#me: I’m swearing off cat boys forever

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

guess what

… So Silver's VA will be voicing another gentle white/silver-haired knight 🤡

These characters are from a new Sanrio project called Fragaria Memories. “Fragaria” refers to the fun and fairy-filled world the story takes place in. The Sanrio characters themselves are the “fairies”.

Each character is a knight that serves their respective “lord” (the Sanrio characters Hello Kitty, Cinnamoroll, and Badtz-Maru, respectively) of the red, blue, and black kingdoms. There are more knights in their squadrons, which are collectively called the Red, Blue, and Black Bouquet. They have had to step up to protect their countries from an evil force.

The knight of Hello Kitty is Hallritt of the Red Bouquet. He is earnest and has a strong sense of justice. Hallritt’s personality is described to be as bright as the sun. His clothing gives me RSA uniform energy—

The knight of Cinnamoroll is Cielomort. He has a natural charisma that attracts people to him. Cielomort has developed the largest and most powerful kingdom in the past three years alone, so he’s considered a genius. His daring actions contrast his gentle demeanor, much like our Silver!

The knight of Badtz-Maru is Badobarm. He is self-sacrificing and has a strong sense of duty, but has ambitions to one day become king. Badobarm is frequently accompanied by a crocodile-shaped fairy that rests on his shoulders. The croc fairy is named Sebek/j Tama.

More characters and details will be revealed in the future; I just thought to share this for people who are fans of Silver and/or of cute anime boys in general (and seeing as this blog is primarily about TWST, I think that’s true of most of us 😂). I’ll definitely be following the project myself!

#twst #twisted wonderland #sanrio #Hello Kitty #Cinnamoroll #Badtz Maru #notes from the writing raven #disney twisted wonderland #Sebek Zigvolt #Silver #me: I’m swearing off cat boys forever #2023: here is a knight of hello kitty #vil voice) THIS IS TYPECASTING 😡 #not hello kitty knight being drawn by LAM-sensei 😭 they’re so talented omg

[outofconcheol]

friends forever? (lmh x f!reader)

pairing: Minho x reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst if you squint, brief smut, established relationship, 18+

summary: Minho has the difficult task of wooing someone very important to you.

warnings: CATS, a very confused Minho, swearing, mentions breakups, mentions periods, just lots of feels ok, smut warnings: brief oral (f receiving), kissing

word count: 1.9k

a/n: Where are all my cat people at? this idea came to me today and it was so cute i almost passed out (jk I did actually pass out today). i really said enough of Minho wooing reader, i want to see this man woo a cat and i made it happen! Also Lulu is one of my nicknames for my cat (but he's a boy). this is very unedited, I wrote it in like an hour but I hope you enjoy!

It’s past midnight when Minho notices the eyes for the first time. They peer at him from the endless darkness of the hallway and he looks around nervously, wondering if he should say something. In the corner of his eye, he can see you rustling around in the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing as you try to find some snacks for the both of you. If there’s an intruder in your apartment, you don’t seem perturbed, humming quietly to yourself.

He wonders if this is some kind of test from the universe, if some evil spirit’s been sent down so that he, as your newly-minted boyfriend, can prove that he’s brave and worthy of protecting you. But before he can whip out his ghost-busting skills, your sock-clad feet are padding towards him on the couch, a surprised gasp leaving your lips.

“Oh! I see you’ve met Lulu.”

Minho blinks once, twice, before following the sound of your voice, looking down over the edge of the couch. 

Those same eyes from the hallway blink up at him. It’s a cat. Your cat, fluffy fur and all, looking at Minho through narrowed eyes.

Immediately, he softens, silently relieved that he wouldn’t have to slay any demons tonight. Minho loved cats. He had three of his own waiting at home. He slides off the couch, dropping to his knees, extending an arm out.

“Hi there Lulu, I’m Minho. Nice to meet you.”

Lulu cocks her head, taking a few seconds to look Minho over, assessing him from head to toe. And then she… remains completely still, refusing to budge and accept the offer to smell Minho’s hand. Minho feels his heart drop, arm still outstretched with the hope that she’ll change her mind, but to no avail.

“Babe,” Minho zips his head in your direction, and you offer him a comforting squeeze to his arm. “Lulu takes a while to warm up to new people, it’s nothing personal. She never liked any of my exes.”

You giggle, pulling Minho back onto the couch with you so he can rest his head in your lap while you start the movie. Minho tries to focus on the film, but his mind remains elsewhere, darting over to the side where he sees Lulu sitting next to the couch. Eventually, she jumps up onto the cushions to join you, snuggling into your side, but maintaining a safe distance from Minho.

Minho resists the urge to overthink the interaction from earlier. He knew better than anyone that cats were temperamental beings, and that they required extra love and attention. So what if Lulu never warmed up to any of your exes? She’d warm up to him eventually, because he planned on sticking around for a long time. 

If you asked Minho the key to winning a cat’s heart, he’d tell you time. And maybe lots of treats. But mostly time. He thought time would be enough to heal the frosty first impression he’d left on Lulu, but every time he was over at your place, there she was around the corner, mean-mugging and making him feel guilty for crimes he didn’t commit.

He didn’t want to worry you with his silly beef with your cat, knowing that you loved her and she’d helped you through many hard times. 

So Minho, being the amazing boyfriend he was, tried to tackle the problem on his own.

He started with treats of course. The sizeable dent in his wallet from owning three cats only became all the more palpable when he’d buy an extra box from the pet store every week, hoping to woo over Miss Lulu with the five-star meal of some pureed chicken in a tube.

Lulu stared down the tube like it was a foreign object, before slapping her fluffy tail against Minho’s face, turning on her heels, and walking away.

She had the same reaction to the freeze-dried treats he tried the week after.

Then he theorized that maybe Lulu was averse to the smell of his own cats on him. So Minho kept an extra pair of clothes in his car all the time, one he’d change into before coming over. When he knocked at the door, he was met with your dazzling smile, cupping his face to press your lips to his, but as soon as it was over he caught sight of Princess Lulu running down the hallway away from him.

Months passed with Minho doing everything he could wrap his mind around what he could do win over the second most important person in your life (after him, of course). He’d even powered through a tense meeting between Lulu and Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, worried that his sons would scare her away, or even worse, hurt her, and that would be the end of you and Minho. But much to his surprise, Lulu played happily with the boys, even letting Dori tackle her and lick her fur.

And so began Minho’s mutual grudge against your cat. He did his best to hide it, but the lack of acceptance from Lulu was getting to him, like an arrow through his heart. He wondered if he could survive years by your side with a cat that hated him, but one look at your sparkly eyes and pretty smile told him that yes, this was worth it. You were worth it.

So Lulu ignored Minho. And Minho ignored Lulu. And both of them continued on in their own little worlds, centered around you. 

Minho slams his lips against yours, pushing you up against the door of your bedroom, smirking when he feels your lips part in a soft moan. The two of you make out lazily against the door for a few moments, until you’re both breathless and panting, Minho stepping back to admire the handiwork he’d left on your neck, the angry marks disappearing underneath the neckline of your shirt. 

Minho runs his thumb over your lip, watching your eyes go dark with desire, and in no time at all, you’re pinned underneath him on the bed, legs dangling with Minho in between them. He wastes no time diving in, eating you out with fervor until you’re writhing against his face, a wave of pleasure building inside you.

Only for it all to come crashing down seconds later, when he suddenly stops. You let out a pathetic whine, running your fingers through Minho’s hair while he remains crouched in between your thighs.

“Min, baby what’s wrong?” you lift his chin up so he’s looking at you, and the look in his eyes is so starkly different from a few minutes ago, his face pale.

“She’s watching us,” he whispers, like he’s seen a ghost.

You follow his line of sight to the top of the dresser, where Lulu is now perched, tail tucked underneath her butt, eyes narrowing at you and Minho.

“Just ignore her, babe,” you nudge his head between your legs again. Minho gives a few tentative licks to your folds, but lets out a heavy sigh, sitting back on his knees.

“I can’t.” And he looks so unbelievably guilty it makes your heart melt. You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, before throwing on his discarded shirt, softly padding over to where Lulu rests.

“Hey pretty girl,” you coo at her, cradling her in your arms. “How about we go drink some water, huh?”

Minho sits on the edge of the bed, legs crossed and head in his hands. He doesn’t hear you come back inside, jumping slightly when you throw your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“She doesn’t hate you,” your voice is muffled, nuzzling your nose against his jaw.

“She does,” Minho whines, trying not to let his voice break. “She literally won’t accept any treats from me. Every time you have period cramps, she glares at me like she’s saying “It’s your fault, asshole.” She even plays with Changbin more than me. And he’s allergic! She hates me and you’re going to break up with me because I can’t get along with your cat.”

“Why would I break up with you, silly?” you giggle. “I love you.”

Minho grabs you by the shoulders, cupping your cheeks in his hands, shock on his face.

“Y-you do?”

You nod your head, reaching up to grab his hand with your own.

“I love you, Lee Minho. And Lulu too. My heart is big enough for both of you.”

Minho feels better after that night, his anxieties melting away, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can survive this impasse with Lulu.

Until you ask him to do the unthinkable.

“Please Minho? It’s just for one night.” you beg him. Something urgent had come up for work, and you needed to take an overnight trip to handle it. Which meant Minho had to stay home with Lulu.

Minho wants to protest, saying the little brat will be fine, but then you pout. And it’s game over. He’s agreeing before he can think it through.

So you leave, the door clicking behind you, and Minho sits on the couch, Lulu across the room from him, the two of them staring each other down much like the first time they’d met. He takes meticulous care to fill up her food bowl and clean out her litter box, his heart doing a flutter when she doesn’t refuse either.

But she remains at her safe distance, and Minho is alone on the couch, missing the warmth of your presence next to him. He clicks through a few tv channels, before turning the TV off, throwing his hoodie on and slipping out onto your balcony, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar in case something happened to Lulu.

He sits with his knees curled to his chest, watching the city lights twinkle, until he hears a soft whine. He turns to see Lulu across from him on the balcony, maintaining her healthy distance, but staring at him with curious eyes.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Lulu, you know that?” Minho blurts out. “I just wish you’d like me, kiddo. I try so hard for you. And for your mom.”

He leans back against the railing, letting out a heavy sigh, and the words keep pouring out.

“I love her a lot. Like a lot a lot. I think I’m probably gonna marry her someday. And then we’ll be stuck together whether you like it or not.”

Minho closes his eyes, wondering what the future would hold for the two of them, when he feels it. The soft brush of fur against his leg, and then tiny vibrations.

He blinks his eyes open, and Lulu is nestled against his leg, soft purrs coming from her as she burrows her nose into Minho’s sweaptants.

Tears prick at the corner of Minho’s lids as he fights every bone in his body not to jump for joy. He reaches over, softly stroking Lulu between her ears, and chuckles when her tiny mouth drops open.

“Of course. The only thing you love more than attention is ____. I should have known.”

He stays impossibly still, battling against the ache in his leg, his eyes growing heavy with sleep. 

That’s how you find him in the morning, still cuddled up to Lulu. You smile softly, grabbing a blanket from the couch to throw over Minho while you work on breakfast for him and Lulu, finally content that the two most important people in your world love each other as much as they love you.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

#kvanity #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x you #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagine #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know #lee minho #lee know fluff #lee know smut #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids soft hours #skz soft thoughts #lee minho fluff #lee minho smut

[heartchoi]

[7:08 pm] ㅡ c.sb

pairing: soobin x gn!reader

warnings: mild swearing, reader is shorter than soobin, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff

wc: 839

a/n: im back so i had to write about my boyfriend!!! also this is inspired by those tiktok slideshows of those random manhwas LMAOO

“Come on, why are you giving me the cold shoulder?” Soobin pouts, nudging your arm with his. You don’t give a reaction to his antics, walking away from him, almost speed walking away. Soobin shouts your name, desperate for your attention.

“Hey! Just tell me~” He drawls, catching up to you. Once more, you ignore him, scoffing a little.

The scoff was not appreciated.

Soobin gently grabs your shoulders before spinning you around, forcing you to look at him. He even bends down a little for the eye contact. (Is this embarrassing? He’s tall, everyone knows that, but damn, he didn’t have to bend down. Makes you truly realize the height difference here.)

“My love. My life. Sweetheart. Honey. Baby. Please, just tell me what I did wrong. I don’t deserve to be ignored by the love of my life like this.” He accentuates his pout further, his bottom lip fully jutted out. “Pretty please?” Soobin adds, sweetening his tone.

You sigh. You can’t escape him forever, it seems. “I didn’t appreciate how you almost let that girl make cat whiskers on your face.”

Soobin’s confusion is evident on his face — His brows furrow, lips pucker. It’s almost comical how confused he looks. “What?” He says, almost in disbelief.

You quickly rush to defend yourself (It’s kind of embarrassing now that you say it out loud. You can’t go back now, though. You have to stick to it.) “Listen! I just don’t think you should be letting other people touch your face. I mean, we’re dating right? I was right next to you, too! Also, you have a skincare routine, foreign germs would have made you break out.” You ramble. You’re starting to pull random reasons out of your ass to defend yourself. Perhaps you should look into becoming a lawyer.

Soobin giggles a little. “You’re so cute. But, don’t you kiss me all over my face all the time? What about that?” He counters. You’re starting to become really frustrated with him.

“That doesn’t count! Your face germs are probably used to me by now, so I wouldn’t be a foreign invader. Also, you’re basically invalidating my feelings right now. That’s so rude.” You cross your arms around your chest. It’s getting serious now.

Soobin is visibly trying to hold it together and not laugh. He lets go of your shoulders as he takes a deep breath. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, baby. But… I’m not close to that girl. You shouldn’t have to worry.” You hum in reply, happy by his answer.

“What about you, though?”

What?

Soobin begins to elaborate. “You’re close with Yeonjun-hyung and Taehyunie… does that mean I should worry about them?” One of his fingers tap his chin in thought.

You stutter. “N-no! Aren’t you close with Choi Yewon?” Soobin nods. “Yeah.” “Then you too! Besides, Yeonjun and Taehyun don’t like me like that.” You look away, suddenly your shoes are more interesting than the boy basically hovering over you.

Soobin doesn’t take his eyes off you. “But I like you.” He says, voice smooth and flirty. You can tell he’s grinning at you right now. You can also feel your face heat up at his words. Damn, are you really that easy?

“Oh my god, shut up.” You mutter. You don’t dare to look up at him. Soobin would tease you to no end if he saw how warm your face was right now. “Mmmh, why? I love seeing my baby so flustered.” He coos, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You can’t take it anymore.

“That’s enough from you.” You say, covering his mouth with your palm. Soobin stares at the hand covering his mouth quizzically.

“Are you… are you really silencing your boyfriend right now?” His words are muffled, but the shock in his tone is unmistakable. You nod proudly, extremely pleased with yourself.

The gears turn in his head as he thinks about what he should do next.

You might have done it. You might have finally stopped Soobin from being a flirt. “Ha! You’ve finally shut up. God, if I knew it was this easy—“

“Then… can you block this?” Soobin takes your palm off his mouth before he swoops in, tilting his head perfectly so he can slot his lips in yours. It takes you by surprise, slapping your hand over his mouth moments before his lips meet yours.

You don’t even realize your eyes are closed until Soobin’s muffled voice filters through the air.

“You must really like me too if your eyes are closed.” Your eyes quickly shoot open to see him staring at you. Even with his mouth covered you can tell he’s sporting a shit-eating grin right now. Warmth has now covered every inch of your face and you hate it.

“You… you are so fucking annoy-“

Soobin licks your palm, causing you to reel your arm back in disgust. Soobin laughs before sprinting away, leaving you alone with saliva on your palm and a shocked expression on your face.

#txt fluff #soobin fluff #txt x reader #soobin x reader #txt imagines #soobin imagines #🍒.soobin

[georgie-weasley]

Spontaneous G.W. x Reader

Warnings: one swear word

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: You were rich, pretty, smart, and everything George wasn't. According to George, you were untouchable. He admires you from afar until he learns that you are human, just like him

Masterlist

“I think you’ve got enough strawberries George.” Fred laughed, waving his hand in front of George’s face. George blinked, coming out of a trance to finally tear his eyes away from the girl that had him captivated and look at his plate. He had about 15 strawberries dangerously stacked next to his toast and waffles. Ten minutes ago he had been starving, ready to eat Fred if he had to until you walked in, laughing with your friends. He didn’t even see you at first since he was so preoccupied picking out his breakfast but he heard you. Someone must have said something hilarious because your laugh seemed to echo around the Great Hall, bombarding George from all angles. He loved it. Your laugh sounded like the crescendo in a song, taking his breath away. He had been red in the face and sweaty before he even saw you. When he finally did look at you, it was all over. You moved so gracefully, you could have been floating. George watched you talk with your friends and when he saw your smile, he forgot all about his grumbling stomach.

Fred turned to look over his shoulder and when he caught sight of you, he rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. “Here’s an idea Georgie,” Fred grumbled, “stop staring at her and go talk to her.”

“Yeah mate, it’s weird. I’m uncomfortable for her.” Lee Jordan chimed in, reaching across the table to grab some toast.

“I will have you know I have talked to her.” George huffed, carefully dismantling Strawberry Tower, moving the discarded ones onto Lee’s plate.

“Talking about the weather doesn’t count.” Lee snorted, happily eating the food now added to his plate. George opened his mouth to retort but Lee continued. “Neither does telling her good morning or asking her about the homework.”

“Or apologizing when you ‘accidentally’ bump into her in the halls.”

George glared and threw a strawberry, aiming for Fred’s nose. Much to his disappointment, Fred ducked and the strawberry rolled away. “I have talked to her. Small talk counts as talking if you didn’t know.”

Lee rolled his eyes. “Sure but you’ve been in love with her since third year. Small talk isn’t going to make her fall for you. Just go up to her and tell her you’re in love with her and hope she feels the same. If she doesn’t,” Lee shrugged, “at least you know.”

“That is the stupidest thing you have ever said Lee. And you once asked McGonagall if she licks herself clean when she’s a cat.” The three boys shuddered at the memory. “I’ll talk to her about something normal. Something that will make her want to keep talking to me.”

---

“Do you ever wonder if McGonagall licks herself clean when she’s a cat?” George stood in front of you, hands sweating and his eyes going wide as he realized what just came out of his mouth. Something normal indeed.

“Pardon?” You cocked your head to the side, watching George with those beautiful eyes he could spend forever staring into.

“I just mean that maybe she acts like a cat does and that’s how they bathe. So maybe she…” He trailed off, hearing the giggles coming from your friends behind you. “Sorry, that was… weird.”

You smiled and George could feel his heart stop. He was going into cardiac arrest, he just knew it. “A little but a very good question all the same.”

He died. There was no way he was alive. The real you would have never even entertained his question, let alone call it a good one. He stared at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. He should say something, something smooth. If he could just lay on the charm like Fred does so well, you’d be putty in his hands. “Do you think that means she goes to the bathroom in a box?” Oh. My. God.

George spun on his heel and took off sprinting down the hall. He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

George lay in his bed, hands covering his face as Fred and Lee practically rolled on the floor with laughter. “So you– I mean you really asked her if McGonagall uses… a box?” Lee burst into another fit of giggles as Fred gasped for air. “George, I think you did it mate. I think she’s in love with you now.”

A scarf came flying from the bed, landing harmlessly on Lee. “I hate both of you!” George grabbed his pillow, burying his face in it. The laughter died down and once the other two felt they could talk without falling into another laughing fit, they climbed onto his bed.

“George, you’ve never had this much trouble talking to a girl before. You’ve always been pretty smooth. Not like me but you have never struggled to talk to anyone. Why is she so different?” Fred grabbed the pillow, making sure his twin was still breathing.

“Why is she different? Have you not seen her, Fred?” George sat up, looking at his hands. “First of all she’s gorgeous. Ethereal. Stunning. All that and more. She’s funny. I’ve heard her make a few jokes and they’re great; some of them are almost as good as ours. She’s smart and talented and nice and just perfect. That’s the problem.” He sighed and glanced at his brother and friend, glad to see they were now taking him seriously. “She’s from this really well off family. Her parents are both ministry workers but not like dad, they have important jobs. Her family has been full of powerful witches and wizards for centuries but they have never acted like others are less than. I heard she’s been ballroom dancing since she was seven. Her family is rich. She's a lady and I’m just…George Weasley. She would never want to talk to me. Or date me for that matter.”

This had not been the first time George or any of the other Weasley boys had felt less than because of what they didn’t have. George had never seen your house but he assumed it was big enough to fit the Burrow inside it at least three times. He knew your family had money. Meanwhile the Weasleys were just scraping by. You were the kind of girl that should have been a princess while George was nothing more than a stable boy. Not even the court jester because a jester would have to be able to speak to you.

“George, you aren’t giving her a chance to give you a chance. You’re making her seem untouchable. She’s human too.” Fred patted him on the back and smiled. “I say, tomorrow you talk to her, like a person. Talk to her like you talk to me.”

“So I should call her a stupid git?” George smirked before getting a pillow to the face.

---

Today was Saturday and just as he had promised, George was going to talk to Y/N. He just had to find her. He checked out the Great Hall and there was no sign of you. Then he checked out any open classrooms he could find and you weren’t there either. He went to the library and had no luck. In fact, he was kicked out for yelling your name while looking for you. By this time, George was exhausted and sure his legs would fall off any minute if he didn’t sit down soon. The lake was close enough that he could kill two birds with one stone; he could look for you and take a break before his lack of legs would make it very easy to tell the difference between him and Fred. As luck would have it, he spotted you sitting under a tree not too far from the edge of the lake. His heart willed him to move toward you but his brain kept his feet firmly planted. This was stupid. He should leave you alone and move on to find some girl that would make more sense. Someone that was not out of his league. At some point, his heart convinced his brain to start walking toward you. The first thing he noticed was the letter in your hand and the next thing he saw were the tears on your cheeks. Yikes. Just back away slowly Georgie, he thought to himself. Take small, quiet steps and you can sneak away before—

“George?”

Shit. He plastered on his best smile and tried to pretend like you weren’t crying right in front of him. “Hey there Y/N. How are you? Probably not great considering the… crying.” George closed his eyes, mentally slamming his head on the nearest tree. It was honestly amazing how great he was at screwing up. He should be given some kind of award. “I’m so sorry. I just walked over and saw you crying and I don’t know what to do with crying people and I’m really nervous to screw up here.” Neither spoke for a minute as you looked up at him. Seeing your usually sparking eyes filled with tears broke his heart, shattered it actually. All he wanted to do was take you in his arms and make it all better. Just talk to her like a person.

Slowly, George approached you, afraid you would take off running or yell at him. When you made no move to sprint away, he sat next to you. “I’m sorry. You make me really nervous but I’m a good listener. Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

You were silent for a long time but he didn’t dare move or talk. Honestly, he didn’t think you would tell him what was wrong because why would you? Fred and Lee were right. He had only ever had small talk with you.

“It’s my parents.” Your voice was so soft George almost didn’t hear you. Oh. George nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging way. “You know they’re in the ministry right?” Boy did he know. George had heard from his father about your parents. Your father was part of the Wizengamot, the part of the ministry that makes laws and holds trials. He was a big name in the ministry. Your mother was part of the Department of International Magic Co-Operation. Her whole job involved getting wizards and witches in other countries to work together. She played a big part in getting Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to come to Hogwarts this year for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. George’s father was also in the ministry but his job was practically the least important position there was. He spent his days finding Muggle items that had been tampered with and reporting them, even if he committed the same crime in his free time. He didn’t make much money at all and it left the family of nine struggling.

“Yeah, my dad has mentioned them a few times.” He tried not to sound bitter as he answered you but it was hard not to.

“They want me to join the ministry when I graduate. They made sure my grades were perfect and after taking my O.W.L.s, they hand picked my classes and set me on the path to join the ministry. My mother even signed me up for a summer program at the ministry just so I have a better chance at joining.” You took a deep breath and looked over at George. You had fresh tears in your eyes as you continued. “I don’t want to join the ministry. They have such high expectations of me and I don’t want to let them down but I don’t want to be in the ministry.”

“What do you want to do?” George understood where you were coming from. Him and Fred had plans and dreams to open a joke shop, something their mother did not support. She wanted them to finish school and get some boring job like the rest of the wizarding world. They didn’t want to disappoint her either but their happiness had to come first at least sometimes. George and Fred would never be happy sitting behind a desk all day or chasing down bewitched muggle items. They wanted to bring joy and raise up a new generation of delinquents. That was the dream.

“Well,” you started as you turned to look at the lake, “I think I want to be a healer. I’ve always been good at potions and herbology and basic spells used for healing.”

“And your parents don’t want you to do that?” As you shook your head, George scoffed. “Why? I think being a healer is a perfectly respectable job. You aren’t trying to run off and live in a cave for the rest of your life.”

You let out a small laugh and George felt like he was floating. He made you laugh after you had been crying. He could die happy. “I agree with you but they think that working for the ministry is the only job worth having. They just want me to be successful. They’ve spent my whole life preparing me for the future they want me to have. Dance lessons and internships and anything else that makes me into whatever it is they want me to be.”

“Happiness is more important than success. Who says that being happy doesn’t mean you’re successful?” George ran his fingers through the grass. “My mother sounds a lot like your parents. Fred and I want to open up a joke shop. She thinks that we’ll be throwing away our potential if we go ahead with it.”

You looked back at George and watched him closely as he kept his eyes on the ground. He was pretty. He had the warmest brown eyes you had ever had the pleasure of looking at. “I think a joke shop sounds like a wonderful idea. Personally I can’t imagine you or Fred working at the ministry or any normal job for that matter.” George laughed and nodded. “What will you do?”

He thought for a moment, continuing to look at the ground because he knew as soon as he looked at you, he would forget everything. “Fred and I are opening the joke shop when we have the money. I think our mother will be disappointed for a while but we aren’t made to work in an office. Besides, she’s our mother so our happiness should take priority over anything else.”

“I wish I could be like you George. You sound like you have everything.”

He turned his head to look at you so quickly he thought he snapped his neck at first. You thought he had everything? You were jealous of him? “I thought you had everything. A big house, rich parents, grades, popularity. You have everything.”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “Really? I always wanted a big family that would spend time together. You have always seemed so sure of yourself and confident. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do or who to be. George, you’re spontaneous and perfectly you. I wish I could be like that.”

George smiled as your eyes found his and then time stopped. He was distantly aware of the wind rustling the trees and the sounds of other students talking but all he could see was you. Your eyes, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. “Then let’s do something spontaneous.” With great effort, George tore his gaze away from you and looked around. The lake caught his eye. “Come swimming with me.”

He grabbed your hand and stood, pulling you to the lake until you stood at the edge. Without waiting for you, George ran into the water, dressed in jeans and his t-shirt. Behind him, you stood at the bank. Should you be doing this? Probably not but it would make you happy. George made you happy. It was time to put your happiness first. You took off after him, squealing at the cold water. “You didn’t say it was this cold!”

“I didn’t want it to scare you away.” George laughed, cupping his hand to launch water at you. The water slammed into you and with a harmless glare, you retaliated, sending your own wave of water at him. The two of you continued to splash each other until George held up his hands in defeat.

As you both caught your breath, George moved to sit on the bank, the water lapping at his feet. You took a seat next to him and bumped your shoulder against his. “What do you plan to do now?” He asked, bumping you back.

“I’m going to tell my parents I don’t want to be in the ministry. I’ll talk to my head of house about switching some courses around to get on the right path to becoming a healer.”

George smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

He looked at you and you looked at him. George saw you like no one else. He heard you complain about your parents and instead of siding with them, as most people did, he agreed with you. He thought your happiness mattered more than what your parents wanted. “Thank you George.”

“For what?”

“For listening, making me laugh, making me feel… human.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek before standing. “I should go write that letter to my parents. I wouldn’t want to lose all the nerve you gave me.”

George watched you go, his hand coming up to the spot where your lips had touched his cheek. His face turned red as he replayed the kiss over and over again. Fred and Lee were not going to believe this. They were going to kill him if he just let you walk away after that. He clambered to his feet and sprinted after him. “Y/N! Wait!” He waved his arms, trying to get your attention. You stopped in your tracks and looked back at him, watching him chase after you.

“Yes George?”

“I was… Well I was wondering if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?” He held his breath, waiting for the rejection to come.

“I would love to. I’ll see you later Georgie.” With another kiss to his cheek, you walked off. Next Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

hey!! happy celebration time bestie :) sorry this took forever, i got sick but i'm here now!

i was thinking it would be cute to do a blurb for steve based off these grumpy x sunshine prompts: (i love sassy steve, he's my fav)

having the habit of hugging them randomly

^ and when u forget to hug then, they just stand there like an npc, too cool to ask for that hug.

or they pull you into a hug without any words and wouldn't show u their face after

i feel like steve would get this attitude probably bc you're in front of the kids or something and he doesn't wanna beg for your hello hug but he also doesn't want to go without it. you can decide if they're in an established relationship or not <3 congrats again on 500!!

riley i hope you enjoy this cause i wrote this in two days. both times while at work. completely forgot the grumpy x sunshine part, but i feel you could see hints (let me know if you want a rewrite)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader wc: 969😏

masterlist / steve harrington

you and steve are friends who’ve kissed a few times. twice while drunk, one at a house party and another while at a surprisingly packed hideout where eddie’s band played. there were three other times where you kissed but both of you were sober and it was broad daylight hours. however, the two of you weren’t a couple. haven’t really chosen when to have a proper discussion or just blatantly ignoring how both of you are just waiting for the next time a kiss could happen.

yet, when it comes to hugging, you and steve are a gross couple in love. always holding onto each other for a time that isn’t considered a friendly passing hug. sometimes you’ll hug steve from behind as a ‘sneak attack’, other times it’ll be a side hug with your arms around his waist and one of his thrown over your shoulder while waiting in a long line. or it’s where you crash into steve chest seeking his warmth as a safety blanket, even could be where the two of you are full on cuddling while taking a nap on his king bed.

hugs are something steve fully expects to receive whenever the two of you are in the same room, within reach or quick steps. so when steve sees you walk into his backyard for this pool party the kids forced him to have, he’s completely frozen when you walk past him and throw your open arms around dustin first. dustin doesn’t deserve to be in your arms first, that’s a steve harrington only privilege. but he allows it since it’s the twerps birthday.

steve just stands back by the loungers, watching as you sway the boy side to side, almost throwing the both of you to the ground. the two of you laugh and steve swears he gets a bit tipsy from the high pitched lilt.

you pull away from dustin and turn on a 180 to then pull bright cheeked max into a sisterly embrace.

“what the fuck?” steve grumbled to himself. his eyes never leaving as you pull each kid, one by one into a firm hug. and when you’ve given will the last one of the group, steve expects you to come find him next, but no. you see nancy and bounce over to her.

“mad your girlfriend ignoring you?” steve startles at the voice of robin appearing beside him. she was unbothered while picking chips off her paper plate. “jesus, gotta put a bell on you.” hand over his heart while side eyeing her.

“i’m not a fucking cat, drill bit. you're just lost in that smooth brain of yours while creepily staring at y/n. might finally put that restraining order on you.” sentence punctuated with her loud chewing.

steve rolled his eyes, “she wouldn’t do that. and she’s not my girlfriend. she’s a girl who’s a friend.” his quiet tone showing his real emotions on that claim.

robin hummed, “yeah. a girl who’s a friend that you’ve kissed five times and been to chicken to do shit about.” he glared at the accusation. she then pointed a salty finger across the pool, “who’s also giving eddie a nice hug and you're over here standing like a tree waiting for her to take the initiative.”

steve whipped his head at robin’s pointed location to see eddie with his right arm casually holding your waist as your left is over his shoulder. steve could only see the mesmerized grin of eddie and it’s making his head fuzzy.

there was a slight shove at his shoulder and it forced him to once again glare at robin. “dude!” she rolled her eyes, “stop being wuss and get your girl. it’s not that hard, you both like each other already. act grossly coupley in public, that’s why you’re always ‘oh, not dating’ bullshitting to strangers.”

“robs, it’s just… i’m- im scared…” steve trailed off while turning his eyes to the ground. robin’s hand touched his shoulder and she asked, “of what? there just needs to be proper communication and everything will come together.” robin squeezed his shoulder before boldly stating, “she loves you. and you love her. be in love together.” and she walks away leaving steve by his porch door.

that is until there’s two arms sliding around his waist from behind and something laying along his spine. he automatically raises his hands to fold over yours, ruffling your arm hair from his back and forth motions.

“was wondering where you were?” your voice is muffled by the way you're pushing your left cheek into steve’s skin.

he turns his chin over his shoulder, “i’ve been here the whole time. thought you were ignoring me.” trying to play the last part off as a joke, but he really did think you were ignoring him.

you gasped and moved to stand in front of him, “never. just wanted to save the best for last. and also i wouldn’t have to let you go after i got to everyone else first.” making your point while rewrapping yourself into steve. his own arms resting over your shoulders with his cheek laying on your head.

“i love you.” he blurted with such an ease that steve was a bit shocked that it was such an easy and true statement.

a dreamy smile on your lips as you replied, “i love you too, stevie.”

and his heart jumped a little faster, both from your silky voice and you possibly saying it in a different meaning, “no, not as a friend.”

“i know, stevie. i love you both as a friend and more.”

steve lifted his head away from your skull and you tilted your head up. the two of you stay held together as infectious smiles grasped at your lips and childish giggles spilled free.

-

#erin’s 500 special #steve harrington #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fic #joe keery imagine #joe keery #mutuals in the box

[oopwoop]

Look What The Cat Dragged In

pairing: e!1610! Miles Morales x Black Cat! Reader (readers gender is up to interpretation!)

warning(s): Swearing, that’s it I believe. Unedited!

summary: Miles can’t help but be drawn to Black Cat. He knew they’re a thief and he should be turning them in, but what’s the fun in that? Their game of cat and mouse was exciting

word count: 941!

“Normally I’d find a stray in an alleyway, not a museum. What’s a pretty kitty like you doin’ here?” You heard a voice echo in the open room of the museum. As you turn around, you notice a familiar black and red spider suit. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. You’d be sent on a mission, do what you need to do, he’ll show up out of nowhere, the two of you bicker and flirt, he tries to catch you and you either escape or once he does he lets you go. He claims it’s an accident every time he lets you go, but you know better. He likes this game of cat and mouse just as much as you do.

“What can I say, curiosity killed the cat. I can’t help but want to wander around, y’know. Cats are free-spirited, can’t keep them caged up for too long.” You grinned at him, voice low and smooth. Walking over to him, you swatted your hand playfully at him as he hung upside down.

Miles let go of his web, landing on his feet and walked closer to you. “You’ve wandered quite far, kitty. Where’s the rest of your litter?” It seems he has his own multitude of cat jokes too. You liked that about him, no matter the situation or theme he could find a joke.

“I don’t have one, I prefer to wander on my own. It’s much more fun that way. Plus, they’d steal everything from me. The fortune, fame.. you. I’d be one jealous kitty then.” It was partly true. You much rather work alone, others just get in the way but you did have a boss. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“I suppose so. What made you choose the museum this time? What fancy painting are you after? Is it one of the paintings with the Victorian looking black cat?” Miles chuckles. You knew exactly what painting he was talking about, yet you weren’t amused.

“Haha, very funny bug boy. While it is a cute painting, it’s not what I’m here for. That’s a secret. Now, if you paw-don me, I have business to attend to. As much as I’d like to play, I must get going”. You really did need to get going, even though you hated ending this early. With a pout and a pat on his shoulder, you walked away, backs now facing each other.

After a few seconds you felt something on your back, pulling you back into his chest. “Nahhh, I don’t think so, kitty. This game isn’t over.” He whispered in your ear. It seemed he wasn’t letting you out easy tonight, oh well. Suppose you could play a little game of chase.

“How about a game of chase, yeah? Let me go, give me a few seconds to run and follow after. Sound good to you, Spidey?” You offered, whispering back. You felt the rumble in his chest as he chuckled as he moved away.

“Got a five second head start, pretty kitty. Better get going.” With that you ran, jumping up and climbing to the next floor. Those five seconds felt way too fast, faster than five seconds normally feel. Not even a minute later he was catching up, luckily you were faster.

Soon enough you got to where you needed to be, quick in your movements to get what you came for. You heard Miles tut from behind you, stepping into the room. “Come ‘ere kitty, kitty, kitty. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Sorryyy.. but I can’t take any risks. I don’t wanna be sent to the pound. I really wish I could stay but this cats gotta pounce.” You turned to look at him noticing his mask was now off. He stayed silent, walking to you. He stopped right in front of you, eyes staring into yours. You felt drawn to step closer. It’s wasn’t unusual that you two had these.. intimate moments, though neither of you ever got this close. His warmth was radiating off of him, it was comforting. You wish you could be in forever, unfortunately you really had to get going.

You placed a hand on his chest, grazing it with the tip of your sharp claws. You felt his breath hitch at that as he placed his hands on your waist. You refused eye contact now. “I really must get going, buggy. You know I enjoy our time together but it has to come to an end tonight”. What meant to be a playful tone came out as a sigh. He huffed at it and just gripped your waist tighter. When you finally look up to him you saw his face was closer and he was now looking at your lips. It was a stupid idea. A bad idea. An absolute horrible idea to pursue it, kissing him. How could you not, though? So you did.

His lips were soft. Everything about him felt soft at this moment. You felt soft for him, like melting into a puddle. How could some hero like Spider-Man make you weak in the knees. It was stupid, so utterly stupid, but you didn’t regret it.

What felt like an eternity later you pulled away, staring back into his eyes. Pushing yourself away, you looked away and moved to walk out. “I’ll catch you later, Miles. Don’t fur-get about me.” It was the last thing you said before grappling away, leaving the museum.

Miles stood there idly, staring into space. His hand moved up to his mouth, his lips tingling from the kiss. His body turned slightly to the doorway, eyes staring longingly. “Adiós, gatito bonito..”

A/n: I was really debating on making this into a two part thing, stopping it before the kiss-

Let me know what you think of it! Send requests! Love you ♡ (ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles morales x you #fanfic #earth 1610

[lheewonz]

Wish That I Could ╱╱ 희승 ✧ l.hs

synopsis :: fwb!heeseung x fem!reader aren’t dating, but they want to be

“wish that i could be your lover”

The ambiguous nature of your relationship was unsatisfying.

Lee Heeseung wanted to completely be yours.

warning :: swearing, kissing, implied/referenced nsfw (?), they almost get arrested?

word count :: 3.3k

“What do you want?” Your flat expression met his gleeful one.

“Damn babe, don’t get too excited to see me.” Heeseung and his annoyingly attractive half-smirk were at your apartment door at 3 in the morning. Under one arm he held a white motorcycle helmet with cat ears, under the other was a similar black helmet without ears. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“No. Do you have any idea what time it is? I have school in 6 hours.” Which really meant four hours since you took forever to get ready, and four hours was definitely not enough time to be well rested. You got cranky when you were tired and usually took it out on the boy currently standing in front of you.

Heeseung shrugged, nonchalant as always. “You just need to learn how to manage your time better.”

You level him with a glare. “You’re the reason it takes a whole hour to get breakfast.”

“And I pay for it. Maybe if you didn’t take an hour getting ready.” Heeseung leans forward, raising his eyebrow at you, his tone tinted with a bit of jealousy. “I’m not in your class, who are you putting so much effort in for?”

“No one.” You avoid his eyes. He was right, as he usually was when it came to topics related to you. You made sure to wake up two hours earlier to have enough time to dress nicely for Heeseung, of course. Not that you would ever admit to that. “It’s too early for your shit. I have to sleep, go home.”

He practically shoves the white helmet into your hands, forcing you to hold onto it. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”

“Last time you said that, I missed a majority of the most important lecture in my class.”

He rolls his eyes and waves you off. “C’mon, love. It’ll be fun.” He takes a step forward, reaching out with his free hand to take yours.

Your heart flipped at the pet name and your voice was quieter when you responded, “Don’t call me that.” You were fighting a losing battle.

He smirks again, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “You’re wasting more of your sleep time saying no when we both know you’ll give in.”

There’s a beat of silence while the two of you stare at each other before you sigh heavily. You walk over to the couch and grab a pair of long pants from your freshly folded laundry to switch out with your short pajama bottoms, ignoring Heeseung’s appreciative whistle from where he stands in the doorway. You grab the leather jacket Heeseung had gifted you, getting a matching one for himself that he was also wearing, around the same time he had gotten his bike and head back to him. “I hate you.” You say as you slip the helmet on, glaring at him again.

Heeseung only grins and slides your visor down after booping your nose. “No, you don’t.” Heeseung waits for you to shut and lock your apartment door before tugging you towards the stairs. He briefly lets go of your hand to put his own helmet on, he lifts you up into his arms, chuckling at the small scream you let out and starts running down the stairs three at a time.

Your eyes widen at the actions of this complete madman and wind your arms around his neck tightly. “Heeseung. If you fall I will kill you.”

“Carrying pretty girls is my hidden talent, you should know.”

You were thankful the visor hid your blush. “Ah, really? I thought it was getting on my nerves.”

“I’m multi-talented.”

Soon enough the both of you were outside standing in front of Heeseung’s motorcycle. You climb on after him and wrap your arms around his waist. “Where are we going?”

Heeseung shrugs, “Not sure yet.” He slips his gloves on and within the next 3 seconds, he’s pulling out of the parking lot and speeding onto the road.

As Heeseung drives, your grip on his waist tightens and you cling to him, resting your head on his back and sighing. The drive is peaceful. Heeseung rests his hand on top of yours at every red light. You love the short moments with Heeseung where neither of you speaks since you can’t go more than two seconds without playfully bickering. Whether it be while the two of you are kissing, going for a midnight ride, or other silent activities. Those sweet, silent moments with him almost manage to convince you that Heeseung is more than just a friend. Just like you want him to be.

It isn’t long before you reach your destination, an old park that you used to visit when you were in middle school. Surrounding the park was a locked gate. “Are you sure it’s okay to be here?”

Unbeknownst to you, Heeseung glares at the locked gate that was definitely not locked when he had gone there earlier. “Yea, it’s totally fine.” He pulls your helmet off and helps you off the motorcycle, setting your helmet down on the seat and pulling his own off.

You trail behind him with your arms crossed skeptically as he stalks over to the gate and starts to climb it. “What are you doing??”

“I’m gonna unlock the gate.” He hops over the top and turns to you with a smile.

The lock makes a long clanging sound as he fumbles with it, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration and his lips pouting slightly. He looks up at you and catches your stare as the lock finally gives and clicks open. He pulls the gate open with a smirk, “See something you like?”

A hand pulls on one of your arms to tug you closer to him. “No.” You avoid his knowing stare.

“You wound me, my love.” Heeseung pulls you up against him. You shiver as he leans down to whisper in your ear, breath hitting your ear, “No need to lie to me.” A furious blush spread across your cheeks. You stay silent, burying your face in Heeseung’s shirt, and you can feel his chest rumbling as he chuckles at you. “Let’s take a walk, yea?”

It takes a small bit of coaxing for Heeseung to get you to start walking, but when you do start walking it’s peaceful. The two of you walk with your arms intertwined, talking about anything that comes to mind. Heeseung recounts anecdotes about living with his friends Jake and Sunghoon, animatedly telling you about the very recent time Sunghoon almost burned their apartment down while he was sleeping and forgot to wake him in his haste to escape, and Jake eventually put out the fire.

Eventually, the two of you walk around the entire park and come back to the fountain close to the front gate. Heeseung lets go of your arm and hops onto the thin edge of the large fountain.

“Give me your jacket.” You hold your hand out to take it from him.

He rests his jacket on your arm, a slightly worried expression on his face. “Are you cold?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to fall in.” Despite the fact that you seemed to have no faith in him, your precaution and the fact that you care enough about him to want to make sure nothing happens to something special to him almost makes him blush.

“It sounds like you’re gonna push me in.”

“I wouldn’t. I’m not cruel.”

“I’ll be fine.” You grab onto his shirt anyway for your own comfort, though if he actually started to fall you would probably be dragged down with him.

The two of you continue to walk in silence this time, as opposed to earlier. The silence is suffocating and awkward. You can see Heeseung continuously steals glances at you from the corner of your eye and you can tell he wants to say something. You stay silent to give him time to figure it out.

Heeseung’s tone was surprisingly serious when he started talking. “I was thinking. Are you… happy with the way we are?”

“What do you mean? Like our relationship?” You could feel your heart sinking into your stomach.

“Yea... Are you satisfied like this?”

You start to fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket, all of a sudden finding great interest in the grass. “Uhm, I guess… Why?”

“I’m not.”

Your head snaps up to stare at him in silence and he stares back. Your stomach churns almost painfully and you suddenly feel like vomiting. You let go of his shirt and take a step away from him. “You don’t want to be my friend anymore?”

“No! That’s not what I meant, I just-“ He cuts himself off with a yelp when the next step he takes sends him backward into the fountain with a loud splash. You both stare at each other with wide eyes and then you burst into laughter, previous tension disappearing and dropping yourself to the ground while Heeseung grumbles, but smiles a bit at the sight of your laughter.

Your laughter stops abruptly when you think you hear someone shouting in the distance. The both of you look at the angry guard currently running in your direction and then look back at each other. “I thought you said this was legal??” You hissed at him, grabbing his hand to help him out of the fountain.

“I had to climb the fence to open the gate, why did you believe that?” The both of you run back to his motorcycle. You toss him his leather jacket and then put your helmet on.

“HEY! YOU TWO! STOP!” The guard was closing in, but still, a decent amount of space away, his booming voice echoing through the otherwise quiet park.

“Hurry the fuck up! You’re unbelievable, if I get arrested-“

“We’re not getting arrested. Saving damsels in distress is also a talent of mine.” He puts his helmet and jacket on.

“You put me in distress.” You knock your fist against his helmet as you settle down behind.

Heeseung shrugs. “Details aren’t important.” Then the both of you are off, speeding away as the guard finally makes it to where you were just seconds later.

Heeseung makes it back to your apartment in 10 minutes, compared to the 20 minutes it took to get to the park in the first place. “You’re gonna get arrested one day.” You say as you pull off your helmet.

“Not if I have you with me. You’re my lucky charm, love.”

“You’re so… corny.” You can feel your cheeks heat up at his words regardless and you knock your fist against his helmet again at the sight of his smug grin. “If I were that lucky, you wouldn’t have fallen into the fountain.”

Heeseung’s face falls into a grimace when he remembers how uncomfortably wet his clothes were. He pulls his own helmet off, running his hand through his damp hair a few times. “Right, can I shower here?”

“Obviously. You’ll get sick if you stay in those clothes.” Both of you head towards your apartment doors, unlocking the door quickly and heading to the elevator.

Heeseung leans against the wall next to you. “On second thought. Maybe I should get sick, would you take care of me?”

“No.” You both knew that you were lying.

Heeseung plays along, his stupid (hot), smug smile never leaving. “That’s harsh, love. It’s okay. I know you love me.” His smile softens when you hum in response, red spreading across your face. His hand grasps yours and he pulls you to stand in front of him, his hands going to rest on your waist while yours rest on his chest, ignoring your protest at leaning against his wet clothes. His voice is soft as he asks, “Did you have fun?”

Your smile grows and you nod, resting your head on his wet chest. “I don’t know how you always know, but thank you. I had a lot of fun, Hee.” Your arms go to wrap around him, and he responds by doing the same. You briefly think about how you’re going to have to re-dry your clothes, but the thought is banished from your mind when you feel Heeseung lean down and press a kiss to your hairline.

“Part of my saving damsel in distress talent is knowing when they’re in distress. I also woke up to your tweet about doing laundry.” Everyone who knew you knew that when you started doing your laundry of all things, especially at some god awful time like 2 a.m., that you hadn’t left your apartment for fun in more than a couple weeks. “I’m glad you had fun, love.”

His arms tighten around you and it’s peacefully quiet in the slow moving elevator. You close your eyes basking in his presence as he plays with your hair. Near the end of the elevator ride you remember that he had been trying to ask you something. “Hee?”

Heeseung hums in response, looking down at you when you pull back from him. He continues playing in your hair, brushing your strands all across your face, smiling when you scrunch your nose at him, and waiting for you to speak. “At the park, what were you trying to tell me?”

“Oh.” Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly and he opens his mouth to respond but the elevator dings instead. He sighs, then smiles and taps your nose, “I’ll tell you another day.”

He walks you out of the elevator and you raise your brow at him. “If you say so, weirdo.” Heeseung stays pressed against your back as you unlock your door. “Your clothes are in the very last drawer.”

“Aw, I have my own drawer?”

You push him off you, decidedly having had enough of his wet clothes pressing against you. “I have like 4 pairs of your pants.”

He has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed at the implication that he’s left your apartment without his pants on multiple times. “…I’m sure there’s a good reason for that.”

“Yeah, sure.” You give him a doubtful look. “You’re going to shower, change, then get out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans in to quickly kiss your lips before running into your room to avoid getting swatted at.

“I mean it. I’ll kick you out if you try to stay any longer.”

You did not kick him out.

The way Heeseung’s calloused hands gripped your waist was a feeling you could never get tired of. However, your favorite feeling hands down, had to be the way his lips felt against yours. Heeseung kissed you slowly like he was taunting you, forcing you to pace yourself and not be so eager. He kissed you like he was savoring it like he was afraid that it would be the last time he would be allowed to. He kissed you senseless, tongue tracing the seam of your lips, making you forget what you had declared earlier. He left you breathless, gasping for air and gripping his pajama shirt in your fists.

He trails light kisses down your neck and along your jaw careful not to leave marks, knowing you weren’t that fond of them. With your head tilted back, you catch a glimpse of the clock on your bedside table.

[ 5:27 a.m. ]

“Shit.” You reluctantly push Heeseung away, struggling as he somewhat fights against you. “It’s bedtime, go lay in your corner.”

“I can’t sleep next to you?” The fake pout he is sporting is evident to you even without looking at him as you make sure your alarm is on. “You don’t trust me?”

“No. Last time you asked me if trusted you, you made me almost burn down my apartment.”

Heeseung tsks but still settles away from you on the bed. “It’s not my fault you can’t multi task, love.” He sulks against the wall and you giggle quietly as you sneak glances in his direction as you settle down on your side of the bed. “I just want to touch you.”

You fully turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He turns back to meet your gaze before clarifying what he meant. “I meant cuddling. There’s time for anything else later.”

“Right... You stay over there and I will sleep.” You close your eyes to Heeseung staring at you.

Except after 15 minutes you still couldn’t sleep and Heeseung was still staring at you. You groan softly, pretending to not want to give in to what Heeseung wants. “Get over here. You stare too hard.”

Heeseung shuffles across the bed before you even finish your sentence, loosely taking you into his arms. “Good night, love.”

“Good night, Hee.”

Heeseung loses track of time as he stares at you while you try to sleep, his gaze soft and loving. A gentle hand comes up to brush the stray hairs from your face without disturbing your peace. He leans in to press a kiss to your forehead before he wraps his arms around you bringing you impossibly closer to him resting your head against his chest and continuing to stare down at you. You shift in your sleep a little, moving your head so he can have a better view of your face.

Heeseung smiles softly and then thinks back to the unofficial date he had taken you on. While he was successful in his attempt to relieve your stress, he was unsuccessful in his attempt to ask you to officially be his. Somehow it was even more nerve wracking than when he had first come to you with your current arrangement nearly six months ago.

You had finally broken up with your shitty boyfriend and started talking to all your friends again. During a party, you, Heeseung, and a couple of other friends had snuck away from the main party with a couple of bottles of alcohol and just sat and talked. At some point, the conversation turned to you and your breakup to which you had answered that you were done with romantic relationships and just wanted to kiss someone every now and then. Weeks later Heeseung couldn’t get the thought of what you said out of his head and eventually gathered up the courage to approach you with the idea to be friends with benefits and you agreed.

At the time Heeseung considered it a win, but since then his feelings for you have grown exponentially and he regrets the way he friend zoned himself. As much as he thinks you like him back, there was still no guarantee you would agree to actually date him since the premise for this had been no romance in the first place. He sighs, settling down to sleep. “Wish I could be your boyfriend.” He mumbles, “I’d treat you so much better than that asshole.”

“Maybe if you ask properly, your wish will come true.” His startled gasp makes you giggle as you crack an eye open.

“How long have you been awake??”

“I never went to sleep. I told you, you stare too hard.” You shake your head to refocus. “That’s not important. You should ask.”

“Ask what?” You deadpan at him. “Oh.” He sits up a little and scratches the back of his neck, a light blush dusting his cheeks, the most awkward you had seen him since you first met him. You prop your head up on his chest with your hands.

Seeing your face clearly in the moonlight helps to ease Heeseung’s nerves just a bit. “Y/n, my love… Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your responding smile is an image Heeseung will never be able to forget. The way you seem to shine even brighter and are able to easily render Heeseung breathless is a talent that only you possess.

Instead of responding verbally, you lean in close and press a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips once, twice, three times, smiling in between each one. The both of you are giggling together, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. “Is that a yes?”

You kiss him once more and then rest your forehead against his and whisper, “Yes.”

"i could treat you like no other"

a/n :: send help i spent a fuckton of hrs on this and idek why lord help me pls give me feedback!! like and reblog <3

#heeseung imagines #heeseung soft hours #heeseung x you #heeseung x yn #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung oneshots #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen imagines #kpop imagines #enhypen oneshots #kpop oneshots #sv.lhs ☆ #sv.enha ☆ #sv.imagines ☆ #sv.oneshot ☆ #sv.softie ☆ #sv.xreader ☆ #sv.library ☆

[srslyscary]

songs // mini series

a mini series on how I would associate a song to skz members!

headcanons + small rants incoming! This isn’t based off meanings or lyrics, just instrumentals!

bang chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

Candy ; Doja Cat

not based on the ENTIRE SONG but like.. from the timestamp 2:04 - 2:34 .. GOSH HE LOOKS LIKE THAT SONG.

IMAGINE IF HIS PARTNER WAS WITH HIM IN LIKE A SHARED HOME OR JUST IN THE STUDIO.. THIS MF WALKS IN WITH A COMPRESSION SHIRT, NO MAKEUP, AND HIS BEANIE. GODDD BAREFACED CHAN IS SO SCRUMPTIOUS.

I actually feel like on any occasion he would look like this song bc of the many different types of chan’s you get from him. obviously there’s Chan, then there’s Chris, and Christopher.

it also gives off rockstar chan in the photoshoot where he was in the bathtub with the wires and had the metal things in his mouth.. yeah this is him.

Swang ; Rae Sremmurd

Lord give this man my heart I forever bow in his presence. If I find an edit with this sound I’ll be so happy. HE LOOKS LIKE HE WOULD LISTEN TO THIS SONG WHILE WORKING OUT LKE IM SORRY.

“Hey Stay… how ya doin’?” TYPE SHIT.

It’s giving “late night drives with the windows open”… am I right or wrong???

This song gives that one blonde chan from Super intern ep. 3 I think and also chan in the oddinary trailer. SORRY NOT SORRY.

Swoon ; Beach Weather

Idk if it’s just me but this instrumental gives off chan at the beach (it’s obviously by beach weather) but aside from the artist’ name I can sort of picture his partner hand in hand while they run to the beach water and splash each other until sunset.

I also like to picture park dates. HE JUST LOOKS LIKE HE WOULD POST SCENERY PICS WITH THIS SONG.

this is like happy and calming chan, giving off those soft moments.

Messages From The Stars ; The Rah Band

i’m foive. literally that’s it. I SWEAR it gives off youngest son chan.

I also play this song in my head anytime chan does his little excited fists or anything to show he’s happy.

It just gives off silly channie.. like that one interview with Lee know where he was messing with him.. “a fiveee! A fouurrr- a threee- a— I’m sorry.” Apologies spouted when he realized Lee know was threatening him.

Dream, Ivory ; Dream, Ivory

this gives off him being up really late at the studio, and his partner calls his phone to tell him they miss him. he’s like “I miss you too, maybe even more.”

he skedaddles right on home to lay with them in bed, he’s holding them tight and giving them kisses on their head while whispering sweet nothings (god I want this)

the song is literally the same as the artist (how ironic) but like I could picture chan having dreams of sunny days with his partner and the boys. they’re all out on a grassy field having a picnic and playing with water balloons and water guns. they’re laughing and having a good time, him and lee know are probably sitting down watching them (ugh get a load of these oldies..)

West Coast ; Lana Del Rey

his partner simply woke up first and was faced with Chan’s back towards them. just running their fingers along his back one time to get a reality that he was real. that might have tickled him a big.

he turns around in his sleep, facing the other way. and now his partner could see his sleeping face. they rearranged his hair and smiled, nothing was more precious than waking up to the face of the one you love the most.

Idk I feel like this only goes well with morning scenarios… anyhoo he’s a cutie to wake up to I’m telling you.

taglist: @sixxze

#skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan #christopher bang

[ugh-yoongi]

threw a punch in a bar | knj

(or, nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run.)

→ pairing: namjoon x f. reader → genre: zombie!au | crack, smut → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol, a guy gets pushy in a bar, this results in a bar fight (mentioned broken bones, but nothing is described in explicit detail), vague american setting in order to drag the us healthcare system, side vmin, taehyung has klepto tendencies but he steals from wal-mart so it’s fine, really mid smut including: kissing, very slight dom!joon, grinding/thigh riding, implied oral (f. receiving), fingering, reader drops a bryce harper quote during sex, namjoon’s dick is big but we knew that, this is cancelled out by his horrible dirty talk, unprotected sex, vmin’s dumpling fight but make it settlers of catan. this is technically a zombie fic, but the circumstances are 99% in the background. there is nothing gory here, just sort of found family vibes centered around an apocalypse. also when i said the smut is mid i meant it. everyone has himbo tendencies except yoonjin. → wordcount: 11k → a/n: started this forever ago after doing one of those twt pause games on who i’d be stuck with in the zombie apocalypse. my result was vmin & namjoon, which birthed the idea of vmin spending the entire apocalypse subtly trying to convince you to sacrifice yourself for them. i was going to publish the draft of this on halloween but decided to finish it, went into a trance, and added 9k words, so please accept my late and humble offering. → thank yous: lauren, bee, and jess as always for all of their help: beta’ing, general feedback, constructive criticism, telling me when my shit doesn’t make sense. @effortandmore​ / @hot-soop​ / @the-boy-meets-evil​

Any bartender worth their salt knows you don’t mix tequila and brandy.

Jimin, apparently, is only worth enough salt to rim a margarita glass.

All because he’s chaos incarnate: an absolute hellion of a person who causes problems just because. The type of person who calls a drink something innocuous like Tipsy Meow because it sounds sweet and he knows it’ll get people to order it. Sometimes he even serves them in glasses with cats painted on them, which is really cute and endearing and gets people to order that drink in the cute cat glass despite the fact that that drink in the cute cat glass is tequila and brandy.

In any other bar, that drink would be called something appropriate and applicable, like a Knockout.

Because that’s what it does—starts bar fights.

Which Jimin knows, because he’s actually a very competent bartender, but he likes to cause problems on purpose, especially on Tuesday nights when there’s not much else going on.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, watching some poor, unsuspecting woman practically skip back to her table with two Tipsy Meows in hand.

Jimin just smiles and shrugs. “Because,” he answers, eyes twinkling with something underhanded, “that tall guy at the high-top? He’s been eyeing her all night. She wouldn’t go for it on a good day, but after one of those?” A low whistle under his breath.

Yoongi just stares. He’s known Jimin a long time, going on six years now, so he’s never truly surprised at how duplicitous he can be, but sometimes he pretends for appearance’s sake. “Evil.”

“Not evil,” Jimin retorts, eyes rolled, “just bored.”

Snorting, Yoongi whips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping down the bar. “Then do a fucking crossword puzzle.”

Jimin waves him away. “I’m not good at them. I’m good at this.”

“Getting people to fight in our bar?” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin nods. They stare at each other for a minute before Yoongi shrugs and finds some menial task to busy himself with. “Whatever. You’re on clean-up duty, though. The last time you pulled this shit, I was sweeping up glass for three fuckin’ days.”

Because he’s chaos incarnate, Jimin’s response is a sarcastic salute, two fingers pressed to his forehead as Yoongi flips him off in return.

Something is wrong.

You’ve been to this bar countless times, have always ordered the same thing. Always made sure to stick to your limits, because college had been both an exercise in adulting and maintaining a functioning liver.

Maybe it’s because the mint-haired guy didn’t make your drinks this time. Truthfully, you’ve been wary of him for a while, convinced he’s been watering them down just to get you to buy more. Not that you’re complaining. In all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a fool of yourself.

Now, though?

Now you’re very rapidly approaching find the nearest trashcan ASAP territory. I’m going to regret this in the morning territory. This hasn’t happened since that frat party sophomore year territory.

Yeah, that party. You’d drank something god-awful that night, too. Got roped into a game of strip poker in a seedy basement and walked away with $2,000, three nickels, and a half-used KFC gift card, only down a sock. Some douchebag frat bro hadn’t liked that very much, accused you of cheating and gave you a real hard time about it. Long story short, you’d been fueled by too many of the suspicious drinks and knocked him out.

This feels a lot like that.

Because you’re drunk, yes, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something that’s itching for a fight. Something that’s been dormant for a long time.

(This is a startling realization, because you’re not a violent person, despite all evidence to the contrary. You’ve only ever thrown one punch in your life. It’s really not your fault that it wound up being the punch heard ‘round the world.)

Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Your sixth grade history teacher had that quote hung on the wall and you haven’t thought about it until now. Because there’s a guy approaching your table—probably six-foot, wearing an expensive watch and polished shoes—and he’s been eyeing your friend all night. Had made a few crude comments to his buddies that you’d regretfully overheard, and you’re all out of sorts because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t made your drinks, so he’s nearly got his elbows on the table when you say—

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Both your friend and the guy look equally shocked. “Excuse me?” he says, looking back to the idiots at his table in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, blood beginning to boil. “I said fuck off. She’s not interested.”

“And she can’t speak for herself?” he retorts, all faux-chivalry now that everyone’s attention is on him, even though the bar is practically deserted at nine o’clock on a Tuesday. “Your friend’s a little uptight, huh?” he says, shifting his attention fully away from you.

God, you always do this—befriend the most wholesome people in the room. The ones who always assume the best in others; the ones who can’t say no; the ones who feel guilty speaking up. This friend is no different. Looks at you like a deer about to get rearranged by a car, all wide, panicked eyes and a tight-lipped smile, only polite out of obligation.

What happens next is shocking to everyone except Jimin and Yoongi. Safe behind the bar, the two of them watch as you tell the man to fuck off one more time. He refuses, his attention still laser-focused on your friend, reaching for her. Someone appears to his left—another stranger, this one taller and wider in all the right places and exuding far less scumbag energy—and places a large hand on his shoulder. Leans down to say something to him that you don’t catch. Whatever it is, you’re assuming it’s said in that brand of tense politeness men use with other men before they threaten to knock them out.

Regardless of what’s said, the original douchebag just snorts derisively, jutting his shoulder backwards to get the stranger’s hand off of him. This really bothers you, for all the obvious reasons. Why can’t this idiot take no for an answer? What’s his fucking deal?

Apparently you voice the latter out loud, and the bastard is laughing again, lips turned upwards in an ugly little sneer. Far too quickly, you go from bothered but mostly in control to seeing red and cocking back. All because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t mixed your drinks. Now you’re punching some pushy asshole in the jaw and are probably going to get arrested.

“Oh shit,” you hear, but it sounds like you’re underwater. It’s certainly not a voice you recognize, but you only know one person in this bar and you just punched someone to make sure she didn’t get harassed by some asshole who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Pain erupts in your hand. There’s probably something broken, maybe multiple somethings, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before someone’s grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you out of the bar.

A shame, you think; you’d really like to see how much of a pissbaby that guy turns into when he catches sight of his own blood.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You groan. Whatever room you’re in is far too bright and far too loud, which means you’re probably at home already being lectured by Hoseok. You crack an eye open, and—yep, that’s Hoseok, usual human embodiment of sunshine who is now staring at you like a grumpy little rain cloud. “What’re you talking about?” you grumble, fingers flying to your temples to ease some of the throbbing pain.

Hoseok must be pretty pissed, because he just watches you clutch at your aching head and doesn’t say a word. Usually you can guilt trip him into making you coffee and buttered toast. Grabbing you some pain killers, at the very least, but he’s not budging. You swallow hard.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really,” you answer. You’ve been awake for approximately three seconds and your two brain cells haven’t connected to form a rational thought yet, let alone conjure up whatever shenanigans you got into the night before. “I think I went out for drinks with the new hire from work, but that’s it.”

“Mehmehmeh but that’s it,” Hoseok mimics under his breath, voice pitched far too high to ever pass as yours, looking more and more incensed by the second. Everyone told you he’d be too neurotic to live with. You should’ve listened. “Do you remember drinking too much and punching a guy?”

Ah, that would explain why your hand is fifty shades of purple, you think. “Ah, that would explain why my hand is fifty shades of purple,” you say.

Hoseok looks like he’s ready to explode. “Can you fucking take this seriously,” he seethes. “You’re too old to be getting wasted and starting bar fights! What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? You broke a man’s nose, you fucking maniac! What if he calls the cops? God, what if he sues you? Do you have lawsuit money? Because I sure as fuck don’t, not that I would bail you out of jail for this, anyway, because you don’t deserve it—”

“I broke someone’s nose?” Far too late, you realize you should’ve kept that proud wonder out of your voice.

Hoseok’s up and screeching before you can plug your ears. “You are un-fucking-believable! I have to leave. I can’t sit here another second and listen to this.” He’s fussing over his clothes and hair as soon as he’s on his feet, distress seeping out of every pore. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I made sure to save you two slices of bread,” he grits out, as if it’s causing him immense pain to be nice to you right now, before adding, “and there’s also aspirin and water on your nightstand. I would not recommend taking it on an empty stomach.”

And then he’s gone.

You microwave the mug of coffee and choke down the toast that’s grown suspiciously hard. You swallow two aspirin with coffee even though you know better and should be drinking the water, but the water has been sitting out for god knows how long and probably has dust particles and other gross things in it. You take a long shower to wash away the bar grime and hangover remnants and nearly crumble to the floor in pain when you try to wash your hair.

Right, your hand.

It’d been easy enough to ignore when you were focusing on not vomiting and taking your painkillers, but not so much anymore. Even if Hoseok hadn’t told you you’d punched someone, you could’ve pieced that much together—the bruising is severe and the swelling even more so. Trying to bend your fingers feels like a fate worse than death, so you salvage your shower as best you can before getting dressed one-handed and ordering an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

Which, much to your horror, is packed.

Every seat is taken except for one next to a man with a baseball cap pulled low and a thawed-out ice pack in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him, and you’re almost offended until you spot the AirPods in his ears. God, he must’ve been here forever if he’s brave enough to plug his ears in a place that unashamedly sends you to the back of the line if you don’t answer when your name is called.

You need to know what you’re getting into, so you tap him on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, how long have you been here?”

The man seems flustered. He reaches for his phone and sends it plummeting to the floor, and when he retrieves it you notice the screen is cracked to hell so this must be a common occurrence. “Oh, uh. I’m not sure,” he says, voice all nasally like he’s got a bad cold. “Maybe two hours or so?”

You groan. “Two hours? Are you for real?” He just nods, still not meeting your eye. You pull out your phone, too, then, and put in the web address for the hospital. “D’you think the wait times are less shitty at the ER?”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t look? No offense, but you sound pretty awful. I figured you’d want to get whatever it is taken care of sooner rather than later.”

The man snorts. Sounds painful. “Yeah, well. I work at a shitty nonprofit and the only insurance tier I could afford had a two-thousand-dollar deductible, so I’ll take my chances here.”

You hum in sympathy. “Do you believe in karma and reincarnation and all that? Because I do, and I think I must’ve been pretty fucking terrible in a past life to be born in a country without free healthcare in this lifetime.” The man beside you grunts in agreement. “Like, shit. What if I was Norwegian in a past life? Or, like, Canadian?”

“Only worth being Canadian if you’re not Indigenous.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. What human rights violations have the Norwegians committed?”

“No clue.”

“I’m gonna Google it,” you decide. Then, a second later, “Not great being Indigenous in Norway, either.”

“Is everyone shitty?” the man asks, pressing the warm ice pack back to his face. You wince on his behalf.

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him pause his music. An album cover you don’t recognize, because this guy definitely strikes you as the underground type: paid Spotify account with immaculate playlists full of artists no one else has heard of, either. Probably imports half of his own shit, too, so his playlists only work on his own phone and everyone yells at him when they try to play his playlists and get nothing but silence.

“What about you?” he asks, and it’s a question that should sound greasy but just sounds really sad with his clogged nose. “Are you shitty?”

“Yep,” you answer instantly, holding up your hand. You’d managed to wrangle an elastic bandage around it, but the bruising is obvious and not easily hidden.

The man whistles. “Damn, how’d you do that?”

“Punched a guy in a bar fight, apparently.”

In hindsight, it should be obvious, the cruel joke the universe is playing on you: you, with your mottled, probably-broken hand; the man next to you, with a black eye and an ice pack pressed to his nose. Right church, wrong pew, your mother always used to say about you, and you’d taken it then as a nod to your creativity and ingenuity, but now you’re thinking you might just be fucking stupid.

Because the atmosphere immediately shifts. The man goes stiff, pauses, tenses his shoulders. Then he asks, “Yeah? What bar? I might’ve heard about it.”

And you might be fucking stupid but you’re not dumb, so you just shrug. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, doing your best impression of a person with nothing between their ears. “My coworker dragged me out, and I like her fine, y’know, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know how long she’s gonna last. I think she’s too nice. Well, I thought she was too nice, but then she invited me out for drinks and invited me to this crazy bar with horrible, violent people—”

“And you punched someone,” the man finishes for you, cutting short your tirade.

“Supposedly punched someone,” you correct. “I have no recollection of it, but that’s what my roommate said. He was shrieking and used his Serious Mom Voice so I’m inclined to believe him, though.” You try to wiggle your fingers and have to suppress a scream. “Plus I can’t move my hand, so there’s that.”

This is the part where you get yelled at. You can feel it. The man beside you is about to blow up, demand your name and phone number so he can report you for assault, probably also demand some money because he’d just talked about his god-awful insurance and you’re the entire reason he’s here, but the universe may be cruel but it’s also fair, because—

“Nam…joon?” a bored medical assistant calls out. The man startles, curses under his breath that no one even attempts to pronounce his name correctly, drops his phone again, and if you weren’t glued to your chair in fear you might’ve picked it up for him.

Namjoon stands—he’s fucking massive, and if this is the guy you actually punched, you’ll spare a second later to marvel at yourself—and looks down at you. Sends you the meanest, most murderous glare he can muster, clenched jaw and all, and then he’s disappearing behind a door.

You… feel bad.

It’s not like you’d meant to punch him. You hadn’t wanted to punch anyone! And that has to count for something, so when he comes back out you’ll plead your case and offer to buy him a late lunch, because if he’d been waiting hours you’ll be waiting longer, and maybe he’ll find you just endearing enough to forget that you’d broken his nose and the two of you will become friends. You’ll do the Best Person speech at his wedding and laugh about the time you’d punched him, or maybe you’d be marrying him and—

Pump the brakes.

You love a good enemies-to-lovers, but maybe not so much in real life.

  The wait is torturous.

An hour ticks by. You text Hoseok, tell him about the man you’d met and ask if he thinks it’s The Guy, and Hoseok writes back with a very pointed, I fucking hope it is. You’re not sure what that means. Does he hope Namjoon is the guy so you can apologize? So you can make sure he’s okay? Surely he wouldn’t be hoping for Namjoon to even the score and break your nose, too, but he was really mad this morning so you wouldn’t put it past him.

Another half hour. If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized how eerily quiet the waiting room has grown. No idle chatter, no coughing, no pained groans. People seem to be going in but not coming out, and you’ve been paying attention to that much, at least, so you can catch Namjoon.

And then the door slams open.

Namjoon stands there, nose stuffed with a cartoonish amount of gauze and a large splint across the bridge. He’s breathing hard. Looks like he’d just ran a marathon, which doesn’t make sense because how large can the backend of an urgent care really be, but then his eyes found you and—

“Run,” is all he says.

Nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run. Fucking stupid but not dumb, though, so you’re up and out of your seat before he can repeat himself.

Although you’re not sure where you’re supposed to go. You’d taken an Uber, and you can’t really order an emergency one of those. Besides, all Namjoon had said was run but not why, so you’re also not sure if it even is an emergency.

So here you are, standing in the middle of the parking lot like a bozo while Namjoon fumbles with the keys to a pickup truck. “Hey!” you call out, stomping towards him. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Namjoon looks up only long enough to catch your eye. “You need to get out of here,” is all he says. Which is supremely and deservedly unhelpful.

“Why? I ca—I took an Uber here, I don’t have a car. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or why I had to run out of there or if this is DEFCON 5 or DEFCON 1—”

“One,” Namjoon answers. “It’s definitely DEFCON 1.” Door unlocked, Namjoon meets your gaze again, deadly serious. “I’m not fucking around. You need to get out of here. Right now.”

This has to be a joke. He’s mad you’d broken his nose and now he’s getting his revenge. Still, you’re not all that keen to pay hundreds of dollars in medical bills for them to tell you something you already know, so you’ll play along. “Fine. Can I get a ride, then?”

“No.”

“So it’s an emergency but you won’t give me a ride.”

Namjoon glares at you. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“But I also broke my own hand, so we’re even.” It’s absolutely not a fair trade, but Namjoon seems to chew it over nonetheless. “Hey, c’mon, you wouldn’t leave me here! You’d feel too guilty.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you work at a nonprofit and care about human rights violations, and I am a human with rights, and it’d definitely be a violation to leave me here in a DEFCON 1-level emergency when I don’t even know what’s going on—”

Namjoon slaps a hand over your mouth. A large hand. A very, very large hand that easily covers half of your face. You’ll blame your pathetic whimper on fear. “I saw some shit in there, okay?”

“What kind of shit, though. Urgent cares are weird. Ominous little vortexes where reality is altered. You ever been in one at night? Like 28 Days Later vibes—”

“Yes!” Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Yes, that! Exactly like that!”

Your relief is palpable. You sag a little. “Oh! So it was just weird in there? What, did you get a creepy doctor or something?”

“No.” He groans. Runs his hands down his face. “Not the vibes part, the—”

“The zombie part?” you whisper.

Just then, the entrance slams open, people pouring into the parking lot. Most are screaming, which prompts you to scream in response, so Namjoon screams too and drops his keys. You’re picking them up before you can think twice, pulling the door open and pushing him inside of the truck. There’s something to be said about the way you manhandle him, how ripped his back feels through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and the view of his ass as he climbs over the center and into the passenger seat, but whatever weird shit is going on takes precedence.

You climb in behind him. Shut the door and lock it, and then you’re rolling down the window to adjust the side mirrors while Namjoon just shoots you an exasperated look. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Do you want us to crash and die? I’ve seen movies like this, okay, and someone always dies some stupid, avoidable death because they forget something obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s usually don’t read the weird Latin incantation in that book or don’t go outside to investigate weird noises, not checking your mirrors!” He pauses. “Hey, wait! They’re not even your mirrors! You’re fucking up all my shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m getting us out of here.”

During Namjoon’s stunned silence, you turn the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as best you can with one good hand, tailspinning onto the main road, tires squealing. “That was… kind of hot.”

“What, me telling you to shut up or my driving?”

“...Both?”

“I—yeah, that’s fair. You’re big, but you seem like the type to enjoy getting pushed around.” Namjoon stays quiet, and when you dare a glance over at him, his cheeks are red. “Did you get a boner when I punched you?”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. “Don’t go there.” You shrug.

The two of you drive for a while. There’s nothing in the rearview mirror. No one behind you. Really, the world around you seems normal, quiet, still. It almost has you second-guessing everything you’d seen, all the things Namjoon had said. And you don’t know him beyond breaking his nose, but everything in you is screaming to trust him.

So you do.

“Hey, do you mind if we swing by my place? It’s, like, two minutes away, and I should probably grab some stuff.”

Namjoon just shrugs.

Surprisingly, there’s very little time to panic. Namjoon sets about grabbing whatever he can from the kitchen and the bathroom while you shove clothes into a large duffel. You grab your laptop and chargers and Namjoon’s scoff is loud when you ask if you should bring your vibrator, too, but he doesn’t say no, so into the bag it goes.

Hoseok comes home in the midst of your ransacking. You meet him in the living room and, aside from the small look of confusion, he seems much happier to see you than he’d been this morning. “Hi,” he says. Sounds normal, too. Doesn’t sound like he’d seen some weird apocalypse shit outside. “Where is there a tall man in our kitchen shoving all our food into bags?”

“Ah, right, that.” You suck in a breath. “Hobi, go pack up whatever you care about and meet us back here in five minutes. There’s some Train to Busan shit going on and we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” Namjoon yells from the kitchen. “Are you just saying that because I’m Korean?”

Hoseok had looked dubious before, but seems to fall into blind trust upon hearing the strange, tall man in his kitchen is also Korean. “Hey, me too!” When Namjoon comes skittering into the living room, they shoot matching finger guns at one another and do a weird bro-dap. “Oh!” Hoseok says, recognition blooming. “Are you the guy? The nose guy?”

Namjoon just glares at you.

“That’s him,” you answer instead. “Go pack, please. I’m serious.”

Hoseok is scared of everything: spiders, his shadow, carousel animals, your neighbor’s dog because it’s fifteen years old and blind and lost half its fur. He once had nightmares for a week after you’d made him watch the first Goosebumps movie and insisted on sleeping in your room. Had nightmares again after he saw a particularly sinister Squishmallow at Wal-Mart. So, yeah. It’s imperative you convince him to come with you because he stands no chance on his own.

You don’t expect him to shrug and go off to pack.

“Hey, did one of you grab any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, got it,” Namjoon replies.

“What about allergy medicine? I get really bad sinus headaches so I’ll be miserable without it, but if it’s too much I guess I could—”

“Pack it,” you shout back.

There’s a loud crash from his room. Another smaller one seconds later. “I’m fine!” he calls out. “Hey, cool! I found a bag of Twizzlers!”

“Hoseok—”

“Bring the Twizzlers, please!” Namjoon says, cheeks warming again. “What? I like them.”

It’s your turn to glare. “If I get eaten over some goddamn Twizzlers.”

“At least you’d be strawberry flavored?” Namjoon offers, as unhelpful as ever. Then, before you can respond, “Hey, man, are you almost ready? I texted my roommate and he’s good to go but I still need to pack up all my shit, too.”

“One sec!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Hoseok reappears in your living room with a bookbag, a duffel bag, and an oversized rolling suitcase.

“This isn’t a vacation, Hobi,” you deadpan.

He looks at you like you’re a moron. Fucking stupid but not dumb, you remind yourself. “Okay, but I’m not leaving all my nice clothes here to get eaten by zombie moths or whatever. There’s Off-White in here.”

Namjoon nods in understanding. “Valid.”

It’s not worth the argument. The three of you pile back into Namjoon’s truck, you stuck in the middle of the bench seat this time while Namjoon drives. Hoseok babbles the entire way, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre situation in which you’ve found yourselves. He tells you about the cafe he’d met a friend at, the latte he ordered and didn’t like. You can only tell he’s starting to get nervous because he devolves into more and more unhinged chatter. One second he’s telling you about a dog he saw wearing a little sweater and the next he’s rattling off the digits to his social security number.

“Forget you heard that,” you say to Namjoon.

He looks pained as he replies, “Unfortunately I have a god-tier echoic memory so I am physically incapable of doing that.” He feels your stare. “I’m really sorry, I can’t help it! Tell me something else so I forget it!”

“Okay: I think you’re about to run over that guy.”

Namjoon jerks his eyes back to the road and gasps, hitting the brakes so hard Hobi nearly goes flying into the dashboard. He’s moaning, bitching about his seatbelt probably breaking a few ribs, and the tiny man standing in the road in front of you hasn’t budged an inch. Stared death right in the eye and dared it to take him.

“Fucking Jimin,” Namjoon curses. At both your and Hoseok’s blank stares, he clarifies, “My roommate.”

“Is that seriously your roommate?” Hoseok asks, still pressing against his ribs to check for fractures.

Namjoon, huffing and puffing and finally at a complete stop, just nods. “Yeah.”

Hoseok is finally silent. Then, “That tiny, terrifying little man is your roommate and you managed to get knocked out in a bar fight? What, was he busy that night?”

There’s an obvious reply on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue, but before he can spit it out the tiny man is banging his fist against the window. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screams. “Open the door so I can kill you! Did you not see me? I told you I’d be waiting by the mailbox! I even packed all your shit for you and this is how you repay me, by almost hitting me with your stupid truck? You’re fucking cra—wait, who are these people?”

Hoseok, obviously scared shitless, grimaces as he waves hesitantly. “Hi!” you say, though Namjoon’s roommate probably can’t hear you through the thick glass. “I’m the person who broke his nose!”

Then the roommate is smiling. “Oh, that was you? You look different than I remember.”

When you look to Namjoon for answers, you find him slumped against the steering wheel. “Jimin’s a bartender,” is the only explanation you get.

You look out the window again. Small, but no mint-colored hair. “Ah, I had my suspicions about him. …I think.”

Namjoon cranks down the window just enough to tell Jimin he’ll have to hop in the bed with all the luggage, and then the four of you are off again. There’s one more stop, to Jimin’s boyfriend’s place to pick up him and his roommate, and all you can do is hope one of them has a larger vehicle.

Just like before, this drive is suspiciously unremarkable. You’ve long since resigned yourself to believing Namjoon and what little he’d told you, but you can tell Hoseok’s skeptical. Along for the ride, of course, because there’s always the small chance you hadn’t been lying and then he would’ve been knee-deep in shit, but skeptical nonetheless.

“Can I just ask—are you sure about this?” He’s looking out the window. Looking at all the normal cars and houses and businesses. Nothing about the outside world screams looming zombie apocalypse at all. “It seems pretty quiet.”

Namjoon sighs. Grips the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles flashing white, but he seems okay. Adrenaline, maybe. It’ll hit later. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You saw something?” Hoseok prods.

“I—” He nudges you. “Did you notice how most of the people in the waiting room just seemed to have bad colds? Sneezing, coughing, all that?” You nod. “I didn’t really think anything of it since it’s still flu season, but once I got called back, everything just felt… off.”

He sucks in a breath. Keeps driving. Keeps talking. The nurse who’d taken his vitals seemed exhausted. Cracked some joke about being glad Namjoon was there for a broken nose and not whatever respiratory thing was going around. Told him a doctor would be in shortly to patch him up, and when she left his room she hadn’t shut the door all the way. Left enough of a crack for Namjoon to see what was going on: frazzled nurses and doctors and techs huddled around, panicking. Namjoon thinks someone called for an ambulance.

True to her word, a doctor did come in to pack and splint his nose. Then, in the middle of jotting down the name and phone number of his pharmacy, a scream.

“An old man came in. I saw him when they took me back. He was just sitting on a bed because it was so crowded, wasn’t in a room. I guess at some point he passed out. Didn’t have a pulse. I think he was who they called the ambulance for, but while I was waiting for the doctor I kept hearing this weird moaning.”

Hoseok shudders. “Yeah, I know where this is going.”

“Right. So the doctor comes in, fixes me up, and next thing I know, someone’s screaming. Guess that old dude wasn’t as dead as they thought he was.”

“Could they have been wrong?” you ask tentatively. It’s so quiet outside, maybe everyone had just—

“No,” Namjoon says, and he does it with so much conviction you don’t argue further. Jimin bangs on the back windshield, holding his phone up to it so you can see.

It’s all over Twitter. Not even Facebook, where you’d expect a zombie apocalypse conspiracy to begin. No, there are posts all over Twitter and Instagram and even the local news station’s website. Hoseok looks a little green.

“Okay, so it’s definitely real and this is definitely happening,” you mutter. “Does anyone have a plan?”

There’s no plan.

Not even in a hyperbolic, we say we have no plan, but somehow we’ve conveniently got a small arsenal of weapons, kind of way. There’s simply no plan.

Jimin’s boyfriend is named Taehyung. They have a needlessly tearful reunion, and you wait in Taehyung’s tiny kitchen for twenty minutes while he packs. He’s roommates with the mint-haired bartender that you like. His name is Yoongi. He has all his stuff packed and waiting by the front door, and you like him so much more for it.

“Should I pack condoms?” Taehyung yells from his bedroom.

“Are you fucking ser—” Yoongi starts, then seems to come to a realization. “Yeah. Yes, you absolutely should.”

“‘Kay! Be out in a sec!”

Namjoon appears then, in the midst of shoving his battered phone in his pocket. He looks around the room, taking stock, and his eyebrows knit in confusion. Fuck, he’s so hot and you’re taking the express train to hell for thinking it. “Hey, has anyone seen Jimin?”

Jimin and Taehyung are gone. There are weird noises coming from the direction of Taehyung’s room. Yoongi looks positively haunted. “Sorry!” Jimin calls out. “Be out in a sec!”

“Tae said that exact thing five minutes ago!”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Jimin yells back. Sounds genuinely angry and genuinely prepared to defend Taehyung’s honor. You’ve never met a tinier, scarier person.

“I’m calling you both zombie food!”

Hoseok sidles up next to you. “Is it just me or is that other tiny man really hot?”

“His name’s Yoongi,” you tell him.

Hoseok just sighs, like he’s carrying all of the world’s burdens on his thin shoulders. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

You watch him mentally tabulate through all the stages of grief while Namjoon and Yoongi think up a plan. Namjoon’s large but clumsy and mostly useless, and Yoongi is small and deadly. You can hold your own, they decide, so Yoongi adopts Hoseok and Namjoon becomes your problem.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok almost wails. “Why can’t I stay with her? She’s my roommate!”

Yoongi looks offended. Probably is. “You don’t think I can defend you?”

Hoseok flushes crimson. “I-I didn’t say that…”

He’s halfway through a stuttered, awkward apology when Jimin and Taehyung appear, not at all looking like they’d just been getting off together. Sure, Jimin’s hair is a little mussed, but Taehyung—

Taehyung is only holding a box.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Taehyung.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Taehyung whines. “You know this is my emotional support jigsaw puzzle.”

“All you’re bringing is a jigsaw puzzle?”

“And condoms!”

“You’re not bringing any clothes? Medicine? Food?” Namjoon asks, because he might not be the oldest but he has the most overworked single mother energy out of all of you. “Jimin, go help him pack a bag of clothes, at least. Yoongi, can you grab any extra house stuff and toiletries you have laying around? Laundry detergent, soap, shampoo.”

Taehyung scoffs, sound dissipating as he disappears back down the hallway. “We can just steal that stuff.”

Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. “I am not turning into a criminal!”

He does.

You all do.

The six of you pile into two separate vehicles—you and Hoseok with Namjoon again in his truck, and Jimin and Taehyung behind you in Yoongi’s beater car. The plan is to drive to Namjoon’s cousin’s house in the middle of nowhere and bunker down there for a while. It’s plenty big—“His parents are politicians, so he’s got money,” was Namjoon’s explanation—and far enough outside of the city that it should buy you enough time to come up with something better.

Step one, though: Wal-Mart.

“Don’t worry, I steal from here all the time,” Taehyung says, breezing to the front of the pack like he’s leading the rest of you into war. Yoongi throws his hands up. Jimin looks lovestruck.

Hoseok hangs back by the cars, still traumatized from the Squishmallow experience, and you stay with him. You’ve seen Zombieland, and you won’t be able to do much fighting with a broken hand. At best you’d be able to fire a gun or whack someone with a pipe, but you’re not trying to go kamikaze mode on some innocent bastard in a Wal-Mart who’s also just trying to survive.

You’ve known Hoseok for a long time—since your sophomore year of college, when he was failing the stats class you shared and you took pity on him and offered some tutoring—so you’ve seen him in various states of distress. You know all of his tells, and the way he’s gnawing at his cuticles is a glaring one.

“Hobi, hey,” you say, moving to gently pull his hand away from his mouth. “Try to relax, okay? Don’t make yourself bleed.”

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he replies. Anguish is clear on his face. “Everything feels fucking overwhelming and scary.”

“I know. I know it does, but if we’re gonna get through this we’re gonna need you, all right?” He nods but he’s shaking, still looking tormented and green around the edges. You pull him into a hug that has him nearly sagging in defeat.

Slowly, your shoulder grows wet and warm. Hoseok’s crying, body shaking from the weight of all his fear, and all you can do is hold him. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you whisper into his hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You feel him nod. Then, in the smallest voice, “Yoongi too?”

Figures. Hoseok’s a horny little demon at the best of times—the thin walls of your apartment can attest to that—so it makes sense that impending doom would exacerbate it. “Sure, Hobi,” you assure him, scratching softly at his scalp.

You get him calmed down. Tucked into the backseat of Yoongi’s car so he can lay down. He’s asleep not long after, fatigue finally catching up, and you just stay. Park your ass at the edge of the seat, leave the door open, waiting. There’s a gentle, warm breeze, and you wish you could bottle it. Wish you could do more in this moment than just experience it, because it’s the last chance you’ll have at something resembling normalcy.

You might never be able to hug Hoseok in a parking lot again.

“We’re back!”

You look up, not at all surprised to see Taehyung skipping towards you, arms full of stolen goods. “I see that. What’d you get?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff,” he answers. Yoongi pops the trunk of his car and they set about shoving it all inside. “It was packed in there! Felt like Black Friday, except everyone was fighting over bread instead of ultra hi-def TVs.”

Wary, you look over your motley crew. “Are you all okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, voice gruff. “It was mostly civilized. Don’t think people really realize what’s going on yet. Is Hoseok sleeping?”

You nod. “He, uh—had a moment? He got really upset, so he’s sleeping it off… if that’s okay?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Who’s riding with me?”

“Me,” Jimin says. “I’m not taking the bitch seat in the truck.” Taehyung immediately pouts, some unspoken bond clearly broken now, and Jimin scoffs. “Don’t pout at me. You know my ass requires a full seat.”

“But—”

Namjoon pointedly slams Yoongi’s trunk closed. Hoseok doesn’t stir an inch. “Jin’s expecting us so we need to get moving. Taehyung, shut up and get in the truck.” Then, to you: “Guess you’re with me again.”

Fine by you, especially since Namjoon ripped the sleeves off his shirt.

Not even Namjoon’s arms can salvage this drive.

Taehyung fiddles with the radio the whole time. Flips between radio stations that are all depressing carbon copies of one another. Complains that Namjoon’s truck is too old to have a CD player and that he doesn’t know how to work cassette tapes. Complains endlessly about Namjoon’s driving, too, although you can’t really blame him for that one.

“Hey,” he eventually says, elbowing you a little too hard in your side. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but—”

Namjoon tries to snort and immediately regrets it. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m about to say something extremely rude.”

“I was not!” Taehyung defends, but when you quirk an eyebrow at him to continue, he says, “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for me and Jimin in the unlikely event that the three of us are cornered by a zombie and are facing imminent death and only two will survive? Because I think you should be.”

You blink. “Um.”

“It just makes the most sense logically,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just volunteered you to be a zombie chew toy. “Jimin and I are soulmates. Platonic and romantic. And you’re—” He pauses. “Um. New. And Jimin might not look like it because he’s small, but he’s scrappy and can easily protect me, which means you’re redundant. Not to mention your hand is broken, so.”

You study him. “So, what are you bringing to the table?” you ask. Taehyung looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m just saying, if Jimin and I can both defend ourselves, why wouldn’t we team up in the name of long-term survival and ditch the weakest link, which would be you?”

Namjoon laughs loudly beside you. His whole body shakes with it, a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a dog panting, and it’s a nice contrast to the death glare Taehyung’s sending you. “Jimin wouldn’t do that to me.”

“People are unpredictable when they’re staring death in the face.”

Taehyung’s silent the rest of the way.

It hurts to admit it, but you’re rethinking your all-politicians-are-evil, eat-the-rich stance, because it starts like—

(Seokjin’s parents’ place is truly in the middle of nowhere and safeguarded to the nth degree, harder to get close to than Area 51. The house itself is deceptively large and modern, clapped in black-stained red cedar. Single-level. Expansive windows you’d thought were an oversight until you got closer and realized they were made of armored glass.

“Shit, is all of this really necessary?” you ask, stepping inside. There’s definitely insider trading going on here. “Are these people on the goddamn Supreme Court?”

“That’s not funny,” Namjoon says.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that”—you point to a nondescript door with an ominous symbol on it—”is some kind of rich people bomb shelter and the only politicians I know that would require this level of security are the I just voted to strip half the country of the ability to make their own reproductive decisions kind.”

Namjoon chokes.

“Gross,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Please don’t debase and sully my parents’ good name by even joking that they’re conservatives.”

Jesus, is everyone in this family stupidly attractive? The man before you is shorter than Namjoon but still tall, legs as long as his shoulders are wide. Hair styled neat but dyed blond. Kind eyes and plush lips, and there’s the Kim family resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin,” he says, offering you his hand. Definitely raised in a family of politicians. “I hear you’re the one who broke my cousin’s nose.”

“I, uh, might’ve done that, yeah.”

Seokjin smiles. “Cool. Welcome. Please make yourself at home and we’ll chat strategy later.”)

Which becomes—

(Later turns into days.

For the most part, life proceeds normally. Seokjin gets periodic updates from his parents who have left the country entirely—(“Damn, they just left you here?” someone asks, and that’s how you meet Jungkook)—about the government response, or lack thereof, along with whatever useless psychobabble the CDC is sending out. None of it bodes well for the future, so you spend most of your time trying to stay in the present. Right now, you’re okay. Right now, you’re with a group of people hellbent on staying alive. Right now, you have enough food and shelter in a house in the middle of nowhere with armored glass windows and a bomb shelter.

The eight of you eat meals together and play games and talk about your Before lives. You already knew Namjoon worked at a nonprofit and that Jimin and Yoongi owned a bar, but you learn Taehyung was in grad school for art therapy. Hoseok, of course, split his time between the dance studio and the streetwear boutique his sister owned. Seokjin was some bigwig corporate attorney.

Jungkook, of all things, played minor league baseball.

Needless to say there won’t be any scientific breakthroughs from any of you.

“I was supposed to go pro this year,” Jungkook huffs, forcefully grabbing the microphone for the karaoke machine. He’s been singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor for four days.

All things considered, you somehow managed to fall into the best possible outcome, even if one of Taehyung or Jimin still tries to convince you to sacrifice yourself at least six times a day.)

Which culminates in the one possible downside—

“Yoongi wants Hoseok to move into my room,” Namjoon says, appearing in the doorway of your (now-solo, apparently) room. He takes up nearly the entire frame. It makes you feel a little lightheaded.

“Oh,” you reply stupidly. “Okay. Are you here for his stuff?”

“No, I’m here to ask if I can move in with you. I’m not really interested in spending the rest of the zombie apocalypse third-wheeling.”

Sarcasm seems like your best defense. “Wow, after all we’ve been through. We’ve got a real enemies to lovers vibe going on. I’m pretty into it.”

Namjoon flushes down to his toes. “Haaa, what? We’re—that’s not—we’re not even lovers yet.”

You give him a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, so you can’t help but smirk, to press on the bruise just to watch him squeal. “Yet?”

Now he turns full-on crimson. “That’s not what I meant.”

Somehow he’s still cute, even with the yellow-green bruising beneath his eyes and his sheepish, hunched posture. Namjoon is the kind of guy that makes you feel bold, makes you want to mess him up, but he’s also the kind of cute that has you relenting, easing off.

“Sure,” you finally say. “You can move your stuff in here.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and he’s only gone a few minutes so you have no time to catch your breath before he’s back, dumping his clothes on the bed to put them in the dresser. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements because there’s no point: all of the bedrooms have single, queen-sized beds. Naturally, you and Hoseok had bunked together with little fuss, having fallen asleep in each other’s beds a million times after years spent living together. You assume it’d been the same for Namjoon and Yoongi and their decades of friendship.

You’d joked about being enemies to lovers; clearly you’d chosen the wrong trope.

“How’s your nose?” you ask, wordlessly moving to help sort and refold the t-shirts as best you can. They smell nice: something soft and clean and inherently Namjoon.

“Still sore,” he answers. Says a small thank you when you push a stack of black tees towards him. “Jungkook’s been helping me with the packing.”

“He’s had a lot of broken noses?”

“He’s had a lot of broken everything.”

It hits you, then, how much of an outsider you are. That the six of them are all connected, have history. And Namjoon must notice, because he grows serious. Gets shy all over again when he says, “Hey, we’re all glad you and Hoseok are here.”

You snort. “Yeah, as a sacrifice.”

Namjoon laughs a little, too. “Taehyung’s only so insistent because he’s useless. He accidentally stepped on a stink bug once and cried. He’s not really built for something like this.”

“Are any of us?”

“You are, I think,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’ve been really calm, haven’t panicked at all. It’s helped me a lot—all of us, really.”

Oh, you’re embarrassed. “I have to be, living with someone like Hobi.” Why are you embarrassed? “One time he saw the red light on the coffee machine and slept in my room for a week because he thought there was a demon in our apartment.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. “Was there?”

You sigh, over-dramatic and theatrical. “No, just me.”

He laughs, loud and unashamed, but it sounds a lot more like everything’s going to be fine.

Hoseok had been a cuddler.

You’d always wake up with him wound around you like a snake, limbs akimbo as he snored quietly. But, like all things Hoseok did and does, there was grace in it. He kept a normal body temperature. He didn’t hog too much of the bed or the duvet. He didn’t kick you or elbow you in the side of the head. Aside from the cuddling, which has never really been your thing, Hoseok was a perfect bed-sharing partner.

The same cannot be said for Namjoon.

His broken nose has him snoring at obscene levels. It doesn’t lessen when you shove a pillow over your head, either, which is not the way you fantasized about going lightheaded in bed with him. Not to mention his stupidly large body is stupidly large and requires a lot of space. What had started as a clean split down the middle has you grasping to the edge, trying desperately not to fall off. Every time you try to inch closer to the center, Namjoon unconsciously protests and sends elbows flying, and arms that size can do a lot of damage. He sleeps so hot you always wake up in a thin sheen of sweat just from the proximity.

You’re not sure you sleep at all for the first three days.

And then things start to shift. Like your roommate, Namjoon is a cuddler too, but in vastly different ways. Hoseok’s would be subconscious—he never dared to touch you when he was awake out of respect for boundaries and personal space, but Namjoon doesn’t have those hangups. He climbs into bed one night and immediately fits himself to your back before asking if it’s okay, and yeah, of course it is. You couldn’t have waterboarded Hoseok into touching you purposely the way Namjoon does casually, so unthinking, just does what he wants.

It makes you ache.

So you become sleepless for other, new reasons.

His snoring lessens, gives way to these breathy little sounds that border on soft moans. Still obscene. He stops forcing you to the edge of the mattress and instead presses you into it, the weight of his massive body leaving you with nowhere else to go. Every time he touches you, either knowingly or not, he leaves trails of heat in his wake.

Even in sleep, Namjoon is a tease.

Sometimes his hands will drift—too close, too far, both simultaneously—and you feel your breath hitch, wondering if he’s awake, if he’s doing it on purpose. Sometimes you wake up with him wrapped around you, hard cock pressing into your ass, the small of your back. Sometimes he’ll rut once, twice, and come to and disappear to the opposite side of the bed in shame and embarrassment, leaving you frustrated and pretending to be asleep.

Because you’re not… sure.

You know you’re attracted to Namjoon. You know he’s some degree of attracted to you in return. But the outside world is so volatile, the situation you’re in so unstable, that you’re afraid to push. Afraid the delicate house of cards will come tumbling down, that you two will fuck to get it out of your systems and make things horribly awkward, ruin the good thing you’ve got going.

But you can only take so much, is the thing. There’s a very large man with a very large cock at your back and you’ve had enough of this game.

“Namjoon,” you say, rolling in his arms so you’re face to face. You poke him in the stomach when he doesn’t stir. “Namjoon.”

He jolts awake, hands immediately moving to you—checking that you’re still there, that you’re safe. “Wha’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Wha’ happened?”

Now you feel awkward. He’s concerned with your safety in the midst of a fucking apocalypse and you’re just horny. Still, sometimes the only way out is through, so you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me?”

That grabs his attention. He’s fully awake now, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you’ve completely lost your mind. Fucking stupid but not dumb, like a mantra. “Uh.” He pauses. Swallows. Pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did—did you, uh, get bit? Are you feeling okay?”

You glare, though it’s useless in the dark. “I’m fine. How’s your dick?” You dare a glance downward. Still hard is the answer.

Namjoon embarrasses easily in a way that is both horribly endearing and horribly inconvenient, because instead of feeding you some greasy line like want to find out? he’s reaching down to adjust himself in his sleep shorts, stumbling over apologies as he goes. “Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, this is so awkward, I’m sorry—”

“Can you answer my question, please?”

Namjoon stills. Puts that giant brain to use. “Um. Which one? You asked me two.”

“Well, I can clearly see that your dick is still very hard, so let’s start with the first one.”

There’s a sound that you think is meant to sound like a laugh. A pained a-haaa that sounds more like Namjoon begging for divine intervention in the form of death. “The, uh, doIwanttofuckyou question?”

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Is… is there a wrong answer?”

“No.”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It’s lewd, a cruel and unusual punishment for your fleeting moment of horny delirium. Gets even worse when he tugs the plush bottom one between his teeth, staring at you all the while. Sizing you up, it feels like. Deciding between what he wants to do and what he’s actually going to do.

Just like the last week of your life, everything goes from zero to one hundred in a split-second.

“Do you wanna talk about this first?” he asks. You’re just staring at one another and he already sounds fucked out. Obscene.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He reaches for you. Two fingers beneath your chin and a thumb on the hinge of your jaw to keep you where he wants you. “What you want.” Leans in, his lips so close to your ear. “What you don’t.”

Around you, the world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this bed. Not the weird house in the middle of the woods. Not the apocalypse. Not a goddamn thing except Namjoon and his big hands and the way he’s touching you. “Tell me what you want,” he says, words skimming along the column of your throat, “and I’ll do it.”

You wonder if he’s talking about big-picture shit or just sex. If he’s someone who needs something concrete to hold onto before he fucks or if it even matters anymore. Would he still want to sleep with you if you’d met under different circumstances that night at the bar, or is it just something to pass the time while you wait out the end of the world?

Although, you feel like the world might end if you don’t finally fuck this man, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD I’ll have to figure out how to remove in three years if I live that long. I’m down for mostly anything as long as you ask first but I draw the line at most bodily fluids. Oh, also—don’t kiss me if your tongue goes anywhere near my ass. I think that’s it, though. What about you?”

Momentarily stunned, Namjoon’s hands stop moving. “I’ve never eaten ass before.”

“Oh. I mean, we totally can if you want to, but—really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because your lips are pornographic,” you admit, completely void of shame. “Like, you have the kind of mouth that looks like it’s done a lot of dirty things.”

Namjoon laughs. “You also said I look like I like getting pushed around.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’s growing bold. His response is a low chuckle, more vibration than anything, and he reaches for you again. Seems like he can’t keep his hands off of you, needs to be touching you always, even before when it was harmless, and this time he goes for your hips. Fits his large hands to your waist, the tops of your thighs, presses his thumbs into your hip bones. “Most people don’t try.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” you reply dazedly.

His lips move to your neck, trace the neckline of your sleep shirt, dip below to nip at your collarbone. “Where’s your hand, baby?” he speaks into your skin. Finds what he’s looking for and pins your arm above your head, gently like you’ll break. You think you might. “You can push me around when you’re healed. Can I kiss you?”

You must nod, because Namjoon drags his lips from your throat to your jaw to the corner of your mouth, and then he’s pressing them to your own. This is gentle too, Namjoon careful with his own injury, and it’s not lost on you that this is your fault. You’re not going to get the filthy, primal fucking you want because you’d thrown a punch in a bar, but this isn’t a bad consolation prize, you think.

Because Namjoon is good at this. He’s easy to rile up but rock-solid once he pushes past it. And, sure, he kisses you gently, but he means it. Whimpers into your mouth like you’re doing him a favor, and you think you might be able to do this, just this, forever.

Your free hand fists the thin cotton of his shirt as he licks into your mouth. It should be gross, because it’s the middle of the night and you no longer have the luxury of your favorite toothpaste, but you find it hard to care when he drops his weight, that massive body of his pressing into you, against you in all the right ways. This time it’s you who whines, and it’s a small sound but it seems to drive Namjoon a little crazy.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, pulling back, and you’re about to ask him what that means, if he just wants you to start moaning like some bad porn, but then he’s grabbing your leg to wrap it around his waist and pressing his hips to you harder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh. Even through his sleep shorts you can tell he’s big—big and really fucking hard. Forget a zombie apocalypse, you’re not sure you’ll survive this right here.

What Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. You’re unabashed as he grinds his cock against your core, careless about your volume. You’ve suffered through almost everyone in this house either fucking or jerking off, and you can take a little ribbing, so you’re going to enjoy this. What’s the point in modesty if you’re all going to die, anyway?

So you just keep babbling, words spilling out of your mouth before you can filter them, writhing and whining all the while. “I know, baby,” Namjoon says, hands all over, mouth not far behind. “Keep going,” he urges, hands to your hips to move you the way he wants.

“Thigh,” you say, barely able to get the word out of your mouth with the way he’s moving against you. “Wan-wanna ride your thigh.”

He keens. “Shit, yeah, okay.”

Namjoon fucks like it’s the end of the world.

You get off on his thigh but he deems it not enough. Strips you bare and situates himself between your legs. Puts that sinful mouth to use and gets you off again. Asks you when the last time you had sex was and laughs at your answer, all condescending heat, and he uses the slick from you and his mouth to stretch you on three of his fingers.

You’re going to ruin this man’s hair once you have two working hands. Maybe just ruin him in general.

The build-up is dizzying. One second he’s slow and sensual, content to take you apart, continuously bring you to the edge just to yank you back—and the next is all feral urgency. He can’t make you come, can’t kick his shorts off, can’t peel his briefs down those thick thighs fast enough.

“Will you ride me?” he asks, so intent on taking your one rule to heart. As long as you ask first. But some things don’t need to be questioned, like when Hobi asks if you want to take an edible and watch the Spice Girls movie and will you sit on Namjoon’s massive dick.

You huff, already halfway in his lap. “Clown question, bro.”

As you sink down onto him, you understand why he’d laughed when you said it’d been awhile, why he got a little cocky. Three fingers hadn’t been anywhere near enough, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, is delicious.

“I was go—ah, fuck—gonna suggest you don’t ca-call me bro, but I don’t think I care when you feel this fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you stupidly ask, and you’re usually better at dirty talk, but there’s not much you can do when all of your brainpower is going towards riding the best cock you’ve ever had in your life. “Tell me.”

Namjoon moans, grips your hips to move you again. Back and forth at a steady, torturous pace. “Baby,” he whines. “Feels like one of those wa-water wiggler toys—”

Okay, so clearly neither of you are at your best right now.

And that’s how it goes. You brace yourself on Namjoon’s chest, nails of your good hand digging into his pec, your broken one held in his. Time seems to drag on forever and stop all at once, and you’re oversensitive and admittedly a little in pain and a lot exhausted so you’re probably not going to come again, but you find yourself dangerously close watching Namjoon chase his own orgasm.

Head tilted back, neck on display, mouth dropped open. You want to shove your fingers inside, so you do.

He comes immediately.

Namjoon kisses you as the two of you come down, whispering more praise in between each one. Tells you how good you are, how beautiful, that he’s glad you broke his nose. Then he realizes the dumb thing that has come out of his mouth and pauses, looking confused and delicate. He’s so cute you kiss him first this time.

And then you pull back and realize he’s got blood all over his face, gushing from the nose he’s so glad you broke, and he’s out of the bed and into the bathroom before you can blink.

“You can’t do that, we’re soulmates!”

Jimin scoffs, placing the Robber on Taehyung’s hex tile anyway, ruthless as he watches his boyfriend miserably discard half his hand. “Your fault for building a city there. I’m coming for your ore tile next.”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. You hadn’t expected the house’s sardonically-named Royal Couple to be on the brink of disaster twenty minutes into a game of Catan, but you’re safe for now in your small part of the world, surrounded by all of these people you’ve come to love, Namjoon especially, so you’ll take all the manufactured, external drama you can get.

“Told you he’d turn on you, Tae,” you chime. He gives you the finger. “You can’t trust Libra men.”

“What about virgins!” Jungkook calls from the kitchen, where Yoongi has convinced him to drink tequila and brandy to see if he can get him to punch Namjoon, too, and Seokjin laughs so hard he looks like he’s about to keel over and die.

Yeah, you think you’re going to be fine.

#bts imagines #bts fic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bts smut #bts scenarios

[chanshoesunite]

Imagine playing the Pepero game with Chan

“You know what we should definitely play tonight? The Pepero game”, Chan announces to the room, his eyes slyly drifting to YN. Everyone groans good-naturedly.

“Oh, come on, boys, we haven’t played it in forever! Are you scared I will beat you all again with my epic skills?”, Chan boasts, pokes Jisung in the chest and takes Changbin in a headlock. “You tell ‘em, love”, YN encourages her boyfriend indulgently. “You are so transparent, hyung”, Jeongin smirks, “we all know you just want to make out with YN!” ”Whaaaat”, Chan’s voice pitches up with incredulity, draping his arms around YN, “I could just do that whenever I want!”

“Yeah, but you are sadist that wants to make us all suffer through your PDA”, Minho deadpans. YN laughs, and Chan darts his looks from Minho to her: “I resent that accusation. Why are you laughing, baby!” “It’s funny cus it’s true”, she says wisely, stroking down Chan’s arms in a calming gesture.

Chan’s face scrunches up adorably. He taps YN on the nose: “No, it must be because Minho is jealous”, he slowly untangles himself from her and takes an innocent step towards his friend, “if you are jealous, you could just ask for your own kisses – but you barely allow me my hugs!”

That last bit he shouts while chasing Minho around the table. “Just let me love you!”, Chan coos. Minho swears, the others laugh and YN grins at these dorks. After two rounds of running, Minho stops and puts his hands out, bracing against the onslaught of brawn and affection.

“Stop! Fine! We shall play the Pepero game! Just get away from me.” Chan immediately stops making grabby hands at Minho. “I knew you’d come around!” “What’s the prize for the winners?”, interjects Felix. “How about the losers have to buy them dinner?”, says Changbin.

“Great plan, Chan and YN always find the best restaurants anyway”, quips Han. “Hey, hey, what? Why should the losers automatically be me and YN?” “Oh yeah, hyung, sure you will focus on winning, suuuure you will!” “You just watch us!” “I’d really rather stare at my washing machine for an hour than watch you two smooch.”

“Alright, alright, focus”, Seungmin says before Chan can start whining more. YN squeezes him tightly and Chan dutifully snaps his mouth shut. “I’m getting the Pepero and I’ll watch the time. You decide on teams.”

Seungmin leaves the room, and the others start playing gawi-bawi-bo to figure out the pairs. Chan stands aside, his hand on YN’s hip, grinning like the cat who got the cream. He gently strokes her as she leans into him. They watch the boys shouting at each other. Then Seungmin brings back a pack of Pepero. Shaking it, he says: “Teams are decided? Ah”, he looks at the pair of Changbin and Hyunjin, “Well, I know who I am putting my money on. OK, get on with it, sit opposite each other.”

YN is sitting in front of Chan, a Pepero between her teeth. Her eyes glitter with amusement as Chan gets ready, holding her lightly by her shoulders. His warm hands feel good on her. The boys around her are shouting rambunctiously, deciding on strategies, but she concentrates on Chan’s mischievous face.

“OK, ready? 3 – 2 – 1 – start!”

More shouting goes up around them, but YN is entirely focused on the gentle way Chan tilts her head to get the best access to her Pepero. He keeps biting off pieces, far too slow to win, but the excitement she senses is worth it. His eyes are half-closed and his enjoyment is crystal-clear. YN is captivated by the sight, content in the grasp he has on her.

When she can tell his lips are nearly touching hers, she flips the Pepero into her mouth and leans into him. Their lips touch in a sweet kiss and she can feel Chan’s chuckle vibrating through his strong chest. He pulls YN closer, one hand splayed along her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw. With a soft sigh, she opens her lips, allowing their tongues to dance.

“Oh my god, I told you he would do this! Awful!” “Hyung setting a new record in holding his breath.” “Hajimaaa, you guys!”, Jisung has dropped to the floor, dramatically pounding on the ground.

Ignoring the teasing voices of the boys, Chan lifts YN into his lap, giving her one last, delicious kiss. YN’s hands are on his shoulder and neck, enjoying the solidity of his muscles. Chan squeezes her bum tightly, their upper bodies flush against each other. She tilts her head back, her face an invitation for one last caress that he cannot resist. He leans in again, giving her a few pecks down her throat. Finally, he relents to the screaming around him.

“Did we lose?”, he asks innocently. “Duh, obviously, you fools!” “You don’t even have a Pepero to show for all the time you wasted!”

With a cheeky smile, YN says: “I think I can safely say, no matter what happened, we are the real winners here.”

#bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #author tortoise #tortoise here: i just thought this would be a cute story!?! do you like the photoedit? i made it myself too nd i am actually proud of it tb #bangchan pepero #kissing bangchan #bangchan drabble #bang chan drabble

[oliviasblogg]

🏹 sweaty

₊˚ʚ⊹ summary : hyunjin is all sweaty after practice

₊˚ʚ⊹ warnings : the beginning kinda sounds like he’s going to attack her nekdjskdje but i swear all is well, slightly suggestive in the end?

₊˚ʚ⊹ pairing : hyunjin x fem!reader

₊˚ʚ⊹ word count : 500

₊˚ʚ⊹ livie’s corner : teehee i’m back with another short little thing! have you guys already seen that one video where jinnie is doing the intro to thunderous on tour & when he spins his hair literally splashes water around? that shit’s craaaaaaazy

₊˚ʚ⊹ livie’s masterlist

“stay. away.

- & what if i don’t?

- i’m serious, hyune! don’t come closer.

- i just want to hug you, what’s so wrong with that? you’re my girlfriend after all!

- stop stepping closer to me!”

she kept her hands in front of her, trying her best to stop him from hugging her. alas, he was much taller & stronger than her, so in a simple swift motion, he managed to grab both of her hands with his right hand, & place his left one on her back to bring her closer: she shrieked.

“you’re literally so sweaty you’re damp! just stop it already jinnie!

- i love hugging you, my love. has got to be one of my favorite things in the world!

- go take a shower!”

he placed his head in the crook of her neck, making sure to rub his hair on her skin like a cat would. although she complained & whined, he could hear her smile just from the way she enunciated her words, which only led him to tease her some more.

“aren’t you just so happy to see me after practice? joining me when i’m finished so we can go home together?

- i’ll stop if you keep on putting your sweat all over me!

- sure you will.”

after a few minutes of him simply not letting her go from his bone-crushing hug, she gave in & wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

“you’re the worst, hwang hyunjin.

- yeah, yeah.

- seriously, as soon as we get home you better jump in the shower or i’ll drag you in there.

- oh come on, as if that wasn’t the first thing i’m going to do, without or without your little threat.”

she grabbed his shoulders & pushed him back just enough so he could see her face.

“i can list every single time you said you were going to go take a shower but ended up falling asleep while sitting in the kitchen when you were trying to eat a snack to you right now if you need me to. you know, to refresh your memory.”

he rolled his eyes before mumbling.

“it didn’t even happen that many times.

- sure it didn’t, pretty boy.”

he grabbed her wrists and put her arms back over his shoulders to hug her again. they stayed like that for a few minutes, both with their eyes closed to really take in the moment. he wished it could last forever.

“you know i love it when you hug me, jinnie, but it’s two in the morning. i’d really love to go home now.”

he grabbed his bag & took her hand, now walking towards the exit of the jyp building.

“did you just ask to go home so i stop hugging you & take my shower?

- sure did.

- mmh. sly bunny.

- that is, indeed, me.” she smiled.

“but… since you put your sweat all over me… i guess i’ll just have to join you, won’t i? get all your sweat off, you know.”

then it was his turn to smile.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

₊˚ʚ⊹ livie’s corner : teehee˘͈ᵕ˘͈

with much love, livie🦦

#hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x female reader #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids #skz hyunjin

[anxi0usgh0st]

hey there people welcome to my tumblr account

I’m a strange fellow who says whatever brain rot he’s experiencing

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vampire

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witchcraft practitioner

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waylien + child of ghost

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this is a safe space for queers, all races, therians and furries, the mentally ill, neurodivergents, emos, etc, just don't be a dick and we're good!

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more about me under the cut-off

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cause some problems today

yoooo what's up

basic information about me: i'm charlie, I’m 14, I’m autistic, i can’t swim, I can’t dance, and I don’t know karate.

preferably he/him and they/them, i'm not huge on labels but relativity anything under the trans umbrella is a-ok with me

california girl

certified cryptid

bands: my chemical romance, maneskin, ghost, fall out boy, pencey prep, green day, peirce the veil, the ramones, the smashing pumpkins, the smiths, the talking heads, pixies, the front bottoms, sir chloe, leathermouth, gerard way, the cure, opal in the sky, david bowie, freddie mercury, queen, frank iero, siouxsie and the banshees, nine inch nails, sisters of mercy, bauhaus, mindless self indulgence, lemon demon, will wood, gorillaz, mitski, jazz emu, tom cardy, joan jett and the black hearts, jack stauber, vocaloid, and a TON of miscellaneous songs!!

please send me music reccs i'll love you forever

books: the ash house, scythe, Frankenstein, edgar Allen Poe, ready player one, do androids dream of electric sheep, carry on, 1984, the hobbit, lord of the rings, James herriot, renegades, lockdown, diary of Anne Frank, the magic fish, the true lives of the fabulous killjoys, umbrella academy, red white and royal blue, they both die at the end

I’m really into fantasy, queer romance, dystopia and supernatural horror, if you tell me to check something out I will! especially if it’s something you’ve written (writers supporting writers folks)

musicals: beetlejuice, mean girls, hamilton, heathers, ride the cyclone, six, le mis, little shop of horrors, phantom of the opera, newsies

tv shows, movies and video games: nimona, the owl house, the umbrella academy, young royals, little nightmares, omori, detention, room of old sins, mechanarium, cozy grove, animal crossing, inside (Bo burnham), squid game, the platform, bird box, Alice in borderland, girl from nowhere, breaking bad, demon slayer, death note, black butler, don’t hug me I’m scared, seven deadly sins, the promised neverland, the amazing world of gumball, adventure time, Minecraft, legends of Zelda, fnaf, Fiona and cake, gravity falls, probably more I’m forgetting

Other stuff about me: I can speak both French and Japanese, I play four instruments (guitar, ukulele, piano, cello), I have horrible anxiety, synesthesia, tics, I am an emo patron but new to the goth, metal and punk scene so if you’ve got shit to tell me/tips please do!!

i wanna reiterate i'm autistic and have absolutely no clue how to socialize but i swear my intentions are positive

stuff i do is write songs, poetry and fiction, act, a lot of art, i love space big special interest in it, uhhh speedround sharks creepy drawings tim burton gothic architecture plants crystals herbology strange people cats candles fairy lights graffiti roller skating rain kind people taxonomy of birds especially in the corvidae family and graphic novels

if that's ur vibe uhhh stick around 🫶

[medusapelagia]

J- Jerk off [NSFW]

J is for Darleen Jade (@darleenjade). Did I cheat at my own game? A little because it doesn’t really starts with J, but I wanted to thank you for all your kind comments on my stories! 💜

I hope you will enjoy your present 🎁!

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Steve /Billy WT: phone sex, jerking off Words: 1085

Stupid rich boy.

Steve’s parents have taken him with them on a holiday in Europe to celebrate his graduation and Billy can't wait to have him back into his arms.

“It’s only a pair of weeks.” Steve has said but to Billy seems like forever. He keeps himself busy working at the local pool but not even whistling at the little shitheads has done anything to cool off the steam, and what's even worse is that they are in different time zones so they can’t even call each other because of that.

“Fuck.” Billy whispers, staring at Steve’s Instagram page like it contains all the secrets of the universe.

In one photo he is embracing his mum in front of a fancy fountain that Billy is sure he has seen in some famous movie, in another, he is petting a stray cat, but the one he is looking at now, with one hand inside his red shorts, is of his boy licking a big ice cream, his tongue out looking directly in the camera. If Billy wasn’t sure that it was just a coincidence he would swear that Steve took that picture just to mess with him.

He takes the lube from his nightstand, the fancy one with the pretty label that Steve chose in the sexy shop and that tastes like watermelon.

Billy covers his hand and lets the lube drip on his dick before starting to stroke it, imagining that the hand on his cock is Steve’s. He tightens his grip, moving up and down, letting his hips jerk up toward a body that’s not there.

The blond boy closes his eyes, thinking about Steve’s sweet lips and how they feel warm and sweet around his dick, he looks at his tongue on the ice cream and for a moment he can illude himself that his velvety tongue is getting ready for him.

“Fuck…” he murmurs, hating every moment that keeps them apart.

Billy’s phone starts to vibrate and falls from Billy’s hand to the ground with a loud thud.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” the California boy picks it up and he is surprised when he sees the familiar picture of his boyfriend on FaceTime.

He immediately answers, not caring about how flustered he is “Hey, baby, are you ok?” he asks him as soon as the familiar brow eyes appear on the screen.

“It’s not too soon, right?”

“It’s almost midnight, why?”

“I might have told my parents I didn’t feel well this morning…”

Billy frowns “Are you sick?”

“No, silly, I wanted to have some sex phone with you.”

Billy’s phone almost hit the ground a second time “You wanted to do what?”

“I miss my boyfriend.” Steve replies, getting comfortable on a big hotel bed “I need him to make me feel good. Don’t you need me, Billy?”

More than the air, Billy thinks, but keeps it cool.

“So you are already missing my dick, uh?”

“Don’t try to be cool, Billy, I can see the lube on your nightstand.”

Fuck.

“Maybe I forget it there.” The blond boy tries again and Steve laughs.

“I know that it is hard for you to admit that you actually have feelings, but I am not ashamed to admit that I miss you.”

Billy doesn’t reply but with himself, he can admit that he misses Steve terribly too.

Steve smirks “If we were together what would you want to do to me?”

Oh… this is the game, uh? Well, Billy never played like this before but he is a fast learner.

“Show me what are you wearing.” he demands, and Steve moves the camera to show him a blue t-shirt and his blue boxers “Next time you call me I want you wearing your panties.”

“I’m on a trip with my parents!” Steve complains.

Billy replies, with a wolfish smile “I’m sure you brought at least a pair with you. Am I wrong?”

Steve’s red cheeks tell him everything he wants to know.

“Ok, now I want you to touch your nipples like I would touch them. I want you to feel that it is my hand that is pinching your tits. Good… just like that. Now suck your fingers and pinch them again, do you feel my mouth on your nipples? Do you feel how wet it is?”

“Yeah…”

“Good boy, make yourself hard for me.” Billy praises him, while he starts to jerk himself, looking at his boy.

“I’m getting so turned on, Billy…” Steve moans. and Billy regrets that he is not there, in the same bed, eating all these sounds from their source.

“Your hole feels so perfect around me, you are squeezing me so tight.” Billy whispers while he strokes his dick into his tight grip “Touch yourself, fill that hole. You need it, don’t you?”

“What about the phone?”

“Leave the phone on your pillow so that I can hear you when you make that little moan when my dick hits your prostate just right, but before, stretch yourself. Take the lube and open yourself with one finger… like that… you are doing so good… when you feel ready to add another…”

“Billy…”

“What?”

“I need more…”

“Tell me what you need?”

“I need you to touch my dick.”

“You want me to stroke it up and down? Twisting when I get to the head of your cock? Is that what you want?” he asks, knowing exactly what Steve likes.

It’s the strangest sex Billy has ever had, but somehow it feels so exciting hearing Steve’s moans while he keeps stroking himself, imagining that his boyfriend is riding him.

Steve comes with a loud moan and that’s enough for Billy to follow him soon after. He hears Steve move his phone and then he is back, is eyes shining with pleasure and his swollen lips “You ok?” Steve asks when Billy remains silent “Did I break you?”

“How did you know that I was jerking off?” Billy asks, taking the phone back into his hand.

“You were looking at the ice cream picture weren’t you?”

“You are such a little shit, Harrington.”

“Maybe, but I'm the one who waited for you to jerk off so…”

“Are you my good boy?”

“Only yours.”

“Will you call me again?”

“Calling maybe, having phone sex… I don’t know. With the different time zones, it is complicated.”

Billy nods and then he finally whispers “I miss you.”

“I miss you too baby.” Steve replies with a kind smile, and for the first time admitting his feelings doesn’t make Billy feel too vulnerable.

#ficlet #stranger things fanfic #steve x billy #harringrove #Christmas presents 2023 #medusapelagia

[spookiifi]

The Hour of Sleep (Moon & Sun/Reader)

Moon is insecure about his feelings towards you, so he wants to make sure that you actually love him.

Cuddles ensue while the kids are asleep and he uses the excuse of naptime to get closer.

ao3 version

Hello hello! Yes, I’m still in this fandom I swear! It’s just taking me forever to come up with ideas.

No warnings! Enjoy the fluff!

--

Sun and Moon could read you like a book. It was installed in their system to detect lies; children and adults. It was embarrassing sometimes.

When naptime rolled around, you couldn’t help but feel yourself start to space out. Your nitro energy drink was starting to wear off. Damn those false advertisements to hell.

Once everyone was settled, Moon glided towards you, a smug grin on his face. “Hello sleepyhead.”

“Excuse you, my good sir. I am a grown adult that can take care of myself.” You allowed him to take your hands anyway. “Do I look like a child?”

Moon’s grin seemed to widen. “Nooo…but you do need the rest. Sun could see the bags under your eyes from a mile away. Future note: Don’t hide things from us, Starlight.”

He waltzed you into a fort of pillows. It was a game you two played. Today, Moon was your sleeping bag instead of the half-stable office chair. The naptime attendant used any excuse to hold you.

“Am I enough for you?”

“…What?”

The smugness to his voice had dissipated entirely. “Am I good enough?” Moon looked up at you with a longing that you’d never seen before. It was full of adoration, and slight melancholy. His eyes appeared blue instead of red.

You smiled down at him and pulled him into your arms. “Oh, Moondrop of course you are. Whoever said you weren’t good enough?”

He shrugged and pushed his face into your neck. “Doubts…” The nap time attendant paused. “Sun, too.”

Tracing the stars on his hat, you kept your gaze on him. Your hand ran down the side of his face, and he made a whirring noise similar to a cat purring. Moon’s grip tightened on your waist.

“Oh, my sweet boys. You’ll always be good enough to me. Even more.” You leaned down to whisper. “I would kiss you but we’re occupied. Plus, staff doesn’t know.”

“I can crush their memory chips. What are they going to do?” He chuckled and buried his face in your shoulder.

“I meant the humans, sweet Moondrop.” You smiled. “I appreciate the daredevil perspective, though.”

#moon x reader #moon drop x reader #sun and moon #fnaf x reader #daycare attendant fnaf #dca moon #security breach

[slashersgirlypop]

Grilled Cheese Chapter 6.

TW: NON-CON AND NON SEXUAL SPANKING

(September 1st, 1978)

            I huffed, bored out of my mind. Yes, I was still scared of the big, strong, stabby man, (who I just started to call Mask-Man), but I also was locked in the closet for a great majority of the day. If I had to guess, I had been in this closet for maybe five or so hours? Maybe more? All I knew was that when I knocked on the door, asking for at least some food, a slice of cheese was shoved at me. He only let me out today twice to use the restroom. I heard him leave about maybe an hour after locking me in the closet and then come back four hours later through the back door.

            Some point during the day, before he left, I heard Miss Petunia come down the stairs. I don’t know what happened, but it didn’t sound like there was any sounds of pained meows. I did hear her begin to eat food, so thankfully the stoic and silent Mask-Man does have decency to at least feed her.

            “Excuse me? Sir? Mr. Mask-Man-Person? Are you, uh, just planning on keeping me in here forever? You know, I got a job and friends who might be wondering where the hell I am. Also, it’s really boring in here. I counted all the brush-hair-things on the broom in here fifteen times. I’m worried I’ll go crazy, so, can I be let out?”

            As expected, I got no response. I groaned, slumping against the door, sliding down until my butt hit the floor. I began to light bonk my head against the wood. Alright, time to use the annoying-hostage-girl approach.

            “Let me out please.” Bonk.

            “Let me out please.” Bonk.

            “Let me out please.” Bonk.

            “Let me oOF-,” I huffed, falling on my back once he opened the door. I stared up at him, my head between his shoes, him looking down at me. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I hoped he looked annoyed by my successful antics.

            “Mra?” Miss Petunia chirped from Mask-Man’s shoulder, looking down at me curiously. My mouth slightly opened in betrayal at my cat. While I was locked in the dusty old closet, my beloved pet was buddying up and getting all cozy with my captor. The audacity of pets, I swear.

            “Alright. So, are we just gonna have a staring contest, Mask-Man? Am I allowed to come out? If you’re planning on a staring contest, it’s not really fair on my end because you could be blinking and I’d have no way to tell with your mask and all.” Shrugging, I looked up at the man. He just stared at me before walking away, leaving me on the floor.

            Groaning, I sat up, feeling my joints cracking in my back. I hoping he wasn’t planning on locking me in the closet tonight, because that would not be comfortable to sleep in. Speaking of which, where did he sleep last night?

            I turned, jumping as he just stood behind me.

            “How are you so fast and quiet, pal?” I asked. Wordlessly, he thrusted two objects into my chest. It was a notepad and crayons. Did…did he want me to draw or something? Then, Mask-Man pushed me not too gently into the family room, where the TV was on, playing cartoons. He shoved me into a chair before walking over and plopping down on the couch. Miss Petunia mewed softly at him as if the gently chide him before hopping off his should and walking over to me. She laid at the bottom of my chair, her head on my foot, and she began to purr quietly.

            Mask-Man said nothing, only focusing his attention on the animated figures. Honestly, this is not how I would imagine a kidnapping or hostage-taking-thing would go. It could be worse; I could be dead. At least my only reason to be alive is that I make him food.

            I began to absentmindedly draw on the paper, getting lost in my thoughts. I didn’t want to be his cook forever, and eventually someone other than Mr. Steinberg is going to wonder what happened to me and come check on me. Mrs. Gracie most likely will send one of her boys to check on me, like she did when I was sick with the flu and had to take off work. Until then, I have to figure out how to play my cards right and not piss off this guy to the point of killing me. Despite my numerous other escape attempts, I knew I could get out and get help. But how is the question? He’s always there, he’s quieter than an ant, he can kill me probably with one hand, so what would I do-wait. My crayon skid to a stop on the mane of the badass centaur I was drawing

            Does he know I have a gun?

            Earlier, when I thought he was just some kid pulling a mean joke, I did mention it, but I don’t know if he thought I was bluffing or not. I hope he does think I’m bluffing. I could use the gun and force him to let me out, or even kill him. I frowned at that idea. I don’t really like the idea of taking a life, even if he did kill people, but if I must…

            I stood up, stretching my arms, his head turning to me. He began to stand up as well before I sighed.

            “I’m just going to make myself some food, Mask-Man. No need to patrol and act as my guard. I’m not dumb enough to try to escape again,” except that I was, “so just, chill out. I’m just hungry because all you gave me was a slice of cheese.” He paused before slowly sitting back down, his head still pointed at me. Then, he slowly turned his attention back to the screen.

            Taking deep breathes as quietly as I could as I walked kitchen, my eyes zeroed in on the drawer where the pistol was. Casually, I approached the pantry, which was near the drawer, but unfortunately in sight of the family room, meaning Mask-Man could see me. It also just occurred to me that I had no idea how to use a fucking gun. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Just aim and shoot. I mean, I think it was loaded, although I wasn’t sure.

            After pretending to peruse the pantry, I took a deep and shaky breath before yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. I gripped it with both hands and pointed it at the man, who now was staring at me, standing up.

            “You know what this is, buddy? It’s a fuckin’ gun. I didn’t wanna do this, but I had no choice. Let me go,” I ordered, trying my best to look intimidating despite the man practically being a giant compared to me. He merely stared at me, before taking a step in my direction, which I yelled at.

            “H-HEY! No! Don’t take any steps towards me, you mask-guy-man. Stay there! I will shoot! Don’t try me!” He proceeded to take several more steps, despite my warnings. When he was within five feet of me, I closed my eyes and aimed the gun at his head.

            “I’m sorry, but I warned you!” I pulled the trigger, wincing and bracing myself for the inevitable fact that I will be staring at a corpse when I opened my eyes.

            Click. My eyes whipped back to the gun, wide. It’s in that moment I realized that it, in fact, wasn’t loaded. Fuck.

            He grabbed the gun and wrenched it out of my hands, throwing it aside, staring down at me.

            “Shit, oh shit, I’m sorry, please don’t kill me, I’m sorry! PLEASE!” I pled, shrieking as he grabbed my hair, no doubt pulling out strands as he dragged me to the living room, my scalp screaming in pain.

            He sat down on the couch, yanking me over his lap, making me lose my breath. He grabbed my jeans and yanked them down along with my panties, exposing my ass to the open. I began to writhe, desperately trying to get off him. He was going to rape me, he was going to fucking rape me-

            I gasped in pain as I felt his big hand come down of my right cheek, the pain bursting out. I didn’t have time to process what he was doing though because he continued to spank my ass, no doubt leaving bruises at a relentless pace. I began to sob around thirty, dangling miserably from his lap.

            My ass felt like it was on fire. He didn’t stick to a pattern, he just spanked. I never had felt so humiliated in my life.

            By the time he was done, I was a sobbing mess. Snot was dribbling slowly out my nose onto the carpet below, tears also staining the carpet.

            I choked on air when he cruelly gripped my left cheek, digging his nails into the skin. I just let him, feeling defeated. I didn’t know how to react. I was just grateful he was done.

            He shoved me off his lap and onto the carpet. I yelped, before continuing to sob, my rear exposed to the air still.

He just ignored me, as he normally did.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪

ye, sorry if you aren't normally a crier, (y/n) got a bit of a traumatic experience. I was basing her reaction off what I would do in this situation, and I would just fuckin sob and feel weak. MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HANUKAH/ HAPPY WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE!!!! See ya, my fellow slasher sluts.

#halloween 1978 #michael myers #slasher #yandere michael myers #yandere michael myers x reader #hostage reader #tw: noncon #captive reader

[holy-megs]

Could you write a Kiba Inuzuka request of him (and Akamaru) being pouty when his mom/sister steal his girlfriend away when they're meant to be spending the day cuddling in his bed?

𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐭. 𝐊𝐢𝐛𝐚 𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐚

📙༉‧₊˚ pairings: Kiba Inuzuka x fem!reader

📙༉‧₊˚ content + warnings: modern au, college au, fluff

📙༉‧₊˚ notes: I’m more than excited to write about Kiba😍! I really liked this request because this boy is underrated🥺. I also hope this meets your expectations <3

It was storming outside when you woke up this morning, but you don’t mind. You actually like rainy days, and you really enjoy the smell of rain and the vibes in general, but what makes rainy days better is your boyfriend’s clingy behavior.

You can also never forget his dog, Akamaru, who has adored you since the first time Kiba invited you to his apartment when the two of you started dating.

He sure talked a lot about him way before your relationship, and you really understood why when you met him. And even though you are a cat person, you consider Akamaru a special presence in your life, and you both have empathy for one another.

While finishing your morning routine, you read a text message from your boyfriend, Kiba. You expected it anyway, but not that early. Kiba is not really the early in the morning type of guy, despite being energetic and all when with you or with friends.

Kiba❤️: Babe let me pick you up after lessons ;)

You now really know what’s up and you can’t help but let that smile grow in your features. So, with excitement washing over you, you began to type a reply back to him.

-

Checking your phone one last time it said 2:30 PM. Kiba is obviously waiting for you at the parking lot, and you don’t wanna make him wait any longer because he obviously wants to cuddle already.

You can’t argue though, you also wanna have his cute face snuggling against you. But this sweet boy has been waiting for this moment since this morning and when you agreed to stay for the night, oh boy, he was more than eager to imagine how it’ll be to have you in his arms while you were going to sleep peacefully.

-

While Kiba takes his keys out and opens the door you would swear that you saw a giant white thing coming in your way with a fast pace. Realizing who it was you began to pet him until he melt. It seems that Akamaru is also impatient and excited for some cuddles.

-

You realise that the rain has stopped but that doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Kiba on his bed while he has his arms wrapped around you and is laying on his stomach with you on top of him, you wonder how you got so lucky as to feel his hot breath against your neck.

We can never forget about our cute boy, Akamaru, sleeping beside both of you.

“I want us to stay like this forever.” Kiba said with flushed cheeks as you laughed. A laugh that even you have never heard of before comes out of you.

“You know, I too want this forever.” Out of embarrassment, you hid your face in his neck, and Kiba’s eyes wound up.

You both never really shared your feelings with one another, especially Kiba. Those types of confessions aren’t really his thing, but he does it on occasions when you two cuddle like that.

Another thing for Kiba and you, of course, is that you both hate when others disturb you in your peace and relaxing time and—

“Oh Kiba hey.” Hana came out of nowhere with excitement. You really feel disappointed now, for real.

“Hana, how the hell did you even get in?”. You too are beginning to wonder. You recall Kiba having a spare key, but you don’t think he gave it to anyone. You even knew where he hid it.

“Mom gave me your spare key. We knew where you hid it all along anyway, so we stole it, and I don’t wanna waste any more time because she is waiting for me and (Y/N) to go shopping”.

Akamaru had been resting soundly until he heard that there was a possibility you would be leaving. He looked at Kiba, and Kiba looked back at him, both of their faces filled with despair.

“Shopping? But me and K-”

Hana was the one who cut you off. “You and Kiba can continue your business later, but we need your help with some lady matters right now.”

“Hana, me and (Y/N) are having a moment. Come by later, but for now we’re busy.” Kiba said with a harsh tone. Akamaru also barked, as a sign that he agreed with Kiba.

“Kiba, it seems that they need me, so I’ll go. Besides, I don’t want to make a bad impression on my future mother in law”. You smiled at him. A warm smile reassuring him and making him feel safe.

“You heard her, she is coming with us.” Hana exclaimed, as her face flushed with pride.

Kiba and Akamaru started pouting but you tried to console them in any way possible.

“Fine, go but I’ll wait here no matter the time.” Kiba said while holding your waist and kissing you.

Akamaru was also all over you and tried to gain your attention.

“I will come as fast as I can for both of you.” You said in between kisses.

© 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲-𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐬, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

#kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka #kiba oneshot #kiba headcanons #kiba fluff #kiba x y/n #kiba x you #naruto shippuden #modern au #college au