#you can get away with shoving a LOT of jokes into a drama as long as the Main Moments are dramatic

[lazuliquetzal]

Hey speaking of fanfiction/writing asks, I have a weirdly specific writing question: How do you manage to balance comedy and drama so well in your writing? I've read other stories straddling comedy and drama genres, but I often felt that the comedy cheapened the drama, and the drama made the jokes fall flat. But I've never felt that with your writing? In fact, the drama often makes the jokes funnier, and the jokes make the drama more impactful. Maybe it's contrast? How do you do that?

OH BOY DO I HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT COMEDY ALL THE TIME!

So the idea behind juxtaposing comedy and drama is kinda like putting coffee in your cake--the bitterness draws out the sweetness and makes it stronger. The contrast highlights the presence of the other. But if it's too unbalanced, you either get cheap drama or flat comedy, as you mentioned.

The first thing you need to decide what flavor (genre) you're going for. For example: I consider Dawn of the Fourth to be heavier on the drama than the comedy. I crack some hilarious jokes all throughout DotF, but the moments that I build up to are dramatic moments, even before the mystery kicks in! Ch1 builds up to baby Time screaming about the moon, Ch2 builds up to Wind lying to Time, Ch3 builds up to Wind being seriously suspicious about Sky, etc. The important, plot-moving moments are consistently played straight. So even though I crack a ton of Very Funny jokes, the thrust of the story is actually a mystery-thriller.

In contrast, I would consider Dinked Up to be more comedy than drama. The scenes are all comedic situations. Most of the moments of payoff are jokes. Every scene has a bit of sentiment to it, though (they all circle around Dink's very sincere teenage angst) which is why, when we hit the turning point, it's (hopefully!) not out of place. The drama hits harder in this case because ideally, the reader would have gotten used to the comedic flow, so when we swerve into drama, it's a surprise. Then we get to the climax, which is pushed along with comedy (Time being super nonchalant, Dink tripping and yelling super pathetically, etc). While it is running off of drama, it's a return to the comedy of the earlier scenes. I'm still ending the story with the same tone I established early on.

So basically: while I may be pinballing back and forth between comedy and drama, there's structural consistency going on underneath.

#asks #runaway-ramblings #writing #honestly i think it's easier writing a drama with comedy elements #than to write a comedy with drama elements #you can get away with shoving a LOT of jokes into a drama as long as the Main Moments are dramatic #but a comedy with drama elements is more like. the drama is a joke until it's no longer a joke. and then you go back to the joke. #but don't undermine the drama! #i hope this helps! #you should read my friend yellowocaballero she does the dramedy thing ALL the time. with more drama and more comedy than i do. #lazuli talks

[reminiscingtonight]

Eras Of Us (Pt. 2)

Alessia Russo x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Part One

[WOSO Masterlist]

Nothing can break your high. 

Playing in your first London derby, scoring in your first London derby, is a feeling you’re never going to forget. 

Until someone so graciously reminds you of the implications of such a win. 

“Emma Hayes is gonna be my new coach,” you moan.

“Rough,” Alessia snorts, ignoring the way you smack at her arm.

The two of you are out with the rest of the girls, capping off the win against Chelsea with a couple of drinks at a bar near the stadium. Around you are a mix of reds and blues, all of the players good friends despite the outcome of the match. 

Despite starting your night hanging by Leah, the blonde basically mothering you to death since your move overseas, you somehow find yourself tucked into Alessia’s side merely a few minutes later. It makes your heart skip a beat when you feel her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hairs on the back of your neck. 

“It’s not funny! What if she takes me wrecking her club team personally and doesn’t give me a call up to the next camp?”

Alessia gives you a look.

It’s enough to make you feel chastised. You sigh, hanging your head. “Fine, she wouldn’t do that. But she might make me run extra laps as punishment!”

Alessia laughs again, shoving at head when you wack her arm again. “What ever happened to the (Y/N) who would run extra laps for fun?”

You know Alessia’s thinking of you dressed Carolina blue, sprinting up and down the pitch after practice ends, wanting to get in extra reps to keep your fitness up. It’s a fond memory, the player you were when you were younger, but you shudder, thinking of how it was really just a ploy to get Alessia to give you a backrub when you got home, the forward always quick to crumble to your sad eyes and exaggerated whines.

You pout. “She grew up.”

“Poor you,” she teases, pinching at your cheeks. 

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this much. 

You and Alessia have fallen into a good routine since you both joined Arsenal. There was no awkward tension around the two of you, no weird ‘I’m on the same team as my ex’ drama. If anything, there’s more ‘annoying years-in-the-making inside jokes’ shenanigans that you’ve brought with you. It’s almost like no time has passed. 

Once in a while you catch yourself thinking about the what-ifs. What if you never broke up. What if Alessia wanted to give this another shot. But you’re more than happy to live in the now. You and Alessia are friends now. That’s not something you’re willing to give up just for a shot at what you once knew. 

Looking down at her empty cup, Alessia lets out a low groan. You sheepishly hand her your empty cup as well, sweetly asking for a refill. She grumbles under her breath but grabs your drink nonetheless. “Don’t miss me too much!” she hollers over her shoulder as she disappears into the crowd. 

You find yourself staring even long after she’s gone.

With nothing left to distract you, you turn your attention back down to your phone. It’s funny seeing all of the posts on social media by the fans. Giggling to yourself, you like a couple of them before your attention is quickly captured again when you feel a small nudge against your arm. You look up to see Lotte smiling back at you. 

Scooting over, you give her enough space to plop down next to you in the booth. 

“Whatcha been doing hiding away here all night?”

You shrug, easy smile floating to your lips. “Haven’t been hiding. Less and I’ve just been hanging out. Lots of things to catch up on.”

The mention of the blonde striker has Lotte frowning a bit. You watch as she seems to think through her words. “Are you and Less…” she starts cautiously, pausing to gather her thoughts once more. 

“Are me and Less what?” 

The brunette shrugs. “I dunno, back together? Working things out? You guys just… you seem close again.”

It’s your turn to pause. In all honesty you haven’t really been thinking about what you and Alessia have been doing. Yes, you spend a lot of your free time together, and yes, Alessia always seems to seek you out when you all go out with the rest of the team, but that doesn't mean anything, right? 

Right? 

You settle for a half-shrug. “I’m not sure. I think… I think we’re just seeing where things go.”

Lotte nods, the look of unease still on her face. “Just be careful, alright? I’m happy if things work out between you guys but just don’t forget the history the two of you have.”

Lotte’s words stick with you.

Even days later, when Alessia and you are taking a stroll towards a nearby farmer’s market.

You’re not thinking when her hand automatically slips into yours, hands freely swinging between the two of you. Alessia’s telling you a story you’re only half listening to, more caught in your head than the walk in front of you.

Spotting a booth with your favorite flowers, you head towards them. Only to be yanked back by a firm hand. 

Alessia doesn’t let go of your hand.

You pull again. 

You can hear an amused noise but Alessia still doesn’t let you go. 

“Lessi! Let me go see the flowers,” you whine. 

This time when you pull, she lets you go with a chuckle.

They’re beautiful. 

The purples, the blues, the pinks. You run your hands over them, marveling in all of the beauty. 

You must be looking for too long, because your heart lurches when you feel the familiar weight of an arm wrapping around your waist, Alessia’s head dropping to your shoulder. It’s habitual, the way your hand drops to rest on top of hers.

You can feel Alessia smile against the side of your head.

And it hits you then. 

This feels familiar. Too familiar. 

This feels right. Too right.

This feels like everything you’ve been missing. 

“Less?”

The blonde hums, eyes not moving as her fingers continue to trace shapes on your stomach.

You huff. It isn’t until you’re shuffling around, fully facing Alessia that her eyes drop to meet yours. She’s clearly not expecting it, mouth dropped into an ‘o’.

“Hi?”

“Alessia, do you want to date me?”

It’s almost comical, the way her eyes widen, mouth somehow dropping even wider.

When it becomes clear that Alessia is at a loss of words you run a hand down your face, effectively pushing the blonde away from you.

“Look, I get it if you think I’m just imagining things, and I’ll totally understand if you want some space if all of this is just in my head, but I can’t help but feel like these are dates, these little trips around London you’ve been taking me. I haven’t felt this ‘wined and dined’ since the two of us first started dating all those years ago.”

You pause, leaving plenty of time for Alessia to interject.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she swallows. 

You watch as Alessia clenches and unclenches her hands, nervously shuffling from foot to foot.

Neither of you say anything as the seconds pass, ticking into minutes. 

Eventually, with her eyes trained to her feet, “Do you want them to be dates?” Alessia asks quietly. Timidly.

A little too timidly.

And that’s when you realize what this is.

What it’s been about this entire time.

Alessia’s afraid you don’t want her.

“You’re an idiot.”

Fisting a hand into her shirt, you yank Alessia towards you. Her eyes widen just as your lips meet, hands floundering about until they rest on your waist.

When you break away, you make sure to memorize the look on her face. Eyes closed, peaceful lit to her face, it’s something you want to ingrain in your memory and never forget.

When Alessia’s eyes flutter open you give her a soft smile.

“I’m always going to want you,” you murmur, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. 

You duck down, pressing your face into the crook of her neck as her arms automatically wrap around your back.

“I’d spend a lifetime trying to get over you, just to get to spend a single second as yours.”

You feel more than hear Alessia’s shaky breath in, arms tightening just a fraction around you. 

“I don’t want to ever get over you.” Your heart skips a beat at her confession. Her words are paired with a kiss on your hairline, signaling what you know is the end of this limbo, the beginning of your story starting anew.

No, things didn’t work out the first time.

But you aren’t stranded on opposite coasts this time. You aren’t leaving Alessia to start your professional career elsewhere. Alessia isn’t leaving you to go back home. 

You’re both in England. You’re both on the same team. 

Maybe this time things will work out. 

Because you love Alessia and she loves you. And that’s all you really need to know.

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #Ace writes

[even-disco-baby]

CUNO — “You look like shit.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Leave me alone, Cuno.”

“Astute observation. Real detective shit.”

CUNO — “Cuno’s always on that detective shit. Observant shit. Putting pieces together like nobody’s business.”

The boy sits down beside you with a creaking of old wood. He grimaces slightly, as if doubting that the steps to the shack will support both of you at once, but then shrugs and settles into the bowing plank.

“Saw your piggy friends pack up and leave. Ditched you, did they?”

PAIN THRESHOLD — His words cause an unexpectedly sharp pang, like a blade shoved between your ribs.

COMPOSURE — You try to breathe through the pain and the creeping dread. Your lungs feel shrunken and certainly not luminous.

“It’s none of your business. Fuck off.”

“They left me to die. I’m going to die here.”

“Maybe they’ll send someone for me. Maybe they’ll come back.”

CUNO — He laughs, but it’s not his usual cackle. It’s quiet and cruel. “You stupid, or something? Nobody comes *back* to this shithole. Fucking pit. You either get out or you die here. They’re gone.”

EMPATHY — Gone like his mother, his father, his only friend in all the world. Gone like his one chance to get out.

INLAND EMPIRE — You failed him, just like you fail everyone.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.”

“I’m sorry. I’m such a piece of shit. Now we’re both gonna die here.”

“Kim might come back.”

CUNO — That gives the boy pause. “…Maybe,” he admits reluctantly. “If he doesn’t wimp out and die.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — Another pang, cold and sharp. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Somewhere else in Revachol, somewhere that feels so very far away, the lieutenant is standing on a fire escape, fingers playing at a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Thinking about another cigarette on another balcony with another person.

You do not know where he is. You do not even know if this image of him is the truth or just a fervent wish. You may never know, now.

FISHING VILLAGE — The sea is a soft roar in your ears, waves brushing the shore like your hand trailing through a dead man’s hair. It’s getting dark now. Dark and cold.

“I’m tired. Goodnight, Cuno.” [Leave]

“Why are you here?”

CUNO — “The Cuno goes wherever the fuck he wants, pig. Cuno’s town. Cuno’s village.”

LOGIC — He probably came to see if he could figure out a way to make you and the other officers take him with you. Then he saw them leave you behind and realized that there was no hope for either of you.

EMPATHY — And then he got scared. He’s afraid you’ll die and leave him all alone in the world.

CUNO — He wipes his nose on his sleeve, bundling his jacket more tightly around himself. “Cuno oughta trash your dumb shack while I’m at it.”

PERCEPTION — He said “I.” He’s still off the speed.

EMPATHY — He’s thinking about a lot of things. He feels small and sad.

INLAND EMPIRE — Like something that no one ever comes back to. Like Martinaise. Like you.

“You can have the shack when I’m gone. I won’t last long.”

“Fine, trash it. Kick me while I’m down. That’s all anybody does, anyway.”

“Please don’t trash it. It’s not mine, it’s Isobel’s.”

CUNO — “Only joking, baconman. The Cuno’s an honorable guy, you know? Not gonna pick on the elderly.” He glances at you briefly, and then away. “Or Isobel.”

DRAMA — Was that… a joke, sire? Did he mean to make you laugh?

“Fuck off, Cuno.”

“Har har.”

CUNO — Another brief glance out of the corner of his eye, and then away. His hands are restless in his lap, wringing themselves, tapping tattoos against each other. He’s rocking back and forth just a little.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — On top of everything, the withdrawal is starting to hit him hard. You know the signs all too well.

COMPOSURE — He’s trying not to let on just how scared and alone he feels without Cunoesse. The world feels big and silent to him now.

VOLITION — He needs you. And you need him.

CUNO — “So…” He clears his throat, wrapping his arms around himself and shivering as a cold wind sweeps past. “What are you gonna do? Even the pigs don’t want you. Rotten meat.”

“I’m gonna die. They know I will and they left me anyway.”

“Fuck them. I’ll tear shit up, then. Burn this town to the ground. Fuck everything.”

“I’m gonna get so drunk I forget that I ever cared about them.”

“I’m gonna keep on solving cases without their help, just like I solved this one. I don’t fucking need them.”

“I’m gonna find change for the pay phone and beg them to come back for me.”

“I’m staying right here in Martinaise. I’m not going anywhere, Cuno.”

CUNO — He wipes his nose again, but says nothing. His expression is difficult to read.

EMPATHY — He doesn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t know if he believes you, either. But he’d like to.

FISHING VILLAGE — Seagulls call to one another in the distance. The ocean continues its gentle ministrations. The sun sets and the day ends. Still, life goes on.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #cuno de ruyter #took me so long to get around to doing a cuno one bc 1) i still haven’t played his route bc i don’t wanna make him a cop 🤢 #2) i just… have lots of cuno feelings. ough. my son who calls me slurs and has every disease #but anyway yeah imo the ‘’bad’’ end of disco elysium is probably actually the best one for harry #just by virtue of no longer being a cop 💀 #ofc it depends on if he can treat his wound all right and whether he can handle being rejected… #most likely he won’t change but… somewhere in the multiverse etc

[yutaabyss]

Helloooo I’ve recently found your blog and I wanted to try making a request :D maybe you could write some cute fluffy sexy times with jaemin? Maybe an stablished relationship on a Saturday night with giggles and playful naughty touches and a lot of boobie worship if that’s okay 🙏

thank you for requesting!! i really hope you like what i wrote for you and pls feel free to request again!

requested/ “can we stop playing?”

characters: jaemin x female!reader

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: nipple play, unprotected sex

author’s note: im glad someone finally requested a soft jaemin moment 

“My baby!” Jaemin barged through the front door, almost tackling you to the floor as he engulfed you in a hug. He had just gotten back from visiting his family for a week but for the both of you, it felt more like a year apart. “I missed you so much,” you nuzzled your head into his chest. “I missed you more my baby,” he pulled back to look at your face. “Hmm, I missed your lips too,” he broke out in a smile as you got shy. “Jaemin, stop,” you always got nervous when he flirted. It didn’t matter how long you’d been together, his constant teasing always sent butterflies soaring through your tummy. “What? Just saying,” he pinched your cheek gently before moving to put his bags in your room. “So, what’s the plan for our Saturday night extravaganza,” he emphasized the last word, making you chuckle. “Can we just watch a drama and cuddle?” you asked sweetly. “Ah, I thought you’d never ask,” he joked with you, interlocking your fingers as he walked back to the living room. 

The both of you got comfortable on the sofa as you started watching a drama. Jaemin’s hand ran up and down your thigh under the warm blanket. At first, it wasn’t anything different than normal; most times you were with Jaemin he always had a hand on you, but his hand kept creeping higher and higher until he finally stopped right at before your center. “Na Jaemin, what are you doing?” you looked over at him, his eyes glued to the tv screen. “Hmm?” he looked at you innocently. “Your hand,” you gestured toward where it lay on your leg, moving the blanket back. “Need it higher?” he walked his fingers to the fabric of your shorts. “Jaemin!” you grabbed his hand. “What?” a smile grew on his soft face. “You’re a little pervert,” you smiled back at him. Jaemin gasped, hand slapping over his heart, “I can’t believe you think that way about me Y/N,” he couldn’t contain his smile. “Drama queen,” you scuffed at him. Suddenly, he jumped on you, pushing you onto your back, fingers going to tickle your sides. “Na Jaemin!” you tried moving away from him, gasping for air as you laughed hard. “Stop it you brat,” you pushed at his hands. “Huh? What was that?” he refused to let up so easy. “Please,” you could hardly get the words out. “Say ‘Jaemin is not a pervert’,” you grabbed onto his hands, to no avail, “but then I’d be a liar,” you reasoned. His hands stopped for a moment, “then suffer the consequences,” his attack began again. “Wait!” you yelled frantically. “Nope, you had your chance,” he laughed along with you. You squirmed more, Jaemin shifting with your every move, eventually falling off the cushions. “Fuck,” you squelled as you slid down on the floor. “Baby, I’m sorry,” Jaemin laughed harder as you lay on the ground. “You should have just said what I told you,” he helped you off the floor. “Shut up,” you shoved him gently once you got up. He wrapped you in his arms, lifting you slightly off the floor so your face was closer to his own. “Never,” he kissed your nose. Your eyes gleamed as your looked into his deep brown orbs, “what?” his smirk sent warmth through your body. “Wanna take a shower with me?” Na Jaemin would never miss this opportunity.

You ran down the hallway as Jaemin followed after you. Before you could turn around, Jaemin snatched you into his chest. His lips attacked the sides of your face and neck, “Jaemin,” you laughed “come on,” you placed your hands over his clasped ones thet lay across your stomach. “Okay, okay,” he whined, his lips forming into a pretty smile. 

“Don’t try anything,” you looked at him sternly. You lifted your shirt over your head; Jaemin’s eyes scanned over the expanse of your chest, soaking in the sight of your nipples, biting back the urge to definitley try something. “You’re so pretty,” you looked back over at him, butterflies erupting inside, “thank you.” “Can I help you with those?” he nodded toward your sweatpants. “I think I can manage,” you looked at him knowingly as you slid the fabric down your legs. Jaemin’s stare was practically burning into you as he watched you undress completely. He was so busy analyzing your every move he’d forgotten to take any of his clothes off. You started the water, waiting for it to heat up, “so, are you going to shower in your clothes tonight?” He laughed at you, “right,” his hands worked to take all his clothes off. 

The water was warm, steam filling up the small bathroom and fogging all the glass. “I can’t stop staring at you,” he hummed as he pulled you back into him. “I’ve noticed,” you giggled, reaching for the soap. “Let me help you,” his voice was deep right next to your ear. “Fine,” you finally gave in to his antics. Jaemin massaged soap into your skin, starting at your shoulders and working down your back - moving your hair to your other shoulder as he went along. One hand rested on your hip as the other got lost filling your soft, warm skin under it. “Can I rinse yet?” your voice came out quieter then you intended. “Yeah,” he removed his hands so you could turn around, your back toward the water now. He repeated his earlier actions on the front of your body, your eyes following the way his hands rubbed the creamy substance on your stomach and breasts. “Jaemin,” you called his name. “Hmm,” he was distracted by the way his hands looked on your body. “That’s a lot of soap,” you smiled at him as he came to a realization that it indeed was a lot of soap. “Sorry,” he laughed. “Let me help you with that,” he playfully splashed water all over you, some of it going in your face. “You brat,” you gasped. Jaemin just smiled, your expression too cute for him to react any differently, “oops.” 

It was almost midnight by the time you both got done showering, the house dark as you walked to your room. “Now what?” Jaemin stepped up behind you again, his front pressed into your back, fingers grazing your shoulder. “Hmm, what do you want to do?” you fell further into his gentle touch. He chuckled, lips kissing your cheek as he hugged you from behind. “Let’s cuddle,” he whispered in your ear. You climbed under the blankers, moving into his warm side so he could wrap you in his arms again. You gazed into his welcoming eyes as he cradled you in his chest. “I love you Jaemin,” your eyes sparkled under the warm lights of the room. “I love you too baby,” he kissed your forehead. The moment was sweet, Jaemin’s fingers dancing up your side until they went under your oversized tshirt. He flattened his hand, caressing your freshly clean skin in soothing motions. It was comforting, you hardly noticed when his hand met your boob. Jaemin pinched your nipple, a moan falling from your lips as your pressed into him, “Jaemin,” you whined at him. “What?” he played innocent. “Can we stop playing?” you were over the playfulness of the night. He just smiled, shifting his body over yours as he pulled your shirt over your head. He kissed down your throat, sucking and biting marks into your flesh as he went along. You ran your fingers through his soft black hair, eyes closing in bliss when his lips met your perked nipples. His tongue swirled around each bud teasingly before he sucked one into his mouth, his hand gripping you and pushing you into his face. “I could do this all night baby,” he moved to the other boob. He licked strips up and down over your buds, flicking his tongue over them, then moving to sucking on the skin of your breasts, the cold air hit your now wet nipples. He reached his hand up to play with your other boob, pinching your nipple as he slipped the other back into his mouth. Your legs fell open, his body laying down inbetween them. You pressed your legs against his sides and pulled his head up from your chest. “Jaemin, please fuck me,” your eyes were heavy. 

Jaemin sat up to rid his body of his clothes and then remove your shorts. He rubbed your legs before he pushed them open, leaving open mouth kisses up your thighs. “I missed every part of you,” his voice made your back arch subtly, the deepness of it making you wetter. He came back up to your face, his lips tempting you further, your tongue swiping over your own as you waited for him to kiss you. “Everything about you is so pretty,” his eyes glued to your lips as he spoke. You rest your hand on his cheek, “I love you.” Jaemin leaned in, nipping your bottom lip softly, licking over the reddened skin. “Jaemin just kiss me,” you whined at his teasing. Jaemin just laughed, moving his lips against yours in slow motions, lips parting with yours. His naked hips dropped into yours. “Shit,” he whispered. He ran his hand over your hip, moving to your leg so he could move it open more. With his other hand, he guided his hardened dick over your wetness, running in it up and down your folds before putting it in. His fingers pressed hard into your hips, leaving one to hold your hand instead. Your clasped hands rest next to your head on the pillow. He thrust gently into you, you both stared into eachothers eyes as he did it a little harder. “Jaemin,” you gasped out. “That’s it baby,” he cooed at you as he started a constant pace. You could feel every inch of him deep inside of you, your walls clenching around him. “Touch me,” you guided his hand that rest in yours toward your clit. He visibly swallowed, trying to gain some form of composure. Everything you did made him twitch in you. His long fingers rubbed circles on your clit, making you moan out. “Right there Jaemin.” His abs clenched as he focused on not cumming yet. “Feels good baby?” he practically moaned every word. “S-so good,” your legs wrapped around his waist. He thrust a little faster as he neared his end, “almost there baby.” “Jaem-” your words stopped as he hit your gspot over and over again causing you to cum on his cock. “Fuck,” he pulled out, covering your stomach in his cum. Your pussy throbbed, the way his face contorted as he released making you weak. He kissed the sides of your lips lovingly before getting up to get something to clean you up with. 

Jaemin welcomed you back into his arms, pulling the sheets over your bodies. “Goodnight baby,” he said quietly. “Goodnight Jaemin.” 

#requested #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #wayv smut #na jaemin smut #jaemin smut #nct jaemin smut #na jaemin #jaemin #nct jaemin

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Sorry for the Henruss rant that is about to ensue, I know I’ve basically said all this a million times. Being reminded recently of their ridiculous breakup scene just got me annoyed again.

I just still can’t believe that we got an angry, shouty Henruss breakup scene and it was Russ initiating it because he was mad Henrik didn’t tell him about his teenage daughter’s pregnancy. Rather than what it very obviously should have been: Henrik being overcome by his internalised homophobia and Gaskell trauma, getting scared, and pushing Russ away, insisting he was wrong about being interested in Russ and that he only likes women, insisting he can’t have a healthy relationship with a man because he tried before and look how it ended.

Henruss having drama and taking ages to get properly together wasn’t a problem. I mean, it’s Henrik. Any relationship he has, especially with another man, is going to be a long, angsty journey at best. To expect a fluffy romcom relationship when Henrik Hanssen is involved would be setting oneself up for disappointment. (He maybe could’ve had that with Carole, or something in that general vein at least, but then that storyline was dropped so... yeah.)

But why did the drama and angst come from... Russ’s daughter being pregnant?? (And Russ somehow not having noticed, which was just ridiculous.) What was the point in that?

It would’ve been one thing if Holby wasn’t cancelled and still had hour-long episodes, maybe then they could have run it as a subplot alongside proper character work, but as it was it was just a weird storyline that made no sense (there were absolutely no signs Billie was pregnant when she was brought into hospital before, surely realistically it would’ve been discovered then?) and took up time that really shouldn’t have been.

I was cheering when S23E47 aired and Henrik finally did what I’d been expecting him to do much sooner - snapping at Russ and pushing him away. (I love that plot point. It would’ve been utterly out of character if Henrik had just been like “oh, Russ isn’t upset with me about Billie anymore, time to happily get back together with him!”.) But it was just far too little, far too late, especially as a Johnrik fan. It still felt like it was more about Henrik’s self-loathing and inability to believe he can be loved in general, rather than any meaningful exploration of Henrik’s struggle to accept his bisexuality, IMO.

I feel like the show was terrified of exploring Henruss meaningfully in the context of it being a relationship between two men, and they just wanted to treat it like it wasn’t any different than a relationship between a man and a woman. And yes, to some people and characters, there wouldn’t be a difference, and that’s okay. But to Henrik, with the context of his life experiences, of course there would be a difference! His relationship with Russ would not be the same in his eyes as his relationship with Maja! (Lol at how Maja is literally the only actual girlfriend Henrik’s had and thus the only point of comparison I can use, unless you believe Elle Gardner was joking when she said she’d never actually been with Henrik.) Henrik grew up and then came of age/went to med school/started his career in a massively homophobic and biphobic era, and that would’ve affected him a lot, especially as he’s known of his bisexuality at least since med school if not sooner.

Anyway, this all comes back, fundamentally, to how bitter I still am that the show didn’t let Henrik properly talk about his feelings for John. It’s pretty much canon that Henrik was about to come out for John in John’s last few episodes, only for everything that happened to shove him back into the closet (I really don’t know how to take the “I did not know John Gaskell” scene in S20E47 if it’s not supposed to be Henrik re-closeting himself). So why didn’t Henrik get to talk about that in his literal coming out storyline?? (And why didn’t he get to call himself bisexual, for that matter?)

As I always say, Russ wouldn’t exist if John hadn’t paved the way by being Henrik’s first male love interest. Henrik would have been written as a heterosexual man ‘til the end of the show if not for John. So it was utterly disrespectful to the Johnrik relationship to pretend it never happened in favour of lumbering Henruss with silly relationship drama that could work equally well for a straight couple.

And I mean, Billie was a cute character and all, and I always have and always will love the idea of Henrik having a teenage step-daughter - I’m deeply, deeply grateful Holby somehow managed to refrain from giving Henrik his 50000th Replacement Son. If they’d involved her in the story without doing the whole pregnancy arc, I would’ve loved that (seeing her coming to grips with her dad moving on from her other dad and starting a new relationship, and what that means for her life, could’ve been interesting!). We’ve hardly ever seen him being parental with girls and young women, there was Tara and that’s it, so giving Henrik’s love interest a daughter was a refreshing move.

But if they wanted to make the storyline focus on drama from a teenage pregnancy, with Henrik’s issues with relationships and struggle to believe he can be loved as a side plot thread, they really, really should have just given Henrik a girlfriend. It would have been a perfectly fine storyline if we were talking about, idk, Rebecca instead of Russ. (You’d have to change S23E43, maybe, although even then you could’ve just generalised Henrik’s talk with Serena about coming out into one about relationships in general quite easily.) I would have been just as happy to see Henrik settle down with a nice woman as I was to see him with a nice man. If Holby weren’t ready to fully delve into Henrik’s internalised homophobia and self-loathing about his attraction to men, then they could’ve simply never gone there in the first place.

Sigh.

Rant over. I feel a lot better now I’ve gotten this off my chest, lol. (Also, if this reads like it was written at 1am, that’s because most of it was, I started drafting it up a couple days ago and then impulsively wrote basically the entire rest of the post last night, but I forgot to post it before I went to bed so, yeah, here it is now.)

#Holby City #Henrik Hanssen #my meta #idk if this even counts as meta

[missshezz]

I joked with @caerulea-divilu that I’d start this Scorp!talk off with “for kriff’s sake, Dickney” but didn’t realize how utterly appropriate it be until I watched episode 3 of Kenobi.

Seriously, Dickney, what the kriff?

Do you read the posts on Twitter asking how much worse it can get and literally go, “hold our Corellian ale?”

So, since this will contain spoilers, I will say now, scroll on by…

….

….

….

Okay, you were warned,

Our first glimpse of Darth Vader has him talking with Reva and essentially guaranteeing her a promotion if she delivers Kenobi to him.

Seriously?

You don’t question how your Grand Inquisitor ends up “incapacitated” (because we totes don’t touch on him being dead or what at all) while your other inquisitor (the one considered the lowliest of the lot) somehow gets away unscathed?

Nah, doesn’t make Darth “I choke people for the sheer eopie of it” Vader look incredibly gullible or anything! It’s totes fine! Cause Reva survived and will deliver what he wants as promised!

Cheap way of promoting her to the lead position without her having to do a damn thing to actually earn it.

But nah this is great writing, folks!

Who else knew the “mole” was going to sell out Obi and Leia? Called it soon as Leia flagged him down. Now, I know people are totes in love with Leia and her dynamic with Obi (which has good seconds) but it’s not cute in the long scheme of things. She’s another device being used to emasculate Kenobi (same as the other females in the show). Don’t give me the “she’s a Princess, she’s used to commanding people” spiel. It’s not going to track with me. Her character is being used to nerf Obi-Wan and her own brother, even.

Why?

Because Kathleen Kennedy is going to shove this Force is Female poodoo down our throats at any and all costs.

Look, let me clear, Obi-Wan struggling with connecting to the Force because he has done his best not to rely on the Force works… to a point.

He didn’t develop dementia while in exile.

He hasn’t forgotten how to think.

This made him look like a dementia’d old man needing a ten-year-old to do all their thinking.

Him not doing a “we aren’t the people you’re looking for” was honesty lame but okay, we’ll roll with it (since Dickney’s given us no choice).

Also, Obi-Wan shooting the box to lower the lasers rails instead of going around it was also scene chewing for the sake of getting other troopers there to confront him.

Oh, look, the actress who plays Tala was also in Rome! I liked her in that show and I liked her here (even though her intro was a bit contrived and lacked any sort of real suspense).

Their interaction and the name drop of Quinlan Vos didn’t bother me. Tala was a nice way to foreshadow how the Rebellion is operating behind the scenes with a network of spies (of which Bail and Ashoka are involved but we needed to get Obi off Tatooine to truly neuter him…)

Vader wrecking the town didn’t overly bother me because I am choosing to see it as his way of luring out Obi-Wan. There is calculation here on his part. He knows Obi-Wan. He knows he will want to help. To stop him.

He just doesn’t realize his former master is also a shell of the man he once was.

He’s expecting Master Kenobi.

He (and we) gets Ben, instead.

That duel… *sigh*

It was just… not good.

There was no intensity, no emotion, no real drama here. No, they’re not episode 3 level but they’re capable of delivering hard, impactful lines. You have James Earl karkin Jones and Ewan MckriffinGregor here and these are the best lines you can write for them?!?

The camera shots in this scene were also terrible, the sound effects worse than those found in a beginning fan made film, and the lighting atrocious. Look, I get what they were going for, the play between light and dark, how both are lost in the darkness but it just came off badly. $25 million an episode and this is the best we get?

No.

Just no.

The only cool moment in this was Anakin burning Obi-Wan. However, as cool as it was, there’s still flaws to it (and Obi-Wan getting rescued again by a female isn’t my largest complaint). Obi-Wan just accepts being burned alive? No Qui-Gon voiceover telling him to get up? Use the Force? No, we’re just going to accept being immolated because… reasons.

Okay…

Once Tala shows up to rescue Obi-Wan, Vader just stands there and watches as a slow-ass droid carries him off.

WTF?

Seriously?

Are we supposed to accept he suddenly decided to let his old master go after seconds before trying to immolate him?

Ah but the best part of this episode (*sarcasm*) is Reva Knows Everything has easily found the hidden bunker and tunnel that Tala a few scenes before said was used to ferry out other Jedi without any incidents! Better still, she gets to the end of the tunnel before Leia (who has been running this tunnel the whole time) and kills the pilot.

Suspension of belief… zero.

Folks, this episode was a complete mess. Consoomers and the whumpies are the only ones praising it because the first doesn’t care about quality writing and the other is only focused on the whump. I am an emotional whumper. I love seeing Obi struggling and dealing with issues. The burn scene tripped off my whumperflies. However, I am also a writer. Maybe not a good one by the standards of the folks here on Tumblr but I am one. I know what constitutes a good story.

This isn’t one.

Simply, Kenobi should be better.

We deserve better.

Period.

#scorp!talk #kenobi series #Kenobi #kenobi spoilers #obi wan kenobi #darth vader #anakin vs obi wan #not the duel we deserved #Star Wars #animated gif #flashing gif #gifs #ewan mcgregor #hayden christensen #james earl jones #and that was the best we got?

[barkingbarghest]

hi please tell me about the zombie christmas musical. i have an inkling i know which one it is and i would love to hear more about it!!

omg lol... ok so it's called Anna and the Apocalypse (AatA) and its primary sin is that it wanted to be Too Much All At Once and consequently became a shambling mass of disjointed ideas. Also it's a great example of writing that is Not Tight. They're trying to do a lot but they're not being efficient about it.

[edit: putting a read more because i.............. well. i typed a lot.]

the Biggest example of this, there's a lot, but like ok they really liked the musical episode of Buffy. And not to spoil Buffy, but the song at the climax of the musical episode of Buffy is where Buffy sings about her conflicting duty as The Guy Who Fights Monsters and her desire to stop fighting and take the rest she's earned from saving the world you know like, several times. There's more to it but again I don't want to spoil Buffy in case that's something you're into

How that relates is, that the people who wrote AatA really liked that number and they were like "ok let's do that" so the song at the climax of the movie has our heroine singing about how she's a reluctant hero who will fight since that's what's expected of her. "It's been said the world's a stage / and everyone must play their part / well if that's true I'll act with all my heart" and "There are some things in life / you just can't control / but I'm ready to fight / I was born for this role" it's all very reminiscent of Buffy "magical girl who is the only person who can fight vampires and whatever" The Vampire Slayer... except Anna, our heroine, is not at all like Buffy and has no reason to feel this way.

Anna and the Apocalypse is a story about some high school students in a small town in Scotland who have to reckon with zombies at Christmastime. Anna is our main character, and she is a disillusioned teen who doesn't care about stuff and she just wants to get out of this dead end town and she doesn't care about people etc etc. It would be a fitting narrative if she started off like this, and through the events of the movie and the zombie apocalypse, she learns that when push comes to shove she does care about people and she is willing to fight for them, but she doesn't. Her characterization is a flat line except when the movie needs her to be something else. It's very noticeable and weird.

And like, the whole cast is like this. We follow a handful of kids besides Anna: John is Anna's friend singular and he's got a crush on her but she's friendzoned him and that's kind of it, Steph is a social justice warrior working on a film project and struggling with being an outsider by proxy of being a transfer student, Chris is a filmmaker roped into helping Steph, Lisa is Chris' girlfriend who exists for 1) singing a horny song and 2) it's sad when she dies via zombie, and Nick who is a Mean Hot Boy who had a fling with Anna and maybe he wants more of that but she doesn't but it doesn't matter because it doesn't go anywhere because this movie is 98 minutes long and we've got a lot to do and we're not very efficient storytellers!

The antagonist is the vice principal (vice dean?) Mr. Savage who is Comedically Villainous and not in a campy way just in a sledgehammer way. He hates kids and he hates the idea of fun but he likes being able to take away their candy and boss people around. Which leads me to my next point: tone. this movie does not balance comedy and drama. It's so bad. It wants these heartfelt moments but it can't commit to them and it wants to be funny but The Christmas School Pageant is so bad and guys we can be funny without resorting to kids and adults reacting to Lisa's horny song and the bad rap about fish that's bad on purpose which is the joke.. it's so bad. That screen time could have gone to so many other things. Better things.

They should have given a side plot to John and Steph, 1) because it would give John a much needed focus-that-isn't-Anna and 2) because John and Steph share an insecurity about not being bold enough. John sings about how he's too cowardly to tell Anna how he feels and Steph sings about how she's worried nobody will take her documentary about the homeless problem seriously and she's just another voice in the crowd. Do something with that! C'mon!!

And it's wild because like there ARE good things about this movie like the songs are pretty catchy, and the actors mostly do a great job with what they've been given, and I remember the choreography being pretty fun, but christ bacon sandwich the writing!

There's like, a song where the kids are huddled in a building looking at news stories about the zombie thing and being worried about their families and their own survival, but then the song they are singing is about the tragedy of kids these days being on their phones all the time and lacking a 'human connection'??? It's so disconnected from the story.

'Turning My Life Around', a duet between Anna and John where they juxtapose the characters' cheerful optimism with the zombie thing starting (imagine kids dancing down a street and in the background of the shot there's a guy spurting blood it's that kind of thing). It's a fun song and a fun scene and it's great. For some reason, Anna has taken her antidepressants for this song and this song only! Immediately before the song she is a sulky teen and immediately after the song she is a sulky teen. But! For the bit! She is cheerful!

Ok I've gotta stop because but I'll close argument with this list of inspirations from Wikipedia:

"Director John McPhail said that Anna and the Apocalypse was influenced by the films West Side Story (1961), The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) and The Breakfast Club (1985), as well as the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode "Once More, with Feeling". McPhail also said that the film includes "nods" to the zombie films Night of the Living Dead (1968), Dawn of the Dead (1978), The Evil Dead (1981), The Happiness of the Katakuris (2001) and Shaun of the Dead (2004). The crop tops and short shorts seen in the film were inspired by the costume design in the slasher film Sleepaway Camp (1983)."

My guy that is too many things to try and be at once.

wait wait wait also John's harmony at the end of Break Away is so good and I love to sing that part where everyone's singing the refrain and he's singing about how he doesn't want Anna to leave in direct contrast with the rest of the cast singing about the things they're trying to get away from. Malcom Cumming if you're out there you did a great job on this movie.

also the incredibly Scottish line "What was I thinking / This isn'ae Disney" mwah chef's kiss

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

-

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x male reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #bisexual steve harrington #bi steve harrington

[unhealthyfanobsession]

If you’re still taking prompts:

“Keeping a secret from your best friend is difficult... but when that secret is that you're madly in love with her, it's downright impossible. At least that's what Cassian thought, until he was a little tipsy and sharing a sleeping bag with said best friend. (College, modern AU)”

With smut please?🧎🏾‍♀️🙏🏽👀🥺

Oh hey bestie! So I think maybe you had like after a college party in mind for this but I went a… different way. Also it’s only smut-adjacent because I think good smut requires a Drabble of its own I think I’m sorry. Hope you enjoy!!!

Camping.

Nesta had two weeks between the end of her internship and the beginning of her last year of college, and somehow, she let herself get dragged along on her sister’s annual camping trip.

Their whole friend group was weird and twisted around like Ivy vines with who was closest to who, who was related to who, who was dating who, who had slept with who’s father (looking at you MOR!), and Nesta tended to avoid the big group things.

But this was only Feyre, Rhys, Azriel, and the real reason she was there… Cassian. Fucking Cassian dragging her off into the woods.

Nesta loved her sisters. She did. She wouldn’t spend time with them and pretend she didn’t hate their boyfriends if she didn’t love them. (Pretending not to hate Rhys and Lucien, for Nesta, pretty much required the energy of a full time job.)

She loved her sisters. But she was there for Cassian. Because she liked Cassian. Genuinely and entirely liked him. Nesta Archeron liked another human being. They’d been best friends since eighth grade when he tried to ask her out on the swing set and she elbowed him in the jaw.

Saying yes to that middle school date would’ve been the worst mistake of her life. Because then she’d have had this short drama filled relationship with Cassian and she wouldn’t have gotten to keep him. And she really loved that she got to keep him. Even if sometimes she wished he’d been her first kiss instead of Tomas.

Anyway, when he said he was going on this camping trip Nesta realized she had to go too. Because there was no way she was spending her free time somewhere that he wasn’t. He was her person. The person she wanted to spend her free time with.

“Pathetic,” Cassian grinned, plucking the pack right off of her back as if it weighed no more than a purse. As if she hadn’t been struggling under its weight for the past 4 kilometres.

“I agreed to camping. I didn’t realize a 7 hour hike was involved to get to the damn place.”

“Two hours at most, sweetheart.” Nesta scowled, pretending, as she always did, to hate his little endearments. “And all of the best spots require a hike. Otherwise they’re overcrowded.”

“Maybe overcrowded is a good thing. Maybe overcrowded means loud and safe instead of offering ourselves up to be a bear buffet.”

“I’ll protect you from any bears, I promise, Nes.”

Nesta glared. “You’re going to fight off a bear if it tries to eat me?”

“Of course I am,” Cassian nodded. “These muscles aren’t just for show.”

Nesta laughed. “How sad I’m going to lose my best friend on this trip. Don’t worry I’ll come up with something nice for the tombstone. “Here lies Cassian. Tried to fight a bear so his muscles would have a purpose.”

“I take it back, you can get eaten by the bear.”

“I’m going to shove you in front of the bear.”

Their water break had landed then both a few hundred feet behind Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel, so Cassian kept hold of her backpack as they moved, teasing her that he was still faster with two packs than she was with none.

When they arrived at the little clearing Nesta had to admit it was beautiful. Serene. A big patch of grass surrounded by trees with a stunning view over the mountains from a clearing just a few feet away.

“Worth the hike?” Cassian asked as he set up their tent. That was the deal. If Nesta was going to camp then he had to do all of the work. Because she didn’t know how to do it. Also he had to share his tent with her because seriously? Why would she own a tent? She wasn’t a damn mountain man.

“It is really pretty.”

“I told you you’d like camping, Nesta!” Feyre called out from over fifty feet away where Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta all banded together to force her and Rhys to put their tent. Far away from the other two. Nesta was so not sleeping on the ground AND listening to her little sister have sex all night.

“Cassian?” Consciousness pulled lightly through Cassian’s sleepy mind. “Cass? CASS!” He shot bolt upright, body instinctively turning to Nesta, looking her over, checking her for injuries or any other thing that might have her yelling his name into the pitch black tent.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Cassian laughed. It was probably 3am and she’d just woken him up, and still he was laughing. Man he had it bad.

“What’s up, buttercup?” He made a show of flipping around to face her even though he couldn’t really see her.

“I’m freezing.”

As his eyes adjusted, Cassian looked her over with a frown. She was bundled up in her sleeping bag, wearing his sweater… which he hadn’t given her, but he had discarded in between them before he went to sleep so that was fair game he guessed. It was far from the first time in over a decade of friendship that she’d stolen his sweater, but man… it still did something to him.

“Your sleeping bag isn’t made for below freezing temperatures, is it?”

Nesta stared at him. Blinked. “No. Why would it have to be? It’s August!”

“It’s colder up in the mountains,” Cassian explained. “Especially over night.”

“Great. I’ve been brought into the mountains to freeze to death and now Eris is going to win the gold medal for our year.”

Cassian laughed, “Well I can’t allow that. The horror.” This was probably a bad idea. No it was definitely a bad idea, but the words couldn’t be stopped from leaving his mouth once they popped into his mind. “Come share mine.”

Cassian half unzipped his sleeping bag and made a show of shuffling himself over.

“You’re too big.” She said.

“Thanks I work out,” Nesta glared at his cocky smirk. “Come on Nes, it’s this or letting Eris win the gold medal.”

Nesta huffed, but unzipped her sleeping bag and crawled over to his, her legs were cool as they tangled with his in the tight sleeping bag. Cassian pulled her in, one arm wrapping instinctively around her shoulders to pull her against his chest, before he zipped the sleeping bag up again after her.

This had been such a bad idea. But what could he do? Let her freeze?

Cassian told Nesta everything, so it was already difficult enough to be keeping a secret from his best friend... but when that secret was that he had been madly in love with her since middle school, the situation became impossible. And pulling her perfect body tight up against his and wrapping her in his arms, hands moving up and down her shoulders quickly to try and warm her up, was not helping the situation.

“Thanks,” Nesta murmured sleepily. “I’m already a lot more comfortable.”

Me too, Cassian thought but would never say.

“Hey Cass?” Nesta’s voice was teasing. “What do we do if you wake up with morning wood?”

Cassian chuckled into her hair, a little bit drunk on the familiar scent of rosehips and iron will.

“Then I guess we’ll finally have sex.” He deadpanned.

Nesta’s jaw dropped. Ok. Bad joke. “I’m not having sex with you for the first time in a tent Cassian!”

Now Cassian’s jaw dropped. That was her issue with his suggestion? “I… Nesta I was joking. But… the tent is the problem? The only problem?”

“Grow a pair!” Nesta batted at him with her hand, an impressive feat considering she was all but pinned between him and the sleeping bag. “I thought this was you finally making a move.”

Cassian stared down at her. It was pitch black, but even with just the shadowy outlines of her features, he could see her exact expression in his mind.

“I wouldn’t use you freezing as a ploy to make a move, Nesta.”

“And why not?” She humphed, “it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“It’s… coercive.”

“Do I look coerced to you, Cassian?” Nesta ran her foot up his bare calf and Cassian shuddered.

“I can’t have sex with you if you’re looking for a friends with benefits, Nes.” Nesta paused her movements. “I… fuck, our friendship means so much to me and I’m so afraid to fuck it up. And if we start having sex I won’t be able to handle it being just sex and you’ll start to resent me so we just… shouldn’t go there.”

Nesta’s arms wrapped around him now, struggling to span the full width of his chest. “And if it wasn’t just sex?”

“Please don’t fuck with me about this,” he whispered. Low and Ernest in a way he almost never was.

“What?”

“Dont joke about this if you’re playing around or I don’t… you have to know, Nes. You have to know how completely in love with you I am.”

“Yeah,” Nesta tucked her head under his chin. “I know. I’ve just been waiting for you to make a move.”

It was dark. Cassian could barely see her. But there, with his arms around his best friend in the world, sharing a sleeping bag to keep her warm, Cassian nudged her out of his chest and found her lips in the pitch black.

Why had he kept this secret for so long? Everything in the world was better when he was kissing his best friend.

#nessian #drabbles open #nesta archeron #acosf #nessian fanfiction #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar #feysand

[soldmysoultootomeboys]

Obey Me Brothers Wedding HCS

Just some wedding headcanons for the boys bcuz i’m soft for them, Gn MC

Thinks about marrying Asmo => 😡💕💕

Lucifer

I can not stress how much this man would be a bridezilla

He’s probably the MOST high maintenance demon when it comes to this, even over Asmo

He gets so stressed over it too and when he's stressed he gets extremely snippy

It takes you knocking a little sense into him to get him back on track

He just wants your day to be perfect and with his brothers causing trouble it's hard to really focus on choosing a tablecloth

He won’t be any nicer to his brothers but he will try to avoid causing fights at this time simply because it's really important to him that ALL of his family is there. 

The night after proposing you find a beautiful envelope on white paper with gold trim in your room you realize it's a congratulation note from the celestial realm, presumably from the big man upstairs, it's still a heartstopping realization when you realize who your father in law technically is

Are you committing a sin marrying a fallen angel? Do you care?

It’s easier to ignore it than do anything else, although you do appreciate them registering for the coffee maker you had on your registry. You needed that. Mammon broke the last one.

Kindly begs asks you NOT to do anything crazy in the week leading up to it

Please MC his heart he's about to explode from stress please don't add to it, just for one week

Diavolo plans his bachelor party at the Fall with Barbatos. Invites you along and you have to explain how bachelor parties work

If it’s up to him the wedding will be all black with red accents eDgY mUcH?

At the altar he kisses you twice, first to show everyone that your his, the second time is just for you two, he hides you away from sight curling his black wings around you and holding you as close as he can bear

In the end it's a very happy celebration filled with good food, family, and friends

When you cut the cake feel free to smash a little bit in his face, this is your only chance, he'll be in too much of a good mood to retaliate...much

Mammon

Luxury luxury luxury

He wants solid gold altars, diamond encrusted bouquets, jewels imported from every corner of the world

He has so many plans (as well as a ridiculously long wedding registry)

But the moment you say you want anything he abandons them 

Whatever you want he wants, but if you wanted some diamonds too that would be great

He absolutely would be down for a wedding bouncy castle

He gets you the biggest diamond ring ever that he buys with his own money from a lot of shifts at Hell's kitchen and modelling gigs

He totally believes in the tradition of not seeing you until your wedding day but he also forgets so he walks in and as soon as he realizes you're getting ready he shuts his eyes and tries to run out. He'll only talk to you from behind the door. 

When he sees you walking down the aisle he falls in love all over again. And he feels like that a hundred different moments. It doesn't matter what you're doing, playing with your veil, wiping cake off the corner of your mouth, yawning, he loves you and loves that you’re his.

He could get married to you in a ditch and still be the happiest man in the world.

He's an absolute goofball and is smiling the entire time

The couple that during their wedding night end up jumping on the bed and having pillow fights while play wrestling

Levi

You really want to marry a gross otaku like him??? Why??

Not that he's complaining! He just doesn't get it. His brothers are so cool and Asmo is so much prettier than him and he doesn't have anything to offer.

It takes a lot of reassuring to convince that this is what you want to do

You two have this same conversation about a million times before the wedding. He just doesn't get why you actually like him. Once it finally sets in that this really is happening and it's not just some big joke he gets really into it and definitely puffs up around his brothers to show off

His first thought is a cosplay wedding and he'll beg for it to be Ruri-chan themed

Good luck getting Lucifer or any of his brothers to agree to dressing up, as funny as it may be

If you shoot that down it's pretty easy to convince him to do something else since mostly he's just excited to be with you

He still has a little Ruri pin on his suit collar and cufflinks

When you walk down the aisle he feels like he’s going to faint from nerves and when it’s time for vows he pulls out a huge list of all the reasons he loves you and why your his Henry, although about half of it compares things you’ve done to things in TSL

He only makes it through a quarter of the way before he gets embarrassed

When he lifts your veil he panics because your so pretty and he can’t handle it

You have to initiate the kiss and when you do he turns as red as a tomato

He tries to play it off but keep a strong arm around his waist unless he really does decide to pass out

He cools down once you guys are at the reception and gets especially excited the little custom made toppers of you two in cartoon form

Satan

He's a bridezilla but in the lightest sense of the word

He won't get upset over mix ups or even really wedding stuff like Asmo or Lucifer but his temper will be extremely fine during this time, especially when it comes to his brothers.

Throws an entire table through the window when Lucifer asks him if he knew where Mammon was

It’s a lot of stress to create the perfect wedding and he buries his nose in different books that can help him

He’s a bit of a perfectionist

The most classic and elegant wedding ever and he’d want to be involved in every step of the way

Very interested in your opinion and if it compares to human weddings

He flushes with pride whenever you compliment something he picked out

Includes casual literary references in his wedding but only so people who really know will realize

Wears a navy suit 

Asmo

Also a bridezilla and a petty one at that

There will be drama, there will be tears, there will be a part where he cries off his mascara because Andrealphus of the damned brought the white bouquets and he wanted the PINK ones. This is HIS day why is she trying to ruin it.

It’s a lot of work trying to keep the damage to a minimal

Part of the reason he gets so upset is because this is your day too and he wants it to be perfect. 

Prepare for a million dress rehearsals.

He wants to help pick out your outfit and makeup! But he also doesn't want to break human tradition...But he wants to help pick out your outfit and makeup so bad!!

If he manages to restrain himself he picks out the makeup artist and the stylizer because he knows what makeup you like and what looks best on your skin.

Most likely tho he'll want to see anyways and bugs you to let him in

You compromise by going shopping with him as he tries on a million dresses and suits

MC the suit on the right or the one on the left?

They both look exactly the same.

"...Left love." "That's exactly what I was thinking. I knew I could trust you to pick out the right answer!"

Even though he's very good at fashion your opinion matters a lot to him. Sure he could make himself look perfect but he wants to look perfect for YOU. He wants to be your version of perfect and if that means he picks the high cut dress instead of the low cut which flatters his waist better then he'll do it. For you.

He's the type to want to have all the spotlight on him so if you're walking down the aisle he's going to do it too! He does it first. HE says for the attention. In reality he wants to be able to see you the moment you step out the doors and down that hall.

Looks super perfect as he waits for you at the aisle but the moment you get married he starts ugly crying. He throws his veil back on so no one can see it but you just lift it up and kiss away his tears.

Even though it's a lot of work it's worth it to be with the demon you love...but if you shove cake in his face he'll seriously kill you, MC do you know how long this took?!!!!! :'(

Beel

He’s more than happy to do whatever you want

Whatever vision you have he's willing to make happen

He does his best but feels a little useless since keeps having to break for snacks

Wonders why you’d want to be with him when all he ever does it eat but he tries not to bring it up in case it would upset you

He honestly does have a lot of fun planning with you and his favorite part was when you got to taste test different cakes because he got to impress you by explaining all the little differences between each one

He ends up being in charge of everything food related and it helps him feel a bit better

Barbatos ends up cooking the dishes 

During the rehearsal he falls in love with you all over again and doesn’t want to let you go the entire time

He gets especially nervous during the month of the wedding

He starts stress eating, going through even more food than normal, but then he gets worried about fitting into his suit and starts working out even more than normal, which makes him hungry again. It’s a terrible cycle

Belphie manages to break him out of it by reminding Beel that you love him more than anyone else

Even though its his wedding he starts setting up just to get out some of his nervous tension until the others shoo him back inside

A huge 20 layer cake each tier a different flavor

He has his own personal cake that's even bigger than the other cake but he’s more than willing to share with you

You two do the cute bit where you smash cake in each others faces

Beel still eats it tho

As much as he loves his family he's so happy to be able to steal you away at the end

Belphie

Planning a wedding is sooo much work

He lets you choose whatever you want as long as you let him sleep

if it was up to him he'd want a small informal celebration with his family but if you want something bigger than he guesses it's fine. As long as he doesn't have to talk to anyone like Diavolo 

He uninvites Lucifer like three times, each time using extremely formal paper with beautiful cursive that must have taken hours. When Lucifer confronts him Belphie just says that it’s too late because he already gave away his seat. 

He only brings him back when you make him

He sleeps more than usual in the weeks leading up to the wedding. You think it’s because of the stress but in actuality he’s trying to save up his sleep so he’s more awake for the ceremony

As much as he may act like he doesn’t care, he really does want to marry you and it makes him happy to think that you’re going to be all his

Beel is obviously his best man and while Belphie waits for you to come down the aisle he leans against him to take a small nap. Or that's what he had planned. The moment the music starts he perks up and finds himself unable to even close his eyes, too fixated on the doors about to open. 

Feeds you the first bite of cake and then just...doesn't stop

He’s so in love with you all he can do is stare

Gives his slice of cake to Beel he'd much rather pay attention to you than eat

However he does smash a little in your face but it’s out of love <3

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me swd #swd #shall we date #obey me story #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #gn mc #gender neutral mc

[highsviolets]

waterfall inquiry: javier peña x reader

pairing: javier peña x young analyst!reader

summary: words should not make you feel so much.

warnings: age gap. kissing. and - the worst of all - f e e l i n g s. (soft ones)

a/n: [edited 10 June ‘21] this was supposed to be three parts...and now there’s more. I regret nothing :) 

[next] [series masterlist] [main masterlist] * gif: @anakin-skywalker​

“Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name”

 “as kingfishers catch fire” | gerard manley hopkins

Neither of you should be here. Strictly speaking, at least.

The Embassy maintains regulations about these sorts of things, you’ve heard in jagged claims that coat the walls in a sickly iridescent sheen. Not the pretty kind that makes glitter sparkle. No, it’s the perverse shine — pyrite and oil spills on tepid water and those cheap kaleidoscopes they sell at county fairs.

Everything, it seems, is whispered here. Here at the Embassy, anyway; Colombia itself is a messy, irreverent place. A dreamlike people, an altered state where God acts as the intermediary between man and demons, not angels.

Perhaps that is why the Embassy is always quiet. The shrill clang of a phone ringing makes everyone start, fearful of keeping demons at bay. Even the PR reps speak in hushed tones, the words soft and soothing like cotton balls dipped in baby oil gliding across skin — crafting press releases each word slotted for a specific purpose, hand-picked with evolutionary precision.

It harasses you, stinging pricks drawing blood from beneath the surface of your bronze skin. Words should move freely, you believe. Like the way the Mississippi runs in during the spring melt: coarse, unimpeded, roiling in caught light, caressing the riverbanks as it soaks up all the world gives it — thrusting forward after a winter fraught in immobility, reveling in flinty purpose.

There’s a difference between words of fabrication and phrases of culled authenticity — the ones that stream from bleeding hearts, bound tightly by shoves and glares and hands that can’t keep still. Hands that grasp for something tangible. Anfractuous reminders of why they must be so careful, why they must keep the truth of themselves limited to brief instances of throwing back light or heat.

There is one man, you know, who thinks like you do — and he laughs at the fact that your jobs depend upon other people being careless with their words. Bandying about locations, codenames, numerals, what to buy at the grocery store. You can almost hear him, that marmalade voice spreading over you, eyes gleaming in smoke and fervor: yeah, carelessness gives us both a job. But it hurts, too.

Tonight, though. When you both are here when you really shouldn’t, you really fucking shouldn’t, not when you’ve been dreaming about him for…for how long? How long have you been in this country that makes a mockery of verisimilitude? Long enough, apparently, for everything else to blur when you look at him, for you to have memorized the way his shirts pull tight over his back when he’s leaned over his desk.

Eyes climb up the length of his torso, the slope of it heightened by the way he’s bracing his weight on his hands. His palms are spread wide and god as much as you think you want to stop the way your mouth runs dry at the sight his large palm, you can’t.

A sigh leaks out. The man in question spares a glance your way, matching the twist of his neck to the cigarette he brings to his lips. “You alright?” he mumbles around the thing, and you grip the desk’s edge a little harder at the sound, at the sight, of him in his element. His exhale — a finely tuned purse of the lips, discreetly directed away from your work — should feel the same as your sigh, but it doesn’t. It washes over you instead, and you rock in the way his existence ebbs and flows in and out of your person. Easy. Like breathing. Like all you have to do is breathe, and he’ll be there.

There are stories about him. When you had been sent down to Columbia as a junior analyst after the death of Escobar, you had quickly dived into the mythos the man. How could you not, when he was everywhere, the scent and swagger of him drawing eyes from every corner of the barricaded building?

The others — the replacements, someone had once termed the batch of new personnel flooding the country to fight Cali — had told you the stories; where they had heard them, you weren’t sure. Huddled over tepid drinks in the bar after work, blazers shrugged off and shirtsleeves rolled up, you had let them regale you of how he fought for years to bring down Escobar, only to be in Miami when his partner did the deed. How he fucks his informants; although, one of them admitted with a sigh, he hadn’t been known to do that in a while. How he was ruthless in the pursuit of justice. A fucking legend, man, someone had crowed about the older man, tongue loose with overpriced alcohol.

And through it all, there was you, eyeing the man himself across the bar. The embrace of his hands against the whiskey glass, the way he barely shuddered at the consuming burn of the stuff when he tossed it back in a behavioral gesture. He seems sad, is what you had thought. Whatever opposite of sad existed in this opulent measure of time by which you both abided — that’s what you wanted to do for him. To make him not-sad. He is aged, perhaps, but not old, rather like someone who could be young if they could shed the pallid skin of responsibility.

But you can’t play God in this country of fallen beings. Being consumes you instead, devolving into an obsession, hanging onto the ledge of yourself — gripping humanity and slicing rocks and graphite that stains your skin even as it slides away, too smooth to be held in hands that ache, swollen, from typing up reports detailing the tumbled-gravel sins of humanity.

He likes you. You think he might, anyway. He consults you before any of the others, and once or twice he’s dragged some Columbian officer into your tiny workspace, asking you to confirm the intelligence on whatever operation he’s desperate to get approved so he can do something. He asks with words that curl up and over themselves like whitecaps, one hand resting on his hip as he nods along to your recitation.

But it’s really his eyes you watch in these moments, aching in fluttering hope whenever they rest on yours. Javier Peña’s eyes when he visits you in your workspace are pleading thermoses of life under sterile fluorescent lights. He likes to send you a half-smile and a nod when you’re finished, tossing them over his shoulder as he escorts the man back to the Ambassador’s office. You are both too good at your job not to love it in some sick & twisted way, and he knows.

Other times he simply drops by. Leaning against your cubicle, he fiddles with a cigarette and chats with you as you work, asking questions that he knows he’s the only one examining.

Talk to me about the families of la cartel de Cali, he mutters, the hoarse sound deep and aching in your gut. About their mothers, daughters, sons, cousins, in-laws. Is anyone sick? Do they want to go on vacation? What’s the drama of the week, no, don’t laugh, — he smiles, here, barely, the delicate minutiae of the expression an external revelation of his magnetism — there always is in families. They’re human just like us. And that’s when he sighs, and looks across the hall, where in his office there’s a diagram of the Cali bosses splayed over the wall. Yeah...they’re like us.

Javier makes a slowly forms a habit of it, of stopping by your cubical and wrapping you in currents of charisma and truth. He does you a solid, too, bringing you to the attention of your superiors when he mentions your diligence. And you repay him in kind, taking care to slip into his office with new intelligence before the brass gets word. You tell yourself it’s simple mentorship. Mere patronage. He’s paying it forward, helping the young analyst get ahead in their career. These meetings are nothing to him, and they ought to be equally as empty to yourself. It’s just exchanges of information. Conversation between colleagues.

Of course, that doesn’t explain why you look forward to his fingers touching yours when you lend him a pen, or, when he makes some half-whispered joke in Spanish, it makes you shiver. Or the pride that blossoms in your chest, embracing you all soft and balmy, when he considers your words. He handles them like he does his favorite cigarettes, rolling them between his fingers, palming their weight, letting the texture seep into his skin before he lights them on fire.

You drop your pen a lot; he brings a finger to his mouth in thought. You don’t see the way he smiles when you do that, grinning at the muttered curse and roll of your eyes. And he decides that he likes the way you laugh about it; poking fun at your own mistakes, the skin that matches his own gleaming in the warm sun.

He can never do that. Perhaps he should? But he doesn’t make mistakes like that, toss-away interruptions of intended action. The mistakes he makes get people killed. All the more reason to keep checking with you, he reasons, to double-insure the intelligence. Can’t have another mess. And he likes to hear your laugh. Nothing wrong with that, he says. Nothing wrong with something that makes his heart stir and entices the eyes hidden behind yellow aviators to trace the length of your neck a little longer than strictly necessary when you throw your head back in unmarked joy.

And tonight, in his office? Tonight he seems melancholic again, like the first time you saw him across the bar. He keeps shifting his weight, one hand on his hip, and then on the table, and then shrugging off both his jacket and his tie and tossing them unceremoniously onto the couch, limbs extending listlessly. It’s as close to careless as he gets.

Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion fusing into you both. You feel slow and hazy, torn between staring at him and bleary eyes glaring at the map beneath his fingers. if you just look at it longer, you think, you can will it all to fall into place. and maybe if you did he would kiss you, and maybe he would kiss you the way he has always wanted to live.

Maybe if you traced your tongue along his exposed collarbone, penning of licks of hope in the space where his words seem to get caught, where his perpetually open collar leaves him defenseless to an onslaught of physical impressions…maybe then, he’d exhale in blessed adoration, taken outside of himself for just one moment.

He’s asking you a question. You alright? He does that a lot, you realize. Checks in with you. When you answer, he laughs — those delightful eyes seeping warmth into your weary bones as they crinkle in a smile — and he reminds you to call him Javier. He — Javier — has rebuked you at least three times tonight alone, but you’ve yet to oblige his request. If you do, if you let your tongue caress his sacred name and rest in its life-sodden weight, you fear…

you do not know what you fear. you do not know how saying his name will shift the tides in your life. but you know that you will remain forever anchored to him, tethered to his lunar opacity.

“What’s this?” you ask instead, shifting to rest against the desk. You’re beside him now, hip adjacent to his as you look up at him. Latent smoke hovers overhead, and locks of his hair have come undone after the long hours of work and now rest over his forehead small waves. It looks like it aches, being so out of place, and yet so distinctly him. Caught. Destined to arch over his tanned skin, all the while lingering in a place where it should not. Not here, anyway. Not tonight, in his office, far after everyone else has gone home.

“What’s what?” Javier rejoins, distracted, still bent over the desk, still bracing his weight on those fingers.

Rustling papers catch his attention, and he twists to meet your gaze. “This.” You point to the unfamiliar word, stamped out in standard font. “My Spanish is decent, but I’ve never seen this word before.”

The wrinkles behind the shield of his fallen hair press together as he cranes his neck, adjusting his stance to read the word on the paper you thrust in his direction. It clears rapidly though — the visage sailing and unfurling itself when he absorbs the story hidden in-between letters on a page.

He repeats the word back to you, leaning into the sound the way he leans into you, inching closer in his explanation. You stare at his lips, completely captivated — his tongue catching between his teeth — the purse of his lips — the rearrangement of his jaw as it conforms to the aerodynamics of structured syllables.

“Strictly speaking,” he says, eyes roving your face, deep and dark, “it means elf, or spirit. Something ethereal. It’s used in stories a lot.” The words are smooth, smokey, whiskey-like as you let them drip down your skin, the insides of your thighs. “Entiendes?”

Your body temperature rises. You can feel it — the way your mouth’s run dry and the paper’s slippery in your grip. Did his voice drop lower when he used the familiar form of the verb, not the formal? You think it did. Oh god, he’s so close, he could just extend a hand across your body and it could rest on your hip. You had never really noticed his height either, always in heels. Tonight, though, the heels are in the corner with his jacket and tie and you realize that he’s inches above you, yet somehow still within reach.

“What’s” — you swallow thickly, desperate to remain professional despite your wide eyes, the tongue tracing your lower lip — “what’s the non-strict definition of the word?”

He gives you one of his trademark smirks. “It can also mean,” he says, “enchanting. Charming. For someone or something to be magical.”

Nodding slowly, you drop your eyes down to the paper again, desperate to avoid his gaze. It follows you, watching your eyes hide even as you adjust to be ever-closer, a bare foot extending outward and brushing against the fabric of his dress pants. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Say it,” you hear him urge, your head bolting up, incredulous. And you try, you really do, but it’s so new and unfamiliar and you’re so goddamn nervous with him looking at you, that you fuck it up. Words are but the vessels by which emotions themselves are expressed, so maybe the act of speaking should not make you feel all by itself. But it does — oh, god, it does, and you feel like you’ve shrunk in the process, dwarfed by this man with rolled up shirt sleeves wrapped around muscular forearms, who grins impishly around his cigarette.

“Not quite.” He stubs out the thing, and to your surprise, brings hand to your jaw, cupping your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger. “Say it again.”

“No, I can’t; I..“ you protest, and for what? because you don’t want him near you? no, that’s not it, but you’re being branded by his touch all the same.

“Say it again,” he commands again, more gently this time, his words accompanied by an encouraging nod.

You comply readily, sounding out the syllables. His strong fingers manipulate your movements, guiding you in pronouncing the difficult phrase. It’s forceful and noble, a tender yet compelling influence that teaches you how to wrap yourself in the meaning of the word as much the word itself. You’re tingling; is it from the thrill of achieving or from his sturdy hand against your bare skin?

He doesn’t back away when you’re finished speaking, but holds your stare. Dimly, you register the steady crescendo in your breathing. He’s not immune to your proximity either: his Adam’s apple bobs as he pushes down the deficit of hope flooding oppressive maxim of his presence. Times stretches as you remain caught in his hold, coursing through you, carrying you downstream in brash, coarse recklessness. Are the emotions you swim in those eyes yours, or his, or some measure of both?

The pads of his fingers migrate, drifting to rest along your cheek and tumble into his touch like a moth to flame, or fish to water, or whatever trite phrase people use to make sense of such profound belonging.

Javier is mesmerized with the way his fingertips trace your cheekbones, the shell of your ear, along your jaw, returning to outline your lips.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice scrapes along your bliss, and you force your eyes open to see that he’s moved even closer, closer-than-close, so tight against you that you’re nearly leaning back over the desk.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are dark and still now, but for the way they’re trained on yours as you whisper fate into existence.

“No — fuck — I shouldn’t, I —“ his jaw shifts again, this time in agitation, but it is you who does the deed, cutting him off, reaching out to tug on his collar. The action pulls him forward, pressing himself against you, caging you between the desk and the broadness of his firm chest.  And you do know it’s firm now, at last slipping your hands underneath that truant fabric and gliding along his smooth skin. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips as he meets your lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

He — Javier, now — kisses you a single-minded intent, letting his lips slide over yours lazily, over and over, memorizing the imprint of you against his mouth. One hand drifts upward again, cupping your cheek as he tilts your head slightly, letting his tongue delve into your mouth and trace your teeth. It makes you gasp, and you retaliate with a gentle nip to his lower lip, silently begging for more. Javier moans into your mouth, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Javier lifts you, placing you firmly on the desk, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You know what he wants before he even has to ask and you give it him readily, wrapping your legs around his waist. Javier’s weight conforms to your own, molding against your body as you press into him, back arching in your submersion to his touch.

He is so eager; his kisses drench you in a deluge of incubated affection interspersed with need. Grasping at his shoulder, you pull him even closer, your other hand anxiously fiddling with his buttons as you sigh, reveling in the storm of his attention. Slowly, painstakingly, driven by a clamoring need for oxygen, he drags himself away from you, parting slowly, ever-loth to break the kiss.

You can’t help the shy smile that dances around your lips when you look up at him, standing above you. His chest is heaving, out of breath, hair somehow even more mussed than it was before. You suppose you can touch it now, so you do, two fingers brushing aside the fringe on his forehead.

Time, and space, and whatever else this stuff is made of have prevented from this alternate reality. until now. it has broken through the dam and caught you up in its awakening, broad and unrepentant.

Javier captures your hand as it lowers, pressing a kiss to the side of your palm. He’s so tender it makes you ache, and you wonder if this is why he stopped fucking his CIs. He requires something more intangible than what they could give him. “Javier,” you whisper.

He hums a question, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he watches you consider him, emotion lapping at the shores of unkempt eyes.

“You asked me to use your name. Earlier, I mean.” Should you feel embarrassed? Kissing a man several years your senior? Maybe you should. But you don’t. There’s a cordial warmth spreading through you, bolstered by his gentle touch, the outward connection of him and you that’s been built through months of inanimate remembrances.

“I know.” Javier nods and leans in again, his breath rippling across your skin. “Can you say it one more time, princesa? They say you need to do something three times” — a kiss to your cheek — “to make sure you really —“ a kiss to your forehead — “understand” — a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The words fall out of your mouth, splashes of unrestrained affection dappling each letter. “Duende, Javier,” you murmur against his lips. “Duende.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @yespolkadotkitty @rentskenobi @goldenkenobi ​ @goldafterglow @teaofpeach ​ @justrunamok ​ @huliabitch @cri-me-a-river @littlevodika @catsnkooks @themarvelousbear @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @dracos-jedi-marvel @a-seeker-of-imagination​ // taglist link in bio!

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x reader insert #agent peña x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #YES I NOW HAVE THREE JAVI SERIES #DON'T @ ME #I HATE IT TOO OKAY #i simply have no self control when it comes to him #it's f i n e #this was supposed to be!! 800 words!! #and now it's over 3k!! #what the fuck!! #cris write something without meta challenge #i listened to glamour child on repeat writing this #and it definitely shows #whoops #fic: waterfall #cw age gap #alkskd is this fic even coherent tho #bc idk #?!!? #usernobie #cris writes #highsviolets #filthybookworm

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Dumb Luck

Prompt: the usual "Everyone knows Merlin has Magic but Merlin doesn't know they know" but Arthur's being really fucking thick about it. Everything that could possibly be magic Arthur has brushed off as luck or something. At some point Merlin realizes that the knights know (or maybe he's known all along) and the knights tell Merlin that Arthur knows but he's being stupid, which leads to Merlin performing increasingly extravagant/impressive/silly magic in front of Arthur until the point Arthur just asks if Merlin would like him to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't care that Merlin has magic

no brain cells for these boys, leon stop hoarding them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic who tf knows

Word Count: 2943

Alright. Merlin’s going to be honest. Is the absolute best at hiding his magic from people? No. Is he a damn sight near better than some other bastards would be if they had his magic? Yes, yes, he is, thank you very much. They would do quite well to remember that he is magic, and he’s had it since he was born, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to knowing that he has it. Yes, thank you, he doesn’t go around doing every single thing he could with magic because well, then he’d never get to do much of anything ever again.

And that would be boring.

But yes, maybe he’s a little petty or lazy sometimes. Honestly, he’s just being efficient. Yes, he can justify pettiness as efficient. He’s just getting them back for something that he would otherwise have to expend so much effort doing. It’s very handy.

So the knights work out he has magic. Big surprise there, he knows. Lancelot is Lancelot, Gwaine is Gwaine. Percival stumbles in on him lifting too much a little too easily and cracks a joke about having Merlin pull his weight more on hunting trips and patrols. Elyan watches him fix armor and immediately clamors to bring Merlin to his and Gwen’s forge so he can actually show him how to fix armor.

Leon takes him aside quietly one day and thanks him. Merlin doesn’t start crying, he doesn’t end up breaking down into Leon’s arms, and Leon definitely doesn’t promise that although Merlin may not have been knighted, he thinks of him as his brother in arms.

Leon is very rude sometimes, as a matter of fact.

But Arthur doesn’t seem to notice.

Now, Arthur doesn’t notice a lot. Doesn’t notice Merlin shifting his chair a little bit so he crashes onto the floor, doesn’t notice Gwen spending just a hair too much time with Morgana in the evenings, doesn’t notice the guards that don’t even pay attention to the dungeons. Like, at all.

But there are some things he…should notice.

Like when a branch suddenly lifts itself up from a forest floor to trip a bandit.

“Bandits,” Merlin mutters under his breath, “why is it always bandits?”

He deflects a blow and sends one of them flying into a tree. Behind him, Elyan parries a blow and deftly clubs the man over the head. Arthur is battling another bandit a few paces away as one tries to run up behind him.

Merlin’s hand is out in a flash and the tree branch right in front of Arthur wheels up and smacks the man across the face.

Arthur whirls around and cuts the other man down, successfully putting an end to the fight. Around the clearing, the knights shake their heads and go about picking up the rest of their camp. Really, being far too calm for men who just killed a bunch of people.

Except for Merlin.

Merlin, while this is happening, is slowly coming to the conclusion that he would like to be swallowed up by the ground and never emerge again.

He just used magic, very obviously, in front of Arthur.

Is this the first time he’s done it? No, not by a long shot, but it is the first time he’s done it without any regard for whether Arthur can see.

Arthur turns and Merlin’s heart drops to his stomach.

Arthur wrenches his sword out of the ground and stalks over to him.

Arthur roughly grabs his shoulder. Shakes. Hard.

“Merlin! Merlin, answer me?”

“…Arthur?”

Arthur’s face is drawn. Grim. Almost his father’s. His grip hurts.

“Where are you hurt?”

Merlin blinks. What? Where is he what?

“Where is it, Merlin,” Arthur growls again, already looking him over, “where did they hurt you?”

“I’m—I’m not hurt.”

“You’re paler than a damn sheet, Merlin, you must be losing blood.” Arthur’s hand is…surprisingly gentle as it lifts his chin. “Tell me where. Come on. Now’s not the time for shame.”

“No, no,” Merlin mumbles, “I’m not—not hurt. Didn’t get hurt.”

Arthur slows, grim expression morphing to confusion. “Then why do you look so…”

If in doubt, poke fun at yourself.

“Just scared, I guess,” Merlin tries with a self-deprecating laugh, “wasn’t expecting bandits.”

Arthur huffs, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Leave it to you to be such a drama queen that I think you’re bleeding out.”

“’S nice of you to care.”

“Just glad I don’t have to drag your corpse back to Gaius.”

2.

So that was…bizarre. Not the most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to Merlin, not at all, but bizarre. Arthur may be a little unobservant at times but he’s not that oblivious.

But, in fairness to him—which is something Merlin tries not to do too often—he was in the middle of a fight and had just killed a man. Knights may not be known for the smarts but they are known for their overprotectiveness.

Yes, he can hear you lot protesting over there, it’s true and you know it.

And maybe…maybe Merlin’s been getting a little sick of Gaius screaming about how secret his magic must be kept in broad daylight with the door wide open. Listen, if you think he’s about to get scolded by your parental unit and not immediately find some way to rebel, you don’t know Merlin very well.

And yes, maybe there’s a sick little thrill he gets out of doing magic in front of Arthur.

Maybe.

So. The next time they’re on a hunting trip and he’s as sure as he can be that there aren’t any bandits around, he decides to push a little bit.

Arthur is lounging around because you can take the prince out of the castle but you can’t take the castle out of the prince and he thinks he’s still about to receive the finest of dishes that Camelot’s kitchens can prepare. Well, no, but he is about to not have to cook it himself.

“Light the fire, Merlin, it’s not that hard.”

“Have you ever lit a fire a day in your life?”

“Sure, when I was training.”

“Training? You needed training to learn how to light a fire?”

“It was survival training, with the elder knights. Had to survive a night on my own.”

“On your own?”

“Well, my own campsite. They stayed about a league away.”

Merlin just sighs and crouches down. He eyes Arthur, who is tending to his sword, and then very slowly but pointedly sets the flint and steel aside. Arthur isn’t paying much attention to him.

Slowly, Merlin leans forward and lights the fire with his magic.

Arthur looks up. Merlin looks back at him. Arthur swings the sword off his lap. He sets it on the log, his hand still wrapped around the pommel. The tip of the blade points straight at Merlin’s chest. It gleams in the firelight.

“See? I told you it wasn’t hard.”

Is…is he serious?

3.

As it turns out, yes. Arthur is completely serious.

And at this point, this is science, now, what Merlin’s doing. Experiments. He has to know the limits! He has a hypothesis, he has a method, he wants to reach a conclusion.

Hypothesis: Arthur is really, really oblivious to anything magical.

Method: do increasingly obvious magic in front of Arthur until he notices.

Conclusion: how oblivious is Arthur?

An important caveat: Merlin doesn’t know how Arthur will react to finding out he has magic, but he can burn that bridge when he gets there.

So when he wakes Arthur up the next morning, he draws the curtains with a flourish and when Arthur turns over and pulls the blanket up to his cheek in protest, he flicks his wrist and yanks the covers off the bed.

What does Arthur do?

Mumble and groan and stumble out of bed saying Merlin’s worse than his first governess.

“Wait, first?”

“Morgana and I snuck a toad into her bed. She quit after that.”

“You two did what?”

“Think there’s still frog spawn in that bed frame. Father had that chamber closed off for a while.”

“You—eat your breakfast, you prat.”

“You’re the one that pulled my blankets away!”

4.

…okay, so he needs to take it up a notch.

One of the ones that pisses Gaius off the most is when Merlin uses magic to polish multiple pieces of Arthur’s armor at the same time. So when Arthur is at his desk, Merlin lays his shield across his lap and grabs two polishing rags. He sets the can of polish next to him and starts working on the shield. When he’s sure Arthur is focusing, he uses his magic to lift the breastplate up next to him and start to beat out the dents.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, “can you keep it down any?”

Showtime. “Don’t know what you mean, sire.”

“That bloody racket! Can you at least be a little quieter?”

“What racket?”

Arthur shoves the paper away from him and glares at the ceiling. “That banging! It’s so loud I can barely hear myself think!”

“It’s no louder than you normally are, sire.”

“Oh, you—I ought to—“ Arthur just mutters to himself as he claps his hands over his ears.

But he never looks toward Merlin.

Huh.

5.

So maybe Arthur isn’t ignoring him because he’s oblivious. Maybe…maybe he knows already and is…is trying to protect Merlin.

Uther is still King of Camelot. Morgana is outspoken against his cruelty but he is still very much in charge. There’s only so much protection the knights can afford him. There’s only so much protection Arthur can afford him.

So…so maybe Arthur is pretending he doesn’t see because he knows he can’t save Merlin if he has to acknowledge it.

Merlin takes a few days to process that. The knights are concerned, they ask him what’s wrong, what does he need, how can they help? He waves them off, says he’s just thinking.

“Maybe,” Lancelot says kindly, “but with you, Merlin, you’re never just thinking.”

“Or at least it doesn’t stay that way for very long,” Gwaine agrees, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “and I don’t know about you lot but I like a little bit of forewarning before I wake up to ale in my shoes.”

“You asked for another round, you didn’t say where.”

“Why the hell would I want them in my shoes?”

Gwaine does what Gwaine always does and steers the attention away from Merlin, leaving Leon and Lancelot to carefully prod him a little more privately. He waves them off too, even though he’s sure he isn’t keeping as much as he would like to be from Leon.

Merlin stops using his magic as much. He does his chores as much as he can using his two hands, lugs buckets of water without complaint, polishes armor until his nose burns and his eyes sting. He uses his magic for particularly stubborn stains in his room and keeps a sharper eye out for how to move this bandit’s sword a little to the right, or how to make this knight’s staff a little heavier.

He thinks Arthur is trying to hide for him, so he hides for Arthur.

Then he can’t hide.

A sorcerer is threatening to collapse the walls of Camelot in on themselves. The entire citadel shakes as Merlin and the knights rush out, dragging as many people as they can. The stone trembles and the wood groans and there are screams. More screams than Merlin could ever bear to hear join the chorus of more than he could ever know that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

He shuts them anyway and runs.

He runs away from the knights, magic pushing him faster, faster, faster with the need to protect the castle, protect the people, protect Arthur. The sorcerer is pulling him away from his people and for that…for that, he must pay.

By the time he gets to the field, it is rippling with magic. Merlin’s fingertips, his ears, even his nose tingles as he rushes deeper, deeper, deeper, trying to get to the eye of the storm.

There, in the middle of a patch of grass, stands a sorcerer. In robes deeper than night and hair whipped up in the wind of the spell.

Merlin grits his teeth and says no.

And when the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth calls, Magic answers.

The sorcerer is dust before he manages to open his mouth. The field settles. Magic returns to the earth. And Merlin collapses to his knees as the knights run up behind him.

He isn’t a fool, despite what others may have led you to believe. He knows this was magic, could only be magic, and could only be stopped by magic.

So when the knights rush up to him and collapse to their knees around him, muttering that he’s alright, he did it, he’s safe, he did it, is he hurt, all he can think of is how he’s going to have to explain this to Arthur.

They tell him he doesn’t need to explain anything. That Arthur already knows, that he doesn’t care.

Merlin doesn’t believe them. Even if he saved Camelot, which he’s already done, he has magic. He used magic to do it.

They tell him again that it doesn’t matter, that Arthur doesn’t, won’t care.

But Merlin still has to tell him.

“Tell me what?”

+1.

Arthur rushes into the clearing. He can hear him behind them. He can’t find it in him to get up. The knights are still around him, he can hear Lancelot’s voice in his ear, feel Leon’s hands on his shoulders, but he can’t move. Can’t speak.

“Tell me what,” Arthur repeats, and oh, he sounds angry, “what is it?”

“Merlin,” someone—Gwaine—is muttering, “Merlin, it’s alright, he won’t care, he doesn’t care—“

“Of course I care,” comes the cold, cold voice and Gwaine falters, “now move.”

Merlin’s chest clenches. There’s the sharp sing of steel as Gwaine draws his sword.

“Put it down.”

“Nope, can’t do that.”

Then Leon stands up. “Arthur, please think carefully about this.”

“I don’t have to think carefully about anything. Merlin is hurt, let me tend to him. He’s mine.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

“No, I certainly don’t intend to, so move.”

Lancelot’s hands are the last to leave him. Merlin is cold. It’s so cold. His magic buries deep inside his chest and it feels hard to breathe.

Boots. Boots on the ground in front of him. They flatten the grass as a shadow blocks the light. Armor creaks as the figure kneels down. A gauntleted hand cups his chin.

“Merlin,” comes a voice that’s soft, too soft, “Merlin, I need you to look at me.”

And what is he supposed to do, disobey?

Arthur’s face is too warm when Merlin looks up at him. His mouth tugs up into a little smile as Merlin finally makes eye contact with him.

“There you are,” he says, still in that soft voice that doesn’t make sense, “now, are you hurt?”

Merlin can only blink.

“Merlin,” he says, and his voice is a little firmer as he cups Merlin’s chin properly, “are you hurt? What happened?”

His throat is too dry. “Not hurt.”

Arthur relaxes, only marginally. “Then why do you look so upset?”

The world could collapse and Merlin would be frozen here, trapped in the silence of Arthur’s gaze.

Unbidden, his eyes flash gold.

Arthur takes a sharp breath in. Merlin braces for a hit only for—

“Oh, you idiot,” Arthur whispers, “do I actually need to tell you I don’t care if you have magic?”

Pause.

Go back.

One more time.

What?

“I don’t care, you idiot,” he says in a tone that is too fond, “I don’t care that you have magic. You have it, you’re still Merlin, I don’t care.”

Rough metal gauntlets cup his face and oh—it’s cold—

“Merlin, look at me.”

“I—I am.”

“No, look.”

He blinks and has to focus on looking at Arthur.

“I’m not mad,” Arthur says firmly, “and I don’t care that you have magic.”

Merlin starts to laugh. Because of course, of course, Arthur doesn’t care. He’s been so stupid. Arthur doesn’t care. Arthur doesn’t care. He’s doubled over before he can stop himself. The laughs keep pouring out of him, his magic rushing back to his fingers, his nose, his chest. He laughs long and loud and hard and then Arthur is murmuring at him again because no, no, he isn’t laughing anymore, he’s crying.

“Come here, you big baby,” Arthur murmurs, tucking him into the gentlest embrace he’s ever had from someone wearing armor, “yes, there you go, that’s it.”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

Arthur has known Merlin has magic and he doesn’t care.

…wait, does that make Merlin the oblivious one?

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

It’s not like Arthur is hiding anything else from Merlin.

#dragonbabbles #fic #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #arthur pendragon

[yoddream]

part 1 is here

(TW: talks of weight and clothing size)

It had been a couple months since Jeno apologized. It had been rough at times, for he had missed out on a lot with not only you but your other friends as well. Renjun had also gotten into a relationship, so he wasn’t available as much, but he always made time for you guys, and sometimes one of you would invite his partner along.

Jaemin was back home for a family emergency, so he’d missed out on the initial reunion. He had returned not too long after, but when he did he’d given Jeno the cold shoulder for almost two weeks. everyone had felt it was a little excessive, but he stood his ground until he was ready.

Mark and Haechan had had a huge fight, resulting in them taking a break for about a month. It had resulted in you and Haechan eating a bunch of takeout while watching youtube videos multiple nights a week. Nobody knew what the fight was actually about, but it made everyone worried the couple would break up permanently.

Jisung and Chenle were the only ones that didn’t really have anything happen to them. They still attended class and hung out with the group, but that was it. It was almost as if they were immune to any drama.

When it seemed like everything had settled, you were worried about something else coming up to ruin everything. It seemed to good to be true for everything to feel right again. Was a random quiz going to pop up in one of your classes? Would your apartment flood? We’re your parents going to call you with bad news?

No. Instead, you ran into Yeeun.

You’d gone to the boba shop a few blocks away from your apartment to reward yourself for getting your essay done a couple days before it was due. Sure, you could’ve gone whenever, but rewarding yourself with it motivated you, and it made the drink taste that much better. Jeno was back at your place, still writing his paper, so you’d offered to get him some to keep going, which then turned into you offering to get some for Haechan and Mark as well.

When you walked into the shop, you almost bumped into Yeeun. She looked as put-together as usual, with her hair glossy and straight, an outfit that consisted of baggy jeans and a cropped cardigan, and perfect makeup to accentuate her big eyes. It reminded you of how despite her obviously looking upset the days after the break up, she still put herself together as if nothing had happened.

“O-oh. Hi Yeeun,” you said hesitantly.

She smiled brightly, which shocked you. “Hi, Y/N! How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing well. How—how have you been?” you asked.

“I’ve been doing okay. The break-up’s been rough, but my friends are helping me get through it. How’s Jeno been doing?”

“Not well. He’s been upset, but we’re doing everything we can to get his mind off it,” you explained.

“That’s good. Well, I have class in a few minutes, so I should get going.” As she walked around you, you spun around and called out her name. She turned to you with her eyebrows raised as she waited.

“Can I ask why you broke up with Jeno? None of us have been able to figure it out.”

She smiled sadly. “One time, he and I were eating lunch in the hall. You and your friends were sitting on the other side, looking over every once in a while until you picked up your phone and texted him. You had asked to hang out for movie night, but he said he already had plans with me. You just looked so sad and heartbroken, and I had remembered him talk about your movie nights and how special they were. Seeing how you reacted, I’d sneaked a look at his phone and saw that he’d turned you down almost every time you asked to hang out. I couldn’t get in the way of a friendship like that, especially knowing how close you were before I started dating him.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to him about it?” you asked genuinely.

“I thought about it, but something told me it wouldn’t have done anything,” she explained. When she looked at her watch, she cursed. “I really gotta go. You should text me, though! We can have a girls’ day!”

Once you’d gotten your order, you rushed back to your apartment and practically threw Jeno’s drink at him before rushing down the hall to Haechan’s room. With your free hand, you banged on the door while shouting “Code pink! Code pink!”

Code pink: ran into someone’s ex.

The door flew open, and you handed Mark his drink before pushing past him to grab Haechan. Dragging your roommate into your bedroom, you locked the door behind you and led him into your closet before closing the door behind you as well to assure nobody heard you talk.

“This story better be good enough for you to drag me back into the closet,” Haechan joked.

“Shut up, idiot. I ran into Yeeun.”

“What?!”

You shushed him harshly. “I don’t need those two breaking into my room trying to figure out what we’re talking about!”

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

So you did. The whole time you told your story, his eyes were wide as he took everything in. There were guesses as to why she’d broken up with Jeno, but nobody was close to the actual reason. And to hear that she wanted to stay in contact with you? It seemed impossible.

When you were done, Haechan sat there without saying a single word. What could he even say? Yeeun and Jeno had had a relationship that seemed perfectly fine. They weren’t toxic towards each other, and they weren’t nasty to each other’s friends.

“I never thought I’d hear about a couple breaking up to help someone outside of their relationship,” he finally said.

“Well, parents break up all the time because it’s better for their child,” you pointed out.

“But that kid is a part of the relationship. It’s their child. Breaking up because a friend is hurting? That’s new to me.”

There was a pause before you asked, “What do I do now?”

Haechan let out a big sigh. “I have no idea. If you wanna be friends with her, I don’t see why not. I would just wait a couple days before you text her. As for Jeno—well, there’s no way to tell how he would react.”

“Are you guys done? Hyuckie and I were supposed to watch a movie!” Mark called out.

Haechan rolled his eyes before muttering, “And everyone says I’m obsessed with him.”

“Go have your date night. I’m gonna see if Jeno needs help with his essay,” you said, shoving Haechan when he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

Haechan liked to joke that you and Jeno were dating, even though everyone knew you didn’t like each other. It had been an ongoing joke since you were in high school, but it’d stopped while Jeno and Yeeun were still together.

When you opened your bedroom door, Jeno and Mark were standing right there. Mark immediately grabbed Haechan and dragged him across the hall, leaving you with your best friend. He was staring at you with an unreadable expression, which worried you a little. Did he hear you?

“What are you hiding?” he asked, a smirk growing on his face.

You groaned loudly. “You asshole! I thought you were actually upset with me.”

“I’m just surprised that it’s a secret I’m not allowed to know,” he stated.

"I’ll tell you at some point. How’s your paper coming?”

Jeno frowned instead of responding. You immediately knew what he wanted. Jeno had always had a problem with expressing himself, so you learned how to read him. What he wanted right now? He wanted to cuddle. The only problem was that if you went with it, he’d never get his paper done. It was due tonight.

“Jeno, you better get that assignment done. Don’t make me regret buying that boba for you,” you said.

With his frown deepening, Jeno turned and headed back to the living room. You took a sip of your drink and closed the door. He was being dramatic; he knew he could come to you after he was done.

You snuggled into your bed and started watching a video on your phone. You could feel your eyelids getting heavy, but you did everything you could to fight against it. As time went on, it got harder and harder. By the time you were about to fall asleep, there was a soft knock on your door before it slowly creaked open. Jeno shuffled himself in and closed the door behind him before turning to you. Without a word, you lifted the edge of your comforter and let him crawl in. His long hair fell over his eyes by the time he settled, so you gently pushed it away. He threw an arm over your torso and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You felt your whole body melt; it was just like old times.

///

A couple weeks had passed since you’d run into Yeeun. The two of you texted, and you’d even hung out with her a few times. Jeno either hadn’t found out yet, or he didn’t care. You were hoping it was the latter, but there was a good chance that wasn’t the case. He still seemed to be pretty heartbroken.

“What about this one?” Yeeun asked, holding up a dress.

The two of you were at the mall, shopping for a party. You’d never really gone to one, so you had one idea what to wear. The last time you were invited to a party, you didn’t want to go, so the guys had gone without you. It was actually how Jeno had met Yeeun.

“It’s cute,” you said. The dress was a bodycon that had a ruffle along the bottom. The straps were tied on the tops of the shoulders, and the fabric was a light pink. You could already tell it would look really nice on her.

“Yeah...I just don’t know if it’ll be good enough for the party,” she mumbled with a pout.

“Honestly, Yeeun, I think you could wear whatever the hell you wanted and look good,” you told her.

She frowned. “I guess. Well, how about you try it on?”

“No way. I could never wear that,” you stated with a firm shake of your head.

“Of course you can! Look, they have it in your size.” She swapped the dresses on the rack and held it out to you. “You don’t have to get it, but you can totally try it on. It’s not going to hurt you.”

“It could hurt my self-esteem,” you mumbled.

Yeeun took a step forward and gently grabbed you by the shoulders. “I know it’s not something you’d normally wear, but it’s just for fun. You are absolutely stunning, even if you think you aren’t. Trying on clothing is to see how something fits, not how you look in the clothing. If it feels too tight in certain areas, then you try a size up to see how that feels. It’s based on your level of comfort, not how you look. That’s why we try on clothes. A medium dress from here could be an extra-large dress from another store. Also, this color would look pretty on you.”

You paused. “Didn’t you just say that it’s not based on how you look?”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “When it comes to how it fits on your body, silly. Color is completely different. This shade of pink may look better with your skin tone than a different shade of pink. C’mon, please?”

Sighing, you took the dress and dragged your feet to the fitting room. When you closed the door and locked it, you took a deep breath before starting to undress. Avoiding your reflection, you took the dress off the hanger and stepped into it before sliding it up. Once your arms were completely through the straps and the dress was settled, you turned to your reflection and grimaced. Clearly, it was too small, but you tried to remember what Yeeun said.

A medium dress from here could be an extra-large dress from another store.

“Y/N? How does it feel?” Yeeun called out.

Taking another deep breath, you opened the door and stepped out. She looked up from her phone and frowned. Your heart felt heavy as your stomach dropped. Did you really look that bad?

“Let me get a size up. See, this is what I meant when I said sizes are different in each store!” she called out while running back to the rack. She came back with a smile on her face. “I know it’s difficult to ignore what size the tag says. Trust me, a lot of people worry about it. I used to all the time, and I still do it every once in a while. But just remember that companies suck and they’re always fucking somebody over, whether that’s somebody that has a body more like Tess Holliday or somebody with a body more like Winnie Harlow. Now, switch into this dress and see how it fits.”

You did as you were told and looked at your reflection once again. Trying to keep in mind what Yeeun said, you thought about how the dress fit. It wasn’t cutting into your underarms anymore, and you felt like you could breathe without popping a stitch. When you stepped out, she squealed and clasped her hands together.

“You look so hot, no lie! How do you feel?” she asked.

“Little uncomfortable, but mostly because I don’t usually wear bodycon dresses,” you admitted. “But...”

“But?”

“But I think I could see myself wearing it. Maybe not to the party, but sometime in the near future.”

The grin on her face grew. “That’s what I like to hear.”

///

On the night of the party, Haechan was at Mark’s, leaving you alone with the apartment. You took your time getting ready, dancing around to the music that was playing on your phone. The party wasn’t for another couple hours, which gave you more than enough time to finish your makeup and hair. Your phone vibrated a couple times, but you figured it was just the group chat. They’d been blowing it up while you were in the shower, but you hadn’t read any of it.

You’d decided to wear the dress, telling yourself that you could leave if you felt uncomfortable. It was a big step for you, maybe even too big, but you wanted to try.

Once you were ready, you grabbed your bag and keys and opened your apartment door. On the other side was Jeno, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. You stumbled back a little in surprise, your eyes wide at the sudden appearance of your best friend.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I texted you, asking if you wanted to get some ice cream. I figured I’d show up when you didn’t answer.” He looked you up and down with a smile. “You look very pretty. Where are you going?”

“Um, Yeeun actually invited me to her party,” you mumbled.

His eyebrows raised in shock. “Oh. I didn’t know you two were talking.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I ran into her when I went to pick up boba.”

He grinned. “Is that what that code pink was about?”

“Maybe. You aren’t mad, are you?”

“I’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me, but I understand why you didn’t. Besides, I’m almost over the breakup,” he assured you. “I can drop you off, if you want. I’ll be driving by the sorority on my way home, so it’s not like I’ll be going out of my way.”

“Fine, but only because I wanna drink but don’t want to take an Uber,” you reasoned.

The ride over was filled with Jeno’s soft playlist. He always listened to it when he was studying or trying to nap because it kept him calm, so you were surprised to hear it in the car. When you asked about it, he told you that he liked to listen to it when he was driving at night. “It kept the calm ambience,” was his short explanation.

“Call me if you need a ride home, okay?” he asked once he was parked by the curb. “Or text me if you don’t. Just—let me know you’re okay, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Yes, Jeno. Thank you for the ride.”

You didn’t hear his car drive off until the front door was open. Stepping inside, you immediately felt lost. It was loud, it was crowded, and it smelled like alcohol. Looking around, you tried to find a familiar face, but nobody was standing out.

“Y/N!”

Turning to your left, your eyes landed on Yeeun. She was wear a red, strapless dress that hugged her figure. Her makeup was simple, but it didn’t matter when she was as gorgeous as she was. Her eyes lit up when she saw what you were wearing before she hurried over.

“You decided to wear the dress!” she shouted.

“I did,” you said with a smile.

“Well, you look absolutely stunning. Come on, let’s get you a drink, and then I’ll introduce you to my friends!”

Alcohol was just what you needed to loosen up. Soon, you were joking around with Yeeun and her friends, and then you were dancing, and then you were taking shots, and then you were stumbling. Sorn handed you another shot glass, which you downed despite Yeeun telling you to slow down. You ignored her and kept drinking.

///

The first thing you noticed was the smell of the room. It was familiar, but you didn’t know how. Then, it was how stiff your body felt. Finally, the headache. Could it even be considered a headache? It felt like someone just kept stabbing your skull. When you opened your eyes, the room was dark. The clock on the nightstand said that it was almost eleven, though, which meant the blackout curtains were drawn.

So, you were in Jeno’s room.

You slowly rolled over and knocked into the boy, groaning as your head seemed to hurt even more. Slowly, you turned until you were facing him. Well, facing his back. He was facing away from you, snoring away. Without hesitation, you threw your arm over his waist and clung to him as you buried your face into the back of his neck, which woke him up.

“Hm, good morning,” he mumbled.

“Hurts,” you whined.

“Yeah, you were almost passed out by the time I got to the sorority. Thank Yeeun for calling me,” he replied.

“She called you?” you asked, your stomach clenching. Was it from the hangover?

“Yup. Honestly, I was pretty shocked to see her name pop up when my phone rang, but I’m glad. She was worried something would happen to you, but she trusted me to take care of you.” He rolled over, and you could barely make out his face. You did see a frown, though. “That’s the last time I try helping you change without exposing or touching anything. Who knew you’d be the kind of drunk that tries to strip?”

“Oh my god,” you whispered while hiding your face in his chest.

“My reaction exactly.”

“You didn’t see anything, did you?”

“No. I managed to stop you as you untied the second strap.”

With a groan, you rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed. He laughed before following you, squeezing your shoulder as he got up. He promised to make you breakfast and get you painkillers while you showered. You took your time in the bathroom, making sure not a single centimeter of your body felt dirty and gross. When you were done, you got dressed in the same t-shirt and sweatpants before heading into the kitchen.

Jeno was facing the stove, cooking some eggs and hash. When he heard you shuffle in, his turned around with a smile, but it dropped almost immediately. You frowned, unsure of why he looked at you like that. Shutting off the stove, he put his spatula down and walked over. He stopped in front of you before slowly bending down and capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You froze in shock before relaxing, your whole body melting under his touch. When he pulled away, you opened your eyes and raised your eyebrows.

“Oh,” you said.

“What?” he asked.

“Well, that makes sense.”

Letting out a surprised laugh, he questioned, “What makes sense?”

“I don’t know. It just—it makes sense! You kissing me just makes sense!”

“You’re so weird,” he said with a grin before leaning down to kiss you again.

There was a lot that still needed to be talked about. Neither of you could simply enter a relationship before talking about your feelings and going on dates, but you decided to push that to the back of your mind while you enjoyed kissing Jeno.

(”Can we keep this a secret from the guys for a little bit?”

“How come?”

“Well, I wanna see the look on Haechan’s face when he makes that joke about us dating.”

“I’m sorry, he does what?”)

#nct #nct dream #jeno #lee jeno #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #jeno imagines #lee jeno imagines #nct jeno #nct dream jeno

[evafrechette]

With A Little Help From My Hyung

↠ yoongi x seokjin | smut | friends to lovers, slow burn | 18+ | 2.4k

↠ Summary: Seokjin is the best roommate Yoongi could have asked for, he’s funny, respectful, a good cook and incredibly handsome. That’s a big problem though - because Yoongi has a constant boner over him.

↠ Warnings: eventual smut, drama queen yoongi, oblivious seokjin, blowjobs, standing sex, yoongi enjoys seokjin carrying him around, anal sex, yoongi is clumsy and hurts himself, which is a great excuse to have seokjin look after him, the other members make a small appearance, my fic usually has a few swear words, hyung kink???

"Hyung, stop it. Leave me alone." Yoongi's deep voice grumbled defiantly.

"Aish, quit being a baby Yoongi-yah, let me help." Seokjin held his hand out to the smaller man who sat on the cold concrete ground below him, food scattered around his aching body, tangerines rolling down the sidewalk.

Yoongi slapped away Seokjin's hand, scowling at his annoying roommate. He got onto his knees and attempted to stand, wincing in pain the moment he put pressure onto his left foot. Only moments before he and Seokjin had left the convenience store, arms full of energy drinks, jelly candy, ramen and tangerines. But Yoongi being Yoongi was busy in his own world and didn't notice the patch of ice on the footpath right in front of him, once his foot touched the slippery ice he slipped and wobbled about, struggling to balance before his legs came out from under him, falling directly onto his ass. Paper bag flying out of his grip, contents spilling onto the sidewalk.

He tried to stand again, taking his time as he clung onto Seokjin's arm, managing to get himself upright, left foot hovering above the ground, but when he placed it firmly against the sidewalk pain shot up his leg and he suddenly felt faint. "Shit, I think it's broken Hyung." He looked up into Seokjin's eyes, refusing to let the tears spill. Yoongi was in pain, a lot of fucking pain but he couldn't let his hyung see him be a cry baby.

"You hit the ground hard but it's probably just a sprain or something, I doubt it's broken. You're a real drama queen Min Yoongi. Can you stand by yourself for a bit?" Yoongi nodded in reply and let go of the elders arm, watching as he carefully rushed around picking up the spilled food and shoved it into his own bag. Seokjin walked back to Yoongi, spinning around so his back faced the man. He crouched down, holding the overfilled paper bag tight against his chest. "Jump on Yoongi-ah, and don't even try it with me. I'm your Hyung you have to listen to me."

Yoongi rolled his eyes but slowly hobbled over to his taller roommate, awkwardly jumping onto his back, arms wrapping around Seokjin's neck, and his short legs around his waist when the older man stood. "I don't have to listen to shit." He mumbled into Seokjin's messy brown hair. Seokjin let out his trademark high pitched laugh as he carried his injured roommate back towards their apartment, "You're so full of it Yoongi."

The walk would usually only take five minutes, but carrying a grown man (who enjoyed complaining every few minutes) had a part in the trip taking close to twenty. Yoongi laid his head on Seokjin's wide shoulders and enjoyed the way his oversized blue shirt smelled of a calming mix of lavender and vanilla bean, he took a mental note to check what brand of washing powder the man used when he got home.

Something about being carried on Seokjin's back made Yoongi's belly flip, he had never felt so small and vulnerable in his life. He was the strong one of their group - the pit bull, small but tough, with an acid tongue that could make a grown man cry. But being carried around by his cute, tall, goofy roommate was actually kind of comforting, it felt nice to snuggle against his broad shoulders.

Yoongi could feel his cheeks heating up, he had been crushing on his video game loving roommate for a few months now. At first the blond thought they were just compatible roommates, respecting each others boundaries and privacy, they quickly became friends bonding over their love of cooking, but along the way Yoongi developed feelings. His eyes lingering on Seokjin longer than what was socially acceptable, sneakily scooching closer to his side on the couch while he watched Seokjin get annihilated playing video games and "accidentally" falling asleep during their movie marathon nights, head resting comfortably against Seokjin's shoulder. But Yoongi knew nothing would come of his little crush so he kept his feelings locked away and instead tried to focus on their good friendship instead.

Seokjin carefully placed Yoongi on the couch, pushing a cushion under his now swollen foot. He rushed off to Yoongi's room and returned with a blanket which he draped over the smaller man. With a happy hum he walked towards the kitchen and Yoongi watched with lovesick eyes as he put away their food shopping. Everytime Seokjin reached up for the top shelf his shirt would raise a little, giving Yoongi a glimpse of the tantalising caramel skin underneath. Yoongi longed to drag his calloused fingertips along that skin, to leave small kisses down Seokjin's spine, along his lower back and down over his firm ass. He sought to taste Seokjin, to feel his cock heavy on his tongue, to feel the burn of his cock stretching him out.

"Hey Yoongi are you okay?" A cool hand placed against his forehead brought Yoongi out of his Seokjin induced daze. His roommate was looking at him with fondness and concern, "Your cheeks are really red but you're not hot or anything. I thought maybe you were coming down with a fever." Yoongi knew he was even redder now, but he allowed himself to relax against the man's hand. He sighed when Seokjin withdrew his hand and moved to sit on the bean bag on the floor. "Yeah, no I'm fine. Just a bit embarrassed about this." Yoongi waved his hand over his ankle.

"Aish, these things happen. Just have to be more careful. And Hyung is here to take care of you okay? Anything you need you let me know. Keep that boney ass of yours on the couch."

The pair spent the rest of the night watching a marathon of Law of the Jungle, empty containers of ramen and Kloud draft beer scattered across the coffee table. Yoongi as usual was unable to keep the snarky comments to himself, "Pfft look at them! Useless. I could survive on that island so much better than any of them." He quipped as a team of celebrities dived into the ocean to try to catch fish with just their hands.

"Errrr Yoongi-yah, did you forget that I had to carry your tiny ass home this evening? Your weak ankles wouldn't last a day on that show." Seokjin doubled over in laughter, clapping his hands loudly as Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"Whatever Jin-hyung," he scoffed, "Like you'd do any better."

"Pretty sure I'd do great on a show like this! You've seen me fishing Yoongi, I'm practically a professional at it now."

Yoongi groaned at this, Seokjin had dragged him out fishing more times than he could even count and he was nowhere near a professional level. The last time they went fishing together Seokjin didn't catch a single fish. He did manage to catch some seaweed and disintegrating plastic bag though.

Yoongi could feel his eyelids getting heavy, and instead of fighting the feeling allowed himself to drift off to sleep, which wasn't hard as sleep was his favourite hobby after all. Yoongi was having a beautiful dream, he was being carried in Seokjin's strong arms as the brunette carried him along the golden hues of a sandy beach, gentle waves breaking along the shore splashing against Seokjin's bare feet. He mirrored Seokjin's smile as his Hyung looked down at him, carrying him bridal style while the breeze whispered sweetly around them both.

"Aish, Yoongi you are a pain in my ass, but you're kinda cute so it's okay I guess." His gummy smile widened at the sweet but slightly insulting words. "What are you smiling about you weirdo." Seokjin let out a small laugh.

Yoongi was confused, why was dream Seokjin insulting him? It took him a few seconds to realise that he was actually awake and that he was no longer asleep on the couch, but rather in the arms of his Hyung. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let his body go slack against Seokjin's chest, adding a few very realistic soft snores for good measure. Yoongi felt his body fall gently against the cold mattress on his bed, shivering slightly at the loss of heat from Seokjin's warm body. A blanket was dragged up his body, before footsteps retreated out of the room and the door clicking shut quietly.

Yoongi's eyes widened once he was alone in the dark room, had he heard correct? Did Seokjin just call him cute? It took all his self control not to squeal like a teenage girl. He wiggled down the mattress, throwing the blankets over his head and snuggled into his soft pillows. That night Yoongi had the best sleep of his life, with a smile on his face and a hard cock in his pants.

-----

The following weekend Yoongi found himself squished between his friends Jungkook and Hoseok in the back seat of Jimin's tiny Hyundai Pony hatchback. Usher's 'U Remind Me' thumped out of the piss-poor and incredibly outdated sound system, tinny and grating on his ears. His friends, including Taehyung who was sitting in the passenger seat, were singing along at the top of their lungs, he threw his head back and groaned. Why did he get stuck with the loud idiots of their group? Yoongi peered through the windscreen, tall, shapely pine trees lined the dirt road they traveled along. Dust swirled around the car, a curtain of brown blocking the view of the car travelling behind them. The sky was dotted with grey clouds, slowly drifting across the sky hiding the sun, who was trying it's hardest to make an appearance.

The car full of friends pulled into a small gravel parking lot and climbed out of the stuffy vehicle. They watched as the trailing car pulled up beside them, excitedly chatting and joking around now that everyone had finally arrived. Today was Namjoon's choice of activity, one Yoongi was secretly dreading - Hiking. He cast a glance towards Seokjin who was dressed in a pair of black and white track suit pants, sneakers, wide brim bucket hat with drawcord and a fluffy cream jumper. He swallowed hard at the thought of wrapping his arms around Seokjin's waist and resting his head against his fleece covered chest. He looked so snuggly and warm and cute, yeah, really really cute.

Yoongi zoned out while the others planned their trek, his mind too focused on Seokjin's beautiful plush lips, enthralled by how his Hyung randomly pouted while he spoke, his plump bottom lip puffing out before returning back to normal. Yoongi found this habit of Seokjin's incredibly endearing and wondered if the man was even aware of what he was doing. Or at just how crazy it was making Yoongi feel.

"Is everyone okay with the plan?" Namjoon asked, slipping away a map into the front pocket of his jacket. The group all spoke at once, loud and chaotic as usual. "Okay well let's go!"

The group trekked for a few hours, enjoying the challenging course. Up and down steep inclines, weaving through lush forest and snaking between narrow boulders that sat unsteadily on either side of their path. They eventually came across a small stream that separated the gravel path, Yoongi looked down at his feet and whined. "Do we have to go through that? I'm wearing brand new shoes." His nose scrunched as he caught sight of the shallow murky water he knew he would have to trudge through.

"Why would you wear new shoes on a hike Yoongi?" Hoseok laughed, clapping the smaller man on the back. Yoongi glared at his friend, tempted to turn around and walk back to the car. Fuck nature.

"Don't worry about it Yoongi-yah, climb on." Seokjin smiled, bending down in front of Yoongi, memories of the previous weekend flooded Yoongi's thoughts. Without hesitation Yoongi climbed onto his back, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. He placed his chin into the crook of Seokjin's shoulder and sighed as herbal scented hair brushed across his nose.

"O-okay then, well errr let's get going then." Namjoon raised his eyebrow, the rest of the group watching quizzically as Seokjin happily carried Yoongi across the stream. They exchanged looks with each other, hushed whispers at what had just transpired, Yoongi knew the others would be talking, getting a piggy back ride was pretty out of character for him, but he was blissfully peaceful at that very moment. So fuck what anyone thought.

-----

Back at their apartment that night the pair settled into their usual routine of cheap ramen, beer and trashy kdramas on the television.

"Hey Hyung, thanks for picking me up today," Yoongi bit nervously into his thumbnail, a habit he struggled to free himself from, "You didn't need to . . Hobi was right though, those shoes cost $300 why did I choose to wear them today?" Yoongi knew exactly why - he was trying to look good for Seokjin. He had dashed out to a Camping and Fishing store after work to purchase an entirely new outfit for the day. He settled on a long sleeved yellow and green flannel shirt, khaki trousers and a blue and black fleece fila jacket. Plus those damn tramping boots that cost as much as his share of the rent.

Seokjin leaned in, inches away from Yoongi's face, breath catching in the back of his throat, heart hammering against his rib cage. "It was my pleasure," Seokjin grabbed Yoongi by the cheeks and pinched, jiggling the flushed skin between his thumb and index finger, "That's what a good Hyung does, helps their cry baby friends out." He laughed, letting go of Yoongi and plopping back down onto his side of the couch. Yoongi's hand shot up to his cheek, fingers brushing along his warm skin. Seokjin's touch felt amazing, electric sparks coursed through his body, Yoongi wanted those hands touching him in places that crossed the line from friends to lovers, those long fingers curling up inside of him brushing against his sweet sensitive spot, wrapped around his cock pumping him until it was too much to handle and he was screaming Seokjin's name while he spilled his release over his Hyungs hand.

Yoongi found it hard to concentrate on the television in front of him, eyes constantly drifting towards his roommate who looked amazing in a pair of grey shorts and loose white T-shirt, his feet curled up underneath him, strong thigh muscles catching Yoongi's attention. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his eyes, Yoongi wasn't sure how much more of Seokjin he could deal with. He was the perfect roommate, but his desire to be fucked by the man was becoming an every minute of the day kinda thing. Maybe Yoongi needed to hurry up and move out. He thought about Seokjin at work, while doing his laundry, on the bus to the grocery store, while putting the rubbish out, when pumping his dildo in and out of his ass, Seokjin was on his mind 24/7.

Yoongi's cock twitched as he watched the couple on television, the male lead carrying the female through a cherry blossom lined park while a terrible ballad wailed in the background. He decided that being carried was his newest kink. Or maybe Seokjin's entire existence was his fetish? He tugged on his hoop earring as his thoughts travelled to a million different scenarios in which Seokjin would need to lift and carry him around. He recalled the previous weekend, waking up while Seokjin carried him to bed, how nice it felt to be held in Seokjin's arms, to hear him call Yoongi cute. He wanted, no he needed that again.

Yoongi glanced out of the corner of his eye, the brunette’s head was down as he browsed at something on his phone, he watered his lips and decided now was the perfect time to enact his master plan. Yoongi closed his eyes and let out a loud yawn, arms stretched high above his head, "Mmmm what's the time?" He asked Seokjin drowsily. "Huh? Oh it's  9:23, are you tired already?" The brunette placed his phone on the coffee table and shifted to face Yoongi. "You're not? We walked a million miles today, of course I'm tired." For theatrics he let out another yawn. Seokjin shrugged and took a sip of his beer. "Guess I've got a better stamina than you."

Over the next half an hour Yoongi let out more fake yawns, complaining about his sore muscles and tired bones - which Seokjin informed him wasn't a real thing and that he was being a whiny old man again. His body sunk into the couch, head lolling against the arm rest as he feigned falling asleep. It would only be a matter of time before he would be whisked away in Seokjin's arms and it was making him giddy, trying his hardest not to crack a smile. Yoongi heard the room fall silent, the television now switched off. His heart was racing, this was it - the big moment - his hands were softly shaking, breath uneven and shallow.

"Hey Yoongi, wake up." A large hand shook his arm attempting to wake him from his faux slumber. His eyebrows furrowed, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Seokjin was supposed to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom, whisper a few sweet words in his ear and maybe jerk him off a bit. He opened his eyes and glared at the handsome man standing over him, his plans were ruined and he and his neglected cock were pretty pissed off.

"Why didn't you just carry me Hyung?" Yoongi sulked, crossing his arms against his chest like a defiant toddler.

"W-why would I? You can walk your legs aren't broken."

"Well you've been carrying me around a lot recently so I just thought you'd do it again tonight. Ahhh fuck it whatever." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the brunette who was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Aish, Yoongi-yah do you enjoy Seokjinnie lifting you up and carrying you around?" He could no longer hold it in, erupting into a fit of laughter.

Yoongi's cheeks burnt bright red, he was already a small man but he had never felt as small as he did right at this moment. Tears threatened to spill over his long lashes, he knew he was being a little dramatic but his heart was practically ripped out of his chest by his crush. Yoongi bowed his head refusing to look anywhere other than at his hands which were clasped together tightly.

"Wait, shit Yoongi I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you cry," Seokjin dropped down onto his knees and engulfed Yoongi's hands with his own. "So you do enjoy being carried by me?"

Yoongi sniffed, "Yeah. I like a lot about you Hyung, the carrying thing is one of my favourites though."

An awkward silence filled the room, Yoongi's sniffles the only sound to break the dead air. "Well uh, there is a lot I like about you too," he stroked his thumb against the back of Yoongi's hand softly and slowly. "I like your dry sense of humor, the way you screech when you're excited - that is so adorable. I like how passionate you are about music and I really like how your cheeks turn red whenever we touch each other by accident. I sorta brush up against you on purpose just to see it."

A gasp escaped Yoongi's lips, head snapping up to look into the dark chocolate eyes of his roommate. Seokjin's cheeks puffed wide as he gave Yoongi a sweet smile, his thumb continuing to draw circles over Yoongi's hands which were resting in his lap. "I think you're cute Yoongi-yah, and I'd love to kiss you. If you'd allow me to of course."

Yoongi's eyes darted to Seokjin's plump lips, inviting and glistening. He couldn't hold back any longer, throwing himself forward as he smashed their lips together, hungry and desperate. In the wild rush of lips and tongues exploring new territory their noses bumped together, deep chuckles slipping out between kisses. Yoongi's hands frantically grasped onto Seokjin's hair, pulling him down so their body's were close but it still wasn't enough, he needed to feel naked flesh against his own. Yoongi's long fingers travelled underneath Seokjin's thin cotton T-shirt and brushed against his soft stomach, over his nipples rubbing the hard nubs between his fingers and then back down his chest. He played with the elastic waist of Seokjin's shorts, dipping his hand inside, fingers grazing the wiry mound of pubic hair just above where his hands really wanted to touch, "I-is this okay Hyungie?" Yoongi whimpered, Seokjin's tongue running along the exposed skin of his neck, teeth nipping the soft skin.

"Mmmm yeah, touch Hyung Yoongi." Seokjin bit down gently his teeth scraping the skin. He attached his lips against the smaller man's neck, alternating between sucking on the warm flesh and sly little nibbles, creating deep purple bruises that contrasted beautifully against Yoongi's pale skin. While Seokjin was busy marking his neck, Yoongi pulled his cock out of the shorts and stroked sensually up and down his length, which was growing harder and stiffer in his hand. His hand glided over Seokjin's length at a quickening pace, flicking his wrists and gripping tight around the head before pulling off and pumping again. Yoongi added another hand on Seokjin's shaft and slowly twisted in opposite directions, up then down, left then right.  His fingers played with the tip of his cock, pressing his thumb into the slit, stroking playfully over the head.

"Fuck your cock feels amazing Hyung," Yoongi sighed, Seokjin's cock pulsing in his grip, "C-can we fuck?"

Seokjin removed his swollen lips from Yoongi's neck with a 'pop' and took his time licking along the already fucked out man's lips, pressing their soft flesh against each other, gentle kisses that were in in opposition of the acceleration of Yoongi's heart beat. Seokjin sat between Yoongi's legs on the floor, hands roaming over the blonds thighs. When he reached Yoongi's crotch his fingers ghosted over Yoongi's hard cock visible through his sweats, he bucked his hips desperate for Seokjin's touch.

"Hyung's got you Yoongi, just sit back and relax hmmm?" He placed a sloppy wet kiss against the fleece material and helped pull them down to Yoongi's ankles. "Such a pretty cock Yoongi-yah." Seokjin's voice was smooth and sweet. His fingers grazed against Yoongi's balls, eyes flicking back up to watch Yoongi's reaction. He continued to massage his sack, pulling lightly and wiggling the weight in his hand. He rubbed his cheek along the soft skin of Yoongi's balls and then up and down his incredibly hard shaft. Tongue flicking out to leave small licks along the side, down to his balls and then further below to the sweet spot between Yoongi's balls and warm inviting hole.

Yoongi's slit was leaking precum so Seokjin lapped it up, moaning sinfully. A groaned escaped the back of Yoongi's throat when Seokjin took his balls into his mouth, sucking and kissing all over. He took his time enjoying their heat in his mouth. He stroked the blonds length while sucking the pale skin of Yoongi's inner thighs. Seokjin sat back and removed he and Yoongi's bottoms completely, throwing the pants into a small pile in the corner of the room. He stood and motioned for Yoongi to stand with him. Their lips crashed against another's once more, Yoongi standing on his tippy toes to match his Hyungs height. A knee slipped between Yoongi's thighs as the two men continued to taste and explore each others mouths.

"Shit, we need lube, uhhh, don't move Yoongi-yah! I'll be back quickly." Seokjin ran towards his bedroom leaving Yoongi standing naked from the waist down in their living room, cock red and hot. He gripped onto the base and squeezed tight, moaning at his own touch. Seokjin returned cock glistening from the lube, bouncing with every step. Yoongi gulped, Seokjin was longer than any cock his ass had taken before but god was he eager to have it inside him.

They kissed passionately while Seokjin fingered Yoongi's hole, stretching him open enough for his cock. Yoongi's mind had turned to mush, absolutely lost in the moment. It was as though Seokjin had flicked a switch in his ass to become a whimpering, whining mess. Seokjin bent his knees and using his right hand guided his cock into Yoongi's tight hole. Once inside he allowed Yoongi to get used to his size while his hands reached out to wrap around Yoongi's small waist. Without warning he lifted Yoongi, a squeak echoing in the silent room. "You are adorable Yoongi-yah, can't wait to hear more noises come from those pretty lips." Yoongi's legs wrapped around Seokjin's waist which readjusted their position, cock now deeper than before, big hands reached down to Yoongi's ass holding him in place as they walked out of the living room and into the hallway.

Yoongi held on tight, gripping onto strong shoulders as he was pushed against the wall with a thud. Seokjin's arms trembled from Yoongi’s weight so he started to pound into his ass before it was too much and he would have to let him go. Yoongi let out tiny pants and whimpers, eyelids half closed, mouth so slack drool was starting to drip from the corners. Seokjin's cock grazed over his prostate, hitting deep and hard with every thrust. "Hyung, hy-hyung ahh ah so good." His hands roamed over Seokjin's back leaving red and pink marks underneath the thin material of his shirt. His cock was trapped between their bodies, friction from their movements driving him insane.

Sweat dripped down Seokjin's face, his arms close to giving out. This was more intense than any workout his personal trainer at the gym had given him. He slammed his cock into Yoongi repeatedly eager to cum inside his ass. Yoongi's whimpers in his ear pushed Seokjin to his peak and exploded his white hot cum into Yoongi's warm hole.

They stood still while Seokjin caught his breath, Yoongi hanging onto his neck for dear life, almost as though the floor was lava. "Hyungie make me come, pleaseeeee I'm so close." Yoongi whined, nipping at Seokjin's lips then pouting against the plush flesh. He would rather be dead than admit it, but Seokjin was right - he was a bit of a drama queen. "I'll have to put you down though, I think my arms are about to fall off." Seokjin chuckled as Yoongi detached his legs from around the brunette's waist and placed them on the floor.

Seokjin reached down and gripped tight onto Yoongi's aching cock, moving his hand in a steady rhythm. Their foreheads touched, breathing in each others air, hushed pants and whimpers shared between the pair as they kiss messily, lips grazing chins and teeth clinking. Yoongi bucked into Seokjin's grip, incredibly close to his high. Seokjin's cum escaping slowly out of his hole and running down his creamy white thighs and the hand around his cock pushed Yoongi to his release, "Ah-ah Hyung don't stop, ahh I'm going to come, shit ahh." His body tensed as he came harder than ever before, Seokjin barely moving his hand as his cock throbbed and pulsated.

"Hyung, you have no idea how long I've wanted this to happen." Yoongi sighed, wrapping his hands around Seokjin's neck, fingers crawling their way up to thread through short dark hair. "I've wanted to do that since the day I moved in," Seokjin whispered in reply, ears turning crimson, "Come on let's get cleaned up and then cuddle."

-----

The pair made their way into Seokjin's bed, snuggled between a mess of cushions and soft toys, their limbs a tangled mess as impatient hands explored naked skin. They laughed as revelations of their feelings for each other were finally said out loud, cheeks tight and sore from smiling so hard. "Seokjin-hyung can we do this more often?" Yoongi's eyes avoided the naked man beside him focusing on the window pane instead. "Well I would hope so since I want to make your my boyfriend Yoongi-yah." Fingers caught hold of Yoongi's chin as his face was guided towards Seokjin's, a shy kiss planted on his lips. "Yes Hyung, fuck yes I'll be your boyfriend."

The roommates turned lovers drifted off to sleep that night with satisfied smiles on their faces, excited for what the future would hold for them both.

#Bts smut #bts fanfic #bts one shot #yoongi #seokjin #Yoongi x seokjin #yoonjin #yoonjin smut #bts fanfiction #bangtaninn #ksmutclub #armywriterssupport #bts fic #yoongi fic #jin fic #jin bts #suga

[ventji]

pov: random girl hitting on ur mans so u needa teel em to back off <3

tw: kn1fe, cussing (?), neck snapping (?)

ft: kaeya, diluc, zhongli, & venti :)

kaeya

kaeya can't really control something,, and it's how freaking hot he is.

however, as much as you enjoyed the hooker boy, all of monstadts women (married or not) would hit on him.

it pisses you off, a fucking lot. even though he would turn them down because he was already dating you,, they would not,, i mean NOT,, leave the cavalry captain alone.

and everyday,, at some point,, some random monstadt woman would walk up to you and ask if kaeya was with you.

and man, you have never,, and i mean NEVER,, have wanted to slap a bitch to barbatos.

kaeya would feel bad about it, he'd apologize profusely (as if it would do anything),, but you'd end it almost immedietly with a 'it's fine'

but there was this one woman,, who always came up to kaeya with this big, fat, unattractive uwu voice. that was also the exact same day that you finally had enough of their bs.

"excuse me" you poked her shoulder as she unattractivally flirted with your boyfriend.

"what do- oh, it's you." she'd say, giving a disgusted glare at you as kaeya just stared from behind.

"yeah, hi, it's me." you replied sarcastically. "mind backing off of my boyfriend? i'd really appreciate it!" you stated, knowing it wouldn't work.

"and why sh-"

"or i'll shove this knife into your throat!~" you stated, pulling your pocket knife out.

she ran away as kaeya chuckled giving you a big hug

diluc

even though the two step-brothers look nothing alike,, apparently the name 'kaeya' is so much more easier to remember.

people would go up to aether/lumine and just ask "where's the long haired red bartender from the tavern?" as if he doesn't have a name.

to be honest, you've had the urge to scream "his name is diluc for fucks sake" in front on monstadt, but you sadly,, never got the chance.

why?

because diluc always readsured you it was fine.

but you knew, he hated it.

just from the look on his face when people called him the "red-haired bartender",, he was really hurt.

even though monstadt is a pretty small place, people still didn't know his name, and it angered you.

what pissed you off the most was people hitting on him while you were standing right beside him while holding his hand.

"oh diluc you're so tall and handsome!!" this random girl stated, clinging onto him.

'for once someone remembered his name...' you thought.

"mm." he replied, displaying that he's uninterested since you were holding his hand.

"oh! and who are you?"

'please end me-'

"they're my-"

"oh, a friend!" the girl interuppted.

'tHIS BI-'

"i swear to fUCKING BARBATOS-" diluc stared at you with wide eyes, already enjoying the drama unraveling.

"IF YOUR HILICHURL LOOKING ASS WON'T STOP FLIRTING WITH MY BOYFRIEND I WON'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH GETTING ALBEDO TO MAKE A POTION THAT WILL DESTROY, AND I MEAN FUCKING DESTROY,, YOUR VOCAL C- oh she's gone?"

diluc was really proud <3

zhongli

okok this homeless bitch forgets mora is a thing,, especially when you're with him.

he'll make you buy something but oh boy,, when his fans are there it feels great to not spend your mora on him.

but the girls that swoon over him are a WHOLE different story.

their flirty looks, dress to impress, high pitched voice, and their too polite.

you can't count how many times a girl has told you to back off even though your his s/o.

but it was fun seeing zhongli suffer,, because you knew you were his <3

but oH bOy,, there was this girl who just made you want to murder her.

"a knife." you mumbled as zhongli chuckled at you.

"[name] don't touch it." he warned, giving you an aggressive look.

"why do you need to tell them what to do and what not to do?? oh that's right,, they're a dog!" the girl laughed, zhongli was absolutely pissed and you were ready to snap her neck.

"suddenly [name] you can take that knife."

"i'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!" you shouted as you grabbed the knife from it's holder.

you grabbed her buy the neck and placed the knife on her throat as she quivered in her spot.

"one, two, th-"

"[name]."

"but babe.. i wasn't going to hurt her.."

"yet.." zhongli stared at you,, sugesting you put the knife down.

"fine, fine. but you owe me." and with that he nodded as the girl ran away.

venti

the sneaky fuckass was well known with his words,, and it's not okay.

venti could either slide in small sarcastic teasing flirts or on demand drunk flirtting 24/7.

and he always, and i mean ALWAYS flirts with other girls, but the two of you know it's a joke because barbatos himself knows he'll drag you into an alleyway for a lil' makeout shesh and shower you with some lovely words.

his love songs also described you,, a little too much. but i mean, it was really freaking cute.

as much as his fans loved him, he spent about 30 minutes after hos preformance with him, and if it felt like forever for you,, then you'd end up stealing him from you. but there was this one time this girl would not let go of him.

"venti!!~" you whined as you ran up to him, engulfing the bard in a hug.

"hi [name]!" venti grinned back along with serving a hug.

"aether told me to come and get you since he needed something, if that's alright that is."

"oh it-"

"i'm seriously tired of this bullshit already, who are you and why do you take him away every so often?! seriously, the world doesn't revolve around you!" a blonde girl shouted as an irk mark appeared on you and venti.

"oh, is it my fault the honorary knight of monstadt need the bard? i'm sorry for aether needing him." you replied sarcastically, the girl getting more fed up.

"yes, in fact it is your fault! you take him away because of your fucking jealousy that we get to spend more time with him than you do! i've seen you sitting from a far watching all of us talk to him! bitch." she answered, walking up to you as she then slapped you.

"hey, cut it out! seriously what the heck!" venti glared at her, as he turned to face you. "[name] are you okay???" he questioned, grabbing the cheek the random girl slapped gently.

"rest assured that i'm fine, it's best you get aether and paimon incase things begin to escalate." you smiled as he nodded in response, making his way to the knights headquarters.

"pfft, you can't even fight can you? well i sure can! so test me!" she grinned preparing to throw punches.

"mhm, ok yeah sure." you laughed, letting her take the first hit, as she stood there absolutely confused.

"what are you waiting for?! hit m-"

"no."

"i'm sorry what?"

"i said no, are you fucking deaf?"

the girl fumed as she began to swing, that was her first mistake. reluctantly, you doged her punch. pulling out your weapon, you stared at her.

"should i, or should i not stab you right here?"

"[name] are you alright?!" venti and aether shouted as they bith dashed towards you.

"ah, i'm fine!" you replied, grabbing venti's hat as you pht it onto yours.

"i suggest you leave before i snap your neck." you told the blonde as she stumbled in shock, running away from your dark aura.

"you're amazing." venti laughed.

#genshin imagines #genshin hcs #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin aether #genshin paimon #genshin x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin venti #venti x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #venti headcanons #genshin pov

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Masquerade

Hawks/Keigo Takami x Reader

Summary: you run into a man who helps you take a short break from the life of a party that could bore anyone to death, he says he has his own agency and struggles with people recognizing him, but that doesn’t ring a bell for you.

Masterlist

The sound of laughter, shuffling expensive fabric, obnoxiously loud conversations, and the smell of expensive beverages wasn’t quite your scene as you stood amongst a circle of people. You stood and listened to them boast and brag behind their little shades or masks that were there in hopes of masking their identities along with their hero names that may or may not have been flattering or embarrassing. Those awful conversations filled with champagne did not mix with the classical music that played from the live, mini sized orchestra either and it could almost make a cringe burden your face behind the simple masquerade mask you wore, but you always caught your emotions from glinting across your face, it was a skill that you needed to learn and master from a young age. That is what came from being conditioned by the commission itself you guessed from early on in your life. Guess you could chalk it up to being old habits that would forever stick to you. 

“And you! You were elected as the commission’s designer right? So you get to play around with costumes for heroes all day? Play dress up?” Questioned one of the heroes in the little circle. It perturbed you a bit, you expected to go all night without anyone asking you questions and seemingly being passive aggressive with it. Or that person be slightly intoxicated as well since you could hear the slur in their words and sway in their step. So what do you do?

“Of course, what else would I be doing?” You replied back with a charming smile, flute of champagne soon brought up to your lips as you took a small sip, everyone’s attention now back to their bragging and constant and silent battle on who was the best among them. None of them however were in the top 100, that's for sure. 

Your eyes now quickly darted around the room. You wanted an escape, but then what? Find yourself in another circle of heroes who tried to compensate for their lack of popularity? Or have someone else belittle your place in the world? Sitting by yourself didn’t seem at all bad, but what goof will that do? Sitting by yourself in a room filled with people obligated to do good? They would probably approach you and offer to sit with you like the nice popular girl does to the weirdo at school before homecoming queen is voted for. Oh well, you guessed, might as well do as you go. You slowly backed away from the circle, the others preoccupied with themselves. 

“Oh no, I’m not interested..” A man spoke out, a woman seeming to follow with every step he took away. He let out a small exclamation as he felt something solid run into his side. You gave a sigh, mouth about to open to scold the person who had bumped into your side, though soon you felt your body be turned, the person who had almost made you soil the front of your dress with your champagne now had their arm around you. “You see, my wife here wouldn’t appreciate me gallivanting around with strange women, isn’t that right dear?”

You were confused and maybe even slightly dazed as you heard the man say that, You were even more in a daze as you looked up to the masked figure and to the red wings that were almost sprawls magnificently out from behind him, glinting under the many lights upon the chandelier above. A little clear from his throat made you come back to your sense as you brought that charming smile you were told to do over and over again, giving a soft nod of your head as you looked to the defeated woman before you. 

“You are correct about that dear, I wouldn’t appreciate you going out with mysterious women that aren’t me!” You said with a laugh, flute placed upon a tray of a passing waiter, hand now placed upon the man’s chest, the woman profusely apologizing before scurrying away to hide her embarrassed self amongst the many crowds and to possibly avoid the man’s face along with your own. 

“Lets go honey” He spoke, you giving a vigorous nod of your had as took his arm, following after his casual steps and past the many groups of people and passed the open curtains that covered the tall entrances to the many platforms that lined the ballroom. This particular one clichély led to the gardens of the venue. You didn’t care how cliché it was though, you were glad to now catch a break from the annoyances that walked and spat all over those polished ballroom floors. “Man, that was close, thanks for playing along” He said as he let a sigh of relief. 

“I should be thanking you, I don’t know how long I could take all those ridiculous conversations anymore” You said as you let go of his arm, taking the liberty to step ahead and down the marble steps the lead to the grass that almost seemed to be fake by how perfect it seemed to be. “Mind entertaining me for a bit? Before we either have to join the party or leave?” You asked with a small smirk to which he only returned as he followed in your shadow, hand soon lifting the small train of your gown. “Lets sit for a bit” you suggested as you sat down upon a small stone bench that was sat off to the side along the cement path that led through the garden or various bushes of flowers and fruit. The masked man sat beside you, the train of fabric he once held now piled onto his lap.

“I would have thought this mask would have hidden my identity, too bad my wings are a dead giveaway” He mumbled, though you only raised an eyebrow at him before looking off onto the garden. “What?” he asked, you only shrugging your shoulders.

“Just that I find you conceited. I don’t know who you are” you pointedly out with a matter of fact tone as you folded your hands on your lap, the other, who you guessed was a hero, looked at you in bewilderment.

“You live under a rock or something lady?” He asked as he ruffled his feathers a bit, face scrunched up with his confusion as you looked back to him accusingly, hands snatching the trail of your dress from his lap, tossing it to the ground as you got up. 

“For your information I am a costume and weapon concept designer for the comission...so its pretty much my job to do business with who they tell me about and keep to myself about anyone else.....and gossip magazines and drama news channels isn’t really my thing if you are only known for being controversial.” With that you were marching down the path towards the garden, the man now scrambling up and easily catching up with you.

“Whoa there, I’m sorry, I’m just not use to people who really don’t know who I’m and when I say that I really am not trying to sound so....”

“Douchey?”

“Yeah....douchey” he confirmed with a small laugh as he looked over his shoulder and to the classy party that was still carrying on within the fancy walls of the ballroom. “Look...I’m Hawks” He finally said, reaching out a hand, which you only gave a small glance before you sighed, your hand soon giving his a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise” you spoke out, though you only stiffly and sassily turned away to continue your walk along the crackless cement path, Hawks now falling in step beside you. You were glad, just by a tiny bit, that's all you would admit to yourself as you looked over to him. “So, you area hero I’m guessing? Judging by your name?” You asked as you clasped your hands behind your back, Hawks shoving his hands into the stiff pockets of his trousers. 

“Yeah, I am. I have my own agency in Fukuoka city. I have plenty of sidekicks registered with me, but really they end up being my cleanup crew. I’m a little to fast to keep up with” with a sheepish smile he looked down to you who only nodded your head with a hum before looking back ahead. “I can control my feathers from my wings, helps fulfill my need of being a constant mutli tasker” he joked a bit, which you gave a small laugh as you looked to his wings he now stretched out behind him fully. They only seemed to put you in awe as you raised a hand questioningly, only letting your hand softly brush against the red feathers once he gave a nod of permission.

“You seem pretty young, that is a lot you’ve got accomplished” You complimented, your steps now coming to halt as the two of you now made eye contact. Though he looked away to now look up to the starry night.

“I could say the same for you, you are the same age or yet probably a year or two younger” he pointed out before he looked down to you, waiting expectantly for an answer. you gave a nod of your head.

“What can I say? The commission liked what I could do and plucked me right up after my graduation” you said with a small roll of your eyes and a sarcastic chuckle. “Can’t complain, I wouldn’t be standing here with all these opportunities handed to me.” a sigh was soon pushed out into the cool spring air, Hawks giving a soft nod before looking back down to you.

“Yeah, I’m all too familiar with that...” you were just about to open your mouth to ask him a question before you cellphone had began to blare out it’s annoying ringtone, causing your to scramble for it within your bag to finally answer it, walking a bit ahead to hush words into the device before hurrying back. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to leave!” you shouted as you were already running off as fast as your heeled feet could take you, Hawks trying his best catch up, but once you had begun to weave through the groups, he lost you. With a curse he got swept away in a group, now to only be left to wish to see you again. 

“Good morning!” Called the secretary as you sipped tiredly from your coffee and was now skillfully opening your office door despite the binders and folders that were balanced on your arm. “You had a delivery this morning, so i placed it on your desk” called the secretary as you entered your room, eyes landing upon the flowers that rested in their vase on your desk. 

“What in the world....” you muttered out as you settled the things down on the work table nearby, now stepping up to the vase that held the arrangement to pluck off the note that sat in it’s little plastic holder. 

‘I didn’t even get the chance to ask for a number let alone an email address or something...so here is mine -Hawks’ and there was the number and there was the stupid grin that managed to crawl on your face as you sat down at your desk now admiring the flowers.

“Goodness..” you mumbled out as you grabbed the remote for the tv that was mounted onto the wall, turning on the channel, listening to the voices as you prepped your desk for the work you were about to begin. 

“Number two hero Hawks made an appearance at the ball for Hero and all Hero support personnel and sidekicks hosted by the commission to raise donations for the damage caused by....” Though the rest of the words now drowned out from your ears as your mouth was now agape, you now sitting up straight within your chair as you stared down to the name ‘Hawks’ scribbled on the small piece of cardstock. 

“What?!” You exclaimed. Wow...you really escaped that ball with the nation’s number two hero and didn’t even know. 

How embarrassing...

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha headcanons #my hero academy fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha oneshots #hawks headcanons #hawks x oc #hawks x me #hawks x listener #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #hawks x reader #keigo takami x oc #mha keigo takami #takami keigo headcanon #keigo takami x reader #mha hawks #bnha hawks #bnha keigo #bnha imagines #Keigo Takami #keigo takami headcanons #keigo takami x you