your fingers had been smoothing his bangs away from his forehead, but you still instantly, only answering moments later, when Yoongi had long succumbed to the sleep weighing on his eyelids.

“I really miss you too.”

***

This was definitely not the college reunion party Taehyung had promised.

If anything, this was reminiscent of those rampant frat parties that Yoongi would much rather leave back in college, where the notorious red solo cups and obnoxious music rightfully belonged.

He should have known Taehyung, being the social butterfly he was, wouldn’t have understood the concept of maximum house capacity, but then again he was the one hosting the party in his penthouse (Taehyung wasn’t their label’s best-selling artist for nothing), so Yoongi supposes he doesn’t have much of a right to complain.

Still, he counts more strangers in his vicinity than actual acquaintances, and more of people he’d caught a glimpse of on campus than people he’d actually given a shit about.

Yoongi doesn’t know why it doesn’t hit him sooner than it should; it was a reunion party, and you had known Taehyung even before you had landed yourself in Yoongi’s psychology elective class. Of course you’d be here.

For a split second, he panics.

Almost immediately after, he finds himself missing you; the way your body molded perfectly against his, the strawberry scent of your shampoo, the softness of your hands and your hair, and it feels like there’s a cavernous hole in his aching heart.

He’s well aware of how you’d taken it upon yourself to babysit his ass a couple of weeks ago; he’d confirmed it with the devil’s spawn Park Jimin himself (their resident self-proclaimed Cupid). He had to, because it had felt too much like a dream he’d never want to wake up from (though when he did wake up, you were gone, leaving him with a note telling him to drink some soup, Min Yoongi, Jesus Christ).

Except now the two of you were stuck in more of a deadlock than before (and Yoongi had thought that it’d be an impossible feat to achieve), hopelessly lost and lacking the direction to find the way back to each other.

Cue the very much welcomed distraction: Taehyung, bless his energetic soul, comes bouncing out of nowhere before Yoongi could further drown himself in more self-pity.

“Yoongi, we got some more booze in the storage room,” The world-class star whips around and yells, airblown chocolate locks following in haste and eyes lit with the kind of high you could really only get at parties, “Would you mind helping to get them?”

If it had been Yoongi on any other night, he would have rolled his eyes and slinked around a little before relenting, but this Yoongi was looking for a distraction, so he might as well (if Taehyung was surprised that Yoongi was giving in this easily, he doesn’t prod further).

So there he was, going on his merry little way to the storage room in the back of the massive kitchen to fetch some good ol’ alcohol.

And there you were, rustling somewhere in the middle of said room, doing the exact same thing.

Yoongi freezes (and it won’t be the first time).

“Y/N?”

Startled, you almost let slip the bottle of vodka, miraculously catching it before it hits the concrete as you angle your vision towards the direction of the storage entrance.

“Yoongi?”

His breath hitches (a little melodramatically, but this time Yoongi thinks a little drama is in order), “What are you doing here?”

You peer up at him curiously, “Taehyung told me to get some booze.”

Oh.

The timing’s almost perfect, and even laughable, because soon after, you could both hear Namjoon and Hoseok talking about some idiot leaving the door to the storage room unlocked, because ‘dude, someone could totally raid the place’.

Then the lock clicks into place and to be fair, neither of you were very fast on the uptake, only belatedly realizing that the door locked from the outside a good minute later.

“Oh.”

Kim fucking Taehyung.

***

The two of you had met well into your second semesters in college, and Yoongi had you drenched in a whole cup of bitter Americano before you even knew his name.

In his defense, class had barely begun and you were already slouched in your seat, drooling on the tables and too far gone to even realize that an accidental slip of his hand had emptied the cool liquid atop your head.

Even then, amidst the multitude of shell-shocked gasps of those in the vicinity and Yoongi’s own strangled shriek, you had only woken up lazily, chuckled a little, and excused yourself to the washroom to get yourself cleaned up (only after Yoongi’s frantic attempt at doing so, and by attempt, you mean he had tried to lather on as many napkins as humanely possible).

So yes, that metal door may be firmly locked shut and so maybe you were stuck in a room with the ex-boyfriend you have yet to get over, but you have never been dramatic to begin with, and you weren’t about to start now.

“It’s chill,” You start brightly (or as bright as you could be in a room as dim as this), to which Yoongi arches an eyebrow, “We could call Taehyung, or Hoseok. I’m pretty sure they’d still be sober enough to get us out of here.”

He falters, sheepishness squirming onto his features, “I left my phone upstairs.”

“Mine’s here—

Fishing around in the back pocket of your all-too-skinny jeans in search of the familiar slab of metal, you triumphantly hold it up.

Then your smile drops.

—and it’s dead? What the fuck?”

Yoongi laughs, the sound deep and raspy, and it brings you back to every movie night you’ve ever spent together, binge-watching every comedy you could get your hands on and laughter bouncing off the walls.

You return his laughter with a toothy smile of your own, in spite of yourself.

And then you’re slapped with the poignant reminder that more often than not, Yoongi’s grin makes you smile harder than any comedy could.

Suddenly, the room was suffocating, and the ensuing silence even more so.

“You still wear it,” Abruptly, he speaks, words choppy and voice in vague disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, “The necklace.”

“Our necklace,” You correct softly, but it doesn’t go unheard.

Let’s just say you had a phase back in your second year with Yoongi, in which you were moderately (and by moderately, you meant tremendously) obsessed with matching everything; matching ugly sweaters, matching shoes, matching lockscreens, for crying out loud. Eventually, Yoongi came through with matching delicate chains on your second anniversary, joking about them being three dollars while insisting that he was not blushing (he was).

The pendants were nothing fancy; just the both of your initials swinging daintily on the thin strings of silver, but its simplicity was beautiful, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

And you had tried, Lord knows you had really tried, to toss it aside and move onto the next chapter of your life, one with the lingering absence of Min Yoongi and his gummy smiles, but you couldn’t quite bear to undo the clasp, nor could you stand having the metallic chain fall apart and have it look like a diamond which had lost its shine. Hoseok had protested otherwise, saying that it could hardly make it easier for you to forget, but as much as you had believed him (Hoseok was never wrong), you had never actually got around to ripping out that piece of your heart that the necklace held.

The truth hurts, but the truth was that you had never really stopped hoping, and the necklace still hung hopefully around your neck.

Routine was busy, hectic even; sure the internship already has you swamped with work as it was, but you needed to somehow sustain yourself, and that part-time job down at the library made sure to always keep you on your feet and on the go.

And when you’re alone, you find yourself missing those slender fingers threading through your hair, and reassuring cuddles telepathically letting you know that it’ll all be okay, and one day your hard work will all pay off and you’d be happy.

But that’s not the only time you spend missing Yoongi, because love, as you’ve later learnt, wasn’t to build an entire world around each other, but to make sure the other fit seamlessly in the world you built together.

You find yourself missing him when you’re on a coffee run, reminded of how he likes his coffee bitter in the mornings and saccharine by night. Or when you pet that stray cat, the one who feigns insouciance when you approach but purrs traitorously when you give him belly rubs.

You miss him even now, and he’s standing right here.

“You’re wearing it too,” Almost shyly, you point it out, finger jabbing harmlessly at his chest, “You miss me too, Min Yoongi, and don’t even think about denying it.”

This was it; neither of you could skirt around the topic any longer, and this conversation was as good a start as any.

“I wasn’t thinking about denying it,” Yoongi admits, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and you just wanted to wipe any notion of despondency from his features.

Though, his honesty knocks you slightly off balance for a little bit, and your heart rate nearly ascends higher than fucking Everest.

“What are you thinking about, Yoongi?”

It comes out barely a whisper.

“You.”

Huffing, you blow a strand of stray hair from your face.

“And how much I’ve missed you, how it’s ridiculously unreal that you’re here right now, how one year spent without you is a year too long.”

He closes the distance with every pause, steps uncertain but determined, “And I was wondering if you would have felt the same.”

One step closer, and there would be no distance at all.

“And yeah, okay, maybe I was thinking about how much I wanted to kiss you.”

You roll your eyes; trust Min Yoongi to ruin the moment.

But screw it all anyway, to the moon and back.

It’s been a long time, but your body remembers everything, and reaching up to meet his lips seemed nearly instinctual. And the kiss was slow and hesitant, tasting of heartbreaks and fear, before melting into grounded certainty and the kind of want that burns you from the inside out.

He tastes like home.

It feels like ages before the two of you pull apart, breathless, with you searching his eyes carefully, desperately, hopefully.

And that was the thing about Yoongi; he had always understood.

“Do you think we’d be okay?” Sighing contentedly, he nudges his forehead against yours, voice barely audible.

“No,” You laugh, pulling him closer, “But we’ll keep trying, and that’s what matters.”

And maybe, with Yoongi, the lines would always be blurred, and the two of you were destined to stumble around each other, too clumsy to get your feelings across but too stubborn to give up entirely, and that’ll be okay.

Because clarity was in the way he looks at you in a room full of people as if you were the only one he could ever see, and in the way you smile up at him as if he held the entire galaxy in his eyes.

And that was more than enough.

a/n: me: has 139220 wips also me: gets stuck at all 139220 wips and starts a new fic

pls forgive me for not having updated for nearly two months! pinky promise i’m trying really hard but the words aren’t coming out right and i hadn’t wanted to post anything that would potentially be a letdown to you guys, so this is a peace offering of sorts (even if it’s entirely self-indulgent), to thank all of you for putting up with my slow ass afhhdjskdhf.

regardless, i hope yall liked this (hmu with feedback anytime!!)

and to @studying-brb happy birthday loser i kind of love you i guess //shrugs

#sfwbangtan #btswriters #bts scenarios #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi scenarios

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sabrinacavanagh · 2 years

Text

Tips for Carrying Valuables When Travelling

The main reason why people carry locking courier bag, briefcase style locking courier bags, or custom briefcase style locking courier bags, is because they are carrying something valuable. A locking courier bag provides many levels of protection. If it is water-proof, anything inside it will not get wet and thus avoid any potential damage resulting from water or moisture. The same is true if the locking bag is fire-proof – if there is an unexpected fire, you can escape the building or vehicle on fire and even if there is fire everywhere, the contents of the bag remain secure (it is an entirely different conversation if you leave any fire-resistant bag inside a burning house or car for hours; no bag will survive that kind of fire). Another protection a locking bag provides its contents is being protected from the eyes of people who do not need to see it (what’s inside the bag could be confidential documents). Last but not the least, a bag with good lock protects the item from pickpockets who could easily steal items from inside an ordinary bag especially during transport or when commuting.

All these things considered, should you feel confident when traveling carrying a locking courier bag?

The confidence should be about knowing you did everything possible to secure the item in terms of picking the right bag to use to carry it in public when traveling or during a commute. But you should not be too confident that you abandon caution. Remember: a bag with a lock provides protection, but it cannot protect itself from circumstances that could result in it ending up in the hands of other people.

What does this mean?

It means that when you are traveling and you are carrying something valuable, always exercise standard safety and precautionary measures, even if the valuable item you are carrying is stored in a secure bag.

Stay Awake When in Public Transportation

Commute can be boring and sleep can come quick especially when you are tired. It is not uncommon for commuters to fall asleep while traveling. Nothing makes it easier for thieves and petty criminals than than taking something valuable from someone sleeping. Locking courier bags protect the items you are carrying, but if you are sleeping and careless, your bag is vulnerable. Once your bag is stolen, the crooks can definitely find a way to circumvent the locking mechanism and extract the contents. If you are traveling with someone, make sure one of you is awake. If you are alone and sleep is inevitable during long travel, find a way to make sure the bag is latched securely to your body so that if someone tries to take it, you will be roused from sleep. If you have to use handcuffs, do it, especially if the contents of the bag are important and hard or costly to replace. If you are seated beside someone, you can politely ask that person to wake you up if someone is trying to get the bag or if it falls off from your grasp while you sleep. Tell them this, since people in public spaces tend to mind their own business and they usually do not mind others.

Always Observe Your Surroundings.

Like what was mentioned earlier, the locking courier bag is a moving target, so always be alert. Watch how people behave. Observe how they look at you and your valuables. One way to discourage thieves and like-minded criminals is to let them know you see them. If you are walking and the road feels like an ideal spot for mugging, avoid it and find another way. The advantage of being alert is it allows you to react fast when something bad happens. A perfect example is a viral video of a woman tossing her bag inside a gated house when she detected several men approaching and intent on mugging her. The men end up with nothing as they immediately turned tail. The woman was able to save her valuables and other belongings because she was alert and observant.

Don’t be Careless

Sometimes, the reason you lose somethings is because you are careless. You put your bag somewhere hidden from your view so when you get up to leave, you fail to notice the bag. Or sometimes, you take our eyes off of your stuff for too long it makes it easy for thieves to swipe them. A locked bag is useless if you are not mindful about keeping your careless habits in check.

Valuable Items, in the End, are Just Items

The most important part of being alert when traveling carrying a valuable item is having the presence of mind to detect real mortal danger and making the correct decision. There have been many news about how people end up dead during a mugging simply because they tried to fight off the muggers, refusing to give up their belongings. No one has to die for cash or any material item. If, despite your best efforts to avoid this situation, you still end up in one, just give what they want. If you are using a locked, your only consolation is that it will take the muggers some time to open the locked bag. And who knows, this just might buy enough time for law enforcers to chase and apprehend the crooks. If the items taken from you were recovered, that’s great. If not, you just have to suck it up. You can still coordinate with law enforcers to recover your items.

Conclusion

The best we can do is to always make sure we’ve done everything in our capacity, and that applies even in the mundane task of transporting important and valuable items safely and securely. When it comes to traveling carrying valuable items – may it be cash, jewelry, medication, confidential documents – due diligence requires using a durable locking courier bag and placing the important items inside.

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globaldominion · 5 years

Photo

REASONS WHY YOU NEED TO OWN A CAR

Buying a car, be it a pre-owned car or a new one, is a serious financial decision to ponder on. And while there are various types of loan programs available for people who are looking for more convenient ways to afford a vehicle, many still don’t realize the freedom and convenience a car could bring. So if you also have any reservations, allow the following reasons to put your mind at ease.

It Gives You Freedom of Movement

Excellent public transportation may be available in the city where you live or work in, but they’re still constrained by the specific schedules and routes set on them by your city’s local government. By having your own car, you can avoid these limitations altogether, mainly because it allows you to go wherever you want, whenever you want. So if you don’t want to plan your life around some difficult public transport schedule, best get your own ride.

It Offers You Comfort

You also won’t be able to find a better and more comfortable way to travel other than driving your car. Public vehicles generally aren’t that comfortable, unless you’re willing to pay more for a first-class ride. Today’s cars, on the other hand, are designed with the driver’s and passenger’s’ comfort in mind even during prolonged travel, making them far superior to buses and trains.

It Better Ensures Your Safety

Public transportation passengers fall asleep on their trip with a feeling of trepidation and for good reasons. Commuting can leave you vulnerable to harassment or theft. By driving your own car, however, you’ll be less likely to be robbed or attacked. Since the only people in your vehicle are you and your passengers, you’ll all be much safer. And since vehicles these days are built to protect passengers from collisions, you’ll also be kept safe from accidents even if your ride is a used car.

It Saves You Time

There are times when using public transportation is more convenient than using your car. Still, when it comes to going from one city to another, commuting is far more time-consuming than driving. Aside from plane travel, driving is the fastest way you can get to wherever you need. So unless you’re super rich and you own an aircraft, best go on a car.

Get Your Own Ride

If you’re still waffling about actually purchasing a car even after reading the reasons above, then here’s one last incentive. As mentioned above, there are many financial options for aspiring car owners like you to help you get your dream car and pay it in manageable installments. So if you’re financially worried about buying a car, best apply to one of these programs.

Apply the best car financing deals now, just click here.

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