#such SCOWLS on their faces sheesh

[greatooglymooglyyy]

The Last Ride Chapter Four (AU Cowboy!C.Sturniolo)

summary: when spoiled and sheltered city girl Y/N finds herself in running in the wrong crowd, her dad gives her an ultimatum. it's either spend the summer of her gap year on her uncle's ranch or face being cut off and finding a job. just when she thinks it can't get any worse, she meets Chris, the brooding farmhand who thinks he knows her type. but as the summer goes on, they both realize there may be more to the other than meets the eye.

requested and advised by @rootbeerworshiper

contains: angst, verbal fighting, feelings of loneliness, general sadness, fluff, parental issues, 2.1k words

a/n: sheesh. that's all i gotta say

the last ride masterlist

For the first time in my life, my alarm wakes me up on my birthday. Instead of forcing myself to get up quickly how I’ve trained myself to, I allow myself a few moments to stare up at the ceiling, dreading the lack of notifications on my phone.

My dad had sent out a quick and haphazard message the night before, not even waiting until midnight, and I’m under no delusion that anyone else cares enough to call.

Sighing, I push myself up out of the bed and head to the shower, longing for the chance to have some part of me feel brand new.

When I’m out and dressed, I stare in the mirror for an embarrassing amount of time. I turn my face from side to side, smoothing my fingertips over nonexistent wrinkles and laugh lines that should be deeper. Every year, I hope that I’ll look into my reflection and see someone different. I cross my fingers for a version of myself that feels wiser, kinder, and more comfortable in her skin. But standing here now, freshly nineteen, the only thing I see is a girl who’s running out of time.

****************************

After a very uneventful breakfast, I head out to meet Chris to help with the fence repairs. I’m hoping he’s in the mood to take it easy on me today but of course, he’s feeling the opposite.

From the moment I hop in the pickup truck, he’s throwing task after task at me. By the time the sun is high in the sky, I’m exhausted and defeated. But when I lean against the wall for a second, Chris happens to come around the corner, scowling. “We ain’t got time to lay around today, Scotch. We’re behind on yields.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Go take some hay out to the boys at the stables. Take the pickup truck and I’ll have someone drop me around there in a second.” He cuts in, tossing me the keys and walking away before I can respond.

I grit my teeth to keep from throwing curses at his back and do what he said, motivated by excitement to visit the horses.

When I walk in, all I see is chaos. Cinnamon’s got a mean grip on some poor guy’s shirt and is refusing to release him.

“Let me go, you mean old bastard!” The boy howls. Why he doesn’t just take his shirt off and charge it as a loss? I don’t know.

Another worker brandishes a whip to scare her into letting go but Cinnamon doesn’t even flinch. My kind of woman.

Despite how entertained I am, I decide to intervene, hoping my girl still has a soft spot for me. Cautiously, I approach and coo for her attention. She seems to physically relax at the sight of me so I reach out and stroke the side of her face until she releases him. When she does, I reach down for her treats and feed her some, offering praise. “Good girl. What’d that bad man do to you? Huh?”

“I ain’t do a thing to that monster!” He wails, scrambling up from where he fell when she let him go. I ignore his whining and tell the boys about the hay before turning my attention back to Cinnamon. I notice she’s still wearing her head collar, which is probably what he was trying to remove, so I take it off for her and she neighs in satisfaction.

Someone clears their throat behind me and I groan internally, knowing who it is before I even turn.

“Did you not hear me when I said we had a busy day?” Chris asks, his voice rough with irritation. I sigh before giving him a brief explanation, even though I know he won’t care.

He doesn’t say anything for a second but then walks over, his voice softening slightly. “Alright. Go help them unload before I dock your pay.”

****************************

When it’s time for lunch, we do what’s become our custom and sit together in the bed of the truck to eat. Sometimes the other ranch hands join us, crowding around and telling inside jokes, but most days it’s just the two of us.

Today, we eat in comfortable silence, my mind too full of self-pitying sadness to conjure up conversation. Chris nudges me with his shoulder and I look over. “What’s up with you today? Missing on the mall?”

I roll my eyes at his joke, the small barb cutting me more than it would any other day. “I’m sick of you acting like it’s impossible for me to have any depth.”

He laughs, not picking up on my tone. “C’mon, Y/N. You’re as deep as an autumn puddle, darlin’.

Anger pours over me like a cold shower and I slide off the truck, packing up my trash. “Fuck you, Chris.”

“Whoa.” He says, eyes widening. “Relax. It was a joke.”

“Was it?” I ask glaring.

“I mean…” He sighs and takes off his hat to scratch his head. “I’m just sayin’. You’ve had it easy. Perfect parents who gave you the perfect life. Not all of us have it that good.”

It’s my turn to laugh at the audacity he has to make statements like that about my life. “You know what, Chris? You’re right. I’ve been privileged. I’ve been lucky. But what do you know about my life? What’s so perfect about it? Is it the friends that couldn’t care less about me? My parents? You mean the woman who ran out on us when I was ten? Have you ever spent your birthday waiting on the stairs for your mother to come back because you convinced yourself she wouldn’t miss it?”

I scoff in disgust, despising the sympathetic look on his face. “Or did you mean my dad? The one who spent my entire life throwing gifts at me and then punished me for being who he raised me to be? So fucking perfect. Thanks for pointing that out.”

Chris opens and shuts his mouth twice, finally speechless. He reaches out a hand as if to pull into him. “Scotch-”

I back away so he can’t touch me. “Save it. God. You are so self-righteous about who you think I am. But all you’ve done since I got here is pretend you know everything about me.”

I storm off, spotting my uncle and asking him if I could work under him instead today.

“Did you talk to Chris about it?” He asks hesitantly, looking over my shoulder at him. I nod quickly and he raises an eyebrow, clearly seeing through me. But at the look of desperation on my face, he caves and points me towards the goats.

****************************

When Aunt Birdie calls me for dinner, I’m tempted to tell her I’m not hungry but I know she will insist. I didn’t even stop to speak to her when I got off this afternoon, just ran into my room and sunk into a bath.

I step into the kitchen with my eyes low so it’s a genuine shock when they yell out “Happy birthday”. My eyes are full of wonder when Aunt Birdie comes over with a beautiful jumbo cupcake from the local bakery. She’s placed a “19” candle in the center and hands me a lighter to make a wish.

I think about it for a second. “Can I maybe save it for later?”

“Of course, bunny. It’s your birthday. You make the rules.” Aunt Birdie answers sweetly, pushing my hair out of my face.

I look down at the cupcake again, my eyes getting teary. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

“Oh, honey. Like your dad would ever let us forget. ‘Sides, ain’t a year passed since you’ve been on this earth that I ain’t mailed you out a card.” Uncle Buck chimes in.

And it’s all I have not to shatter into a million pieces on the floor.

****************************

That night I sit crisscrossed in my bed thinking over my wish. The lamplight tinges the room yellow and it just makes me sadder.

I pick up the lighter, my hands shaking as I spark it. I close my eyes, feeling childish but not willing to risk wasting my wish.

“I wish to never feel this alone again.” I whisper, my voice quivering before I blow out the fire. As soon as I do, whatever was keeping me together inside snaps and I fall apart.

I put the cupcake on the nightstand and curl around myself, sobbing until I shake into my pillow. I stay like that until I feel like there are no tears left in my body until the sobs turn to sniffling hiccups.

Just as I start to calm down I hear a sharp knock on my window and sit up. I wipe my face quickly and peer out, staying far back in case I have to yell for my uncle.

“It’s me.” A voice calls and I step closer on instinct. Chris is kneeling in the grass outside my window, his face pressed close to the glass.

Confused, I unlatch the window and slide it up, going to my knees so we can be at eye level. He leans his head into my room, his hair covered by a new trucker hat and a gold chain dangling from his neck.

I look down at my pajamas and cringe. He would come to my window on washday. My eyes must be bloodshot from the way I just cried but Chris doesn’t comment. He just crosses his arms on the windowsill, looking past me into the room.

“You decorated.” He notes with a small smile, nodding at the new rug and bedspread. I’d hardly call it interior design.

“Well, you know me. Too shallow to leave well enough alone.” I answer bitterly, bracing a hand against the wall.

Chris’ face drops at this and he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that… I owe you an apology. It was a cheap shot even without knowing the whole story.”

“Mhm.” I agree, still a bit too petty to accept his apology. The silence between us becomes a bit awkward for a second before I speak. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Is that really how you see me? Just a surface level city broad?” I ask quietly after a beat and my heart hammers when he hesitates.

“Do you want me to be honest?” He asks cautiously, using the same tone he approaches the bulls with. I nod, despite not knowing whether it’s the truth.

Chris turns his trucker hat backward, giving me a good look in his eyes and studying me before he answers. “I did at first. Now I reckon that’s just what you want everyone to think.”

His statement settles over me like the shine from a spotlight. But for once it doesn’t feel like an accusation.

“Anyway,” He starts, leaning back and picking up something from where it lays at his feet. “A little Birdie told me it was your birthday.”

Surprise must be all over my face because he grins from ear to ear as he hands me a wrapped rectangular box. I peel the paper off slowly, still in shock that he thought to get me anything and gasp when I see its shoes. Chris clears his throat like he’s nervous and I look back up at him. “Evie told me you liked hers so I just thought…” He trails off, picking at the paint on the windowsill.

I fling off the top excitedly and pull out the boots. They are gorgeous, almost an exact match to Evie’s except brown with a cut out of some flower along the side instead of a name.

“What flower is this?” I ask as I run my finger over the leather in wonder.

“Waterlilies. It’s your birth flower.” Chris answers before adding a low and embarrassed. “If you don’t like ‘em, it’s cool. I know it probably ain’t your style-”

I cut him off with a hug, wrapping my arms tight around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder. “Thank you, Chris. This means a lot.”

He freezes up at first but slowly returns my hug, pulling me closer. “Don’t mention it, Scotch.”

I finally pull away and wipe at my face, cursing myself for being so emotional today. Chris gives me a lopsided smile before he taps the window once and sighs. “I gotta get home. Get some sleep. We’ve got horses tomorrow.”

I grin back at him and nod, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “Okay. Goodnight, boss.”

When he’s gone, I pull the window back down and lock it before looking back down at the boots. I place them on my shoe rack, tossing a pair of my Ricks to the side to make room. I stare at them for a long while, the swirling feeling in my chest growing until I finally make myself go to sleep. And when I dream, it’s of fields of waterlilies.

🏷️/ @xoxo4chrisss @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fic #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo angst #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #cowboy chris sturniolo #the last ride #nicolas sturniolo #maggie b writes #sturniolo angst #angst

[7ndipity]

Matching Costumes

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi realizes he likes your costume idea more thank he thought he would.

Warnings: Yoongi’s dressed as a vampire(yes, I think that requires a warning), suggestive, joke about biting, reader wears a dress(?) not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! It’s a little short, and a lil self-indulgent, but I hope you’ll still like it!

Masterlist Spooktober m.list

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Truthfully, Yoongi wasn’t really the biggest fan of Halloween, but he knew that you were, so when he mentioned that the company was having their annual Halloween party and asked if you wanted to go as his date, he knew perfectly well what he was getting himself into, but he couldn’t resist. He loved seeing the way your eyes lit up in excitement, immediately beginning to brainstorm costume ideas for the two of you.

“What do you want to go as?” You’d asked as you scrolled through ideas online.

“Eh, whatever you want to pick is fine,” He’d said easily. “I trust your judgment.”

“Really?” You quirked a brow at him.

“Mmm, to an extent,” He clarified, grinning. “But I’m reserving the right to veto if you choose something too weird.”

“So, no gender swap Mario and Princess Peach?” You teased.

“Definitely not.”

“Damn, back to square one then.” You pouted as you turned your attention back to your phone, making him snicker.

In truth, you’d known what you wanted to get as soon as he’d asked you, but you wanted to browse around a bit before you bought them, just to be sure. You knew it was a lil bit of a cop out and cliche, but you couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease Yoongi a bit, getting you matching costumes in the theme of ‘Dracula and his bride’.

It’d been a running joke between the two of you since before you had even started dating that you thought he was secretly a vampire, due to things ranging from his primarily nocturnal work schedule to his consistently cold hands.

Yoongi had rolled his eyes when you showed him the costumes, but hadn’t said no, much to your delight, so you’d quickly ordered the outfits and waited impatiently for the night of the party.

…

“I don’t have to actually wear the fake fangs, do I?” Yoongi asked as he finished buttoning his dress shirt.

“Not unless you want to.” You called from the bathroom, where you were putting on the final touches to your own look.

“I don’t.” He replied, fidgeting with the long, black cape as it refused to hang right over his shoulders.

It wasn’t a bad look on him, he had to admit as he studied his black clad reflection, reminding him faintly of the suit he’d worn for a photoshoot with one of his friends last year.

“You know, we don’t have to actually go to this thing, we could just go to din-?” His suggestion died on his lips as he caught sight of you in the mirror as you entered the room, turning around quickly to see you properly.

The main costume was just a long black dress, cinched in at the waist to emphasize your figure before the skirts flowed down over your hips, your hair styled and pinned back so it showed off your neck, including the carefully painted bite marks you’d placed just above you collarbone. It wasn’t the most elaborate costume, but it had still managed to make his mouth go dry as he took you in, unable to tear his gaze away.

“You’re staring.” Your voice snapped him back to attention.

“No, I wasn’t.” He denied instantly, despite the faint rosy hue that was creeping up his face. “I was just admiring my partner.”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

“I was!”

“I’m not arguing with you.” You laughed, raising a brow at him. “Sheesh, you’re acting like this the first time you’ve seen me in a dress.”

“I have, just not like this.” He said, pulling you in by the waist.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Matching.”

“Really?” You looked up at him in amusement. “You like this?”

“A little.” He admitted.

“Should I get us matching hoodies or sweatsuits too?” You grinned, making him scowl at you.

“Don’t tease me, I’m trying to have a moment here.” He complained, tightening his grip on you.

“Alright, I’m sorry.“ You chuckled, pushing up on your tiptoes to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes, studying his face. “You look really handsome, by the way.”

“You haven’t seen the whole costume.” He said.

“I wasn’t talking about the costume.” You said, grinning as you lightly pecked his lips.

That did it. He quickly ducked his head, chasing your mouth with his, letting out a deep, contented sigh as he caught you in another, longer kiss.

His lips moved slowly against yours at first, before quickly growing more needy and trailing down, latching onto a spot just under your jaw, eliciting a gasp from you when you felt his teeth scrape lightly over the skin.

“Yoongi.” You whined, but not trying to pull away.

“What? You’re the bride of Dracula, it only makes sense that you’d have a few bite marks.” He chuckled, lightly sucking another spot before switching to the other side of your neck to make it match.

“We’re gonna be late.” You stammered, trying to keep focused, but he wasn’t making it easy.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, making your eyes widen at the red that was smudged around his mouth before reaching up to touch your neck.

“Agh, you smudged my makeup!” You realized, your brief alarm shifting to annoyance.

“Like I care.” He smirked, trying to lean back in, but you pulled back just out of his reach.

“Nu-uh, we’ve got a party to go to, Dracula, remember?”

“Do we have to though?” He asked. “I mean, we could just stay here and-”

“Nope,” You stopped him. “I told the other’s we’d be there, we have to at least make an appearance.”

“What if I convince you to stay home?” He questioned lowly.

“And how do you plan to do that?” You asked, foolishly letting him catch you in another kiss.

You never made it to the party.

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi reaction #yoongi smut #yoongi imagine #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts reaction #bts one shot #bts fluff #bts requests #bts imagines #bts drabble #7ndipity

[melis-writes]

Blood Money (Tony Montana x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut) Chapter 3 – An Eye For An Eye.

Chapter 2 / Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“Your new boyfriend is in Miami." / “I’m here for Tony Montana.”

Tony's fiery gaze burned into the back of your mind but your name etched on his heart from the very moment he knew who you were. Keeping you on his mind like prayer, Tony wastes no time in attempting to squeeze himself out of every interrogation at the Cuban migrant camp he and Manny are detained in. Like a power move claiming he knows you, Tony's beckoning you to meet him once more in your hometown with bold claims striking the attention of your father–one of the most notorious, wealthy businessmen of Miami–with one claim being that of love.

[WARNINGS]: None!

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Oh my goodness, a LONG time coming and the chapter update is finally here at last!! 😭💀 I'm thrilled to update this fic again and share it with the Tony girlies! Battling writer's block and life getting super busy was a chore but I. AM. BACK and writing! And yet I must break everyone's heart again by saying this update of Blood Money officially marks my temporary hiatus of Al fics outside of The Godfather universe. 💔 I will now solely be working on my Godfather fanfics until I'm finished so I have ample time and opportunity to write more consistently and update fics even more often than I ever have. I'm definitely not abandoning this fic and I will finish it someday soon! For now, let's dive back into Tony and Celeste's story!! 🥺🤞🏻

With a taste for success and dollar bills, Tony Montana’s drug empire grew in vast wealth, power and influence by your side as the kingpin’s lover. From sharing an intimate history in Cuba, you and Manny Ribera were the only ones to believe and support Tony from rags to riches. Embroiled in the same lifestyle and sharing enemies, you and Tony come to build your empire and world together with the threat of it collapsing from the inside. As partnership turns to betrayal and thrill to danger, you find yourself in-between ultimatums and sacrifices for the man you love.

'I'm always in the right, man. Always am.' The shit-eating grin over Tony's face spreads equal amounts of tension and frustration throughout the interrogation room; keeping the officers on edge for word back from your family knowing Tony could potentially be a protected individual under the Navarro family while thinking at the very same time that Tony could be bullshitting everyone just to waste their time.

Tony sits all too comfortably in front of the officers with his arms crossed, all the more amused watching them huff quietly to themselves and glower back at Tony every few minutes.

"So--" Tony attempts to start a lively conversation on his behalf.

"You shut the fuck up, Montana," the first cop points his finger at Tony. "Don't say a fuckin' word."

"We're not playing with you," the second cop scowls. 

"Alright, man. Alright," Tony shrugs his shoulders loosely, "sheesh. I keep quiet when people talk on the phone, like Mama taught me, okay?"

Letting out another shaky sigh of irritation, the officers exchange a glance amongst one another, knowing well enough that if they've bothered the Navarro family for no good reason, it'll result in a guaranteed suspension without pay and likely following up with getting fired. 

Then again, there's always the possibility that it could be Tony finding himself in hot water with the Navarros due to his cockiness and stupidity, and if that means having Tony out of the refugee camp and no longer able to be a nuisance, then it'll be both a best case scenario and a relief for the officers involved. Still, it's all too much to consider at once.

"Tell the supervisor," the first cop mumbles, "he needs to know what's going on."

"Will do," the other sighs, taking a seat back at his desk to grab out his notepad.

Ignoring Tony outright, the first cop moves his stool over to the telephone by the desk and sits next to it before beginning to dial the Navarro family reception line.

'By heart?' Tony's eyes flicker with interest, noticing how the officer has your family's number memorized by heart—rendering him surprised and amused at the same time. 

'So they know her,' Tony thinks to himself. 'She not a nobody. She a somebody. I got her name on the line for me. Just for me.' 

This means more to Tony than you can already know, even if all you'll ever do is show up to spit on his face and blame him for wasting your time. The satisfaction alone is everything for him.

Both officers continue to ignore Tony and avoid making any sort of eye contact with him; murmuring ushered words to one another and pressing through more numbers on the telephone as it rings.

Only mere moments after does Tony notice how tense the officer on the telephone gets by the way his muscles jerk up in response to the telephone being answered by a monotone-voiced, middle-aged man speaking out.

"Navarro residence."

The very individual answering the phone would be your father's advisor and right-hand man, Gabriel.

"Cuban Detention Center, Officer Frank speaking," the cop says politely, clearing his throat. "May we please speak to Mr. Navarro?"

There's a short pause on the other end of the line. "Do you have a request or appointment booked in advance?"

"No," Officer Frank answers quietly. "Um, ahem—this is in relation to immigration and detention. There's a gentleman here claiming he was requested by name from a potential--" Frank scowls over at Tony. "Sponsor." 

Gabriel's tone of voice grows considerably agitated. "I trust you have a good reason for wishing to bother Mr. Navarro. You will not hear it from me."

"Greatly appreciated," Officer Frank awkwardly replies as Gabriel begins to transfer the call to your father's personal telephone.

Fully aware of the telephone conversation ongoing with Gabriel, your father—Darren Navarro--is two stories up in his penthouse—still in his Versace morning robe, smoking a Cuban cigar.

His first words to Officer Frank once the line transfer is, "You better have a good reason for reaching my personal number, Frank."

"Oh yes sir, o-of course," Frank stammers. "I apologize, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt your day, but this is urgent."

"So you say so," your father is unmoved by the sudden sense of urgency. "I suppose it is coming from the immigration and refugee department. I've sponsored nobody, so what is all of this?"

Officer Frank's skin drains of color as he nervously exchanges a glance with his colleague, glumly shaking his head. "Um, sir, there was a mention of your daughter's name by a Cuban migrant."

Your father raises a brow, leaning back on his velvet chaise. Your last trip to Cuba and mentions of "Tony Montana" and "Manny Ribera" easily come to Darren's mind. 

"Interesting," Darren muses. "And what is this individual's name?"

"Tony Montana," Tony speaks up loud and clear, grinning. "And with my best friend, Manny Ribera."

"Shut the fuck up!" The second cop hisses, almost jumping out from behind his desk to hit Tony.

Darren's all very well aware Tony is in the same room and must know who he is by now, having heard everything. 

"Uh huh," your father chuckles. "I see."

"Sorry, sir. I'm so sorry," Frank scoffs, swallowing hard.

"Stop your whining," Darren rolls his eyes. "I heard the man loud and clear. This is no request for me but for my daughter then."

"The migrant claims to know Celeste Navarro personally, sir." Frank clears his throat.

"Yes, he does. That much is true," your father nods.

"May we speak to Celeste, sir?"

"No need," Darren brushes off the request, glancing towards his bedroom door. "Celeste will soon be on her way to greet both gentlemen personally.

"This man--" Frank begins, but is abruptly cut off and corrected by your father.

"Men," your father clarifies, refusing to exclude Manny. "There are two of them after all, so Celeste will see both. She knows both of them, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Darren blows out the smoke from his cigar around him, resting his cigar between his fingers as he admires the afternoon light glistening over his gold rings and jewelry. "Treat these men well. I'm aware of the reputation your detention center has and its demands. 'Gentle' is not in your vocabulary so be respectful. These are friends of the Navarro family and I expect them to be treated as such."

"Yes, sir..." Mortified, the officers stare in shock at a smirking Tony before your father hangs up on them.

~

Giving a drawn-out sigh, you roll your eyes in annoyance at the back cover of the gossip magazine you’ve been reading; already questioning why you bother with the tabloids just to entertain you.

Flipping back to the front cover of a bikini model on Miami beach, you rest your chin over your fist, wearing a flowing, pastel pink satin nightgown—laying on your stomach and dangling your feet, attempting to beat boredom.

Frank Sinatra’s “All By Myself” plays softly on your white and gold decorated record player, a compliment to the similar colors lavishly decorated over your bedroom.

Practically the size of a house’s first floor, your bedroom itself spans 1,500 square feet and is fit for a princess, covered in various shades of pink with a glimmering diamond chandelier above you.

The very king-size bed you lounge upon is adorned with a bubble-gum pink cashmere and quilt duvet and six silk encased pillows, a polar bear throw in the center of your bedroom upon the marble floors striking attention to the wall fixtures and architecture of the bedroom taking inspiration from the Palace of Versailles.

You furrow your brows in annoyance at the magazine in your hands, only to have your thought suddenly interrupted by the sound of your father knocking on your door.

You peek up in interest, brushing a curtain of your hair back. “Come in.”

“Hi, darling,” your father enters your room with a warm smile—holding a glass of iced rum in one hand and concealing something in his fist with the other. “Didn’t think I’d be giving you good news so quick, eh?”

Chuckling, your father opens his fist and lightly tosses your car keys over to you.

Reaching your arm out, you snatch the car keys mid-air—staring at your father in confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your new boyfriend is in Miami,” your father says with a laugh. “Immigration services at the Cuban refugee camp called me just earlier.”

“Huh,” you blink, rubbing your temple as your memory recollects, hitting you all at once.

“I never say goodbye either. I say you’re gonna remember these faces—my face.”

‘Tony Montana.’ Your face flushes red as you clear your throat, glancing up at your father. “They called you?”

“Mhmm,” your father nods, taking a small sip from his drink. “Quick to it, I’ll give them that. I don’t think that Tony of yours has been there for very long from the sounds of it. They wanted to reach you, actually.”

“Makes sense of course,” you slide aside your magazine, sitting up in bed. “Great…”

“What do you think?” Your father raises a brow.

“I’m not thinking of anything,” you give your head a shake.

“No? You sure you don’t owe this Tony and his friend a favor or two?”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” you roll your eyes out of frustration. “But for Tony,” you clutch your car keys, “if he wants to see me, I’ll go see him. I’ll see him, but I don’t know what I can do for him.”

“Is this really someone worth wriggling out of months worth of paperwork and getting into the front of the line? ‘Cause I’ll let you decide that,” your father shrugs. 

Getting off of your bed, you eye your purse from across the bedroom. “I think I’ve already made my decision.”

“I’m sure you made the right one,” your father turns back on his heel.

“Is Tony waiting for me right now?” You head over to your walk-in closet.

“He is,” your father confirms, placing his hand over your doorknob to close the door behind him. “And I think you’re the only person he wants to see right now.”

~

‘Tony Montana…’ You let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back against your car’s headrest. ‘Again and so soon.’ With great effort, you push aside the fluttering feeling in your heart every time Tony’s name and face cross your mind; clearing your throat and putting your Armani sunglasses on.

Starting up your Mercedes-Benz 380SL Convertible and pulling out of your estate’s parking lot carefully, you focus on nothing but getting directly to immigration services—able to collect your thoughts.

Letting the warm summer breeze flow through your hair as you step on the gas, determined to know just why Tony’s got your name mixed up with the law.

You may not have taken the rugged, cocky stranger very seriously back in Cuba but you’d be lying to yourself right now if you said you weren’t a little intimidated by Tony’s timing.

‘Didn’t think my name would cross your lips so soon either… Full of surprises.’ 

Tony knows he can sit and wait in the interrogation room for an eternity to come so as long as it’s promised you’ll show up—riding off on the idea of seeing you again like a lingering high.

Driving through the streets of Miami, you tap your French tip manicure against your steering wheel patiently through every red light.

Your eyes flicker over beach-bound tourists making their way over the crosswalks, noting the impatient drivers on the other side of the intersection honking at each other and tossing cigarettes out the window; the scent of body odor and beer not far from the beach itself.

Giving your head a shake, you scrunch your nose in disgust and drive off—not far from reaching the secluded immigration center from downtown.

You arrive a little over ten minutes later, driving into the clearance section with the rest of the other drivers waiting their turn to speak with an officer at the booth and be admitted. 

Resting your arm on the windowpane of your car, you peek your head out of the window just enough for your face to be seen, and just as you expected, you’re recognized by an officer at a booth opposite from you almost instantaneously. 

‘Uh huh.’ Noticing the officer blocking the path of the upcoming car who was next in line, you slowly drive up as he gestures for you to follow.

“How is that fucking fair?!” You hear a honk and shout of irritation from the other driver, simply ignoring him and continuing to cautiously drive up.

“Blow it out your ass, buddy,” the officer rolls his eyes.

Parking your car, you glance up at the officer who only gives you a brief nod and lets you through without a single word; just one of the many perks of being the daughter of one of Miami’s most notorious businessmen.

“Alright,” you mutter under your breath as you approach the guarded parking lot, seeing another officer heading directly your way. ‘Let’s see what this is really all about.’

Taking off your sunglasses, you make eye contact with the officer who furrows his brows at you in confusion; more than likely wondering how you got in so quickly and just who you are to be taking priority over anyone else.

“And who might you be?” The officer asks smugly.

“I think you know who I am,” you reply back coyly. “I’m here for Tony Montana.”

~

As smug and prideful as he can be, Tony slouches in his seat with his arms crossed and completely relaxed as if he’s the one arranging the interrogation rather than being interrogated. 

As apparent as the officers make it seem to Tony how thoroughly pissed, exhausted, and anxious they are dealing with him, Tony reflects it with his nonchalant attitude on purpose.

“You think you’re taking some sort of vacation, Montana?” Officer Frank scowls.

 “Sure, man,” Tony shrugs his shoulders loosely. “I think my vacation is on the way.”

Ignoring the immigration officer who escorts you inside the facility as some mock bodyguard, you make your way towards the entrance of the interrogation offices where the officer gestured you to, making note of the maximum-security gates and barbed wire high walls.

Giving a small huff of annoyance and adjusting your hair, you approach a narrow hallway inside the next building and set your sunglasses on your head.

“This way, please,” the officer guiding you murmurs and politely steps in front of you.

Unphased and hardly listening, you follow the officer until you both reach an interrogation door marked “11B”.

You maintain your distance from both the officer and the door as the officer leans over and quickly knocks on the door not to ask to come in but to signal his entrance.

A wide, playful grin spreads over Tony’s face as he turns his head back to face the door—absolutely thrilled to see it about to open in front of him.

Fear simmers back into the officers the moment they spot a feminine silhouette behind the tinted glass of the door, instantly remembering now more than ever that their jobs are on the line.

Pushing open the door, the officer guiding you inside steps in first and out of your way—clearing his throat to speak out, “Miss Celeste Navarro is here, sir.”

‘Celeste Navarro…’ Seeing you before him once more, Tony’s pupils widen as a strong surge of attraction hits him—coursing through his veins.

Tony’s muscles tighten and he feels the heat of arousal trickling inside of him as he locks eyes with you, stunned and utterly admiring every inch of your figure.

Attempting to look at you with more humility than defeat or nervousness, the officers are put off by your very presence and can say or do nothing as you cross your arms; expectant and domineering before everyone else.

You’re the only spot of color in the otherwise dull room filled with grey uniforms and sweaty men; dressed in an Armani, pastel pink, cropped tweed blazer, a matching mini skirt, a white chiffon Calvin Klein blouse with a bow at your collar and four-inch glossy nude pumps. 

“There she is, she’s the one,” Tony smirks at you—breaking the momentary silence in the room.

“Ahem,” Officer Frank clears his throat, beginning to sit upright in his seat. “You know this man, miss?”

“Do I?” You raise a brow, unamused. “It feels like I’ve known him my whole life.”

“Yes, baby,” Tony mutters to himself inaudibly. ‘Come to me. You’re here now.’

“Miss Navarro,” the other officer begins to speak up awkwardly, “apologies if this is an intrusive question however this man claims to know you and—”

”And she’s my fiancée, as I was telling you. Okay, man?” Tony interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Can I have some privacy with my fiancée, man?”

‘Fiancee? What the hell is he talking about?’ Struck into shock by Tony’s words, you hold your posture and expression, but you know where Tony’s coming from and just why he’s deciding to play this game with you now.

“Yes, so what?” You snap back, noticing the playful twinkle in Tony’s eyes. “It’s true, he is my fiancée.”

‘Tony… I hope you know what you’re doing. I swear… Now is not the time to put on a show.’ 

The officers stare at each other in utter discomfort, remaining silent. 

“But I don’t recall that being anyone’s business except mine,” you narrow your eyes at them, taking a step forward to Tony.

Tony takes your soft hand in his, caressing his thumb over the back of your hand softly. “See?”

“Well,” Officer Frank swallows hard, “if that’s the case—”

Your eyes snap open in shock as Tony leans up in his seat, suddenly cupping both of your cheeks and immediately pulling you into a crushing, deep kiss.

‘Oh!’ Your lips collide over his and your eyes flutter shut in response, feeling the warmth of his tongue teasing the tip of yours in loving passion without a care—ensnared in the moment of having you as his fiancée with no intentions of letting go. 

#scarface #scarface 1983 #al pacino #tony montana #tony montana x reader #tony montana x reader smut #tony montana x oc #tony montana smut #scarface x reader #scarface x reader smut #blood money fic #blood money fanfic

[bcbdrums]

[sorry not sorry]

The cool of the lair was welcome against Drakken's sweat-dampened skin as he and Shego walked through the cave in near-darkness. He could have turned the lights up, but his exhaustion demanded only that he fall into bed as swiftly as possible, if his sore limbs could even bring him that far; seeing his way there was a secondary concern.

"I get the shower," Shego said unnecessarily as they approached their room, a sharp edge to her tone borne of the frustration of their defeat coupled with just how tired they were. Having Possible blow up the hover-car with their own laser had been humiliating, but running from the teen and the cops for miles had been the sour cherry on top of the sticky, melted sundae of their failed plot.

Drakken gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgement as they approached the doors, and his muscles ached as he quickened his pace, the promise of soft oblivion motivating him. But then as he reached the automatic doors...they didn't open.

"Dr. D., what gives?" Shego asked, pushing her frizzed hair back before setting her hands on her hips.

Drakken was already reaching for the keypad to input the code to unlock the door, scowling at the delay. It should have opened at their presence, but he was too eager for bed to consider that he hadn't in fact locked the door when they left that day.

The door didn't respond to the code.

"Could you hurry up already?" Shego said.

"It's...broken," Drakken said, feeling his every nerve ending tingle with the desperation to lie down.

"How is it broken? Move," Shego said, shouldering Drakken aside to try the code herself.

When two tries from her yielded nothing, Drakken started looking the door up and down as if it were an enemy he was sizing up.

"Did you change the code?"

"No, why would I—"

"Wait. Dr. D.... Did you hear something?"

Drakken had paused, leaned against the door in his exhaustion as Shego started in, but now he turned and pressed his ear against the cold metal as Shego's brow furrowed.

His eyes widened. There was sound within their bedroom. He closed his eyes tightly and focused, trying to bring the rise and fall of different pitches into something recognizable.

And then, his eyes popped open as it did.

"Onh, seriously Ames... You're a better ride than my Harley."

"Call me...DNAmy... Eddie-Bear."

Drakken felt the heat of Shego's glow before he heard it crackle, and turned to see her face changing color as a combination of fury and disbelief overtook her features as rapidly as he knew disgust was claiming his.

"Is that...your cousin...and that geneticist...!?"

"In...our bed," Drakken finished in a whisper, his mouth having gone dry.

He couldn't begin to form another thought as combined shouts of ecstasy, one piercing in pitch and the other guttural and triumphant sounded from within their bedroom.

Shego's hands flared. Drakken whirled and pounded his fist against the door.

"Eddie!" he shouted. "What are you doing in my lair!?"

"Sheesh, 'Cous, at least give us some time in the afterglow, seriously."

"Eddie!"

Silence was the reply, except for muttered soft cooings that made Drakken's hair stand on end. He opened his mouth to tell Shego to break the door down, but then thought better of it. He wanted to see his cousin in bed with DNAmy even less than he'd wanted to hear them.

"Ugh, forget it Dr. D. Let's...just go to my room."

The call to rest was more tempting in the moment than dealing with his cousin, and so Drakken acquiesced, took her hand after the glow diminished to follow her down the hall. But before they were out of earshot, one final blow left Drakken in doubt of getting any peace that evening:

"Oh, and 'Cous? You might want to have Green burn these sheets later. This was only round three and I've still got plenty of gas to fuel my babe, seriously!"

---------

[all this because @legendary-guest said Eddie won't do it in Amy's frilly pink bed, and she won't do it in his race car bed (with actual race car), so they compromised on...Drakgo's bed. nicknames Ames and Eddie-Bear belong to Legendary, haha. this one's for you, friend!]

#kim possible #drakken #shego #drakgo #drakken x shego #motor ed #dnamy #motor ed x dnamy #drew lipsky #eddie lipsky #the little ones #eventually lol too lazy to post on the sites right now

[mamawasatesttube]

“I know, I know, I’m stuck with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” please!

"Thanks for coming on such short notice." Dick both looks and sounds harried, Bat-comm in hand as he ushers Kon in from the balcony. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can, but you never know with Arkham breakouts—also, there's some leftover chicken soup in the fridge, if he can keep that down it'll be great, and—yes, B, I'm on my way, I heard you the first seventeen times—sorry, Conner, it's a bit hectic, but—"

"Hey, man." Kon gives him a reassuring thumbs-up. "I got this. You go do your thing and let me wrangle the poor sickly scrunkle, yeah?"

Dick pauses on one leg, one shoe on, the other in hand. "The scrunkle?"

"Tim," Kon clarifies. "You know, 'cuz he's scrunkly."

"...I see," Dick says, not sounding like he particularly sees at all. But there's no time to explain; he flashes a quick grin, fires off a two-fingered salute, and calls one more "Thanks again!", and then he's gone.

Kon cocks his head and waits.

After seventeen seconds, the jingle bell he stuck to the outside of Dick's bedroom windowframe on his way in chimes, and he snorts to himself as he superspeeds right on over to the fire escape outside.

"Predictable, Rob," he says, lounging midair. Tim, staring at the bell in his hand with great prejudice, scowls; the effect is rather ruined by his adorable hot pink bird-printed pajamas. "You definitely have a fever if you fell for that one."

Tim folds his arms over his chest and glares at him. Coughs. Glares some more. "I don't need a"—cough, cough—"babysitter. I'm not that sick. Dick's just fussing."

Kon eases himself back in through the window, closes it against the night air, and presses his lips to Tim's forehead, ignoring the way Tim splutters. He's cute when he gets grumpy. "Mmm, well, that certainly feels like a high fever to me!"

"It's only a hundred and one," Tim mutters. And coughs again. Christ on a bike, he really sounds like death warmed over. The red flush to ohis face really isn't helping things, either.

Also. Christ on a bike? Really? Sheesh, Kon's spending too much time with Ma's friends on Bingo Sundays.

"Mm, yeah, so we're getting you back in bed," Kon informs him, and plucks him off the ground, sets him on his hip like the world's most disgruntled toddler, and carries him back over to Dick's bed, where he's clearly been being fussed over already, if the box of tissues, empty mugs, and cough drops are anything to go by.

"I'm not that sick!" Tim protests. Kon sees right through him, though; his wiggles of dissent are weaker than usual. "I can help. You heard Dick earlier, it's all hands on deck—"

"Which is why, if things get particularly dire, Dick already said he'll call me in," Kon says, and draws the blankets up over Tim's chest. "Seriously, Rob. The others have it in hand. And I," he grins, cupping Tim's face in his palms, "have you in hand."

Tim favors him with a very flat look, followed by a very pathetic sniffle. Oh, jeez, Kon wants to bundle him up and feed him soup and fuss over him forever. "Ha ha."

"I know, I'm hilarious." Kon squishes his cheeks before letting go. "Now, I'm gonna go get you some soup and your next dose of meds, and you're gonna stay right here in bed and not try any more escape attempts because you know I'm gonna catch you and bring you right back. And we are gonna watch your choice of 'Wendy', 'Star Trek', 'Star Wars', or 'Lord of the Rings', until you inevitably knock the fuck out because you are sick as hell, dude, and I do not mean in the Tony Hawk way. Got it?"

Tim heaves a weary, put-upon sigh that just sends him into another coughing fit; it sounds rough and scratchy and painful just to hear, and Kon winces in sympathy, leaning over to rub his back. Aw, Tim...

"I guess I can live with that," Tim rasps, his eyes watering. Kon is seized by the urge to kiss his forehead again, properly this time; he wants to take care of him so bad.

"Good! 'Cuz you don't get a choice." Kon gently ruffles his hair, eases him back against his pillows, and then tuts softly to himself and strokes the hair back from Tim's sweaty forehead. His poor Rob...

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm stuck with you." Tim sighs again, closing his eyes. After a moment, though, he smiles ever-so-slightly, his eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "...I wouldn't have it any other way."

That's gotta be the fever talking—it's true, and Kon knows it's true, but Tim wouldn't just say it like that—but it makes Kon's heart flutter all the same.

He leans down and kisses Tim's forehead before he can lose his resolve. "Right back at'cha, Rob," he says, smiling. "Now lemme go get you your soup."

"Good luck," Tim mumbles, opening his eyes just slightly. "Don't fall in, have fun, et cetera..."

Kon laughs. "Will do," he says, and stands to leave.

(It's not until he's waiting in front of the microwave that he realizes: since the moment he left Tim's side, he's been—quite literally—walking on air.)

50 Prompts About Devotion

#timkon #tim #kon #rimi writes #huilannie #tim: is sick. dick: Come Here I Will Make You Soup. tim: oh you dont have to thats ok-- / dick: I Was Not Asking. #also nudging my dick & kon agenda forward again ever so slightly. but its mostly kon fussing <3 love kon getting to be a mom friend <3 #and also them both being stupid and pining a little. but mostly its about the mom friending

[illusionsofdreaming]

birds without feet;

Notes: I return to the blog with this monster of a ficlet. This was actually written for @nin-deer who very graciously allowed me to share it on the blog as well. A small imagine that grew out of control haha... enjoy~ Ft: Beacrox

It was but a subtle shift of air that caused him to abandon his project. In an instant, he whipped around, knife in hand, its sharp blade poised just above the intruder's jugular, ready to cut deep with the slightest pressure.

Despite the threat of a blade at your neck, your smile was relaxed as you lifted the roll of parchment in your hand. “Delivery!”

His eyes quickly scanned the kitchen, noting the shifted curtains he pieced together your point of entrance. Only when you wiggled the paper impatiently did he finally drop the knife and swiped the parchment from your hand, ignoring your huff of laughter as he scanned over its contents.

“It’s nice to see you too Beacrox. How have you been?” 

Your attempts at casual banter were ignored, but the moment you began reaching for the food on the table, his gaze snapped to yours, promising pain should you attempt further.

You were wise enough to heed his warning as you stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “Sheesh, you’re not going to make any friends if you keep acting this way.”

Crumpling the piece of paper, he threw it into the fireplace as you clicked your tongue in mock annoyance.

Had he cared for your opinion, he might’ve been annoyed, alas it was easy to dismiss as he threw a pouch in your direction, the clink of gold muted as you caught it from the air. He watched as you tossed the bag a few times before pocketing it.

You must have caught the confusion on his face as you glanced up with a grin. “I know you won’t cheat me of my payment.”

Though it was the truth—Molan’s motto was always to repay what’s due—such blatant admission of trust from someone working in the dark underbelly of society puzzled him, and without meaning to, he’d let his displeasure slip through. “It could’ve been filled with rocks.”

You blinked, head tilted as if you’re considering the possibility, then you laughed. “Then I suppose I’ll be a few pretty rocks richer.”

He scowled and returned to his work, grabbing his knife to hide the flush of annoyance he felt by your flippant answer. You knew such responses would annoy him, and he refused to give you the satisfaction of being correct.

One does not survive long in the underworld with their morals and innocence intact. Your deliberate pushing of buttons was another tactic to wheedle information from your targets, and he wasn't inclined on revealing anything. You already know far too much as is.

“Leave,” he ordered, his limited patience well and truly spent. 

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Bea~”

He threw the knife in his hand, but by the time he turned around, you were already gone. The only evidence of your visit was the lingering echoes of your laughter and a missing tart from the plate of desserts he'd prepared earlier.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

As you kept the package just out of his reach, he couldn’t help but think: for a grown person jaded by the underworld, you sure liked acting like a child at times.

“You just thought of something rude didn’t you?”

His gaze snapped to yours. “You forget who you’re dealing with.” he warned coldly. The Molan household might have fallen from grace but just because he had traded his daggers for kitchen knives, they were no less lethal in his hands. Was it confidence or foolishness that made you dare to test his patience?

The silence in the kitchens was deafening as your eyes met across the counter. 

“I haven’t,” You said finally, “not once.” Your smile was wry and lacked its usual cheer but the heaviness in your tone bore the weight of many secrets, of someone who knew far more than what they’re letting on. He’s faced with an uncanny sense of unbelonging and emptiness that seemed eerily familiar. 

But with a blink of an eye, the mask that had slipped had righted itself. “I have a change of mind,” You sat on the edge of the counter island, tension and somber mood shaken off, replaced with an all too sunny smile. “I’d like another form of payment for the information I’m selling.”

He felt anger lick up his throat as his fist clenched above the table. “That was not part of our deal.”

“An amendment to the agreement then, if you will-”

“I refuse.”

Your peals of laughter filled the room, “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I refuse.” He repeated sternly. Knowing your personality, it would be an amendment that would greatly irritate or inconvenience him. 

“I’d like you to cook a dish for me.” You continued, ignoring his words. 

There was a sharp snap as the corner of the table cracked under his hand as incredulity stole over his face. 

To begin with, payment for your services had never been cheap, each bag of gold was worth more than several months’ worth of food. If all you wanted was a decent meal, then you’ve already been charging enough to dine at any of Roan kingdom’s finest restaurants.

“It’s not a dish that can be found on any menu in the kingdom.” You tutted as if you knew the thoughts that were going through his head. “It’s not something that can be bought with gold.” 

You’re pulling his leg. “And why do you think I’d care to create a dish no one’s heard of?” Beacrox asked through gritted teeth.

“I know you don’t.” You laughed, lips slanted with a smile. “It’s something I’ve tasted a long time ago but have no idea how it’s made. I’ll describe what I remember and if you believe it’s impossible to recreate or not worth the hassle,” you shrugged in an exaggerated display of nonchalance, “then I’ll take the usual payment like nothing’s changed. It’s a good deal for you right?”

Nothing about this deal made sense. You’re essentially offering your services for free while he’d benefit regardless of whether he succeeds in recreating the dish or not. His expression was stiff as he crossed his arms.

You set the package down on the table gently and slid a piece of folded paper next to it. “Take your time to think about it.” You offered as you pulled your hood up. You left the kitchens as quietly as you’d arrived, leaving him to brood in the silence left behind.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Here.” he sets the completed project on the table with the reluctance of a person who would rather be anywhere else but in the kitchens at that very moment. He folded his arms, pinning his hands to his chest, resisting the urge to snatch the plate and throw it in the trash, calling off the deal.

Beacrox had no expectations of being able to recreate a dish he had never heard of. Yet, from the moment he set the plate down, you stiffened in place, your pleasant smile melting away, replaced by shock.

“Well?”, You flinched as he prompted impatiently. You pulled the dish closer, your smile weak and crooked. 

“I was just a bit surprised that’s all..” your voice trailed off.

He filed your reactions away in the back of his mind.

Your grip was uncertain but eventually you picked a piece from the plate and placed it in your mouth.

You froze in place, and he immediately slid a cup of water and bowl over. 

But you surprised him when you kept it in and swallowed. “It…” He watched as your face straightened slowly, all visible emotions ironed away into one of careful neutrality. 

“..tastes nothing like it.” 

When vague subjective descriptions on a slim piece of paper were all that he had to work with, he’d expected this outcome. The bag of gold he had prepared in advance was tossed onto the table as he reached to retrieve the dish, only to be deterred when sharp pain sprang across the back of his hand. The surprise he felt from the fact he’d failed to catch your movements was swiftly replaced by irritation when he realised you’d slapped him. 

His eyes narrowed, “What are you-“

“I’m taking it.” you said and to his utter confusion, went on to shove another bite in your mouth.

“You just said-“

“I know what I said.” you huffed, “I never said the dish had to taste right did I? It’s a good first try-“ His eyebrows lifted as you suddenly lost the ability to maintain eye contact with him. “Anyways, I’ll be the judge of what’s accepted and I say this passes.”

You've always been an eccentric character, but just when he thought you couldn't faze him further, you managed to render him speechless yet again. Till now, he’s yet to figure out your intention behind your request, if taste was not a priority then what use was creating the dish you’re looking for? 

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“But I haven’t-“

“Out.”

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

Of all the informants in the kingdom, none possessed skills that could surpass yours. It was why, despite the many headaches you induced, Beacrox had chosen to suffer your pestering for so long.

Not one of his sources has ever confirmed how you acquire your information or seen you in action. Yet the intelligence you provide, which has, at many times, sounded unbelievable, had been proven to be true time and time again. 

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was that, despite the ease with which you uncover others' secrets, the same couldn’t be said vice versa. Little to no information could be found regarding your background, whatever was found was obviously doctored, being far too mundane for someone of your skills. You were either incredibly thorough at covering your tracks or an experienced fraudster, and Beacrox was inclined on believing the latter.  

Your unpredictable behaviour made it hard to judge whether you’re an ally or foe, so it was only natural that he’d sought for leverage to hold against you in case there’ll be a day you’d decide to betray them and sell their secrets to their enemies. 

That was the only reason he would consider playing along with your games.

Though he knew not the significance of these dishes to you, he had hoped they would provide some insight on your background or places you’ve been to where other sources have failed to narrow down. 

But of course even the meals you’d request would be harder if not just as difficult to trace as well.

It was only a matter of time before you caught onto his intentions, after all, he’d never kept his investigations a secret. Yet instead of pulling back like he’d expected, you had become bolder in your requests, eyes sparkling with mischief as if you understood the frustration he was going through and still remain one infuriating step ahead of him at all times. 

He’d considered the possibility that you could be pulling his leg, but there was something about the nostalgia in your eyes as you taste each dish that made Beacrox believe in their authenticity. 

He glanced at a small box hidden by the side, within held a small but steadily growing pile of recipes of unknown origins. Not for the first time, Beacrox found himself questioning if all these peaceful days have turned him soft after all.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

A familiar, unwelcome figure was sitting in his fresh crate of produce.

A quick scan around the area confirmed that you were alone and he walked over to assess your state. A splatter trail led up to the crate you sat on and his brows furrowed in distaste. The darkness made it difficult to immediately see any obvious signs of injuries and when you made no reaction to his presence, he kicked the crate below you.

“Ow.” you stirred, complaining with a soft laugh. 

Conscious. 

“Why are you here?”

Your unannounced visit broke one of many unspoken rules governing their kind. As people maintaining a delicate facade, unexpected visits were not merely discouraged but deemed perilous. No one would fault him should he choose to silence you then and there - such was the severity of your faux pas - yet he stood, only mildly irritated, at the disruption you’ve brought to a peaceful night.

It took a moment longer than he liked before you gathered enough strength to speak. “Sorry,” you apologised and for once, actually sounding it. “I just need a little rest. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Your laboured breathing and unfocused gaze suggested otherwise and he folded his arms as the dreadful feeling of his plans for an early night slipped through his fingers like fine sand. 

“How bad is it?” 

Impatiently he waited for you to process his words, your sluggishness a strange contrast to your usually sharp wit and quick retorts. 

“It’s been treated.” 

The smell of blood was sharp and acrid, he would have to clean the stains soon if he wished to avoid its scent lingering in the area. “I will not ask again.” He warned.

You were exhausted, it could be seen from your posture and expression. Though he understood the instinct to hide one’s weakness, from the moment you chose to rest here it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ the truth comes out but a matter of ‘when’ and Beacrox would preferred if it happened sooner rather than later.

Just as he was contemplating the benefits of leaving you to your fate, your lips loosened. “Stab wound on the left, missed vitals. I’ve been tended to but some of the stitches might have opened up.”

That would explain the bloody trail you left. He should count his blessings that it didn’t sound too bothersome, assuming you hadn't foolishly downplayed the severity of your injuries. Your arms came up defensively as he began moving towards you, eyes widening with surprise, “Wait-“

His arms slipped under and around and with barely a grunt of effort, he lifted you up. The sudden motion drew a muffled groan from you and he allowed you a brief moment to collect yourself before he began moving. From this position, he could acutely feel the heat radiating from your skin and the tremors that wracked your body. 

Your confusion and trepidation were clear and it was with some hesitation before you decided to open your mouth-

“Save your breath.” He advised and you obediently swallowed your words.

He moved you into the storage shed behind the kitchen. Though dark, he navigated through the small space easily, setting you on the surface of several boxes, he stepped back to note that you’ve lost consciousness. The walk hadn’t been far but you must have exhausted your reserves traveling here.

From the darkness he brought out a small knife and paused, looking at your face, sweat slicked yet slack from tension, having found an escape from the worries troubling you - however temporary. He recognised that this moment might be a rare opportunity to unveil the secrets you hide, yet as quick as the notion flitted through his mind, it was dismissed just as quickly. With methodical precision, he cut open the side of your shirt where red had stained through.

The wound was as you’d described, if not a bit irritated and swollen. Basic first aid had been applied, though the messy stitch work left much to be desired, it did its job in holding your injury closed. A few stitches had come loose and will need to be reworked but nothing that he’s not capable of handling even with his limited medical knowledge.

As his gaze roamed to your face checking, yes, you were still unconscious, he left and returned moments later with a candle, clean water, cloth and a clean shirt. 

A dusty shed and mere candlelight were far from an ideal setting to perform any kind of wound care, but he doubted you’d care at this point. Pristine, white gloves snapped on, he made short work of cleaning, restitching and bandaging your wound. 

He was about to tilt a bottle of potion into your lips when you mumbled. He paused, waiting to see if you were regaining consciousness. You mumbled again and he frowned. It took him few moments before he realised two things: you weren’t waking up anytime soon and the words you’re mumbling, weren’t in a language from Roan or even any of the neighbouring kingdoms. 

As a master assassin, he had learned many languages, so the fact that you spoke one that he couldn’t place piqued his interest. He watched your lips, intent on studying and memorising the unique intonations and pitch, however, it seems your instincts finally kicked in, and though still unconscious, you’d stopped mumbling. 

Even out cold, you’d find a way to be bothersome. There was nothing more he could do, he left the folded, clean shirt he brought along by your side and with one final glance at your still form, he closed the doors behind him and locked it.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

He returned the next morning to a broken lock and an empty shed. In place of where you’re supposed to be was instead a piece of paper and a bag of coins. 

“Thanks for last night. Sorry about your spuds, I’ve replaced them for you :)”

A glance to the side confirmed the presence of a fresh crate of potatoes and a slip of paper containing the description of a dish never heard of before in the kingdom.

And for the first time ever, a name to go alongside the unfamiliar dish.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

You never mentioned what happened that night and he didn’t pry. Still, something seemed to have shifted between the two of you.

He no longer chases you away the moment you appear, while you've learned to place yourself to avoiding getting in the way of his cooking. He pretends not to notice when you arrive with injuries and you feign surprise at finding mysterious salves appearing nearby. 

“Aw, did you miss my company?” you teased when you caught his gaze assessing you after dropping by from one of your longer absences.

Beacrox made no attempt to conceal the dry scowl on his face. “Like one misses a rat infestation.”

“Charming~” you beamed.

Some things, still don’t change no matter what. 

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

In the end, it was the one question he couldn’t figure out. 

“Why me?”

The dishes you've shared are simple, you could've hired any other chef, given the same descriptions and they would’ve achieved similar results. But you chose to badger him, an unknown chef working for a humble count's family instead.

You paused in your devouring of yet another strange dish, blinking as if surprised that he would be the first to initiate conversation.

“Why Bea! You should have more confidence in yourself, you’re one of the best chefs in Roan!”

It was as obvious a deflection as he ever saw. His fingers tightened around his arms and he took a slow breath. So you’re going to be stubborn. Well, two can play that game. He tried another angle. 

The words tasted foreign on his tongue, but they were something that turned over and over in his mind since that night. He’d probably horribly butchered the pronunciation but it seemed the meaning was successfully relayed from the way your eyes widened and your pupils shook with recognition. 

The utensil held in your hand clattered to the table and Beacrox kept his eyes trained on you, taking in your paling face. When it didn't seem like you would offer an explanation, he continued.

“It’s what you kept repeating that night.“

A myriad of emotions crossed your face: shock, confusion, fear, and finally, resignation. 

In the silence, you slowly repeated those same words. Sharp, crisp and wholly foreign. 

"“Home,” your voice was soft, but it was the loudest thing in the kitchen. “‘I want to go home.’” you swallowed thickly, a wavering smile on your face. “that’s probably what I said.”

There was a lot to unpack from that revelation. 

He was suddenly reminded of how you’d react to the dishes each time, savouring each one, scouring the plates clean despite the differences in tastes. You ate not to fulfil the hunger of the body but to satisfy a craving of the mind. After receiving the recipe with a foreign name, it had confirmed one suspicion of his, that wherever these dishes came from, whether it was a place or a person that you're reminiscing about, they're likely no longer accessible.

You're reliving memories through dishes you barely remember. Chasing ghosts in your memories in search of some semblance of normalcy. 

Trust was a limited and rare currency in the underworld, hoarded jealously and coveted by many. You’d handed him the leash he’d sought since he agreed to your little game yet he felt gutted by the weight of the revelation, his shoulders burdened.

“Why me?” He repeated softly.

You watched him. “I don’t know.” Your voice sounded small and so tired. “I thought maybe, if it’s anyone, you’d probably understand.”

What does the concept of home and person mean when they no longer exist? Who are they but displaced people playing roles too big or small to hold their histories? Bearing memories of a place and person, but unable to find an equivalent?

It was a mistake. He shouldn’t have asked.

“But I wasn’t lying you know?” you added suddenly and he looked up in confusion, the smile you wore was weaker than usual but it was genuine. 

“You are one of the best chefs in all of Roan.” You declared in that same, familiar confidence which you use to share all those impossible, far-fetched sounding intel that always, turns out to be fact. 

For some inexplicable reason, it was that simple statement that dispersed the tempest building within.

Beacrox sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and exhaled through his nose.

And perhaps, there was a small, exasperated chuckle.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Bea please marry me.”

It wasn't often, but on rare occasions, he would nail the taste of a dish right.

He didn’t bother with a response but moved to refill your plate nonetheless.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Thank you.”

He paused while wiping the dishes. “For what?”

“Just,” Your gaze dropped to the plate before you as your fork tapped lightly against the edge. “Thank you for the food.”

Beacrox watched as you returned to eating, mind filled with memories of all the dishes he's made, of greatswords and bladed edges, and thought of what home and belonging is. 

We’re not so different. The idea of it wasn't as horrifying as he had thought. Once, perhaps he would’ve been unnerved by the sentimentality. There are still so many things that remain a secret when it comes to you, and yet, as you close your eyes to savor each bite, he feels as if he knows you better than most.

You ate in comfortable silence. He rolled his shoulders and allowed the tension in them to drop off. 

This might not be ‘home’ but for now, this moment was as good a resting place as any for people like them.

“You’re welcome.” he said softly. 

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━ 

BONUS:

Once again, it begins with a ridiculous request from you.

“Bea please, you have to prepare this for Choi Han. I’ll even sell you my kidneys, I really need to know his reaction.” 

What value would owning your kidneys have? That you’d blatantly suggest such things to an assassin like himself was laughable, stranger still was his playing the fool and following along anyways.

He didn't question how you knew about their mansion's new guest, though your sudden interest in the visitor when you’ve shown no such interest in past guests was worthy of note. Even he had unconsciously tensed when the young master had introduced him. Something about the newcomer didn’t seem right. They were strong, but their potential was untapped and raw, like an uncontrollable beast on the verge of lashing out at any moment.

The glimmer of something in your eyes further confirmed his suspicions. You knew something about this stranger though you refused to reveal more, only promising that he’s not a threat to him or Ron. 

He frowned at the pot of red he’s stirring, the pungent smell wafting through the room. Footsteps from the doorway had him looking up, but the person that crossed the threshold was not the person he’d expected. 

The young master stepped in with a cautious look in his eyes. 

“I thought I smelled..” brown eyes narrowed at the pot he held. “What’s that?”

Beacrox glanced down at the strange dish he was asked to prepare, wondering why of all people that could’ve come, it would be Cale Henituse. 

“A dish a friend taught me to make.” Then for some reason unbeknownst to him, he offered. “Would the young master like to try?”

Cale hesitated, but eventually slid himself onto a seat, choosing the one farthest away from him. At least the young master seemed sober. Beacrox felt no fondness for the young master he served, even if it was true that he had begun to change recently, raising even the interest of Ron. 

Spooning a small portion, he set the dish and utensils down before Cale, ignoring the young man’s flinch as he gauged Cale’s strange expressions. 

The young master stared at the dish as if it would leap up and attack him, his strange wariness reminded Beacrox of your reaction when he first presented that first unfamiliar dish to you. 

“.. there’s no way..” Cale muttered to himself as he poked and prodded until finally, he tried a bite. 

“What.. the hell?”

Beacrox had never seen the young master's eyes bug out like that, and he decided it was quite an entertaining sight, even if the dish’s original target wasn’t meant for the redhead. Still he stifled an irritated sigh as a thought crossed his mind when the young master exclaimed.

“How the hell did you learn to make kimchi?!”

“What the hell did you make me do this time _______?”

Notes: I've had lots of thoughts while writing this imagine turned fic. Nin-deer gave me a simple prompt of "cooking" and I went and turned it into lore- OTL even I don't understand the intricate workings of my brain. I've had to cut out some chapters details as it was growing out of hand so I hope everything's links together properly. I've reached that stage where I've reread a piece of writing so many times, nothing makes sense anymore. I've deliberately left the dishes 'cooked' vague so you're free to imagine whatever cuisine you'd like that Beacrox helped butcher 👍🏼

#TCF #TRASH OF THE COUNT'S FAMILY #IMAGINES #TCF X READER #Beacrox Molan #platonic #pre relationship #multiple identities #after a long hiatus #smacksdown with 4000 worded thesis #believe me when I said this monster got out of control #it was actually longer #i had to cut many parts out to prevent it from turning into a multichaptered fic #this au got out of hand #the lore I had planned... #i would love to see if I'll return to this AU #perhaps post the rest of the 'deleted' moments #would love to hear about everyone's theories on this ficlet

[laundrybiscuits]

I had zero plans to continue this but @shdwsilk came in with the extremely good takes sooo…

If you don’t know Inception this is probably incomprehensible. Soz.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to the mark?”

Steve visibly startles as Eddie slides onto the barstool next to him. Steve’s in a suit, because the mark is the most boring person alive and thinks a fancy cocktail party in a hotel is the stuff dreams are made of; Henderson was extremely specific about the number of dashing rogues Eddie was allowed to drop in for passionate speeches and/or dueling purposes.*

“Eddie?” says Steve. 

“Mm, no, Johanna Berger.” Eddie tosses his head, letting ice-blonde hair cascade over his bare shoulders, and smirks up at Steve. “I am quite charmed to meet you, darling.”

Johanna is a young widow who may or may not have had something to do with her late husband’s untimely death, so she’s wearing a plunging black dress designed to show off some real bombshell curves. He’s pretty proud of her rack, honestly; it’s harder than you’d think to make sure everything looks realistic. 

“Are you doing an accent?”

Eddie scowls. Johanna went to an international school, so her accent’s subtle to the untrained American ear, but he spent two solid hours last weekend reviewing Austrian vowels with his dialect coach. 

“Are you not doing an accent?”

“Uh, no? Because I don’t need to? The mark’s from Connecticut.” 

“Perhaps the both of you could use a little more exposure to…foreign affairs.” Johanna leans in coyly, trailing one red nail up Steve’s arm. 

Steve lets out a snort that sounds completely unrehearsed. “Does that ever actually work for you, dude?”

Johanna tilts her head, gazing up at Steve. She’s not the type to get intimidated, but she is the type to be curious. She’ll take risks if it means getting a chance to pry someone open. 

“You don’t spend much time with other forgers, do you?” she says. 

Steve shrugs. “I don’t really do the whole, uh, dreamsharing community. I mean, I guess I’ve kinda been doing this a while, but like—not seriously, you know? It’s not really my thing. Wasn’t planning on any more jobs at all, but Henderson showed up, and you know what that kid’s like.”

Steve looks so openly fond just saying Henderson’s name that Johanna has the sudden urge to shield Steve’s face from the crowd somehow. The poor fool, she thinks in despair. He has yet to learn that a tenderness like that is to be protected.

Or—maybe Johanna would be contemptuous. Maybe she’d think: what a fool. Anyone could see how to break Steve Harrington’s heart.

“Yeah,” says Eddie. “I know what Henderson’s like. Biggest pain in my ass imaginable.”

The soft look on Steve’s face shifts into a real smile as he glances over. “Tell me about it,” he says. “Hey, you sound like you again.”

“What, no I don’t,” says Eddie. 

“No, it’s good. It’s better than whats-her-name.”

Eddie looks down at himself, thoroughly-researched curves straining at the satiny bodice and a manicured hand still resting on Steve’s arm. “Maybe you just need to get to know Johanna,” he says. “She’s a hell of a dame.”

“Sure.” Steve winks. “Tell her to give me a ring sometime.”

“Oh my god, why are you hanging out with projections,” says Mike freaking Wheeler, popping up like a bad penny in a cater waiter outfit. “Steve, go talk to the mark! We’re running out of time!”

“Okay, okay, sheesh,” says Steve, pushing away from the bar.

“Jesus, Wheeler, we’re two levels down. We got plenty of time,” says Eddie, pointedly not watching Steve weaving through his crowd. 

“Wait, is—are you—Eddie?” The kid is openly gawking at Johanna. 

“Eyes up here, champ,” says Eddie. “This is Johanna Berger, and she’s here to make sure everything goes according to plan. Also, she’s here to look appropriately and publicly devastated at the tragic death of her husband, because the yacht club wives are getting gossipy.” 

“Whoa,” says Wheeler. “That…wasn’t in the briefing.”

“Keep up, yeah? You’re in the dreamshare business, the briefing never covers everything.” Eddie puts a tray of champagne flutes in Wheeler’s hands and snags one for Johanna as Wheeler fumbles to keep from dropping the rest. 

Johanna sips the champagne. It doesn’t taste like anything at all. 

“Darling,” she says. “If you learn to let dreams surprise you, I think you will have a better life, yes?” 

Across the room, Steve looks up from charming the mark. He smiles at Johanna, just a quick and completely unprofessional flash of teeth before turning his attention back to a Connecticut banker who probably wouldn’t have a hope in hell of catching Steve’s attention in the waking world.

Or maybe that’s Steve’s type. Maybe he’s got some smart, boring wife in a conservative pantsuit tucked away somewhere. Maybe she comes home every day like clockwork to a hot meal and freshly-bathed children and has absolutely no idea that her trophy husband inhabits dreamscapes in his spare time. 

No, he is better than that, thinks Johanna. In my soul I know that he deserves better. I would take him away from such a woman in an instant.

Which is just—

Okay, so Steve Harrington might be a slightly bigger problem than Eddie’d thought.

*“Zero, Eddie! Zero rogues, zero secret Cinderellas, whatever that means, zero drama. Just assume the answer is always going to be zero with this guy!”

“Then what’s the goddamn point, Henderson?”

“Uh, maybe the nice fat paycheck coming our way?”

At this point, Eddie can either admit that he isn’t actually in it for the money (gross, not an option) or subside into a sulky silence. So: zero dashing rogues. It’s fine. He’s not bitter at all.

#okay yes I DID have fun with the fucky identity stuff but! I’m still not planning to write any more! #I mean it this time! #I cut out the dialogue coach's backstory though #the short version is that he thinks Eddie's a struggling LA actor named Gregory who gets the weirdest auditions in the world #Inception AU

[pardi-real]

Honeymoon Knight / Chapter 19 - An Exciting Meal

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[Kalliste, Inn room]

~ That evening ~

I was relaxing in my room... When there was a knock on the door.

Knock, knock...

Muu: "Huh...? Someone's visiting?"

Lono: "My lord, it's me! I've brought dinner!"

> “Thank you” > "Please, come in"

Click

Lono: "Good evening, my lord! Ishishi…! It's a lavish dinner tonight!"

Bastien: "Yeah, indeed. Today's dinner was wedding-inspired."

The table was adorned with luxurious dishes.

> "So many..."

Lono: "We got carried away with the conversation during the day... So we thought, why not prepare a course meal fit for a wedding reception! Please, enjoy!"

> "I can't possibly eat all of this..."

Lono: “T-true... Maybe we overdid it..."

> "Won't you eat with me?"

Lono: "Huh? With you, my lord?"

> "Pretend we are at a wedding feast…!"

Lono: "Well... If it pleases you, my lord, then we shall..."

Bastien: "Right... There's no reason to refuse."

Berrien: "Apologies for the inconvenience, but shall we accept your offer, then?"

> "Yes"

And so, we all decided to happily share a meal together.

~ A little while later ~

Bastien: "Hmm. Now all the dishes are served."

Muu: "There's meat, fruit salad, soup... And even fluffy pancakes... They all look delicious!"

> "It's very lavish"

Lono: "Yes! After all, these are 'wedding-inspired' dishes! Instead of a wedding cake, we prepared pancakes decorated with cream for dessert!"

Bastien: "The salad is accompanied by intricately cut fruits... We tried to make it elegant."

Berrien: "This soup is based on a celebratory dish from a certain region. Please, enjoy it while it's warm."

> "Thank you"

I first tasted the soup and the meat. Both had a refreshing aroma of herbs... Very palatable.

> "Delicious...!"

Lono: "Ishishi… that's great!"

Berrien: "Fufu... I'm glad you enjoyed the soup I made."

Lono: "My lord, the meat I grilled is delicious too... Please try the salad as well. It pains me to admit it, but... Bastien's salad is quite delicious!"

> "Is that so!"

Lono: "Sheesh~... Bastien, that guy, he used to only be able to use strong seasoning… and now he's able to make such delicate dressings… It must’ve been my way of teaching, for sure…!"

Bastien: “Don't be mistaken, Lono. This is the recipe I've found myself. I found it in a book to please the lord.”

Lono: “Ooh~ I see. To think that Bastien is this interested in cooking for the sake of the lord… Ishishi…”

Bastien: “What are you grinning at, Lono? That's pretty uncanny.”

Lono: "S-shut up! I'm not grinning! A-And besides! Who's the uncanny one here? Since I'm complimenting you so much, how about you smile more and show some happiness? You're always frowning."

Bastien: “Huh? I don't make such a face.”

Lono: “Look at the mirror for once! You always have that scowl in your eyes!”

Bastien: “What the? Lono..."

Berrien: "Oh my... Please, don't argue in front of our lord. When you were in the kitchen, you cooperated well with each other, though."

Lono: "Well... Since the cooperation leads to making delicious dishes for our lord."

Bastien: "Hmph... Reluctantly, I agree. Cooperating with Lono and Mr. Berrien results in... our lord enjoying delicious food."

Berrien: "Fufu… in other words, everyone wants to make our lord smile with their cooking... So let's stop fighting to ensure our lord can enjoy the meal happily."

Lono: "Ughhh... Fine."

Bastien: "Hmm… My apologies for the commotion, my lord."

> "It's okay, but more importantly..."

Lono: “More importantly?"

> "Thank you for the delicious food"

Lono: "M-my lord... Ishishi... Thank you so much! Cooking for you, my lord... always brings a smile to my face!"

Bastien: "My lord. There's still more food. If there's anything you'd like to eat, please let me know and I'll serve it for you."

Berrien: "Fufu... If you need a refill of your drink, please don't hesitate to ask me. We'll also prepare herbal tea for you after the meal to help with fatigue recovery."

Lono: "And don't forget about the dessert pancakes! Both the taste and the wedding-themed decorations turned out well… It's my masterpiece, after all!"

> "Thank you, everyone"

Muu: "My lord! I also want to help you!"

Berrien: "Then, Muu, would you assist me in brewing tea after the meal?"

Muu: "Yes! Leave it to me!"

And so, Muu and I, along with the first-floor butlers, enjoyed the meal together. The various dishes inspired by weddings were... luxurious yet warm and gentle in taste.

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#*aknk #honeymoon knight

[ghostussy]

Fuck it. You got sold to ghost for drug money. Deal with it.

ao3 link

It's early in the morning when your bedroom door swings open, your mother entering unannounced.

"Rise and shine, shitthead," she slurs, already reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. "Pack your bags!"

"Wh-"

"Get up, get up!" She yells, rushing to push you out of the bed. "Pack your shit, you're leaving!" You hit the floor with a loud thump.

"Mom-"

"I'm not your mom anymore. Your new dad is downstairs, I sold you for drug money."

'You have got to be shitting me. What kind of teenage fanfic of a life is this?' You think to yourself. You pull yourself off of the floor, stumbling as your mother leaves the room and slams the door behind her. You can hear her singing drunkenly as she walks downstairs.

'Guess I have no time to waste.'

. . .

Some time later you walk downstairs carrying a bag containing your few important belongings. You stop by the bathroom on the way, grabbing your toiletries and throwing your hair into a quick messy bun. No time to waste, you think, glancing in the mirror. Two bright blue orbs stare back, eyes bright like the ocean.

As you enter the living room, your overhear your mother speaking to someone.

"They're a troublemaker, that one. Here's the birth certificate, social security card... Oh, don't try to open a credit card in their name, by the way. It'll just get denied."

Rounding the corner that leads into the kitchen, you nearly bump into a man. At first glance, he's terrifying.

White and black face paint completely obscures his features, giving him a skull-like appearance. He's taller than you, but short in stature. He wears a black pair of torn jeans matched with a frilly shirt, complete with a blue tie.

Suddenly, your mom spots you. "It's about damn time," she grumbles, her expression turning into a scowl. "Y/n, meet your new dad. Say 'hi, daddy.'"

You freeze, and so does the man. He turns to you, looking apprehensive. "Er, Papa is fine. How are you, dear?" His tone seems soft, genuine.

"Um-"

"Excuse me, can we hurry this up? You can have your sweet little introduction in the car." Your mom opens the front door and ushers the two of you outside. "I have things to do, so out!"

"Sheesh, is she always like that?" The man asks, the two of you standing outside your former mother's front door. You shrug, and the man sighs. "Very well, then. Let us go."

He leads you to his car. It's nice, albeit old. He opens the passenger door, allowing you to climb in before taking your bag and loading it in the trunk. Then he gets in the driver's side, starting the car.

"So, eh..." You can tell the man is trying to make polite conversation. "You like the car? It is nice, no?"

"Sure," you murmur quietly.

"It is a 1968 Buick Le Sabre," he continues. "My old man claims she is, eh, a 'piece of shit,' but- she runs like a dream!" He exclaims that last part, glancing in your direction. Then he coughs awkwardly, pulling out of the driveway. "Very nice," he murmurs to himself.

The rest of the ride continues in awkward silence, until you pull up at a giant church. Fuck, I got sold to Catholics, you think miserably. That is, until you notice the upside down cross on the front of the building. Fuck, I got sold to a cult.

#the band ghost #shitghosting #drabbles

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Fanboys

chapter 3: first flame

summary: y/n only said she wouldn’t pursue anyone in the besties group right away… that doesn’t extend to the rest of the school!

word count: 1677

a/n: Merry Christmas Eve to anyone who celebrates! this got finished a lot later than I would’ve liked, but better late than never? enjoy! don’t forget to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Y/n’s first week of college went by in a flash. She had four courses: College Success, Anatomy & Physiology, Music Theory and English 101. Yuuji and Megumi were taking English 101 with her, Yuta was taking Anatomy with her, and Gojo was taking Music Theory with her, so many lunches and dinners were spent studying together, and though Gojo regularly tried sitting next to her, Yuuji and Yuta always protected y/n from his antics.

Y/n’s head jerked up just before it hit her paper. “Oi! Y/n! You’re drooling on your notes!” Yuuji said, and y/n clamped her mouth shut, looking down at her paper to see no saliva whatsoever.

She growled. “If you keep fucking with me I’ll make sure Megumi is the only one who gets to see my notes in that class.” Y/n let out a yawn, switching from laying down on her belly to sitting criss-cross applesauce and stretching out. Lunch and the warm afternoon sun shining through Yuuji and Sukuna’s living room window had made her sleepy enough to nod off. “Where’s Gojo? I could swear he was just here.”

Megumi replied, “He was, he just went downstairs to let in a friend who lives in a different dorm building. Says they could use a study buddy.”

Right on cue, keys jangled in the lock, and the three students looked up to see Gojo pushing the door open with a flourish. “Ta-da!” He chanted as he jumped over the threshold. Out from behind him stepped… Y/n gasped. It was the hot guy from her College Success class! Gojo tilted his head at her and smiled. “Oh? Is Suguru familiar to you?”

“I- I- He-” Y/n stammered awkwardly, then managed, “We’re taking College Success together. I didn’t… know you knew him.”

“I do know him! He’s my best friend. He told me he was taking College Success, and I thought his poor senior self could use the assistance of a smart, pretty young thang to get through it, since he’s so behind.” Gojo winked at y/n, and if she wasn’t baffled by her two worlds colliding, maybe she would’ve reacted. Gojo seemed very talented at picking bad occasions to try and flirt on.

Suguru rolled his eyes, saying, “Sheesh, you make it sound like I’m an idiot or something.” He left Gojo at the door, walking past and settling on the carpet. “I just avoided taking the class for as long as I could because I knew it would be easy. Better to give myself a break in my senior year than to stress like everyone else, yea?” Suguru asked, and y/n found herself nodding along. She probably would’ve nodded along to anything he said, though, with a face like his.

In a rare moment of critical thinking, Yuuji asked, “But why would they make you take College Success still when you’ve already proven you’re successful in college?”

Suguru shrugged. “Beats me.” He nods at Megumi, saying, “Hey Fushiguro, how are you doing? Is Sukuna here?”

Megumi scowled at the mention of Sukuna. “Thankfully, no. But I’m good. How are you, Geto?”

Suguru’s eyes flitted over to y/n for just a second. “Pretty good, now that I know I have a study buddy to carry me through one of my last classes.” Y/n’s face heated up, and she bit her lip. “Y’know, you guys should really make up, you and Sukuna. He can come off as a dick, but he’s a good guy.”

Megumi scoffed. “He doesn’t just come off as one.”

Suguru put his hands up in surrender. “Well, if I can’t convince you.” He starts getting his stuff out, including a laptop with a stylus, plus a few textbooks. “What are you guys working on?”

Yuuji answered, “English 101 right now, but once we’re done me and Megumi have math homework, so maybe you and y/n can work together?” Y/n knew Yuuji was clueless as to her attraction to Geto, but in that moment she thanked the universe for placing Yuuji in her life as the best accidental wingman.

Gojo, who had quietly closed the door and was watching the interactions as he walked back, flopped on the couch behind Suguru, poking his head between him and Yuuji. “I still need to do my Music Theory homework with y/n, so make it quick.”

Y/n quickly got to work explaining how she formatted her paper – not just the standard double-spaced, twelve point Times New Roman font, but how she followed a basic template for her essays so they were easy to write, and how she expanded them depending on the length requirements. Megumi caught on quickly and Yuuji needed a bit more explaining, but pretty soon, the three students all had their own rough drafts following that same template. Sometimes the rough drafts held simple phrases in brackets, sometimes they had colorful sticky notes with interesting leads scribbled on them on top of their papers, and they all had highlighted the important parts of their essay. Yuuji must have had trouble figuring out his important parts, because y/n was practically blinded by his almost-entirely neon yellow page, but she only thought to herself, Well, that’s what a rough draft is for, I guess. And pretended like the smell of the ink wasn’t damaging her brain cells.

Finally, they finished their English 101 work for the day, and as everyone shuffled around, Gojo suddenly announced he needed to pee and made a beeline for the bathroom, and shortly after, Megumi’s phone vibrated. He frowned at it. “I’ll be right back, I’m getting a call.”

That left Suguru, Yuuji and y/n, and the room got a little quiet. “Anybody hungry?” Yuuji asked, completely unaware of the energy. “I could really go for some chips and chocolate milk right now.”

Y/n replied, “I’m down for choccy milk. Could you bring me a bottle if I give you money?” She reached around to grab her bag from the couch, but not before Suguru interrupted her.

“I got you covered. I’ll take one too.” He handed a five dollar bill to Yuuji then added, “And keep the change, I don’t care about coins.” Yuuji, who definitely cared about coins, grinned and quickly fled the scene to get their snacks. Suguru turned to face y/n. “You know, I don’t really need help with that class, but I’m still down to get your number.”

“Oh? Like, to study independently of them?” Y/n asked, oblivious to the fact that Suguru had been watching her study for the last half hour while he pretended to care about the notes in front of him.

Suguru smiled. “Yea, we can… I was thinking more like being friends. Maybe getting a coffee together sometime? You’re really cute, and I like your vibe.”

“Oh!” Y/n exclaimed, a little loudly for someone sitting right next to her, but Suguru didn’t appear to mind. “Right, right. I wasn’t even thinking about that.” She laughed nervously, taking out her phone and handing it to him.

As he typed in his number, he said, “What, am I not smart and handsome enough for you?” Just as y/n was about to defend herself, he grinned. “Just teasing. I actually have to run, a friend needs me. But I’ll text you, yea?” He says, his dark eyes making y/n glad she was sitting down, because she surely would have fallen flat on her face if she’d been standing. Suguru gathered his things, opened up the door as Yuuji was getting back with his vending machine spoils, and left y/n there wordlessly, again. How does he always do that to me? She thought to herself.

As Yuuji settled down, Gojo came out of the bathroom and Megumi came out of the bedroom with a scowl on his face. “What’s wrong?” Y/n asked him.

Megumi shook his head. “Nothing, just something dumb.”

She tried to comfort him. “If it’s bothering you then it’s not dumb.”

He sat across from her, sighing. “It’s only bothering me because it’s dumb.”

Y/n’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and she nodded in understanding. Gojo sat on the couch again, but this time, right behind her, a leg on either side, and he said, “Now that you idiots are done, me and my new best friend have our own work to do!” Then held a textbook in front of y/n’s face. “Why don’t we read the chapter out loud?”

Y/n, who wasn’t sure what to do about the built as fuck calves caging her in, said, “I have a better idea. Instead of doing more work, why don’t we go straight to the reflection questions? This isn’t supplementary to the lecture, so we’re never gonna go over it again in class or on the test. It makes less work for us.”

Gojo gasped in a way that y/n could only describe as aggressive. “Do you guys hear this? My new best friend is so smart! That’s why we’re besties.”

“Wait! You were talking about y/n when you said that the first time?” Yuuji followed, aghast. “I thought I was your best friend!”

Even though y/n couldn’t see Gojo’s face, she felt like she could feel his eyes roll. “We don’t have any classes together, Yuuji.”

Yuuji responded in indignation, “I thought you were going to tell me you transferred into one of my classes!”

Megumi said, “Why the hell would he do that? He’s already taken all of his prereqs.”

Yuuji’s face went blank. “Huh? What’s that?”

“What’s a prereq?” Megumi double-checked.

“Yea.”

“It’s classes you have to take before you can take the more advanced ones. Did you… not know that?” Megumi said, with a look of horror on his face.

“I…” Yuuji started, then said, “You know, I always thought it was weird that everyone took certain classes in a certain order when I thought they could just take whatever they wanted.”

Megumi face-palmed. “Yuuji. Yuuji. YUUJI.”

chapter 2 << masterlist >> chapter 4

taglist: @kfmcykdy @msameikanevaeh

#outsider writes #jjk smau #college au #fanfiction #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #inumaki toge #fushiguro megumi #Fanboys JJK SMAU

[breezybangtanbebe]

Play it Cool: Hyunwoo x Jooheon ❤️‍🔥

A/N: yall ever watch those off-the-wall scenarios/plots in porn where the pizza guy delivers pizza to a sexy lonely lady's house and they end up fucking? Well yea...here you go lmao might be a little long to get the tension just right but I always try to make it worth it in the end🌚

6.2k words

Knock.

Knock.

You folded the top corner of the page you were reading, exhaling tiredly as you set it aside.

A bead of sweat dripped from your brow and you could feel the hairs at your nape sticking to the back of your neck.

"Ugh..." you exhaled as you trudged barefoot across the floor, switching your hips attitudinally.

The forecast for today predicted it to be the hottest of the season with a heat index of 124° F.

In other words...

It was hot as fuck.

"Please be the A/C people, please please please.." you pleaded under your breath as you neared the front of your house.

You open the door quickly with a clear scowl of discomfort, only to find a man standing on your porch.

More like a speciMAN.

Legs. That's all you could see at first since you started scanning him from large booted feet. The dark jeans he wore seemed to go on forever until reaching his belted waist.

He's wearing a collared navy shirt with the company logo embroidered over the left breast with the buttons undone just below his clavicle.

It fits him nicely, hugging the bulge of his biceps and shoulders as he shrugged his work bag higher by the strap.

His complexion was fair but slightly kissed by the blazing sun that caused a shiny sheen on the surface of his skin.

His jawline was sharp and chiseled and his boyishly cut hair was a soft brown that complimented his youthful appearance. But you could tell he was around your age or older from the maturity in his stance.

His eyes are small and intense, his brow sharp and slightly intimidating as he regarded you with blank professionalism.

"Hi...we got a service call for a broken air conditioner," he says casually, perking his brow.

The look on your face could have been mistaken for the early signs of a stroke, dazed and unresponsive but you quickly gather your wits with a few blinks.

"Um...yeah..yes. Yes! I...I called. Because you're hot."

The repairman's other brow shoots up at your candor and all of the blood drains from your features at his expression.

Well, he was.

"I mean..ITS hot..the weather..whew...Global warming huh? Sheesh.." you backpedaled and his lips spread into a mildly amused smirk.

"Right." he nods. You wordlessly step back so he could enter your house and as he does, you notice another male in uniform at the repair van parked near the curb.

He seems to be gathering tools from the back of the vehicle, scowling from the heat, and focusing on his task.

The upper half of his face is hidden by the hat his hat that's pulled low over his brow but from the way he looked in his untucked uniform shirt, you could tell he was attractive as well.

"Oh lord..." you said to yourself, suddenly aware of how unkempt you probably looked in your sweated-through tank top and shorts. But to be fair, you were literally in there cooking, and wearing anything more would result in instant death.

But damn...why did they both have to be fine?

"Oh, and my name is Hyunwoo by the way. My partner Jooheon is outside gathering the rest of the tools we'll need to assess the issue. Where is your unit located?" He pauses to say, looking at you over his shoulder.

"Oh..um outside. On the side of the house." You respond and Hyunwoo nods in understanding.

His gaze lingers on you for more than a few seconds, dropping just below your neckline briefly before turning away. It's subtle but enough to make something in your tummy flutter like an idiot.

Well, you were sort of half dressed but who could blame you?

"Cool...It does feel pretty stuffy in here. Is there a way for us to access your attic? To check your insulation and freon levels?" He follows up and just as you're about to answer, a soft knock on the ajar door had you looking back to see Hyunwoo's partner entering the house.

And just as you'd suspected, he was gorgeous too.

Not as tall as Hyunwoo but is similarly built. You could tell he was younger by the way his pants sagged a little and how his unbuttoned uniform shirt flowed as he moved. His tanned honey skin also shined from sweat and he removes his hat to reveal his short-cut black hair that spikes at the ends from moisture.

He's visibly affected by the heat and he exhales heavily as he set down the heavy bag he was toting. When he finds your eyes on him, he bows his head respectfully with a polite smile that shows the deepness of his dimples.

And then in a way similar to his counterparts, his eyes appraised you and your body with slight interest before he blinks himself back into reality.

"Afternoon." He greets you and the deep rasp of his voice does something to your insides that you wouldn't express to anyone aloud.

"Hi.." you rasp out, the dryness in your throat returning embarrassingly fast at the sight of him smiling.

Hyunwoo regards him for a moment then looks to you for the answer to his question.

"Miss? Your Attic?" He repeats and you nod faster than was what was necessary.

"Oh! Yeah. This way.."

You lead them to your garage, flicking on the light, and reached for the long beaded chain that pulled down the hatch on the ceiling.

You were short-ish, so you have to extend your torso a bit to reach it and your tank rides up to expose your waistline.

Sure, you could have allowed one of the obviously taller gentlemen accompanying you to do it. But this was your house and you were comfortable doing it on your own anyway.

The guys stand by as you grunted softly, using your strength to pull down the ladder and Jooheon can't help but observe your toned figure from where he stood.

Respectfully of course.

Hyunwoo pretends not to notice the way your spine curved slightly, accentuating your round and pert booty that sat up nicely from the way you stood on your tip toes.

But he definitely noticed, causing his Adam's apple to bob thickly in his throat.

He takes a step back once the ladder touches down on the garage floor.

"Awesome. Thank you. I can take it from here ma'am.." he dutifully reaches for the metal ladder and secures it into the proper position.

You step back as he makes sure the ladder is in place before ascending, leaving you with his partner.

He stands by patiently as Hyunwoo climbed the ladder, occasionally glancing over at you from the corner of his eye.

You weren't privy to his gaze since you were still watching Hyunwoo ascend, which gave Jooheon a few more seconds to admire the soft glisten of sweat that made your skin glow.

Sunkissed would be an understatement in describing the luster of your complexion and it takes some restraint to pull himself from your distracting presence.

He looks up to find Hyunwoo just about to step up onto the attic floor, knowing he'd have no good reason to have not been following him.

He reaches for the ladder and regards you with another polite and tight-lipped smile before ascending.

"We got it from here if you wanna head back inside." he pauses to say and you nodded gratefully. It was hotter in the damn garage than it was in the house.

"Great. Well if you guys need anything, I'll be in the living room." You say and Jooheon nods before continuing up with his bag on his shoulder.

Some minutes later.

You were back on your couch, trying to keep yourself occupied with your book.

The paragraph you had to start over three times began to look like foreign script as your mind drifted to the men working in your house.

Occasionally you'd hear them moving above your head in the attic or catch part of them conversing with each other in the garage.

You lift your head a little too eagerly when you hear heavy footsteps over your tiled floors, catching Hyunwoo or Jooheon's casual smile as they went outside for something.

Both of them had a gentle swagger about them that made their walks sexily distracting.

Jooheon's was a little staggered from the way his pants sat just below his waist. He stepped slowly, favoring his right side a little more and he switched in the most masculine way.

Then there was Hyunwoo.

Tall and confident, with the gate of a supermodel. His posture was much better than Jooheon's, making his broad shoulders more noticeable in the way the navy blue fabric hugged his lean form.

It was beginning to be kind of funny to you how aware you were of the men hired to fix your air conditioning, shaking the idea of them breaking the code of morale to indulge your interested glances.

Not to say you hadn't caught them looking back a few times but it could all be in your imagination.

You probably looked thirsty as hell in those little ass shorts.

Speaking of thirst...

Both men had been outside working on your unit for a while, leaving your house as hot and empty as it had been before.

You pushed yourself up from the couch and stepped heavily towards your kitchen, where you prepared a tall glass of ice water.

Mostly ice though.

Something was soothing about the biting coldness of it against your lips as you drank, along with its crunchiness when you allowed a few pieces to slip between your lips.

The elated groan of relief you released as it flowed down your throat was a bit on the erotic side. But you didn't care.

It was too hot to care.

But had you been more conscious of the open window on the other side of the kitchen, you might have done better in concealing it.

Meanwhile...

"Dammit. She's got an older model. I don't think I have the tools to access the grid in my bag." Hyunwoo huffs distractedly as he kneeled, rummaging through the assorted tools he'd brought with him. He wipes the sweat from his brow with a grimace, glancing up from his bag to find Jooheon pleasantly distracted by something.

He's leaned against the wall, mindlessly chewing on his lip with narrowed eyes that peer into the window that existed several feet away from where they were working.

Hyunwoo frowns at him and follows his gaze to find your shaded silhouette on the other side of the glass.

The distance and slight tint on the window make it difficult to decipher the specifics of what you were doing, but it became obvious when the outline of your body shifted to the side as you tipped back the glass of freshly poured ice water.

The line of your shadowed curves contrasted the white walls behind you, making it easy to admire the slimness of your waist and the perkiness of your ass in those shorts.

While Hyunwoo appeared nonplussed at your initial appearance at the front door, Jooheon recalls having to look away several times to avoid being caught staring.

Not that he was a pervert or anything.

You were just attractive and out of all of the job sites he'd done with Hyunwoo in this area, he never saw anyone as captivating as you.

You make a suggestive sound that's just barely audible outside via the crack of the opening at the bottom of the window, and both men were now watching like drones as you swallowed down the water.

Slow and indulgent.

It's almost seductive.

You exhale loudly as you lowered the glass from your lips.

"Um, you should be....working.."Hyunwoo's conflicted brow creased as you reached into the glass with dainty fingers, proceeding to pick a cube of ice from the many.

"I am..." Jooheon responds as you began to drag the ice over your skin, starting at your forehead, then trailing down under your jaw and neck.

From the literal outside looking in, one could assume that you had no idea you were being watched. But you weren't oblivious.

You were curious though.

Both men tilt their heads simultaneously as you tipped your head back to allow the cooling drizzles to run over your exposed skin, probably dripping between your breasts and dipping into your naval.

"Damn..." you could just about hear one of them say, both too distracted by the little show you put on to know whether it was out loud or not. And with a boldness neither of them could suspect, your eyes turn in the window's direction.

You were discrete though, the shade of the room making it impossible for them to know you could see them watching. But it doesn't stop you from smirking.

The one named Jooheon was staring the hardest, his bottom lip hanging and his eyes reduced to slits in the sun.

The other, Hyunwoo, watched with an air of curiosity in his brow. As if he wanted to look away but couldn't.

For some reason that was just as attractive as the other blatantly watching you tease yourself with the ice cube.

Well, at least you weren't the only hot and bothered by their presence.

After toying with their attention for a few more seconds, you toss the half-melted cube in the sink and turn away to exit the kitchen as if you knew nothing, switching cutely in your shorts as you retreated from the view of the two on-looking repairmen.

Hyunwoo was first to look away, realizing how unprofessional all of this was with flustered cheeks. He shakes his head shamefully.

"Ok...shows over" he mutters, resuming his search through his bag.

Jooheon smacked his lips slowly, not sure if he was more enamored by the thought of the ice melting against your skin or how thirsty he was now from watching you.

He pushes himself from the outside wall he leaned against.

"Ok. Ima say it. She's fine..." he blurts out and Hyunwoo snorts.

"She's a client," he responds, rising to stand with a frustrated scowl on his face.

"You got a multimeter in your bag?" he asks and Jooheon shakes his head, consequently shaking the sweat from his bangs.

"Naw. I saw one in the van though. I wonder if she's single....this house is pretty spacious for just one person..." Jooheon resumes his gaze toward the window and Hyunwoo rolls his eyes in amusement before snapping his fingers to gain Jooheon's attention.

"Hey...look at me. Don't even think about it," he says just above a whisper, and the corners of Jooheon's mouth droop into an offended frown.

"What?"

"You know what...I don't need any complaints on my ledger today because you wanna flirt with the homeowner. Just act like a professional and help me get the job done." he commands softly, sounding more like an older brother or friend than a coworker. Jooheon smirks at his choice of words, turning his head back towards the window briefly.

"Man......I am a professional. In ALL aspects.." he mutters, tearing his gaze from the window to regard Hyunwoo.

"Alright well, professionally walk your ass to the van and see if you can find the shit we need to crack this unit open. Wipe that drool off your lip too." Hyunwoo playfully tosses him the navy blue bandana he kept in his waistband to wipe sweat from his hands straight at Jooheon's face suddenly.

He catches it before it makes contact, albeit begrudgingly as he threw it back for Hyunwoo to catch against his chest with a chuckle.

Not much happened after you returned to the living room. Both men remained outside and you could hear the sound of their tools buzzing and clanging against metal as they worked. You envisioned them working up quite the sweat out there, their shirts most likely sticking to their skin.

Perhaps you should go out there and check on them.

To offer them something to drink of course.

Not to lust after them like a little creep.

You blush at the thought, finding it harder to focus on your reading now that all you could imagine was thick necks with sweat dripping leisurly down..

Just nasty things, ok?

Anywho...

After a while, your set your book down to rub at your tired eyes and wipe the sweat collecting over your brow.

Between the heat and so distracted by the hired specialists slaving away sexily to keep you from dying of heat stroke, you found yourself sagging into the welcoming cushions of your couch.

You lean your head back and prop your bare feet on the edge of your glass table, mindful of your half-full glass of ice on the coaster.

It wasn't your intention to fall asleep.

You merely wanted a moment to rest your eyes and keep an ear out in case one of the repairmen summoned your attention.

But the fatigue from sweating all day was inevitable.

So with drooping eyelids and slower breaths...

You drifted.

Slowly.

Peacefully.

Deeply...

"It's still pretty hot down here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I say well over 100 degrees."

"Damn, that is hot."

"Yeah, I don't think feeling around with my fingers is helping.."

"Why not use your mouth instead then?"

"You think that'll work?"

"Worth a try..."

Their voices feel distant at first.

Barely comprehensible and faint.

But their touch is overwhelmingly evident as you slowly awakened.

Warm.

Soft.

Wet.

Cold.

Ice cold...

You moaned unintentionally when the bite of a melting ice cube kissed the peak of your exposed nipple, your breath shuddering as your eyes opened.

Deft fingers stroked your walls slowly, rubbing occasionally at your most sensitive spot as you came to. You lift your head and blink heavily as the room spun from your fading slumber, only to find yourself naked and spread eagle with a man kneeling between your legs.

His dark hair sticks to his forehead.

His plump bottom lip catches between his teeth, making his dimples crease the center of his cheeks as he watched the way your juices coated his fingers.

"Oh...oh...shit..." you exhale shakily with a moan that's like music to your blurry lover's ears. He smiles around his bitten lip and chuckles softly as he lowered his head.

Hyunwoo looks up just as you stirred fully awake and moaned again, smirking at the soft confusion on your face that morphed into a pleasured expression the moment his partner put his mouth on your heat.

"Look who decided to join us..." he says casually from beside you on the couch, leaning comfortably against the cushions.

Your eyes take their time adjusting as you become fully conscious and the first thing they're able to focus on vividly is the melting ice cube being slowly rubbed over your left nipple.

Your body heat melts it on contact, causing little streams of water to flow over the curve of your breast. You tremble at the tickle it sends over your skin and Hyunwoo's smirk widens.

From the waist down he's still in his uniform of work pants and boots.

But by the looks of his bare shoulders and exposed neckline, it's apparent that he's shed his work shirt in favor of his sleeveless undershirt. Its damp around the collar from sweat, confirmed by the way his skin had even more of a natural glisten over its smooth surface.

You studied him distractedly as the other male sucked softly on your outer lips teasingly, his fingers still at work.

Your bare chest heaved as you attempted to move but your limbs felt like jello.

Trembling and weak from exhaustion.

"What...what is happ..." you trail off as the warmth of the man you now recognized as the one named Jooheon sucked on your clit hard.

"Relax...we're here to help..." Hyunwoo's deeply soothing tone appeases you.

Your bare chest pushed against the thinning cube of ice as you gasped, and Hyunwoo pulls it away from your breast to lean over your glistening chest.

He sucks the excess water from your nipple casually before responding.

"You were overheated," Hyunwoo remarks cooly as he swallowed, lapping at your nipple with a similar fervor to Jooheon as his tongue glides over the front of your pussy.

"Yeah. While we were working on the unit outside, the house must have gotten so hot that you passed out." he tacks on as if he wasn't two knuckles deep inside of you right now.

Your brow crinkles at their responses, neither of them explaining why you were naked and at the mercy of their hands and tongues.

Rationally, you would be mortified and resist their touches at all cost.

But damn.....

They felt so good, it was almost as if you were in a daze.

"I...passed out?" you mumbled and both men nod.

"We tried fanning you. Flicking your face with water..." Hyunwoo begins.

"Calling your name.." Jooheon adds.

"Tapping your face.." Hyunwoo says.

"Shaking your shoulders.." Jooheon concedes.

"But nothing worked until we heard you say our names in your sleep..Telling us...begging us to touch you. To cool you down..." Hyunwoo explains, his eyes on his work as he kissed your nipple with ice.

"We had to think fast. You were sweating so much. And when we felt your skin...It felt like you were on fire so..." he pauses again as he discards the tiny shard of ice in his mouth before reaching for a new cube from your forgotten glass.

He places it between his teeth and leans down to graze a flat side over your shoulder and collarbone.

You shivered on contact, gasping sharply when his tongue pushes the cube out further and slip from his mouth.

None of it made sense.

You knew it didn't.

But nothing about how these men were pleasuring you in an attempt to help you, only made you care less about the logic and more about the intention.

"Wow....is this a s...service you both typically provide?" you stutter as the new ice cube glides over your skin, this time between your breasts and down the line of your abdomen. Water drips into your naval, just above where Hyunwoo places his hand, and an unintentional moan of need vibrates in your chest.

He shakes his head as he drags the ice cube back up your body.

"Not typically," he smirks, and that's all he says before leaning back in to lick up the rouge streams of water dripping down the side of your waist.

Your jaw drops when he licks over your skin and you twitch when his cold lips skim over a ticklish spot, making both men smirk.

"But we figured you required some.....drastic assistance" Jooheon pauses his ministrations to say. He immediately goes back to filling his mouth with your pussy, humming appreciatively at your taste.

Hyunwoo straightens up to resume playing with your nipple with the ice, but his soft gaze was now on your face.

He gauges the confusion and pleasure written all over it, and he tilts his head curiously.

"Would you like us to stop? We can...now that you're awa..." he says but is interrupted by the floor-to-ceiling moan you let out in response to Jooheon suddenly replacing his fingers with a vibrating bullet that felt all too familiar.

Jooheon clicks the button a few times before settling on a pulsing setting, pressing it deep inside of you before resuming his skilled tongue over your clit.

"Found that on your nightstand...hope you don't mind..." you heard Hyunwoo say but you were too blissed out to give a damn.

You shook your head emphatically with your lips parted.

"Oh fuck...Dont stop. Don't stop, please..." you pant as Jooheon flicks the tip of his tongue over you quickly, all while Hyunwoo goes back to sucking and toying with your nipples.

His tongue continues to mimic Jooheon's and his hooded gaze remains on your expression as they both drowned you with stimulation and pleasure.

When your eyes begin to roll back, Hyunwoo hums in approval.

"She's cumming.." Hyunwoo murmurs around your flesh.

Jooheon is far too engulfed by his task to care about anything else and he perks his brow with a questioning hum against your pussy.

Hyunwoo pulls away to watch the way Jooheon licked over your folds relentlessly, getting caught up in how arousing it was to witness before blinking.

"She's cumming....so don't you fucking stop.." he nearly growls to Jooheon, who didn't need his advice considering he could literally taste your orgasm approaching.

But he nods stiffly in compliance as he pressed his mouth deeper against you.

You could feel your vibrator getting pushed toward your entrance from how you were squeezing it, meaning you were getting closer.

Your moans were uncontrollable by now, your breath quickening and your legs trembling.

Jooheon closed his lips around your clit as he flicked it harder and faster, holding your legs down to keep them open.

Hyunwoo licked over your nipple sloppily while his other hand pinched the other, having forgotten about the melted cup of ice on the table.

Both of them moan along with you as if the sights and sounds of your climax were enough to make them cum undone untouched.

But the only one who is left panting and shaking is you.

Jooheon glances up to find you writhing against his tongue and he smiles with satisfaction. You felt his lips spread into an open-mouthed grin as he dragged his tongue over your heat lazily, soaking up every drop of cum that spurted from your opening.

He removes the vibrator and clicks its power button a few times until it goes silent.

It's as if you could still feel it inside of though, its residual tremors fading slowly.

Your receding climax blazed trails of goosebumps all over your body, making your legs tremble as they hung over Jooheon's shoulders. He continued to lick you slowly and it takes you whimpering for mercy to get him to pull his mouth away.

Jooheon tosses the cum-coated toy aside on the couch before returning to kiss you gently at your center, trailing his lips up your inner thighs.

Distracting you from his lips, you felt another pair pressing gently against your temple. Then to your cheek and ending on your lips. Your eyes open slowly to find Hyunwoo beside you, cupping your breast that was still wet with his spit and melted ice massaging it as he kissed you.

You were vaguely aware of Jooheon moving from between your legs to take up the space on your other side.

Once settled, the warmth that was just surrounding your clit was now circling your other nipple. Hyunwoo gives the nipple on his side a squeeze and you moan pitifully against his lips, feeling him smile.

"Do you still feel hot?" Hyunwoo inquires and you shake your head, causing the tips of your noses to brush together.

"Good. Now...how would you rate our service for you today? Hmm? Were we good?" he whispers to you, teasing your lips while Jooheon flicked his tongue over your sensitive skin. Before you could answer him, Hyunwoo moves to replace his hand with his mouth and he joins Jooheon to worship your pert nipples with their tongues.

Having both of their mouths on you in that way, coupled with their big hands skimming down your body, it felt as if you were already on the brink of coming undone again.

They were both so different and yet the same.

Strong and confident.

Experienced and determined.

Hot and cold.

It was overwhelming.

It was...

"Hello?"

"Miss?"

You awake suddenly.

Panting and covered in a cool layer of moisture.

You find yourself laid out on the couch as you had been before in your living room, frowning in confusion at not even realizing that you'd fallen asleep.

As you slowly sit up, you become aware of the humming sound overhead of your air conditioning now kicked on and cooling your house.

And you were also aware of the eyes on you.

His blurry name tag comes into view as he crouched down in front of the couch. His sharp brow furrowed and pouted lips formed a grim line of concern.

"Miss?"

Hyunwoo's voice chimes quizzically in your mind and you blinked rapidly like an idiot as the erotic images from deep in your mind fade, only to be replaced by one of the beautiful faces from your fantasy regarding you worriedly.

Your parted lips come together and you gain some focus on the features of the repair man, his dark eyes and prominent scowl as he gauged your odd behavior.

"Um...are you ok?" he asks, rising to stand as you sat up.

You glance around confusedly before almost frantically touching your chest and thighs, making sure you weren't naked this time.

"Whew" you thought.

"Yeah...Yeah. I'm ok...I think the heat knocked me out." you joke weakly.

Hyunwoo smirks at your response and you try your best not to think too far into his smugness.

He moves back so that you have enough space to stand, untucking a clipboard from under his arm.

"Yeah..it can most definitely do that to you. I've come close to passing out while working outside a few times. Hydrating is important." he mutters casually and you nod, your mind thinking back to him pretty much drinking ice water from your naval 2 minutes ago in your dreams.

"I can imagine.." you chuckle, now feeling a little exposed in your thin tank and little shorts.

Hyunwoo says nothing as he flipped through a few pages on his clipboard with a focused frown on his face, giving you a moment to assess what the hell had just happened.

A wet dream? How old were you?

A literal wet dream. You could feel your walls trembling as if you'd just cum in real life, the slippery mess making the crotch of your panties stick to you.

That damn heat really did do a number on you, boiling your brain until it cooked up a freaky ass fantasy involving these two fine ass strangers.

You'd have to take a long shower after these men left.

A cold one for more reasons than one.

"Ok so...We're just about done here. Everything is good to go...Attic checked out. Thermostat is reset. I just need your signature here." Hyunwoo was all business as he addressed you now, going down a mental checklist as he offered the clipboard to you.

"Ok." You mumble as you took it from him with the pen tucked beneath the clip. You glance up at him shyly as you scribbled your signature at the bottom of the invoice, feeling Hyunwoo's gaze on you with that unreadable expression of his.

"Thank you... " he says when you handed it back to him.

Just then, his partner strolls by from the garage covered in sweat. His work shirt is off and hanging over his shoulder, his sweated-through white tee clinging to his body.

He removes his hat to wipe the wetness from his brow before replacing it, and your eyes linger on the way his chest flexed underneath his t-shirt when he lifted the heavy tool bag from the floor where it sat keeping the front door open.

It's as if he can feel you watching him and you're met with a casual dimpled smile that gives you another savory flashback.

"You have a really old unit. Im not sure how old the house itself is but Im still surprised they installed it. So from what we were able to do today, it should hold for a little bit. But Id consider getting it replaced if you don't want it giving out on you again. It should be covered under your home warranty. " Hyunwoo distracts you from your fleeting thoughts and you nod at him in understanding.

"Ok. Good to know. Thank you."

"No problem. You have any questions for me before we go?" he asks, lifting his brow.

From the corner of your eye, you detected Jooheon lingering in your doorway with the strap of his work bag over his shoulder.

His head is down as his thumbs tapped against his phone but at Hyunwoo's question, he lifts his gaze curiously.

Oh, the number of inappropriate questions that filled your brain at that moment.

Starting with what a girl had to do to make what transpired in her brain a reality.

You weren't at all the shy type but neither were you bold enough to ask two strangers if they'd be willing to ruin you on a hot Thursday afternoon.

Or night.

You wondered vaguely if they were single. You didn't spot a ring on either of their finger but you never assumed. The way they looked at you made it easy to believe that if they weren't single, they probably weren't 100% faithful.

At least you hoped.

Terrible, yes.

You quickly reel in the whore inside of them as she fought for dominance, despite not disagreeing with what she wanted.

You had to make sure they'd even be down to do something like that. It would be expected that they had their jobs to consider and it would be arrogant to assume you shared the same type of attraction.

Or relationship status.

So you had to play it cool.

"Yeah actually..." you pipe up and Hyunwoo regards you with the same, but of interest, he had been the entire interaction.

"Sure.." he mutters, tilting his head expectedly. You hesitate when you spot his gaze falling on your lips for a few seconds then back up to your eyes.

Checkmate.

"Say I have any issues with it again.....Who would I contact? You guys or..."

From the way your eyes danced between the two of them, there must have been a naughty undertone to the way you trailed off, and both Jooheon and Hyunwoo exchanged a look.

"Well...typically, you would contact the manufacturer and per your warranty, they'd send someone out to see what was going on. With a service fee and whatnot...It could be anyone." Hyunwoo shrugs, noting the slight disappointment in your pout

"Oh...ok."

"But....and this is off the record. We don't mind dropping by if it's a simple matter. Something quick and easy to fix...to save you some money." Jooheon cuts in, shifting his eyes toward Hyunwoo. He rolls his eyes in amusement but doesn't look as if he's about to disagree.

"Really?" you ask, mirroring the little smirk now on Hyunwoo's gorgeous face.

"Yeah we do a lot of work in this area so, it wouldn't be major for us to just drop by. Here..." he flips the pages of the clipboard and clicks the pen before scrawling something down. He rips the bottom portion of the paper and offers it to you.

"That's my personal number. I'm usually free to respond anytime....in case you need us for anything," he says casually as if he truly intended this exchange to be strictly professional. You take it slowly, looking over his handwriting and nodding.

"And he does mean....anything," Jooheon adds, avoiding a scolding look from Hyunwoo for sounding overly suggestive.

As if you'd mind or be offended.

This was music to your ears.

You giggle at Jooheon's darkened gaze as it juxtaposed his bright smile and you nod again in complete understanding of his gist.

"Cool. Thank you." you direct towards him with a softly bitten lip. Hyunwoo watches the brief flirty exchange with that same smirk, shaking his head and turning to head in Jooheon's direction.

"Alright well..we'll get going. Enjoy the rest of your day miss..." he says, tipping his chin towards his partner in a dismissive gesture and Jooheon reluctantly prepares to leave.

"Don't be afraid to use that number!" he calls over his should just as Hyunwoo pushes him ahead, turning to give you a semi-apologetic smile before reaching for the door handle.

"Ok. Thank you again.  You two stay cool out here.." you call after them and both men turn to give you one last polite smile, their gazes lingering on you for a second longer than necessary.

It would have been delusional of you to think it was because they found you attractive but something seems confirmed when Hyunwoo glanced back at you a second time before pulling your door closed.

And the moment they're gone, you nearly fling yourself on your sofa and bury your face in the cushions.

My nickname for this duo is Super Smash Bros and I dont think it needs an explanation 🌚🥴

#monsta x smut #shownu #minhyuk #wonho #kihyun #hyungwon #jooheon #changkyun

[drpeppertummy]

this was supposed to be a queasy situation but wound up being a bloaty situation bc sunny listens to no one. including me,

[post-stuffing tummyache, soda bloat, burping, tummy rubs]

"What's up with him?"

"He has a bellyache."

"Aw, poor guy."

"Don't 'poor guy' him, he did it to himself."

"Poor little guy." Carrie sat beside Sunny and tousled his hair. He was curled up on the couch, looking pitiful and uncomfortable and overall sick.

"I'm dyin', Carrie," he said sadly, looking up at her. She nodded solemnly and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Whose yard do you want to be buried in?"

"Laurie's. Try to make it really obstructive, okay?"

"You got it, little buddy," said Carrie, patting his back. Laurie rolled her eyes. An hour before Carrie had arrived, Laurie and Sunny had decided to hit Wawa for a snack. Sunny, whose eyes were notoriously bigger than his stomach, had eaten a big greasy pork roll sandwich, a bag of tepid, congealed mozzarella sticks, and a bottle of chocolate milk. The very idea of that combination was enough to turn Laurie's stomach, and if hers had merely turned, Sunny's had done donuts like an El Camino in a pizza joint parking lot. The greasy mass of meat and dairy sat like a boulder in his aching stomach, and he felt bloated, queasy, and sluggish. Any movement sent a wave of nausea washing over him. Miserably, he laid his head on the couch cushion, cautiously holding his hands against his upset tummy. It let out a sickly gurgle.

"Why don't you take your belt off?" Carrie suggested. Sunny looked up as though she'd casually revealed the meaning of life.

"I think you should make it tighter," said Laurie. He flipped her the bird, then slowly pushed himself upright, leaned back, and unbuckled his belt. Having less pressure on his belly eased the discomfort a little bit, but he still felt sick. Not wanting to upset his stomach further by changing his position again, he remained where he was, his full tummy poking out slightly from his slender frame. Looking at him with a mixture of sympathy and amusement, Carrie gave his tummy a gentle pat. It was surprisingly tight. A soft sound of discomfort escaped him, and he closed his eyes.

"Sorry," she chuckled, rubbing his belly gently. "Sheesh, you're really bloated. The hell'd you eat?"

"A bunch of crap," said Laurie, returning from a brief trip to the kitchen. She sat on Sunny's other side with a can of ginger ale and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he mumbled. Listlessly, he opened it and took a small sip. The cold fizzy soda felt good in his queasy stomach; he just hoped it wouldn't bloat him up even more. After a few more sips, of course, it did just that, but just as the growing tightness in his belly became too much, a loud gurgle bubbled up inside him and he burped. Laurie wrinkled her nose. Amused by her disgust, Sunny took a few big gulps of ginger ale, his already bloated stomach stretching uncomfortably as he did. With a mischievous little smile, he tilted his head toward her and burped loudly. Laurie scowled and turned away, and Carrie laughed.

"You are so fucking nasty," she scolded, waving away the oily aroma. He smiled sweetly at her. He burped again, this time at nobody in particular, then let himself fall against Laurie, laying his head on her shoulder. His soda-filled belly sloshed softly. She looked down at him, amused, and was met with big innocent eyes.

"You're lucky you're cute," she said, rolling her eyes as a smile crept onto her face. She slipped an arm around his waist and rested her hand on his belly. The warm touch was comforting, and he happily wrapped one arm around her, still holding the soda in his other hand. He took another sip, and Laurie could feel his stomach tighten slightly under her hand as it filled up with fizz once more. It was almost unsettling, feeling the pressure build up in his already drum-tight belly, and she rubbed gently, hoping to ease the tension. His belly rumbled and he let out another burp, followed by a soft little sigh. Laurie was relieved to feel his stomach deflate a little.

Sunny sipped the soda again, and, finding that the can was nearly empty, finished it off with a heavy gulp, bloating his stomach right back up again. It let out a whining gurgle of protest. Sighing, he reached out to set the can on the coffee table, then wrapped both arms around Laurie, resting one hand comfortably on her soft tummy. His stomach was pushing out tightly, but the ginger ale had helped to cut the greasy queasiness, and despite the bloated feeling, his belly was finally beginning to settle.

"Can you burp or something? Your belly feels way too tight," said Laurie.

"What, you don't like that?" He inhaled deeply, puffing out his belly as big as it could swell under her hand, and she pulled away with a wince.

"No! Doesn't that hurt?"

"Yeah." He drummed lightly on his distended tummy, then let out the breath with a sigh. Rubbing his sore belly, he forced up a burp, and some of the pressure was relieved, but not much. He tried to force up another, but nothing came. He fell back against the couch with a small groan. His stomach, bulging with trapped gas, gurgled unhappily.

Taking pity on her friend, Laurie placed a hand on his round belly and rubbed in soothing circles, pressing as gently as she could in an attempt to coax up some of the bubbles. He winced, tensing up at the new pressure. Before long, though, a soft rumble rose up under her hand, and he let out a substantial burp, followed by a sigh of relief. Laurie gave his belly a gentle pat, pleased with herself, and Carrie gave her a brief applause. Sunny rested his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes.

#writing #belly kink #tummy kink #stuffing #stuffed belly #xsunnyx #xlauriex #xcarriex

[8makes1newworld]

A part two as requested. @last-words-ofashootingstar was responsible for about ninety percent of this happening, her big brain deserves the credit and her artistic touch with the moodboard she made above. Cameo appearances of other fandom figures also.

1k plus words

Slowly you awoke to the sunlight streaming through your open window. Unable to make out your surroundings while you sat up and looked around yourself. Upon realizing you were in your own room you began to relax.

Still an ominous feeling cloaked across your body as you tried to piece together the night before. Barely recalling any details of the excursion to the beach the previous night before.

You groaned as you got your tired body out of bed. A small scar on your finger throbbed, drawing your attention and prompting you to rack your brain as to when you had injured your finger.

“Shit!” You raced to the closet to grab some clothes so that you could go take the driver's test that you had been looking forward to for some time.

“y/n it's time to go! What's taking so long?” Soyeon, your workaholic mother knocked at the door of your room and nearly scared you witless.

“Almost there!” You called out while frantically thumbing through your clothes. About to have a breakdown when you couldn't find your favorite cozy Hello Kitty hoodie, your favorite shirt and your favorite pair of jeans were somehow missing as well.

“Damn it! Are they all in the laundry basket?!” You whined dramatically and donned a few random pieces of clothes, mismatched but time was not on your side presently to complain.

“y/n give me back my Converses or I'll be assisting you with your test!” Your big brother Beomgyu was beating on your door. Nearly falling into you when you opened it suddenly.

“Sheesh, is it you who's holding my clothes hostage as leverage? Give them up now! I don't have your shoes!” You put your hands on your hips and scowled at him.

Beomgyu dramatically shook his head. “I don't have any of your smelly clothes!”

“Uh huh, right.” You approached him with murder in your eyes.

“It's okay you can keep my shoes! Just let me live!” He raced down the hallway away from you. Thoroughly intimidated by you.

You sighed defeatedly and turned to go to the bathroom, working on your hygiene before hurrying outside to meet up with your parents who were waiting for you.

“Is everything okay, y/n?” Your father Chan asked, who always seemed aware when you weren't feeling yourself caused you to look up at him in surprise.

“She seems to have had too much time on her phone, sleeping late again.” Soyeon muttered quaintly and got into the driver's side of the car.

“Can't I speak for myself…” You rolled your eyes and sat down in the backseat of the car, buckling up and pretending to ignore your mother.

“You know you can always come to me if you need to talk? I’m always here for you, pumpkin.” Chan looked through your open window at you and gazed at you with genuine concern.

“Sure I do.” You replied softly, looking at him in earnest. Really you didn't know what you could talk about with him. First you felt you had went out last night. The place that you had been forbidden to go to. Yet your memories were fleeting and you had no idea how you had gotten back into your own bed.

With that Soyeon drove away. You gazed out the window and started to lose yourself in your head. Tuning out your big brother in the front seat talking with your mom and playing a noisy game on his phone.

‘This is going to be a long day…’ You thought to yourself and spaced out.

🌌

Hours later you were exhausted, fortunately though you were to secure a pass on your driver's test. The only high point of the day you felt. Now you were meandering through grocery store aisles to pick up ingredients for dinner.

You were turning around after picking up a few packages of frozen vegetables. Though to your horror you smacked right into a person's chest.

“Oh I'm sorry- wait…” You gasp as your eyes traversed the face of the male who was looking down at you. His face handsome and familiar at the same time.

“You're wearing…” You stepped back quickly and looked at the Hello Kitty hoodie that he was wearing. Identical to the one that you were missing.

“Me? Yes someone special to me was kind enough to lend it to me.” The stranger replied with a deep voice that seemed to wash over every cell of your body with the purpose of enchantment.

“Ah right…” You looked down at his jeans. The wash uncannily similar to yours, looking as though they fit him like capris.

You blinked when your eyes reached his shoes. The same kind of converse that Beomgyu wore.

“Uh… you're dressed well… I mean I have the same hoodie somewhere…” You shifted nervously. The elegant and graceful aura that blanketed him seemed to not quite match the clothes that he wore.

“Is that so? The clothes are nice. I know they look good on you.” He gave a charming smile. Darkness in his eyes that sparked something inside of you. A feeling of familiarity in your gut that you just couldn't put your finger on.

“Uh … nice to meet you… I should be going…” You mumbled awkwardly and clutched your groceries against yourself as if they could help you with recharging your social battery.

“Ah, what a shame I enjoyed the chat. I'm Seonghwa, I want you to know that because I believe fate will allow us to continue meeting.” A smile twitched at the corners of Seonghwa's lips.

“I don't believe in fate… Seonghwa.” You shook your head and tried to steady your breathing, making your getaway because you didn't trust him.

He watched you leave with a cocksure smile. Finding you amusing and adorable at the same time just like the first time that he met you.

'You don't have to believe in fate. But I do'

🌌

(Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love)

Oh, please now

Do this just for me, yeah

I don't ask for much

Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love, baby

(Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love)

You sang along with your playlist as you gazed out at dusk falling outside your window. The song by Sia seemed to only bring the feelings that you'd pushed down to only surface at times like now. When you were alone and no one could see you wishing to be able to venture out for a world that was larger than what you experienced, to be able to find love.

With a wistful sigh you reminded yourself that it was all fairytales. That it was safer to abide by the cynicism of your mind.

Your stomach grumbled and interrupted your melancholic contemplations. Still you ignored it, deciding to tune into YouTube instead and watch an old episode of Good Mythical Morning.

Seonghwa however was lurking outside, wanting to make sure that you were taking care of yourself. He frowns when he sees that you weren't going to get food. Deciding instead to take matters into his own hands.

At the end of the episode you heard a slapping sound against the window. Two slaps to be exact. Hesitantly you approached the window, looking at the sill in puzzlement when you see two fish neatly aligned with each other.

“Did a gull drop these?” You asked yourself out loud as if the answer would come to you from our of the void.

You peeked outside your window, missing the siren hiding in the overgrown hedge bushes that grew near your window.

Honestly you didn't know what to do with the fish that were so neatly presented before you as if it were a gift.

“I suppose I could cook these at a high enough temperature to kill the bacteria…” You trailed off thoughtfully and picked up the seafood.

Meanwhile Seonghwa was wincing in confusion, a pained grimace on his face as he shook his head.

Why ruin the fish by cooking them?

He didn't understand. But as long as you managed to eat them he was happy. Once you left the window he slipped off to go to the ocean. A place that he could go to make his plans. Plans that were necessary because he physically couldn't stay away from you for long at a time.

#ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #park seonghwa x reader #gidle soyeon #txt beomgyu #stray kids bang chan #ateez seonghwa

[sxmjxkxz]

— lhs. Shoot Your Shot

The Confession Chronicles

lee heeseung x reader | wc: 2,387 | english | fluff |

a/n: may contain grammatical mistakes | lowercase intended | incorrect (?) basketball terms |

🖇️. first encounter

“shit i’m late!”

heeseung sprints up the stairs, taking three or four steps at a time as the 5 minute bell rings. one of the perks of having long legs and being captain of the school's basketball team. 'almost there, now just this corner and--'

pain is all heeseung feels as he falls onto his butt. 'great, as if my body wasn't strained from training already.' his pained scowl disappears as he watches a girl pick up her things on the ground, muttering a string of curses, but still loud enough for him to hear. from the corner of his eye he sees the girl's phone by his side, and as the screen lights up, he feels his heart beat faster. but that could've been from the impact's adrenaline.

"sheesh I know we're late, but watch where you're going, something worse could happen."

although heeseung felt as if he heard an angel speak to him, the guilt from the hit overpowered him. as the girl dusted herself off, he quietly holds out his arm, her phone in his hand. she eyes him and gives him a nod of thanks just as the last bell rings.

"and now i am officially late to my first day at my new school." she lets out an exasperated sigh. heeseung holds onto the nape of his neck, still feeling guilty for making the girl late. "what room?"

"uhm..." she looks around, as if she were looking for something. "damn i lost my paper but i'm with grade 12 miss park?" heeseung chuckles, just when he thought his day couldn't get any better.

"oh yeah, she's actually my homeroom teacher. so hello new classmate." he gives a cool smile and extends his hand, attempting to try to charm the girl he just hit. thankfully she shakes his hand and returns the smile. "it's y/n, and thanks for the welcome and making me late heeseung lee."

the guy smirks, "and how, may i ask, do you know me, miss?" she rolls her eyes, knowing too well what he was doing. "first, let's head to class because we are...ten minutes late." she chuckles as she checks the time on her phone.

"second, your face is plastered around the school so everyone who's anyone would know who you are." y/n beams up at heeseung and he swore he felt the world stop right then and there with how close they were. "and third..." she trails off as she watches heeseung, who never broke eye contact with her. "you helping me out right now...doesn't make for brownie points bro." she gives him a friendly hit on the arm before walking away from heeseung.

all the guy could do was scoff in disbelief. he laughs as he sees y/n take a wrong turn.

"you're going the wrong way." a smile of victory forms on his lips as he hears running and shuffling footsteps behind him.

🖇️. the realization

"hey, you good bro?"

"coach gave you quite an earful today, and yesterday...and the day before."

"really? haven't noticed." in fact, heeseung was never fazed by his coach's scolding over the past few months, especially when he couldn't make shots. he'll admit, his coaches were right about him being distracted. but who's to blame except for the girl whom he made late on her first day of school who was now his friend.

more importantly, the girl who literally swept him off his feet.

"aye, i thought you were mvp? what's up with the misses?"

speak of the devil, or rather, angel.

"hey jay, hey niki! what's up with your captain?" she says jokingly. jay rolls his eyes, "man's distracted, that's what's up."

"yeah, distracted by who--i mean what? ouch bro!" niki holds onto his side after heeseung elbows him. "so...is that for me?" heeseung nods toward the bottle of gatorade in y/n's hand.

"no, it's for your coach." she rolls her eyes as she tries to open the bottle. heeseung softly laughs as y/n bites her lip, making her cheeks puff out a bit, as she struggles to open the lid.

'cute'

he grabs the bottle from the girl and easily opens its cap with just one twist, raising a brow at her as he drinks. "okay wow, good for you cap." she huffs.

“i’ll go ahead now, don’t want my brother to leave me when he gets to the gate without me there.” y/n gives heeseung a small smile, but deep inside she didn’t want to leave yet. ever since the two got close, y/n was always present during or after practices and training. she didn’t care if she got looks from heeseung’s fans, nor did she care about the teasing from his friends and teammates whenever they were together. she was there to support him, the first person who ever welcomed and befriended her in her new school. although, the teasing and looks never stopped her from imagining what it would be like if they were more...

“okay, see you tomorrow?” heeseung asks with a hopeful look on his face, and to that y/n nods with a smile before turning to leave.

“so, when are you planning on asking her out?” niki teases, earning a sweaty towel to the face from the guy. “for real though bro, we’ll be away for a while once the meet starts, try and shoot your shot.” jay pats his friend on the shoulder before jogging off to the court.

“sure win” niki winks before following jay.

heeseung smiles to himself. the thought already entered his mind the moment he saw her. looks aside, y/n was the first friend he had, other than jay and the others, who he was comfortable with. she accepted him for who he was and never let his title as captain faze her. he also loved the fact that she was comfortable enough to trust him and show her true colors, even vulnerability.

he remembers the time he found y/n in the middle of a breakdown because of his “fans” who kept harassing her while she was still new.

although y/n loved to pick fights with the guy, he always had that feeling of wanting to protect her. because well, he liked her…maybe even more.

“lee! are you shooting your shot or what?”

“yes coach!”

🖇️. the confession

heeseung thanked his lucky stars that their coach gave them a day off before they left for the basketball meet.

it was the day he was finally going to shoot his shot.

"it's your day off! don't you wanna hang out with jay and the guys?"

“i’ll see them for the next two weeks, and pretty sure some of the guys are gonna drive up to see us.” he says in between bites of his burger. y/n wrinkles her nose as she sees little chunks of the burger fall.

“i can’t believe people like a guy who can’t eat cleanly.” she says as she hands him a napkin. “i’m with you anyway, and i’m comfortable with you.” heeseung ruffles her hair, making y/n’s cheeks heat up.

heeseung finds it cute, but doesn’t tease. y/n clears her throat, “yeah so, where to next?”, she asks as he finishes up his burger with a shrug. “what do you mean you don’t know, you asked me out today.” she laughs, throwing a piece of tissue at him.

heeseung leans in, smiling at y/n. “what do you want to do today?”

and with that, the two found themselves at a bookstore. “hmm…and you know I don’t usually read right?”

“reading helps pull up grades, you know.” she teases in a sing-song manner. “and also, reading can bring out emotions you know, and there are times you just find yourself relating to the characters.”

to tell the truth, heeseung did not understand a word y/n was saying. he was too busy focusing on how immersed she was talking about some of her favorite characters to cringed at plots. she could honestly keep going and he wouldn’t mind letting her carry on.

his train of thought abruptly stopped as she started handing him a pile of books. “w-what--”

“just shortlisting what I wanna get”, she smiles without looking at him. a few plot judgements and book cover debates later, she finally settles on a book by mitch albom, one of y/n’s favorite authors as heeseung recalls.

they finally find themselves at a korean items shop full of, as heeseung already guessed it, kpop merch.

“don’t you have enough already?” heeseung asks as he checks out the individual photo cards on display on a wall. y/n turns to him, hands on his waist. “i’m just here to look.”

“yeah, and that’s what you said the last time we were here, and you bought an album and photo card.” he says as he leans down to pat her head.

“uy sana all naman oh!” the two hear a group of friends in the shop ‘discreetly’ talk about them. “rude” y/n huffs before going around herself.

heeseung follows just behind, taking note of some of the items she looked at to potentially give to her as a gift…if she doesn’t buy them first.

“you’ve been going back to that card a few times now. isn’t that your favorite?” he recalls the times he was dragged into watching her favorite group’s music videos, shows, and even online concerts. he also remembers the times she would make him stream a certain album and let her loop songs because it made her happy.

and that was all he cared about.

she gives him a small smile. “next time, and if ever, i can just find one online no biggie.” heeseung nods as she moves away from the area, and once she was far enough and distracted, he speedily ran over to the counter to buy.

the most expensive piece of paper he’s ever spent on.

after finally dragging y/n out of the store, they found themselves in an outdoor night market where y/n happily dragged him from store to store to explore.

which he did enjoy doing.

right in the middle of waiting for their milk tea orders, heeseung finally decides to go for his plan.

“oh shoot. I need to get something from the gym for tomorrow, i’m really sorry y/n.”

“but isn’t the school closed? it’s a sunday.”, she gives him a questioning look. heeseung scratches the back of his neck, but he was prepared. “i…kinda know a way in since the guys and I did this before.”

and so they finally found themselves behind their school, much to y/n’s dismay.

“if we get sanctioned over this, i swear i will not hesitate to murder you on the spot lee.” she says in a threatening sort of manner to which heeseung just laughs at.

“just stay quiet and stay close, okay? you’re safe with me.” heeseung offers her his hand which she just high-fives. heeseung rolls his eyes before taking her hand in his, dragging a shocked y/n along.

y/n’s eyes were focused on their hands so when heeseung abruptly stops, she finds herself walking into his back. “sorry”

heeseung chuckles, “it’s okay…is it okay if you wait for me here? i’ll be quick, captain’s honor.” y/n laughs as heeseung dorkily places a hand on his chest while raising the other.

it was quiet, considering they were the only two on campus at the moment. it was only now too that y/n noticed how the moon’s light hits the center of the court, the subtle yellow lights around, accentuating the usually sweat filled and smelling court.

she suddenly sees heeseung coming out of a room, pushing a basket of basketballs along with him.

“you’re practicing now?” she shouts, but all heeseung does is shoot her a smile. the one he usually does before a shoot. she was about to move closer, but he stops her.

“i know i don’t usually ask you for favors…but since i’ll be gone for a few weeks…i’d like to ask you to grant me three wishes, one per basket I make.” he smiles in confidence, and without waiting for y/n’s answer, he goes for a three pointer.

In

he turns to the girl under the moonlight. “i wish you’d check your bag right now…i left you a surprise there.”

y/n’s brows furrow in confusion, but she complies. her eyes widen as she sees a thin piece of acrylic in her bag. With shaky hands, she takes out the photo card she was eyeing at the store earlier. but before she could say anything, she heard the sound of the hoop followed by bouncing on the floor.

“two…i wish you’d always be there to be my number one cheerleader…and i’ll always be yours.”

y/n was about to make a go toward the basketball captain but he holds up his hand. he turns back to the hoop. he narrows his eyes, dribbling the ball a few times, before going for the final shoot.

he doesn’t make the shot…on purpose.

he turns to find an utterly confused y/n looking from the hoop to the ball on the ground.

heeseung takes a deep breath in before slowly walking toward y/n.

“all those missed shots? that’s on you…and all those shots since the day i realized…they were all for you. and the one’s for the future, well…i hope they’d always be for you.” heeseung stops.

he looks up, trying to boost his confidence before shouting.

“my last wish…would be for you to allow me to court you y/n…and if that can’t be possible…it’s alright, at least i’ll be happy knowing I tried to shoot my--”

he was cut short as y/n runs into him, engulfing him in a hug to which he returns with a huge smile on his face.

“i guess i wasn’t the only one who fell that day.” y/n laughs. she pulls away with a grin. “and yes…i’d gladly grant your wishes, captain.” she says as she ruffles heeseung’s hair.

heeseung spins her around in the hug.

“thank you so much, my number one cheerleader…i’ll make you fall all over again. captain’s honor.”

“dork…just not on the ground again.”

by. atchi 🚬

#enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fic

[racfoam]

hello bet author in the world can we get more snippets of like teenage Harrison with Harriet and Voldemort. Thank you best author in the world

Sure thing. Here is a short snippet of 17-year-old Harrison getting read to officially meet Hermione's parents (even though they met him at Kings Cross)

“Harrison, your coat is on the wrong side.”

“No, it — oh, bugger! I hate Muggle clothes.”

“Here is the dental care box for her parents," said Harry.

“Thanks, mum.”

“How do I look?” Harrison asked.

“Great!” said Harry, beaming at her son.

“Like a Muggle,” scowled Voldemort, disgusted. “You better burn those clothes after you are done with them or I will disown you. Have you used the hair gel at all? It’s a mess."

Harrison's shoulders slumped; he looked like a kicked puppy. “I did...”

Harry elbowed Voldemort in the ribs, giving him a scolding glare

“He needs an honest opinion,” replied Voldemort.

“He’s already nervous enough, don’t worsen his suffering,” said Harry.

“He's met them every year on the platform,” said Voldemort, face masklike.

“Yeah, but not as Hermione’s boyfriend,” said Harrison, grabbing the roses.

“We never had this problem,” said Voldemort.

“Sheesh, Tom, I wonder why.” said Harry sarcastically.

“I'm out. Wish me luck."

Harrison bumped his head on the way out. “Ow! Bloody... Stupid doorframe."

He smacked the offending doorframe with his left palm, then exited the house, gift bag in hand and bouquet in hands. They heard him vanish into Apparition with a crack.

“He got that from you,” said Harry. Voldemort always glared at the doorframes whenever he forgot to duck under them. One time, he blasted the entire wall down for the offense.

“They need to take my height into consideration.” murmured Voldemort.

“Yes, because every man is six foot four.”

#snippets #asks

[grey-sides]

Forever mourning the fact that Murray will never "Children!! Children!!! 🤨" Billy and Steve. The way Steve would have to hold Billy back from murdering him lol

WDYM, anon? I have this script right here!

If Billy wasn’t positive that Steve would immediately call the police on him, he would have murdered this Murray guy hours ago. He’s so self-assured, righteous, a lunatic, he can’t believe Steve dragged him here. And why did Steve drag him here? Oh well, he’s just the smartest guy in the world, Billy, he knows things!

“You’re staying over, right? I know you’re young men, but I was pouring a little heavy,” Murray says, waving his glass of vodka around.

If anyone is drunk, Billy thinks, it’s gotta be this guy. Sheesh, does he have a problem or something?

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Steve demurs, waving a hand around. He looks like fucking Wheeler doing that. Billy’s the last sane person in this house, hands down.

Murray waves his hands again and stands up. “Nonsense! You can have the guest bedroom, fresh sheets and everything.”

Steve glances at Billy, he has a flush high on his cheeks. Does drinking make him blush? Billy doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve flushed from drinking, but the evidence is all over his face. Maybe he’s getting old.

“I’ll take the couch,” Steve says. How noble.

Murray whirls around, unbuttoned cardigan flying around his middle. He stares at them as a slow, sick smile creeps across his face. “The couch?” he asks, voice dangerously low, like he knows something they don’t.

“The couch,” Steve repeats. Billy stares at the side of his nose, the slope of his nose, a little different now since Billy broke it.

Murray sips his vodka, uses the hand holding the glass to point between them. “I’m sorry, what’s going on here?”

“Nothing!” Steve replies quickly, shaking his head. “We’re just friends. Billy needed to get out of the house so I suggested he come with.”

Murray laughs, from somewhere deep in his chest, throwing his head back as he gets hysterical with it. “Oh this is rich, children!”

Billy scowls, crosses his arms while he leans back in the couch. “We’re not fucking children.”

Murray pauses in his laughter and turns to Billy, that same smile on his face. “Well, you’re certainly trying to beat around the bush about it, aren’t you?”

“It’s fine!” Steve says, standing up. “I’ll take the couch, we don’t have to make it into anything.”

Murray shakes his head, points at Steve until he sits down again and walks back around to settle into his armchair. He looks between them, eyes half-lidded, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh no, we do have to make it into something.”

“So, who is it? Which one of you has the girlfriend you’re convincing yourself you love?” Murray asks, like that’s a normal thing to say to two people you’ve basically just met.

“What?” Steve asks at the same time Billy snaps, “No one.”

Murray chuckles to himself, nodding a bit. “So similar to my favorite success story and yet so different! So what is it? Internalized homophobia? Biphobia? Oh I know! You think you can make your parents proud if you just find the right girl.”

Billy’s hands clench into fists and he grits his jaw. What’s this guy’s deal? He’s a fucking asshole. Billy should punch his lights out and steal his car.

“That’s uncalled for,” Steve snaps, finally getting irritated with the guy too. Murray’s pushed Steve’s buttons enough to take him right out of the small town charm. “We appreciate the hospitality, Mr. Bauman, but we don’t appreciate you prying into our lives.”

Murray sips his vodka again, clearing his throat on a long sigh. He’s such a fucking weirdo, Billy really can’t stand him. “Ah yes, far be it for me to pry into anyone’s life. It’s just that- well, you can see what I see, can’t you?”

Steve glances at Billy again, where their knees are still pressed together. The way Billy’s opposite leg is jiggling up and down. He puts his hand on Billy’s wrist for just a moment, shaking his head. Billy knows what he’s trying to say without saying it, it’s not worth it.

Billy sighs, but his fists unclench, so that’s something. “Sir, I think it might be best if you stop suggesting whatever it is you’re suggesting,” he states slowly.

Murray narrows his eyes as he looks between them, nodding slowly. He gets up from his chair, walking around them to grab something from the mantle, holds it out. “Alexei,” he says, voice oddly somber. “My partner. He’s…recovering elsewhere.”

Steve takes the photo, looking at it silently. His hand finds Billy’s knee this time and it makes Billy’s heart clench in his chest. “I see,” he says quietly.

Billy doesn’t need to look at the picture to understand what Murray is telling them. He could almost forgive the guy for being so forward about this. He looks away and sets his jaw again. Steve’s taking the couch.

Murray puts the photo back when Steve is done looking at it and takes his seat across from them again. He’s markedly more subdued, looking between them. “I spent many years looking for the kind of happiness I have found with Alexei. I only mean to help.”

Steve looks back over at Billy, pulling his hand back even though Billy is internally screaming at him to let it stay. “I think this is something we need to talk about in private, sir.”

Murray puts his glass down on the coffee table and holds his hands up. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t try. And with that I will bid you goodnight. The couch does pull out, but- you should talk in the guest bedroom.”

He whirls away up the stairs, whistling to himself as he goes. Billy rolls his eyes, staring mulishly at the glass next to the half empty bottle of vodka. Prick.

Steve clears his throat and stands up, stretches up onto his toes so he can make his back pop. He glances sideways at Billy for a moment. “Uh, I’ll take the couch?”

Billy looks up at him and gets to his feet too. He doesn’t say anything, but he does nod at the bedroom, jerks his head over so Steve knows he wants him to follow. He trudges to the room, a seventies nightmare like the rest of this house and tugs his boots off to sit in the corner. At least the bed seems comfortable when he sits on the edge of it.

Steve leans in the doorway, arms crossed while he worries his cheek in thought. “I won’t tell anyone what he was implying, you know?”

Billy sits back, takes a deep breath through his nose while he looks at Steve. He hates that he’s going to capitulate to Murray, of all people, but maybe he has superpowers like that little girl too. “Steve, we should share the bed.”

For a moment, Steve doesn’t move. He just stares at Billy, mouth hanging open, hands clutched to his biceps. When Billy leans back, pats the comforter though, Steve seems to get the idea. He kicks off his shoes too, lands them next to Billy’s boots as he pulls his belt off. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I know,” Billy assures him quietly, tugging off his jeans so he can sleep in his t-shirt and briefs. He lays back on the bed and watches Steve strip down to his undershirt briefs too. Harrington fidgets at the end of the bed for a moment. “Come on.”

Steve climbs cautiously onto the bed, Billy gets it, he probably expects him to suddenly yank at his hair or something ridiculous. But Billy lets him get settled on the other side before he leans over to shut off the lamp, plunging them into darkness save for a fucking lava lamp Murray has in the corner.

They lay there stiffly for a moment, trying not to touch and Billy has had enough. Enough bullshit journalists trying to pick apart people. Enough of Steve trying to make himself smaller than he is so he doesn’t upset Billy. Billy willingly came on this trip, after all. Billy rolls onto his side and puts his palm in the center of Steve’s chest. He curls his fingers into it lightly and closes his eyes. “Get some sleep, Steve.”

Steve’s hand finds Billy’s on his chest and he curls his own fingers around the widest part of it. He breathes out slowly and Billy can hear his hair scratch against the surface of the pillow as he nods. “Goodnight, Billy.”

Murray serves them a scramble with coffee in the morning. And he hands Steve a bottle of vodka for the road.

#harringrove #greye writes #murray bauman #stranger things #anon