#and i try to sprinkle in personal requests here and there bc i know that those r very vulnerable and special | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softxsuki · 4 months

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BIG BLOG UPDATES AND CHANGES. IMPORTANT. PLS READ

REGULAR REQUESTS:

Starting January 1, 2024 I will be deleting all my WIPs. Any request that is currently in my inbox will be deleted.

I thought about this long and hard and it’s something I’ve been thinking of doing for a while now; it started with me slowly deleting a few that didn’t inspire me, but now I think I just need a fresh start

And I just thought I’d remind everyone that my requests are now suggestions. So if you request something there is no guarantee that I will be able to write it for you

I’d like to start writing things that truly inspire me and maybe even sprinkle in a few writing with my own ideas

Ik writing in here is a hobby for a lot of other writers, but it’s my ultimate goal to one day have my own book published. This blog is just practice for me to write and honestly it became my safe place that I created after my aunt passed away, and I feel like I’m slowly losing that

With all that said, I’ll be leaving my wips up until the end of the year if you can’t remember what you requested, you can try and resend it in to see if ill be able to write that for you or not

URGENT REQUESTS:

Starting next year my urgent requests will be limited. I’ll have 3 urgent request spots open each month. Once they fill up, that’s it for the month

I’ve had so many events that had to be pushed back for months because I keep receiving endless urgent requests at a time. I know some of you really need it for comfort but other are just abusing them to get their requests written faster and this is the only solution I can come up with

If I’ve already written a requests regarding your topic, I’ll probably respond to your request with links to posts I’ve already written regarding that topic. I’ve written about suicide, self harm, depression, etc SO many times and I’m starting to run out of unique ideas. And it’s honestly not super great for my mental health to write stuff like that so often.

However if you urgently need a request about a topic like that, that I’ve written about already (so long as you’re requesting it for a character I haven’t used that topic for yet) and you can give me an idea that helps me out then I’ll do it. Bc I know these are issues that a lot of ppl struggle with and I don’t want to just ban those kinds of requests at all

Also please give me a short reason as to why this request is urgent. If I don’t think your request is urgent, I won’t be writing it. I’d like to save these spots for ppl who realllllly really need it and could be helped with this. And ofc any urgent requests that make me uncomfortable or topics that I know nothing about and don’t want to offend anyone with accidentally, I also won’t be writing.

And lastly with urgent requests, a thanks would be great. I’ve written like 10 urgent requests in the last few months and I’ve only heard back from one of them. It’s discouraging to write something for someone that they labeled urgent and then never hear a word from them again. No thank you, no feedback, nothing. A quick thanks would mean the world to me and encourage me to continue writing urgent requests for you guys. Pls and thank you

Which leads me to my next point

SAYING THANK YOU:

I come in here and write for FREE. I take requests for FREE. all of this is for free. And all I ask for in return is kindness

If you request something and I write it for you, a thanks would be wonderful

Maybe even some feedback. I’m open to constructive criticism as well, so long as you’re nice about it !

Out of all the writing I’ve posted, I’ve probably o my heard back from like 10% of you, which just makes me want to delete my account and not even both honestly.

I don’t even care about the likes or reblogs, my writing could get one like, but just hearing some feed back or even a thank you, especially from the person who requested it would make the world of a difference.

Even if you popped into my ask box to remain an anon, that works too!

This is a huge part of the reason why writing on here has started to feel so draining for me. I want to love writing again and I know this is something I can’t force ppl to do, but I gotta let it out

And lastly, when requesting, please don’t demand. “I want a drabble” I don’t write for people who demand. A please or “could you please” is perfect. Simple and easy to do

EMOJI ANONS:

I’m not sure how to go about doing this or even if I should do this

But I think most of my anons have disappeared or maybe just don’t interact with me anymore?

Perhaps we can do an anon role call? Where you just send me your emoji in my ask box just so I know you’re still around and if some emoji anons that I have listed don’t respond, then I’ll delete them?

Or should I just leave it as it is?

Idk so let me know if you have any suggestions regarding that

I love you guys a lot and appreciate so many of you, especially my regulars. I know some of you are shy and stay as ghost readers. I still appreciate you all 💗 but these are just some changes I’d like to make for my happiness and mental well being honestly 😭. I think I need a fresh start and just some more boundaries bc I feel like I’m stagnant RN and getting nowhere with the things I’d like to do.

SO these changes will begin January 1, 2024.

My wips will be wiped clean, starting over, so if you’ve recently requested something and want to try and resend it in to see if I’ll write it, give it a shot.

I hope I’m not coming across as rude or anything, im used to putting other ppl first and I tend to lose myself in the process so I just feel like this is something I really need to do. Im sorry if anyone is disappointed by this, but hopefully you’ll stick around to see any other new exciting events and writings I put out :)

Love you guys always 💗

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theguyinthemathexamples · 1 year

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Hihi!

the name's CakesInOil, aka theguyinthemathproblems, and i'm that one person in your fyp that takes nothing seriously and also the one that you'd realized has the mental capacity of a squirrel and a very very messed up, and an essentially non-existent sleep schedule the longer you get to know me :))

though, in all seriousness, i'm an ongoing genshin writer and yes, lowercase is intended whenever i write, excluding brainrots, drabbles, and possible future fanfics :DD

if you want to request anything, then go ahead :D

(more utc :]])

just note, tho, that the things I won't be doing are:

nsfw (which, yes, does include suggestive themes)

heavy themes of violence (angst ain't just my cup of coffee tbh, but i will try and experiment with it in the coming future),

anything,, yk, disgusting, which i won't be listing as i'm sure you know what i mean by what i said,

and overall ships that just spell "..why on god did he even allow people like you to exist here on earth??" and "i wonder how god hasn't smite you yet" for your entire mindset and existence.

and if you have any questions regarding my "do not request" limits, just dm me or send an ask. don't worry, i won't bite :))

if you don't want to send a request or an ask and just want to send something random, then go ahead, i won't mind :DD

A few things about me!

i may curse here and there but i'll try my best to tone it down a lot ^^""

i like to do little faces like :D, :), >:(, and etc. so that people can somewhat guess the sentence's context/intentions a little better :>

i'll wake up in the middle of the night and write random stuff that i would have no memory of doing (and tumblr will now have to hear every single end of it :))

i considered drabbles as brainrots bc i didn't know what it was called before

i'm under your bed :) /j

i use any type of pronouns (excluding neopronouns) but mostly use they/them to address myself :D

Custom tags :D

# collective reigning recipes ° : cake's everyday quotes (use them if u want lmao)

# fool's flour ° : cake talks/rambles about things that are mostly irl experiences

# sparkling wheat ♪ : cake talks/rambles about things that are related to fandoms, mostly containing content about genshin and hsr

# perilous eggs ° : cake answers asks/reqs/talks from anons or readers/viewers :>

# moonlit hens ♪ : cake answers asks/reqs/talks from their beloved moots :D

# obsidian-hard sugar ° : cake draws stuff :D

# "titan's wrath" frosting ° : cake... vents about stuff. *silently opens and closes vent on the floor*

# spoiled milk ° : cake spoils stuff, mostly about genshin and hsr

# sunlit cows ♪ : cake makes shitposts whether random or fandom related :)

Fic types :DD

# cherry waterfall * : cake makes a fic series

# scaled vanilla extracts ° : x reader fics

# suspiciously shiny mint chocolate ♪ : character x character fics maybe?

# gold coated cocoa powder ♪ : drabbles/short fics, might turn into cherry waterfalls if motivated enough

# silver lined strawberries ♪ : posts about/fics explaining aus, mostly from genshin and hsr

# stellar-borne cookies and cream ♪ : brainrots/headcannons that are more or less gonna turn into gold coated cocoa powder if braincells go boom boom big and loud enough

# sun-kissed sprinkles ♪ : cake reposts about stuff hehe >:]]

———————————

if i missed anything, don't hesitate to tell me about it :D

btw, yes, i will post very very very slowly, like even more slowly than a snail or tutrle bc i've unfortunately been very very busy as of late :((

"no no no no no BB by be in the na na na na BB I'll buy by by by" - my goofy ahh autocorrect, nov 15, 2022

#how do i tag lmao #send help #sagau #genshin writer #new writer here :)#watch me do a flip /hj #watch me post smth a few minutes/hours later after this lmao #genshin sagau #introducing myself #it is 3am #this is fine #intro post #made this just so i could reply to an ask 💞💞

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tacticalhimbo · 11 months

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simply-jason -> tacticalhimbo

my name is jason, and i’m just your average gay, genderqueer trans man from florida.

in the wise words of someordinarygamers: " being a floridian is like--it's basically like playing fallout: new vegas with the wild west perk enabled. shenanigans will just happen. "

i have a variety of hobbies that i like to share with others! these hobbies include art, content creation, gaming, and video editing.

this is mostly a personal blog with some fandom stuff sprinkled throughout it! i try to tag everything accordingly, but please don't hesitate to let me know if something needs to be tagged ^^;

i've recently gotten more into virtual photography, so i try to post stuff from my fave games and such! but honestly, a lot of it will be made in the sims 4 because i can get my ocs to look how i imagine them better :3

that said, you are unwelcome here if you are: racist / xenophobic, antisemetic / zionist, islamophobic, queerphobic, misogynistic, ableist, pedophile / "pro-ship", pro-ana / pro- eating disorders, a nazi, right winger/trump supporter, pro police/military, believe “all lives matter” (aka: discredit blm and similar bipoc-focused movements), are a terf/tehm/transmedicalist, are an exclusionist, etc. do not interact, i will block you on sight bc that is my right 💕

name / nicknames: jason, jay, jas

pronouns: they / it / xe / pup ┊ es/xier (auf deutsch)

selectively mute and neurodiverse

languages: english / german

some terms i use to describe my identity and orientation include: ambiamorous, cyberdog, gay, nonbinary, polyamorous, queer, transgender, transmasculine, aromantic, allosexual, genderqueer, and gender outlaw !!

i'm okay with both neutral and masculine compliments and honorifics.

here's some blog stats!

asks: open; anonymous on post replies: open to everyone messages: open to everyone — sideblogs: @tacticalvalor (oc & canon multi-muse roleplay; currently on hiatus) ┊ @jessepinkmanbf (brba/bcs posting; low activity) ┊ @devitalization (gamedec posting; very low activity) ┊ @pistolenprinz (red dead posting; low activity / just started) ┊ @simply-jason (sideblog / archived url; reblogging my created conten)

more about me (neocities) ┊ social justice resources (carrd) ┊ oc-focused server (discord)

curious about my ocs? check them out here !!

wanna see my fursona? check out these cool art pieces here or check its tag here

every so often, i like to do stuff for other people! here's a small checklist of the different things i'd be willing to do, and their status:

audio / meta / post requests: open !! feel free to ask me about stuff or request any stuff. this can be asking for thoughts on things (fictional and otherwise), headcanons i have, interpretations of loose canon, etc etc. and yes, this now includes ficlets and/or specific headcanons for characters.

writing and fic commissions: closed indefinitely; my payment processor refuses to fix my account :')

likewise, i post a lot of my own original content! here's some of my tags to check out:

my edits (usually video edits, but might include picture-esque stuff too) [tag]

my virtual photography [tag]

my writing [tag]

my gifs [tag]

my fics [tag]

#txt #about me #pinned post

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

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Rekindling

Part Two of The Necklace (2/3)

Read Part One Here

Obi-Wan x Reader (f)

Warnings: none; fluff and angst

Word Count: 1.4k

Based on this Request:

“If you still need that inspiration... maybe an obi-wan thing where he makes the reader a beautiful necklace when they were young padawans and they get separated bc reader goes om a long mission but when they meet again as adults she still wears it and then he confesses his feelings (a bit of anakin teasing his master about his obvious feelings sprinkled in perhaps😂)”

A/N: Like part one, parts in italics are flashbacks! Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you like Part Two! Thanks again to @katevino for the request!

My tags are also now open for anyone who would like to be added! Also my requests are currently open!

Part three will be posted Thursday and will contain smut so this can be read as a two part fic or a three part fic. This one reads like it can be the end even though there is another part coming!

“When are you leaving?” he asked you, tears threatening to fall as they filled the corners of his eyes.

“Tomorrow morning,” you reply unable to meet his gaze so you keep your eyes fixed on the pattern of the tiles on the floor.

“How long will you be gone?” he sniffles, looking back up to you. He puffs out his chest slightly, like he’s trying to prevent strength and you don’t know if that’s for your or his sake.

“Indefinitely,” you respond after a sharp intake of breath to steady your breathing. “Master Yoda said it’s more like a relocation than one mission. I’m to accompany my Master as he is needed on Alderaan. Obi-Wan, I don’t have a choice.”

You weren’t children anymore, and it was so incredibly foolish of you both to have allowed your feelings to overcome you both this way. He had only just returned from Tatooine, the Jedi Consul meeting with Qui Gon-Jinn and the boy they brought back as the two of you spoke. Silent looks of desperation and sadness exchanged between the two of you. You were already torn apart once, and now just as he returns back to you, you are being sent away again.

“Let’s run away together,” he says suddenly, taking your hands.

“Obi-Wan…”

“We can leave the Order,” he begins quickly, letting his emotions completely take control. “We can move far away from here and just be together. We can get married, and just not have to hide anything. I want you, and I always have. I’d leave right now if you wanted. I care more about you than anything else in this lifetime. We can go to Naboo- I know you said you’d always wanted to visit and I promise you it’s beautiful.”

“Obi-Wan,” you say shaking your head, cutting him off. You keep your eyes closed tightly, trying to keep tears from spilling uncontrollably. “No.”

He sighs, but his breath is so shaky. You both are trying your best to find composure. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, resting his forehead against your own.

“I’m going to miss you,” you say, and you just now realize there is a steady stream of tears rolling down your cheeks.

“(Y/N), please,” Obi-Wan says, not entirely sure what he is even asking as he lifts his thumb to your cheek to wipe away the tears.

“We dedicated ourselves to the Jedi Order,” you say, trying to talk yourself out of his plan that you so desperately just wanted to surrender to. “Obi-Wan, we have been so incredibly blinded by our emotions. How can we allow ourselves to be so selfish as the galaxy is faced with the possibility of war?”

“I suppose you’re right darling,” he sighs. You both had responsibilities that weighed more important than your own personal tragedy.

“You should do your best to forget about me,” you struggle to say, stepping back from his embrace. “We should move forward from here like nothing ever- we never happened. Focus and commit to the code we pledged to uphold. It was all a mistake.”

“Darling, loving you was never a mistake.”

And with that, you were gone. Unable to bear being near him for another moment. It was too painful.

It had been ten years since you had last been at the Jedi Temple. As you navigate the halls to find your sleeping quarters, you notice the feeling of home you once felt here no longer existed for you. Perhaps that feeling all those years ago was Obi-Wan, you wonder. Finding your quarters, you survey the emptiness of the room. It was so incredibly sparce, and you imagine how you would decorate it if time permitted you to stay.

You feel uneasy, the Temple now feeling foreign to you when it was once the only place you had ever known. You remember back to that last conversation with him and how miserably you failed to forget and overcome your feelings. You wondered if Obi-Wan had been more successful. He must have, you think, you know Obi-Wan very well and he always excelled in areas of the Force you struggled with. You try your best to let the thoughts of him slip away to the back of your mind and try to get settled.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan and Anakin were just returning back to the Temple. Anakin ruthlessly pestering Obi-Wan with questions.

“I think she is still in love with you, Master,” Anakin said with a grin, happy he was successful in making Obi-Wan flustered. “I sensed something when you two were talking.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, “I must insist you stop bringing up these theories of yours.”

“They aren’t theories, Master,” Anakin chuckles, shaking his head at Obi-Wan. “And deep down you know I’m right.”

Obi-Wan sighed heavily, crossing his arms, thinking on how to respond to Anakin. “Anakin, it was over ten years ago. You need to put this to rest.”

“You need to stop running from your feelings, Master.”

“I wasn’t the one who ended things,” he says, exasperated. “She was the one who was stronger than me- she always has been. Now, please, don’t bring her up again.”

“I’m sorry Master,” Anakin says earnestly.

“It’s okay,” he replies with a sad smile. “It’s nothing more than reuniting with an old friend.”

“Of course.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Obi-Wan says, noticing how Anakin is saddened.

“I only care about your happiness, Master,” Anakin replies, the conversation finalized.

Obi-Wan walked back to his quarters, still overcome with memories of what feels like a past life with you. His thoughts weigh heavy as they shift to the realization that you are finally here. How much he longed for a day when you’d return home to him. Now that you were here, and he could feel your presence echoing in the halls again, he found himself disappointed. He spent years hopelessly wishing for you to come back, and the circumstances now add to the harsh realization those hopes will always be just that.

He was meditating when you arrived at his door. The tension in the air between the two of you was heavy as he watched you look around his room. You were just taking a moment to observe what he had on display, the mementos allowing you to form some kind of narrative of the life he’s led since you’d last seen him.

“I’m really happy to be back,” you say finally, your voice cutting through the weighted atmosphere. He pondered his conversation with Anakin. He was so quick to dismiss Anakin’s observation and now he feels a pull at his heart as he wishes that Anakin is correct.

“How do you like it on Alderaan?” he asks, holding his hands behind his back. Part of him genuinely wanted to hear about your mission and the specialty of your work, but it was more of a stall tactic to avoid the actual questions he was dying to ask you.

“It’s not home, but I like it fine,” you smile, looking back to him. Your heart feeling like it’s beating faster than it ever has before. The social niceties and the catching up questions were killing you inside. Your mind was scrambled and you frantically tried to find more to say. You could only think about him, and how he was finally right there in front of you. Looking at you the same way he always had.

“It’s a shame you cannot stay longer,” Obi-Wan says, his eyes looking nervously down on the floor before meeting your gaze again. “I wish we had more time… Oh, (Y/N), things ended so terribly when I last saw you. I feel heartsick thinking about it. I tried to find you the next day, give you a proper goodbye but you had already gone.”

“That was my doing,” you admit, looking down at your feet as he takes a few daring steps closer to you. “I knew if I had saw you again, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.”

“Oh darling,” he whispers softly, pulling you into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you tightly, the familiar warmth of his chest helping to calm you. You hadn’t even realized you had started crying until you felt the dampness of his tunic against your cheek. You rested your hands gently on his chest as he held you tightly, resting his chin on your head.

This feels like home, you say to yourself, the wave of anxieties and clutter in your mind vanishing at his touch. You could stay there just like that forever. Years you spent struggling with your thoughts and emotions, only ever just making them worse, and the one thing you needed was just to be with him- and it was all just so painstakingly clear.

“I’m not leaving you again,” you whisper softly.

Taglist:

@blackirisposts

#obi wan fluff #obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #obi wan imagine #obiwan x reader #star wars imagine #star wars one shot #fluff #angst #obi wan needs a hug #star wars #obi wan reader insert

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uwuwriting · 4 years

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Shinsou and Bakugou w/ truth quirk

Request: Can I request headcanons for Shinsou, Bakugou and a character of our choice(s?) where said person is hit by a truth quirk so truth bombs galore everywhere and they realize they need to avoid the reader like the plague. Like they literally take off holding their mouth. Because the reader does not need to know about their giant crush. Their every thought. Or that one dream they're still ashamed of themselves for having. And their friends don't make it easy. - anon

I’ve seen a ton of those ‘clone who shows true emotions’ scenarios and imagines and they manage to make me laugh every time. Just the thought of these boys desperately trying to keep the truth from coming out cracks me up every time. Enjoy. Love yaa.💖💖💖

warnings: a sprinkle of crack

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Ha

-HA

-You are the plague now.

-I mean he avoided you before because he got anxious around you but he would talk to you sometimes.

-Now he combusts on the sight of you.

-It’s hilarious.

-Kaminari is wheezing at the corner because they saw you in the hallway and Shinsou our baby here hid behind the janitors huge garbage can *you know the one with the wheels and the cleaning supplies*.

-Tbh Kaminari is struggling to keep a straight face every single time Shinsou finds an impromptu hiding place.

-It’s taking a toll on you as well and he doesn’t know that because he won’t come in a five mile radius of you.

-You like Shinsou you really do.

-You wished you were something more than friends but you know that he isn’t interested, I mean he doesn’t really want to spend much time with you so....

-And now you have done something and he decided to put you in his black list.

-You haven’t seen him all week and every time you think you see him he has disappeared.

-Poor baby Y/N if only you knew.

-Shinsou has had five breakdowns as of now because he’s pretty sure you hate him at this point.

-Kaminari has just about had it and has set out on a journey to unite the two love struck souls at last.

-Those were the exact words he said to Mina while he was talking about his plan I kid you not.

-He didn’t have to do anything though bc you dragged Shinsou’s ass in one of the classrooms when you finally spotted him.

- “Okay spill it! What did I do?”

-You were ANGRY.

-And he was scared not only of you but also of the things that were about to come out of his mouth.

- “SO??? You are just going to stay silent?”

-Is that steam coming from your head?

- “You did nothing wrong I’m just afraid of telling you how I feel.”

-Ah there it is the first slip up.

- “And don’t get me started on that dream I had. The situation was very similar.”

-Hitoshi STFU!!!!

-You were blushing and stammering over your words while he was covering his mouth as to not say anything and make matters worse.

-Finally you composed yourself and listened to what Kaminari had to say since Shinsou wasn’t opening his mouth ever again.

-One hell of a story to tell the kids am i right??

Bakugou Katsuki

-A dumpster fire tbh.

-He’s already a raging ball of anger management issues and with the extra stress....oh boy.

-Unlike Shinsou he would not change his schedule and takes the risk of running into you.

-And when he does.....be prepared for a string of overly aggresive compliments.

-You can’t decided if you should be offended or flattered.

-So you just flush a deep red and YOU ignore him.

-You may be in the same class but you are amazing at exiting the room in a flash.

-Its better for him as well.

-He doesn’t have to worry about his mouth when he’s around you if you doesn’t see you at all.

-That is until he had that one specific thought.

-The bad one.

-The you-need-Jesus one.

-Your skirt had ridden up to your upper waist while you were trying to reach something for Mina and it exposed your thighs and you did something to Bakugouuuuu.

-He swears he wasn’t meaning to say it.

-He really does.

- “Oi Y/N nice legs!”

-Everyone froze.

-Maybe time froze as well but you wouldn’t know you were trying to come up with a clap back.

-So you being the cheeky little shit that you actually ARE you decided to tease him.

- “We know you like it juicy Bakugou but please keep the drool in your mouth.”

-He did not speak for the rest of the day.

-The blush never left.

-I don’t think it would ever leave lol.

-Poor thing almost had a heatstroke.

-Of course when the quirk wore off and he could speak with no fear he apologized to you and explained everything.

-He also confessed in the most Bakugou way but you still accepted.

-Of course you would, after what he said and how he was eyeing you... who would say no?????

TAG TEAM AY:

@brattyquirks @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings

#bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou fluff #shinsou x you #my hero academia shinsou #shinsou x y/n #bnha

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

"You made these cupcakes for me?" With Marcus Pike. Because giving people baked goods is a perk of knowing me 😃

Cupcake (Marcus Pike x Reader)

summary: you’re having a bad day. your boyfriend, Marcus Pike, will not allow his cupcake to feel so shitty.

warnings: like, a single use of fuck. reader’s just having a bad day. some tears, mentions of food. tooth-decaying fluff.

w/c: 1.1k

a/n: this shit hurts my heart bc it’s so soft. I just want Marcus Pike to call me cupcake is that too much to ask?? Mandy this prompt was so cute I’m so glad u requested it ✨🥰🧁

Marcus Pike is the perfect boyfriend, you have to admit. Not a day goes by without some kind gesture from the man you love, whether that’s a phone call just to hear your voice or a bouquet of flowers waiting for you in your apartment when you came home from work.

Not only is the man wonderful at gestures, but he’s nearly sickeningly affectionate. Marcus loves to hug you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck and murmuring affirmations of his love. He’s got lots of nicknames for you: babe, baby, lover, cutie, and his personal favorite- cupcake.

It’s been a few months that you’ve been dating Marcus now, and every moment around him is nearly perfect. The issue arises, then, when you’re apart. Marcus is a busy man, especially with his job as head of the Art Crimes Department of the literal FBI. You’re busy too, with a full-time job and an apartment completely on the opposite side of DC.

Work today was a total pain in the ass. Marcus may be busy, but he always finds time to answer your calls. It’s a pact the two of you had made- if the other calls, you pick up. Both of you are often in need of reassurance and a little love from the other. That’s what prompts you to step into the bathroom with your cell phone halfway through a godawful day. You call him at his desk line, knowing the caller ID will display your name.

The phone rings twice before Marcus picks up. “Hey Cupcake,” he hums happily. “How’s your day going?”

“Bad,” you sniffle as you lock yourself in a stall.

His heart breaks at the tone in your voice. “Oh, honey.” You can hear the frown on his face. “What’s wrong? Tell me all about it.”

He’s so kind. So perfect. “I don’t deserve you,” you whimper before the tears start running down your face, a broken sob choking out from your throat.

“No, no, baby,” he assures. “Just tell me about your day. Talk to me, love.”

You nod and swallow hard, trying to compose your voice. “My alarm didn’t go off this morning, so I woke up late and rushed to work. My boss was already pissed so she chewed me out. There’s an important document she needed me to sign and I spilled my coffee on it,” you mumble, pulling yourself tight against the corner of the stall. “Now I’ve been working and it feels like all my coworkers know that I’m the reason Marcy is mad,” you admit, “even though they probably don’t and I’m probably just overreacting.”

“It’s all okay, baby,” he assures you, his mellow voice like music through the tinny speaker of your phone. “It’s all gonna be alright. Marcy can’t be that mad.”

“I don’t even know. I haven’t seen her since I asked her for another copy of the document, since it was covered in a fucking mocha.”

He gives a soft chuckle. “Aw, I’m sorry babe. What’s the rest of the day look like?” He asks.

“Nothing interesting or good. Just more work, and then we have a quick meeting before we leave. Are you working late tonight?”

A plan formulates in Marcus’s mind. He knows right now you won’t like it, but it’ll bring you lots of happiness later. “Yeah, I am,” he bluffs convincingly.

You believe it, pouting a little. “Damn.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, honey. Listen, I promise I’ll make it up to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you craving anything?” He asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “Something sweet sounds nice, but not now.”

“Are you sure? I’ll Doordash something to your office for you.”

You finally give a smile. “No, that’s okay, babe. Head back to work. I love you.”

“I love you too, Cupcake. Keep your head up.” He hangs up.

You sigh and lean your head back against the wall of the stall. Today is only going to get better, even if you don’t know it yet.

The rest of the work day passes by in a grueling and slow manner. Every little task seems to take hours, even if it’s only two minutes. It’s tiring.

All you really want is Marcus. For him to wrap you in his arms and kiss your head and tell you everything is going to be alright, because for some reason it’s always true when he says it. But he’s working, you know that. You sigh as you take the subway home from work, nearly falling asleep on the surprisingly quiet train.

When you get home, you sigh and unlock the door to your apartment. You kick off your shoes only to notice another pair, a pair that’s most definitely not yours. They’re bigger than your feet are- “Marcus?” You call out into the apartment.

“Yeah, baby,” he shouts back, and your tired expression turns into a grin.

“I thought you were supposed to be working late tonight!” You say, your entire body perking up.

“Lisbon covered for me,” he says as he walks out of your kitchen, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Go get into some cozy clothes and meet me in here, alright?” He orders gently as he looks at how tired your eyes are.

You nod and obey, trudging off to your room and changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt as well. The weight of the day seems lifted from your shoulders, or at least considerably lightened. You walk back to the kitchen and gasp as you see what’s waiting for you.

The table is set for dinner, but in the middle is a lit candle (your favorite scent), and a tray of messy-looking cupcakes. “You said you wanted something sweet,” he says with a shy grin, pulling out a chair for you.

“You made these cupcakes for me?” You ask, eyes watering and lower lip sticking out in a pout.

Marcus nods. “They’re really ugly, I know. I didn’t have anything good to put the frosting on there with, and honestly the sprinkles might be expired, but-”

You cut Marcus off by cupping his face and kissing him gently, the corners of your lips tugged up in a smile. You break away and throw your arms around him. He’s beautifully built, clearly muscular but slightly soft and the best for hugs. “Thank you, Marcus,” you murmur as the tears spill from your eyes and into his t-shirt.

“Anything for you, Cupcake.” -

Hope you enjoyed!

pls note my requests are open at any time!! you can always just send me a line you like and a character, doesn’t have to be from a specific prompt list or anything!!

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic

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tessiete · 3 years

Note

If you still take prompts: Rumors of the Duchess of Mandalore (bc patriarchal bs and misogynistic beliefs about female leaders) potentially getting married reaches Coruscant and Obi-Wan copes as well as can be expected. Cue sad boi sadness with maybe fluff at the end? Or go full angst I’m ok with either

I AM! I am still taking prompts, and I know this took a while to get around to because I’m also sloooooow at filling them. But here we are, dear anon. I hope you enjoy this little snippet! <3

THE GRAVITATIONAL DEFLECTION OF LIGHT

There is some silly, selfish part of him that he never outgrew, and like a weed in his gut it twists and writhes when he hears that the Duchess Kryze is to marry.

And suddenly, he finds himself thinking of her more often, and more frequently during situations where his attention would best be put to use elsewhere. In council, he is forced to ask Master Windu to repeat a question he’d failed to hear, his mind being drawn by the gleam of light off the Senate dome on the horizon. During a sparring match, he takes a hit he’d never have missed except that Anakin threatens to deliver him a close shave at the end of his saber, and he’s struck dumb by the memory of her hand upon his cheek. There are peace lilies in a vase in the Archives, and pure beskar changes hands in a deal he’s meant to disrupt at a Separatist camp, but by far the most egregious lapse comes in the midst of relief efforts in a small village on Taskeed. He is caught, for a moment, by the sight of a woman with blonde hair and a young boy on her hip turning away from him. His focus slips. A blaze of light flashes more quickly than he can see, and by the time he hears the retort of a blaster rifle he is already on the ground.

The clones close ranks around him. Cody kneels, calling in a medevac even as Obi-Wan tries to rise.

“No, sir, stay down,” he says, laying one hand against his shoulder. Obi-Wan winces at the contact. His muscles strain at the effort, the nerves at the site of his injury ruptured and ragged.

“Cody,” he chokes out. “There’s a hostile.”

His second is a merciful man and makes no comment on the idiocy of that statement. Instead, he bites open a pain tab, and shoves it between Obi-Wan’s teeth. Then, so rapidly he has no time to protest, he removes his belt, and tears apart the fabric at Obi-Wan’s waist, sprinkling sulfa powder over the gory wound, and pressing a bacta patch down to cover it.

There is no more blaster fire to mark their passage back to the ship, but the wound is too serious to treat on board The Negotiator. He is sent back to Coruscant as a consequence of his foolishness.

There, he is dipped in bacta, where he doesn’t dream, and he spends the next week of his convalescence thinking of her.

It had never been this bad during their first separation. The months following her ascension to the duchy had been painful, that he cannot deny, and he spent hours in his room lonely, and self-pitying, but he had been a child then and he can forgive himself now of the folly of youthful indiscretions. There followed more than a decade between them and he had gone days, weeks - upon the outbreak of war even months - without thinking of her at all.

But with one touch of her hand, he’s fallen again, his resolve crumbling into dust as though his indifference to her were only a veneer grown thin and brittle with being stretched over so much time.

The Duchess of Mandalore is to marry.

Why should that matter to him? They are friends. Hardly that, and nothing more. And it was he who had defined those terms. So why should he be restless, and anxious, and fretted up like some craftsman’s handiwork at the thought of it? It is silly. It is demeaning - to her, and to him.

And yet...he wants to know.

Who is she to marry? And when? How did they meet? Is he a Mandalorian, like her? Or did she meet him here? Did they meet at the Senate while he walked in the Temple only a few klicks away? Have they much in common? Do his political aims match hers? Does he long for peace like she does? Will he stand by her side in upholding it? Would he die for it? Would he die for her? Does she love him?

She must, he thinks. She must love him. She would not choose him, otherwise.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest thought of all.

He is confined to medbay with nothing to occupy his time but his holopad, his dispatch reports, and her when he sees a news story flash on his screen.

At Last! The Lily is Plucked

He cannot help himself as he reads about a chance meeting, a whirlwind romance, and plenty of private assignations held at various hotels and restaurants across Capital City. There are holos, too, and reels. He sees her leaving the Bal Silvestre on the arm of Corellian senator, Garm Bel Iblis.

Senator Bel Iblis is older than her, and seems a bit unkempt, his long hair pulled half back in a simple style. Obi-Wan knows of him by reputation, and heard him called a rake. His politics brand him a maverick, and a rogue, and he has been known, once or twice, to engage in backdoor negotiations in order to ensure a vote swings one way or another in his favour. Beside him, while he stands smug in his dark brocade, she shines. She is spotless. Luminous. They are not well matched.

He scours the net for more, and because he is looking, he finds it. There are many articles - hundreds. Some map out timelines of their courtship (they met years ago, apparently, at some gala held while Obi-Wan was still helping Anakin with Basic), some tell the history of their previous romantic entanglements (he was engaged to a woman now dead. She was once rumoured to be promised to a Vizsla. Obi-Wan’s name is not mentioned). Some merely provide pictures of their exploits, and comment on their mutual friends, making conjecture after conjecture about how their romance came to be, and what must happen next now that the flame has been rekindled. It is torturous. And tedious. And soon, Obi-Wan loses track of the details that appear in one article, and again in every other.

But one thing remains clear to him: Satine Kryze is going to be married. She has forever slipped his reach.

A reach, he pathetically reminds himself, he never intended to extend. All this self-flagellation is for naught. He is being ridiculous.

So he thumbs off his pad, turns out the lights, and tries to sleep with the image of Satine, smiling and resplendent flickering in his mind. The next morning, feeling no better for the little rest he managed to steal, he deletes the history of his pad, and determines to feel absolutely nothing at all about Satine Kryze.

Then Padme comes to the Council and requests a padawan be sent to Mandalore’s aid.

It is Ahsoka who goes. Of course it is. He takes small solace in the fact that it had not been he who suggested her, but since she was assigned, he feels well within his rights to enquire about the Duchess upon her return.

“She seemed fine,” Ahsoka tells him. He has invited her for tea following her report to the Council, hoping he might, in his hospitality, coax a few more personal details from his grand-padawan. “I mean, there was a moment where Almec - that’s the Prime Minister, or rather was - anyway, there was a moment where he had her in a shock collar, but like I said, the cadets and I managed to sort it out.”

“Right,” he concedes. “As you said.”

A moment passes between them. Obi-Wan sips his tea, struggling to swallow as the fist around his throat grows tighter and tighter. Ahsoka, blissful in the aftermath of a successful solo mission, grabs another biscuit and a strip of perami gammon.

“And tell me,” he ventures. “What of her - her consort? Any word of him? Where was he during this mess?”

“Her consort?”

“Her husband.”

Ahsoka scrunches her nose, and cocks a brow at Obi-Wan’s wild inquiry.

“She had a nephew,” she says. “But no one ever said anything about a consort.”

“Ah,” he says. “Perhaps he was occupied elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, amicable and amenable to letting the whole thing slide. He only hopes she won’t think it significant enough to mention to Anakin later. His curiosity won’t be as easily sated with tea and deflection.

He is not a lucky man.

Anakin comes blazing into his room with an ambitious stride, and a grin that speaks of imminent mischief.

“Heard you were asking Ahsoka about the Duchess’ consort,” he says, throwing his cloak over the back of a chair and dropping to lounge across Obi-Wan’s low couch.

“I was asking about her mission,” he corrects. He turns his back to set some water to boil, knowing that such an entrance by his padawan indicates a visit of extended duration. “And the key players, therein. Purely professional.”

“Purely.” Anakin smirks.

The subject is dropped when Anakin is diverted by the service being laid before him, and the inclusion of several of his favourite confections.

“Noorian memba tarts!” he cries. “Where did you even find these?”

“An old recipe,” Obi-Wan says. “But I remember you enjoyed them when we dined on Belasco and thought I’d try my hand at it.”

It is not a bad effort either, judging by Anakin’s display of enthusiasm. He eats the first with some degree of etiquette, but the fourth, fifth, and sixth are gone with no display of decency or shame whatsoever.

Obi-Wan sips his tea. He is thinking of Tahl while Anakin is thinking of the sweetness on his tongue, and making excuses for his absence the previous night.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, but I was unavoidably delayed after the Senate recessed for the evening. I had to - to assist a delegate with a personal matter.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but remembers how Qui-Gon, too, used to invent reasons to disappear unchecked. He invents nothing. He only cleaves to his duty, while time and fate conspire to keep him absent anyway.

Anakin must hear something in his silence, because his expression loses the tension of equivocation, and he falls to studying Obi-Wan’s face.

“I was only teasing, master,” he says. “Before. I didn’t think to ask Ahsoka anything about the Duchess. She spent most of her time with the nephew, but he seemed a bright kid. Close to Satine. I can ask her to ask him if he knows anything -”

“Absolutely not,” says Obi-Wan. The words are soft, but definite. He rises swiftly to clear the detritus of their meal. “Thank you, Anakin, but Duchess Kryze is only a friend. I merely inquired out of a desire to assure myself that the report issued to the Council lacked nothing in the thoroughness of its presentation. I should hate to think that such a personal association might be overlooked as an avenue for effecting harm.”

“Oh.”

“But I thank you in any case. Ahsoka’s report was well done, and you should be very proud of your padawan,” he says. “As I am of you.”

He turns to Anakin then, smiling and benign. His padawan meets his look with a vaguely skeptical one of his own, before patting him on the shoulder, and shrugging back into his cloak.

“Alright, master,” he says. “I’ll let her know how thorough she was.”

“Goodbye, Anakin.”

“Goodbye,” his friend replies. Then, just as he crosses the threshold of the door and moves into the open hall, he looks back. “Oh,” he says. “There’s a quick supply run being made to Mandalore for relief in light of Ahsoka’s investigation. Scheduled for tomorrow, but unfortunately, I’m needed back at the Senate. I meant to ask - you wouldn’t mind making the trip for me, would you? You don’t even need to get off the ship.”

---

There is nothing he can say to Anakin, so of course, as contrived and embarrassing as the whole thing is, he goes. And he does get off the ship.

Satine is there to meet him.

“Master Kenobi,” she says, extending her hand. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

He drops a brief, and reverential kiss then lets her go.

“Cleaning up after my padawan and his padawan, it seems,” he says. “Apparently, a master’s work is never over. Congratulations on your recent engagement, Duchess. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

The look which passes over Satine’s face is one he cannot decipher. He thinks she looks in equal parts shocked that he has heard, disgusted by his presumption in speaking of it, embarrassed by his boldness, and wearied by his presence. But she doesn’t deny it, so he makes his excuses to leave.

“Excuse me, Duchess,” he says. “But this was only meant to be a very brief visit, and I should prepare for departure.”

“Can you not stay for midmeal?” she asks, and he hesitates upon the precipice of her invitation. “Surely you don’t mean to tease me with a visit as brief as this? And surely your men would enjoy some rest and repast before you go?”

The troopers at his back shift, and he can feel their eagerness undulate in the Force. It would be cruel to deny them for the preservation of his own fragmented dignity, so he relents.

“Of course, your grace,” he says. “We would be most honoured.”

“Captain,” she says to the Protector at her right. “Have these men fed and watered immediately. The kitchens and my staff are at their disposal.”

He clicks his heels, and disappears, while she steps forward, and wraps her arm around Obi-Wan’s as though completely uncaring of any beau or consort or husband who might see.

“You, my dear master,” she murmurs slyly by his ear. “Are to be attended elsewhere, at my discretion.”

He does nothing to resist as she pulls him along.

Soon, they are at the Palace. Soon, they are sat at a small table in her private quarters, drinking Mandalorian kava, and eating freshly baked land’shun. Soon, they are alone.

She sets her drink aside, and dusts her hands on a fine silk napkin before broaching the subject trapped between them.

“Now, what is this about my nuptials?” she asks. Her blue eyes are steady upon his own, and he feels his palms slick with sweat. She is radiant. She is regal. There is no holo or reel or word that could do justice to the beauty of this woman in the flesh, and he feels that insidious root of jealousy writhe with agony.

“Satine -” he begins.

“No, no,” she protests, seeming to anticipate his deflection before he has begun. “I should like to hear why you think I ought to accept your congratulations, and why you felt you ought to offer them personally, in particular. Mandalore seems a rather dull trip for a High General to make.”

“I came in Anakin’s stead, actually,” he replies pertly. Another sip of kava lends some sophistication to this claim.

“Of course,” she says, but she does not look away. He can feel her gaze upon him. He can feel her glittering in the Force. She is laughing.

And he cannot bear it.

“Forgive me, your grace,” he says, rising to his feet. He sets the cup upon a saucer where it clatters inelegantly against the pot of sucre next to it, overturning the dish and sending the crystals spilling across the table. “Forgive me,” he says again.

She lunges forward to right the pot, and still his hand beneath her own. For a moment, he doesn’t breathe. Then, he pulls away.

“I read about it on the net,” he says. “I saw the holos, and the reels. I only wanted to see you one last time, to see...I wanted to see that you were happy. That’s all.”

“Oh, Ben,” she says, his name like a sigh upon the breeze.

“It is nothing,” he says. “A foolishness all my own. I am sorry if I have troubled you, and I offer you my sincerest congratulations.”

He bows, though when he raises his head, his eyes do not rise with it, so he does not see the look of sorrow upon her face. Still, he imagines it as pity, and moves to make his escape. She is faster than he is.

“No,” she says, standing between him and the door. “I will not accept your congratulations, and I will not accept your departure on such callous terms as these.”

“Duchess -”

“Ben,” she counters, leaning on the name. “I am not engaged. I am not married. And I do not intend to be, no matter how devoted to the idea of it you are.”

“I - devoted?” he asks, his voice rising to the height of his indignation. “I am devoted to no such thing. I have only - only been reconciled to it for weeks, thinking only of you and your happiness.”

“And your own misery, too, I’d wager.”

He chokes on his denial because he knows it is too big a lie to fit through his lips, and stares at her in dismay. She is smiling. Force, he thinks. She is incandescent. Like she has swallowed a star, and he can’t look away. He would that he could be consumed by her too, and finally, he gives in.

“Yes,” he says in an admission of guilt so great it brings relief. “I was miserable. I am, I think, an infinitely miserable person.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I am not getting married, I am not engaged, and I am only as in love as I ever have been. And if you are foolish enough to forget that, then you are deserving of every misery you heap on yourself.”

“Have pity,” he begs.

“None,” she says.

“Have mercy,” he pleads.

“For you?” she says. “Always.”

They fall together like gravity and sunlight, and for a moment, whole galaxies bend to their will.

#my fic #prompt fill #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #garm's here #and anakin #and ahsoka #i mashed everyone in #star wars #fic #gffa

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yunhostinyuyu · 3 years

Text

come closer

pairing: frat boy!yunho x fem reader

genre: colleague au/frat au, suggestive

wc: 1.5k

synopsis: another friday night, another boring party you find yourself at. Only for a certain person to turn up next to you to turn everything upside down...

warnings: alcohol, weed, smoking, mentions of other drugs, teasing, yeah that’s it

—

„This party sucks. Mingi really hasn’t learned a thing about how this is supposed to work...“ you mutter to yourself, wandering through the hallways of the giant frat house, intertwining almost like a maze. It’s questionable why you even attended tonight’s party in the first place, but there were two good reasons to always show up at Song Mingi’s gatherings: alcohol and drugs. Despite the latter being hard to come by, since the most frat boys keep the good stuff to themselves.

The small group of friends you came with already got lost in the crowd or are crazy drunk, which leaves you alone, trying to waste time until it’s late enough to fashionably excuse yourself to go back to the dorms.

You busied yourself with observing the other people: drinking, smoking, blowing, talking, screaming, making out, groping each other - it looked like a mess you didn’t want yourself getting involved with, even if you were desperately hoping to find something to smoke, so your attendance wasn’t completely useless. It has already been too long since the last time you had some and you truly needed to take some pressure off - with all the final exams already lining up and stressing you out of your mind.

As it became a little too crowded at around 1:00 am you decided to go out onto the balcony, finally breathing fresh air into your lungs. Not the smell of sweat, weed and rum stuck in your nose anymore. Looking down at the neighboring houses and more-or-less silent area as you leaned your elbows on the railing and dangling your almost empty cup above nothing. Enjoying the silence and view of the moonlight illuminating the garden below.

“I thought nobody would be here at this hour... guess I was wrong.” you turned your head around as the unknown voice spoke from far behind you. A tall, handsome boy leaning against the glass door, his messy hair and droopy eyes indicating he just got out of a rather intense crowd. He reached to push his hair aside, but not helping at fixing the disheveled look, only adding to it.

“Intense party, huh?” You joked, already turning your back towards the tall stranger. Taking a few steps, he mirrors your posture and turns to look at your face.

“I have never seen you around here, are you new?” he asked curiously. You were quick to shake your head and chuckle: “No, actually, I come here quite often. But I mostly stay quiet and go home early so... are you new?” You throw the question back, turning your head to the right, now scanning over his facial features as well as you could in the darkness, only scource of light coming from inside the house.

“New to Mingi’s parties yeah. We were friends before college but his parties are still shit. I’m Yunho, by the way” he swiftly introduced himself with a sly nod. “Y/N.” you replied sweetly and he smiled to himself.

You watched him with big eyes as he took out a little plastic bag, filled to the brim with flakes of weed. “Figured this would be the ideal place to smoke one of these.” he explained, not taking his eyes of the little piece of paper and the green stuff he is presicely sprinkling onto it. You just stand there, watching silently. Secretly hoping he would offer you a hit or two once he was finished, but instead brought the stick to his own lips, licking it slowly and closing it before lightning it. Taking long, deep drags as he puffed the smoke out through his nose.

Damn, you thought to yourself, he sure looks good while smoking like that. But you had to act quickly if you actually wanted to have a change with getting something between your lips and into your lungs sooner rather than later.

“Can I have a drag?” looking at him with puppy like eyes, as he slightly tiled his head to meet your eyes. Blinking a few times before he decided.

“Sure, enjoy yourself.” he said as he held his hand with the joint towards you, but pulling it back again as your hand darted out to snatch it from him. Eyeing the tall one, your gaze clearly confused.

A coy smirk appearing on his round lips before speaking up again: “Come closer, I won’t bite... unless that’s what you’re into.” Ignoring his flirty comment but following his request. Now you’re standing closer to Yunho, shoulders almost touching as you finally got hold of what you desired the most. Slotting the joint I between your lips and taking a long drag. “Ugh, this is so good, it’s been so long since the last time I had some...” you explain as you handed the stick back to him.

“At least Mingi knows what good weed is.” he laughs, bringing the stick back to his own lips. You want to get the stick back for a second hit, but he doesn’t let you have it as easy as before, and you feel yourself slowly getting impatient, pouting slightly.

Yunho shifted his form to face you, yourself following along as he took a small step even closer towards you. Looking up to him, joint still in his mouth. His fingers dance up across the skin of your arm, looking out for any sign of discomfort at his action, but there are none.

His hand moving upwards until he reached your face, his thumb grazing your bottom lip gently, and his other fingers rest against your chin. The stares are growing more and more intense, eyes glued onto each other. His pupils darting down, inspecting your lips, softly pushing them apart. He takes the joint away from his lips, leaning in to blow the faint smoke into your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the moment for as long as it lasts, the tension rising with every passing minute. The palms of your hands are growing sweaty from his presence and aura alone, and his ministrations only added to that.

You catch yourself quickly before slipping into indecent thoughts, and this time you’re actually quick enough to grab the joint from him. Repeating the action to him, opening his mouth eagerly when he realized what you were doing. Your hand resting on his shoulder and his hands still on your chin, the other one finding it’s place on your left hip.

“This shit is so hot.” He comments, you slowly reach your hand with the toxic stick towards his face and putting it inbetween his teeth and lips.

“Do it again” you almost plea, tone quiet, only for him to hear your words. Without wasting another second, he takes another drag, taking his hand away from your chin to hold the joint. Grip on your hip growing tighter as he pulls you even closer than before. Bracing yourself at the sudden movement, your hands dart to his chest to keep yourself steady. He leans down towards your face, lips ghosting over yours as he blows the smoke into your wet cavern, breathing in slowly.

Yunho wants to kiss you so badly, the vision of you infront of him, smoke slowly descending out of your mouth not helping much with calming that urge, but making it worse for him to hold back. The only thing you can hear is the faint noises from inside and heavy breathing from the both of you. Your eyes are blown out at this point, waiting on him to make the next move.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice deep and raspy from smoking. Swiftly moving your hands from his chest, around his torso and up his back, pushing yourself even closer against the soft material of his hoodie and his strong body. Looking up to find his eyes again, pupils big and dark.

As you nod your head, his lips smash onto yours without hesitation, enjoying the taste of you to the fullest. You hum into the kiss as it grew sloppier and needier, continuing the movements until you ran out of air. Pulling apart for a second, before returning to each other. Yunho’s giant hand grabbing your ass harshly as he wets your lips with his tounge before he slips it into your entrance. The older one being in charge of the kiss, submitting to him completely the moment his wet muscle started moving in sync with your own. It all happens so fast, and you’re truly amazed how quickly he had warped you around his finger, pushing the blame onto the weed that is clouding your head.

Being occupied by each other’s mouths and exploring hands, while occasionally taking turns with the magic stick that was still intbewteen his pointer and middle finger, you don’t realise how much time passes. Then, a loud bang accrued out of the blue, followed by the sound of glass shards clatter. Pulling away from each other, eyebrows furrowed in worry and confusion of what the hell just happened.

“Alright everyone, party’s over.”

—

an: sorry I had to delete the read more bc tumblr kept on duplicating and deleting sections :( hope everyone still enjoys <3

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fic #ateez au #ateez yunho #jung yunho #ateez writing #college au #ateez fluff #ateez suggestive #ateez smut #yunho is hot while smoking #still don’t know what else to put here

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

Shadow and Soul

A/N: guess who has another content again after like two months? KJAHSFLKHASDF

Have this Mafia au bc the Vincenzo energy in me is very strong rn and i wanted to write some chaotic/serious mafia au

Word count: 4701

CW: Violence

An attempt on the head of the Lantsov Family's life has occurred under their noses, and it's up to the Underboss and her Consigliere to settle things the clean way or the dirty way.

How Zoya could still find patience for the man in front of her was a mystery. But having more patience for the all-too-smiling Consigliere beside her was a skill she had acquired over the years, and as much as she wanted to strangle her lawyer companion, she couldn’t deny she was enjoying the look of rage on Anton Demidov’s eyes as he tried not to lash out his anger. The smug facade he was currently wearing wasn't able to keep the emotions from showing in his gaze.

The small restaurant they were cramped in was humid enough to dry up what’s left of her restraint from wanting to tear the furious look from the man’s face, but she strengthened her resolve. There were several other people dining in here with them, and it would be rude if she suddenly did something rather unlady-like to this gentleman in a suit. Besides, she did promise the infuriating blond that she would ‘be diplomatic for once’, as per his request.

Perhaps she could try to be.

“It’s a fair deal, dearest Anton,” said Nikolai to the Demidovs' caporegime, still grinning his usual crowd-winning smile. When his eyes cast down to Anton’s now clenched fist on the table, the glint of amusement in Nikolai’s eyes only became brighter. If there was something her Consigliere was good at, it was pushing another person’s buttons by merely smiling. “No more threats to the Lantsovs and no more operating the casino without our jurisdiction, and I will personally tell our enforcers to stop the assault on your family’s businesses. Possibly sprinkle a monthly cut from your profit into our pockets, too, no?"

Considering how Anton’s jaw twitched in annoyance only told Zoya that he didn’t like the deal at all. Having the upper hand over the Lantsovs meant being powerful enough to actually go against them, and considering that they were the most powerful among the families, it was a rather bold move to attempt murdering Alexander Lantsov.

Ever since the day the Lantsov head was openly shot at, along with plenty of their men in the streets of Os Alta, Zoya had considered the move as an act of war and broke any peace treaties between their families. She led the attack on the biggest casino the Demidovs had in Kribirsk, effectively shutting the place down and cutting the third of the family’s investments. The assaults continued for the next two weeks, even the smallest businesses didn’t escape their wrath, until the Demidovs were backed to the corner and forced to surrender.

If it were another circumstance, she would have stopped there. She knew they would have learned their lesson by that time. Yet the thought of failing to protect their chief because she hadn’t anticipated any attempts on his life that day only gave her enough reason to continue the attacks.

"I would suggest listening to him. Do him a favor, will you? He loves talking,” Zoya said with unexpected calmness. She leaned back to a more comfortable position in her chair, reaching up to remove the first button by her collar.

This must have brought the wrong impression on Anton's guards stationed by the far window to the left, and they were already reaching for their weapons from their holsters. She merely raised an eyebrow at them.

Panic seized Anton’s eyes as he turned to his guards. He pointed a finger at them. “You’ve frisked them, right?” he demanded. Even though he tried to sound very much authoritative, the slight tremor in his voice didn't go unnoticed by Zoya. But the guards seemed to be oblivious of this, and still nodded nervously. “Then why are you all acting hostile? Stand down.”

Zoya snickered silently. So much for being the one to lead the assassination attempt but was already panicking over the smallest movement she made. She itched for her gun, which was unfortunately dismantled and held by Anton's right hand man as per their no weapons rule during business talks. Her shoulder holsters felt impossibly light without its presence. Maybe it was time to stop the bullshit that was called 'talking' and just start the real line of action.

Patience, dearest Zoya, her infuriating Consigliere's voice echoed in her head. The way he was starting to rub off on her was terrifying. It'd be a good thing to be diplomatic for once.

"No need to be jumpy, Anton. It's just too humid in here." Zoya emphasized her statement by fanning herself with a hand. She heard Nikolai chuckle beside her. "Besides, it's not that I have any more weapons on me."

Come on, lash out at me, goaded Zoya in her mind. Give me enough reason to finally take you down where you stand.

Anton turned back to her and smiled tightly. "I'm aware of that, Miss Nazyalensky. But I can't blame my men for taking precautions, especially around someone who's known to be ruthless."

"I'm honored, sir, but we can't as much as do anything considering the number of your guards in here with us." She shrugged, gesturing to her right. "There's just the four of us."

Her eyes met the two lone guards of their own at the opposite side. Where they only brought the twins along with them for safety, was Anton Demidov’s unit of at least twenty men surrounding the place. She almost found it funny—he was the one to first make a threat over the Lantsovs and yet he was cowering in front of them.

Tamar made a face, gesturing crudely to the Demidov caporegime and making Zoya chuckle lightly. Her twin brother Tolya kicked her in the shin, but there was no denying the smile he was fighting to appear on his lips. Seeing their presence lightened the tense weight on her shoulders somehow, as she knew that they alone could take Demidov's men if things went south.

And considering the stubborn set of Anton's jaw and the fury in his eyes, blood will surely be shed tonight.

Zoya glanced around the room, silently counting how many of his guards were inside the restaurant with them. She let her eyes wander for a few moments, and she was able to count at least eight. There were probably a few more she hadn't seen, but her eyes catching a woman in a bright red overcoat was enough to make her wince and look back to Demidov.

"A rather powerful move," Nikolai said lowly, making her turn to him with a raised brow. There was a smirk playing on his lips as he continued to watch the other man, and it was a clear sign that he was quite enjoying seeing Demidov almost ready to explode. He leaned a bit closer to her ear. "It's really not the perfect time or place to take off your clothes, sir. But if you can make them squirm by doing just that, then be my guest. A little fun before the storm isn't so bad."

Zoya rolled her eyes, her foot connecting solidly to his leg. He let out a muffled wheezed, and he covered it up by clearing his throat when Anton gave him a weird look. Knowing Nikolai was already stressful enough, but having him as her Consigliere and hearing him do the talking most of the time was exhausting.

But he got things done without having to use guns or knives. Words were his weapons, and though he was often mild and considerate during negotiations, he still wielded his words dangerously when circumstances deemed it necessary.

"What do you say, Demidov?" Nikolai said, his grin returning. "It's a rather generous deal."

The table rattled as Anton's fist slammed down on it. "We will not be your family's lapdog," he growled through gritted teeth. If he had been able to hold in his rage, now he was full on acting on it, just like Zoya had expected him to do. "You think you're all so powerful and strong just because you're controlling this city, but not to me." He looked at Nikolai with utter disgust. "I'm surprised Alexander even cared for his bastard enough to appoint him as Consigliere out of all designations."

Something snapped inside Zoya, feeling her suppressed rage flare back to the surface, and she was already considering tipping over the table to the man's face. But a hand enclosed around her wrist from under the table, the touch warm and familiar for her to know it was Nikolai. He must have sensed her sudden want to resort to the worst way.

She risked a glance at him. A shadow had passed over his usual cheerful face, his eyes hard and empty as his jaw twitched in anger. Then a smile appeared on his lips a moment later, the sharp, wicked smile of a man who had reached the last straw of his patience.

"Are getting personal now, Anton?" Nikolai said, his tone still surprisingly calm. "I thought it was all business?"

"Oh, that's true. All business, Lantsov," Anton spat Nikolai’s name like a poison that stung his mouth. "And if I kill you right now, I can just report you for trespassing. It's still business, no? I'm just protecting my property."

Zoya raised an eyebrow. "Is that an open threat?" she said flatly. “Do tell me if it is so we can settle this the way I know we both wanted from the start.”

"Depends on how you put it." Anton gestured to the door. "And if you both are smart enough, then that means you know your only choice is to leave."

So the Demidovs still chose not to have a ceasefire between the families. It was exactly how she expected this night would go. Nikolai owed her a drink later.

"You're acting way too brash for a caporegime," said Zoya as she reached for the cup in front of her to take a sip of the leftover coffee from an hour ago. "Are you sure your family could handle another attack in any of your remaining businesses?"

Anton looked almost smug. Confident, even, as if he suddenly had the upper hand against them. Oh, how Zoya hated to ruin his bravado. "As you've said, Nazyalensky, there's only four of you. So you should watch that tongue of yours."

A sneer threatened its way to her lips, but she didn't dare let it show. She wondered if he would still have the same smugness later, when she finally demonstrated the 'ruthlessness' Anton liked to describe her with.

There was a tense silence around them, and if Zoya listened harder, she was sure she could hear the guards' heavy breathing even from ten meters away. She eyed the other exits—all guarded by Demidov's men. Even the twins' position to their right was at a disadvantage, they could be easily opened fire on if they weren't fast enough to take cover.

"Very well. It would not be a fair fight." She relented, making it sound as convincing as possible. She put the cup back on the table. "We will just leave."

The Demidov caporegime huffed but didn't say anything more. He leaned back on his chair, his triumphant smile never wavering. "I'm glad you're finally starting to think, Miss Nazyalensky."

Another wave of annoyance, and what she could sense as her suppressed rage resurfacing, washed over her. She wrinkled her nose in displeasure. They should have just ambushed the caporegime on his way here. It would have been much easier. Plus, they could even save time and sanity for not going through this 'civilized' negotiation. In their world where power was the only thing to protect you, you should never give a chance to your enemy to take it from you.

Eliminate and narrow down the list of your enemies.

It was now up to Nikolai whether they would go through it or just leave.

The Consigliere leaned back on the chair, his other hand reaching up to loosen his tie. There was a look of disappointment on his face, but his eyes said otherwise. He was already expecting this. "That was quite an exchange," he said with a shrug. Then he shook himself for a bit. "Wow, I think I need to use the restroom after all that. Do you mind if I go? Or should your guards come along to make sure I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary?"

"Just get on with it and leave. I should have known this meeting was useless from the start."

Nikolai feigned a hurtful look. "Oh, how harsh," he said dramatically. "But alright, your call."

The hand that was still around Zoya's wrist loosened, his fingers coming around until his forefinger rested on her pulse point. Warmth erupted from where his skin met hers, and she tried not to let it distract her from the message he was trying to say. He had held her like this far too many times, had even been in a much closer proximity than now when their situation needed them be, and yet her heart still threatened to leap out of her chest whenever he touched her.

Focus, her mind berated, and that’s when she felt it: his finger tapping on her skin twice. It was their go signal. They had made their own sign language over the past three years, when business talks and other matters got a bit out of hand and they needed to subtly communicate with the other. It was something that only the two of them knew of, and it definitely did wonders for them when words weren’t needed.

Zoya gave him a pointed glance sideways as he stood up and let go of her wrist. It was the look that said, I told you so, and she knew if they were somewhere else, Nikolai would have frowned and whined something back. But it wasn’t the time for it.

With one last squeeze to her wrist, he finally let go, straightening the lapels of his coat to show his disappointment on how the negotiation had gone. He cast one last glance to the Demidov caporegime before taking his leave and going to the restroom. Zoya let her gaze follow him until he disappeared around a corner.

Please don't be a moron and find it, she thought before standing up as well, reaching for his suitcase that was carelessly lying on the floor.

One of Anton's guards, which she recognized as his right hand man, approached the table. He had a skeptical gaze on her, like he was readying himself to defend his boss if ever she decided to suddenly do something.

She gave the man a cold smile, amusement bubbling in her chest when she saw him wince and look away to turn to his boss.

Zoya took the moment to glance at the twins and give them the smallest of nods. They immediately understood, with Tamar moving away from their spot to come nearer to the table. Tolya remained in his position, but he already had his hand braced on the holster around his hips.

"That Consigliere of yours," Anton started, making Zoya look back at him. His second was holding up the coat to him, and he turned to shrug it on back to his shoulders. "He really does love talking, doesn't he? It might be the reason he gets killed one day.”

As if I would let that happen. It made her eyebrows furrow, her gaze narrowing dangerously to the caporegime. He had been making a lot of subtle threats to them, and Zoya wasn’t letting it slide. Only one family would be walking out from this place tonight.

And it wasn’t going to be the Demidovs.

“Worry not, Anton,” said Zoya, her cold smile returning, “I’ll make sure to tell him that.”

“Tell me what?” Nikolai’s too cheery voice echoed a moment later, and Zoya turned to his direction and saw him approaching them. He had stripped off his long coat, leaving him in his shirt and tie. Her eyes went to the coat he was holding. The way it was folded on his hand looked enough for it to conceal something, and she could only assume he found it.

“Nothing of importance, dearest Consigliere,” Zoya mused, reaching for her own coat hanging on the chair’s backrest. “Just some gibberish, though I can tell you about it later.”

Nikolai chuckled. “I do hope it’s not something alarming,” he said. Then he stepped in front of her, his hand catching her wrist again to stop her from putting on her coat. Then with a small smile that softened his features, he murmured, “Let me.”

She let him take her coat from her hand, and gently, he helped her slip it on. To others, it would look like a normal sight; a man assisting his Underboss like any other members of the family would. But if one were to look closely, it was actually just an act to cover something up.

Zoya looked up at his eyes with mock respect when there was the familiar weight of a weapon being slipped back to her shoulder holster. Nikolai made a face in return.

I found it, he mouthed with a wince. Then he tugged at the lapels of the coat a bit roughly, as if to get back at her for doubting him, and it earned a glare from Zoya. He smiled innocently, then his hands came up to the back of her neck to free her hair that was caught up in the collar. She tried not to get distracted by his ministrations, but she found it hard when he reached her collar, fixing it down to make it presentable. They were too close, the act anything if not intimate, and her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers lingered a moment too long on the side of her neck.

Then she felt the soft brush of his thumb against her jaw; it was enough to stop her thoughts altogether.

But Nikolai only winked, a cheeky smile evident on his lips before he stepped back. Zoya wanted nothing more than to strangle him right then. But then again, it wasn’t the time for it. Perhaps later.

She regained her stoic composure, walking over to Anton Demidov who had been completely oblivious of the exchange. It was only out of respect that she still would end their meeting with a handshake. If there was something she refused to let go in her morals, it was respect.

Zoya held her hand out to Anton. The man was hesitant, but still took it anyway. “Well, I bid you farewell, Sir Demidov,” she said with a cutting smile, her grip tightening around his hand enough for him to look alarmed. “It’s a pleasure having the chance to talk to you.”

Then her other hand reached to her holster, grabbed the gun Nikolai had put there, and shot Anton Demidov in the leg.

The man crumpled down on the floor, a scream tearing from his throat as he clutched at his wound. Horror was evident in his gaze as he looked up at her. His right-hand didn’t have time to draw his weapon when another shot rang out from somewhere behind Zoya, hitting the man on his shooting arm, and he dropped to the ground as well. Anton’s several other guards with them started to spring to action, but it was the exact time that all the people dining in the restaurant stood up, drawing out their own weapons and surrounding the Demidov associates.

Outside, gunfire echoed as well. Then after a few moments, it went silent again.

Zoya looked around the expanse of the room. Anton’s remaining guards stood completely frozen in their places as dozens of guns pointed to their direction. She hummed in approval and looked over her shoulder, seeing Tamar still holding her gun to the right-hand man’s direction.

Thanks, Zoya mouthed to the woman, who in return tipped her head in acknowledgement.

“As I’ve said earlier,” she started, waving the barrel of her gun down to Anton’s face, “it would not be a fair fight.”

“What—what is the meaning of this?” Anton demanded, his voice quivering in both terror and pain. He tried to back away from Zoya, but someone had already stopped him with a foot on his shoulder.

She looked up and saw the woman who wore the bright red overcoat that made her eyes hurt, and Zoya gave her an unamused look. “Something a bit tamer next time, Genya?” she said. “It’s a bit overwhelming to look at. Maybe a maroon.”

Genya laughed lightly. “Of course, anything you say, sir.”

Zoya nodded in gratitude before she turned back to Anton, who was still on the ground. “This night could have gone well, you know? All we wanted was your approval for a ceasefire. But here you were, acting all too smug for a family whose reputation is almost down the drain and making empty threats that you have no power to do.” She stepped forward, jabbing her foot down the man’s injured leg and earning another scream from him. “Well, wasn’t it you who pulled the trigger on the Don? Now man up, take it like a champ.”

“How” —Anton wheezed out in pain— “how is this possible? My men have frisked you and your Consigliere.”

Nikolai appeared beside her, looking casual in his posture as if he had come to a reunion with some old friends. “Simple. You don’t check the customers coming into your business,” he explained. “Another civilian could enter the same restroom earlier before the Consigliere, and he could have slipped a weapon and taped it under the sink.” He shook his head with a dramatic sigh. “Only goes to show how shit your security is, by the way.”

The Demidov caporegime could only look at them in disbelief, his eyes going back and forth to Zoya and her Consigliere. Then a laugh escaped him, the loud, desperate kind of a madman. She almost pitied him. The feeling of being backed against the corner having nothing other than yourself to trust and lean on.

She would commend this man for fighting tooth and nail for his Family’s survival and reputation, and yet he had chosen the wrong way to do it by trying to assassinate one of the biggest Dons in the country and starting a war. There were some battles that were out of one’s reach and power, and it had been the Demidovs to take the risk and lose everything to their wrong decisions.

Anton continued laughing for another long moment, his breaths becoming more labored the longer he laughed. Then when it seemed that he finally ran out of air, he looked back up to her. If Zoya was expecting to see defeat in his eyes, then she was so wrong.

Because in them, she saw nothing but cold fury, the kind that brought a lingering feeling of dread in your chest. If she were some other person, she was sure she would have cowered back and let fear take over.

But that was before she knew what horrors the world they lived in now did to young and naive girls. Fear was one’s shadow, something they could never go against nor get rid of, so she learned how to wield it as her weapon instead.

“What are you going to do now? Kill me?” Anton said, another laugh escaping his lips. He had already gone pale from the loss of blood, but he continued. “Killing me would only make things worse. It’s not going to change anything.”

Nikolai pretended to consider a thought, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re right,” he said. “But I think I have an idea.” He stepped forward, and Zoya handed him her gun.

Without wasting another second, he pointed the gun to Anton’s other leg and pulled the trigger. The beginning of a howl tore from the caporegime’s throat, and he hadn’t even had the chance to fully voice out his pain when Nikolai shot him again on the shoulder.

Zoya blinked in surprise, the gears in her mind working as she looked back to Nikolai. Gone was the diplomatic look of the Consigliere, only the face of the Demon Prince remained, the same persona that terrorized the streets of Halmhend City for years. His eyes held a dangerous glint that she only saw him have for his sworn enemies.

“That’s not even the same number of bullets my father took when you tried to murder him in the open,” Nikolai said mildly. “But don’t worry, I made sure not to hit you anywhere critical. Killing you will get you an easy way out. I don’t want that.” He kneeled down beside Anton, leaning dangerously close to the man with the barrel of the gun planted on his chest. “I want you to see how your Family despises you because you couldn’t let go of your ego and accept that you’ve made a grave mistake. I’ve offered a ceasefire, but you didn’t take it. So I guess you’d rather take a few bullets, then?”

Through his labored breathing and pained state, Anton still managed to glare at the Consigliere. The man’s got determination, Zoya would give him that. But he had made the worst decision of having Nikolai as his enemy.

There was another tense silence, and then Nikolai was laughing lightly, patting the caporegime on the cheek. Just like that, he was back to the cheerful Consigliere persona. “I like this one,” he told Anton’s right-hand man who lay a few feet away from them, a look of fear in his eyes. “Fiery soul. Make sure he’s back to his feet in a few days, alright? I want to see what Irina would do to him.”

Zoya shook her head and watched as Nikolai stood up and handed back the gun to her. He looked back at her with a confused expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. Remind me again not to strangle you next time you do something brash?” She turned to their men who were still patiently waiting for their next order. “Get them out to the other side of the street. Make sure they’re easily seen by their colleagues when they arrive.”

Their men immediately did as they were told, shuffling out of the restaurant quietly as they dragged the Demidov Family’s associates to the streets. Tamar and Tolya waited for the both of them by the front doors.

“Was that even necessary?” Zoya asked the Consigliere, who shrugged in return.

“It’s only fair I’ve wounded him. It’s nothing compared to the men he’d killed in the ambush as we haven’t even taken any of his men’s heads.” Nikolai said, putting his long coat back on. “I have actually talked to Irina Demidov yesterday. She told me to get rid of him.”

Having a talk with the Demidov’s Underboss only meant bad news. “Really?”

“Yeah, but I’ll let them handle it. Besides, they twist the fact that we killed one of their caporegime against us. We both know their history.”

Zoya huffed. “Good thinking,” she said.

“There’s a reason why I am indeed a Consigliere, Nazyalensky,” said Nikolai, feigning a hurtful look. “I’m not all talk and no action.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” She paused when her eyes caught sight of the messed up knot of his tie. Her hands were already reaching to fix it before she could even realize what she was doing, and she heard his breath hitch in his throat. At least she wasn’t the only one who got caught off guard when the other was near.

She finally finished straightening his tie after a few more moments, patting down at his collar for emphasis. “There you go,” said Zoya. Her voice coming out a bit breathless than she intended was something she hadn’t expected from herself. “Now we’re even.” She stepped back, putting a bit of distance between them and looking anywhere but him. “Let’s get out of here before the Demidovs arrive to get their associates.”

***

And as the car sped into the distance some time later, the place where the restaurant the Demidovs owned was now nothing but ashes on the ground.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #my writing #mafia au #LET'S GO #VINCENZO ENERGY IS STRONG #idk this isn't edited we die like soldiers #anyways #i've had this for like a week and i just finished it tonight #i said i wanted mafia au #so i wrote mafia au #have this mess from me #IM BACK THO #i hope ;-;#im a basic bitch and can't think of proper names #im sorry for that #T-T

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anironsidh · 3 years

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AnironSidh 2020 fic and moodboard masterpost

I didn’t write very much this year between the general mess of 2020 and senior year, but here’s what I did manage to write this year (sorted by fandom). If there’s no chapter count for a fic, it’s a oneshot

Queen/BoRhap

Just Keep Losing My Beat || jimercury Hogwarts au. Freddie Mercury/Jim Hutton (jimercury), Brian May/Roger Taylor (maylor). Hogwarts au, found family, maylor, jimercury, i will post more soon. Chapters: 7/?

Summary: Hogwarts is not ready for Freddie Mercury. Not even close.In which Brian May is trying to be successful, Roger Taylor is just confused, John Deacon doesn't want the spotlight, and Freddie Mercury just wants to find somebody to love and make his place in the world.

(Love Of My Life) Don't Leave Me || hardzello (for borhap summer cast event) for the @queenandborhapevents and written for @johndeaconshands. Hardzello, fluff, happy ending, love confessions, first kiss

Summary: Joe's worried about what kind of future he and Ben may have once the movie is no longer keeping them in the same place, and he may find something more waiting for him to ask. - Written for johndeaconshands on tumblr for the BoRhap Summer Event 2020

Love Was Such An Easy Game To Play || tyob 2020 gift fic for xofunghoul / @heybuddy-drabbles. This fic was for the @queenandborhapevents two years of borhap event. hardzello, flashbacks, fluff, picnic, proposal.

Summary: A look back at how Ben and Joe figured things out, got together, made a home with each other, and in which Joe has just one question in mind. - A gift fic for xofunghoul and the two years of borhap exchange on tumblr (modded by @maz-zello and myself). Prompt was for hardzello, fluff, domestic moments. I think I did pretty well, let me know what y'all think in the comments!

Phandom/Dan and Phil

For The Dreams of Youth || phandom reverse bang 2020 parent!phan au for the @phandomreversebang 2020. art by @akikaji and beta @rainbowchristy. Dan/Phil, fluff, parent!phan Chapters 2/3

Summary: Dan isn't quite sure about a kid of his own. It hadn't felt like a possibility, not until recently. He may find that he's more ready than he expected. Dan and Phil's journey towards parenthood told through a series of videos to one day hand over to their child.

I Wonder When We're Gonna Make It || phandom reverse bang 2020 (1980s au), for the phandomreversebang 2020. Dan/Phil, queen references, 1980s au, period typical homophobia, happy ending, angst with fluff. Chapters 1/2. art by @luisaloveshoney and betaed by @i-might-leave-soon / @eilidh

Summary: When a new neighbor moves into the town that Daniel Howell has lived in his entire life and finds his safe spot in the town's vineyard, he will challenge Dan's view of himself and his town. Soon enough, they find themselves in an attraction nothing like Dan's ever known and one that those around them cannot understand. This may be Dan's only chance to escape and truly be himself. - A fic for a phandom reverse bang 2020 prompt in which Dan and Phil live near a vineyard, sneak grapes, drink stolen wine, and fall in love despite the times (1980s). Also, in which I project my love for queen onto Dan, because Muse doesn't exist yet and because I can.

I Ain't Gonna Face No Defeat a good omens au for the @phandomreversebang 2019, masterpost and art by @hiwatari-art here. Dan/Phil, good omens au, post bookshop scene, Crowley!Dan x Aziraphale!Phil. betaed by phanandpenguins/ @ringsandbutterflies

Summary: Daniel Howell has been stationed on earth for six thousand years, his only constant companion Phil Lester, an angel of Heaven. When his angel is nearly taken away from him he begins to realize just how important Phil is to him. -the bar scene in ep6 of good omens where Aziraphale is discorperated and Crowley is in the bar mourning him- Please be sure to check the art by hiwatari! Thanks to phanandpenguins for their beta work!

Good Omens

Songs Full Of Sad Things || Ineffable Husbands Raphael!Crowley for the good omens big bang. Crowley was Raphael, eventual happy ending, angst and fluff, wip. Chapters 8/15

Summary: -Crowley and Aziraphale are quite happy in their new Tadfield cottage five years after Armageddon, or rather, the armageddon-that-wasn't. They've settled into a routine with each other and the Them. Everything seems fine. Anathema and Newton are even getting married soon. -And then everything Crowley has built up for the last 6,000 years comes tumbling down with a visit from Gabriel and the revelation of his past, of how high he Fell. He hadn't wanted to remember his past as an archangel. Not now. His past is told bit by bit while those brought together by the almost-end of the world must pick up the pieces. - aka Crowley was the archangel Raphael, Gabriel's a dick, and Aziraphale just wants to help. Also, Warlock WILL fight anyone who hurts his Nanny, even God.

As You Wish || Good Omens/Princess Bride au, inspired by @anotherwellkeptsecret. Princess bride au, another one I promise i will get back to, eventual happy ending. Chapters 2/?

Summary: Warlock is sick and Nanny Ashtoreth reads him a story of romance and swordfights, perhaps inspired by a certain angel she knows. In which Aziraphale is Buttercup and in love with the handsome Crowley, a farm boy. When he is reported dead, killed by the Dread Pirate Nutter, Aziraphale falls into despair and eventually agrees to marry the devious Prince Gabriel. He is kidnapped by a con artist, Beelzebub, and their two henchmen in order to start a war. Crowley, who survived his rumored attack, rescues him from the trio. They must now free Aziraphale from Gabriel's clutches if they wish to have a new life with each other. Inspired by anotherwellkeptsecret on tumblr (penumbra on ao3)

Before I Lose You || gomens holiday swap gift for @gregayy and the Good Omens Holiday Exchange. post-canon, fluff with a sprinkling of angst but there’s barely any tbh, ineffable husbands, (technically for the gomens 2019 holiday swap, but it was posted on the third of january so I’m including it)

Summary: Armageddon has been averted, and yet their troubles are far from over. Heaven and Hell want their revenge for a Plan foiled. Crowley knows this far too well, knows he has far too little time for what he's wanted for so many centuries... Aziraphale. Believing they may not live to see another sunset, they take a step usually taken by humans. They've only got this one chance, don't they?aka they get married, believing they may not have another chance to, as requested by gregayy/scmnz

Can't You See || good omens ficlet for @wheeloffortune-design. Ineffable husbands, ficlet, happy ending, first kiss

Summary: Crowley being brave - wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Based on this art, I think I wrote this instead of studying for a midterm lmao

Hobbit/LOTR

By His Side || Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020 Bagginshield fic for KeyWolf25888 for the @haveahappyhobbitholiday 2020 exchange. Gen, M/M, Bilbo/Thorin, happy ending, fluff, bilbo stays in erebor fic

Summary: Bilbo Baggins is just staying in Erebor for now, just until he knows every member of the Company will be alright after the Battles, but his feelings for a certain dwarven king may change his plans just slightly.Or, a Bilbo Stays In Erebor fic as requested by KeyWolf25888 for the Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020 exchange! I haven't done much Hobbit fic in a while, but it was nice to get back to these characters.

Reylo

you're nothing, but not to me || reylo fix-it. Rey/Ben Solo, poe/finn, tros fix it fic bc i was mad after watching that movie, I promise I’ll get back to it soon I just need to work out the plot (and it could also use a beta, if anyone’s interested) Chapters 3/?

Summary: The aftermath of the victory. They may have won, but what comes next? What happens when the battle is won, when the fight is over, but a former enemy is brought into their midst? What happens when Rey brings a near-death Ben Solo back with her? The remaining Resistance is not willing to forgive him easily for what he has done as Kylo Ren. It will not be easy, but it must be done.

Moodboards

Phandom/Dan and Phil

Phandom Reverse Bang 2020 Pride Au Moodboard, fics by @judearaya and @counting2fifteen Summary: Dan goes to pride for the first time, traveling to London on his own. He hasn't come out to his family yet, just a random person online called amazingphil. At pride, he sees a man (Phil) on a float and decides he has to talk to him. Eventually (maybe after a few times hanging out/dates) he finds out that Phil is amazingphil. The moodboard for my prb 2020 pride au, with fics by counting2fifteen and judearaya!

Queen

Royal Maylor au honeymoon in Japan

Queen Iliad au with hardzello, maylor, and deacury

Brian’s Birthday moodboard

Maylor Hamilton au

Jimercury Sad moodboard (hurts like hell)

Reylo

Titanic au

Moodboard for You’re Nothing, but not to me

Reylo good omens au

Moodboard for the Heartbreak Prince, fic by the wonderful @kylorenvevo (Thea)

Reylo Frankenstein au, idea partially by @indefinitelyindia

54 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 4 years

Note

Idk if this has been sent before but imagine like baker jin and forgetful y/n like she needs to get a cake for yoongi asap bc she forgot his bday and jin is completely okay w working at supersonic speed for this cute little teary eyed person who seems to be in big trouble

➺ pairing; kim seokjin x reader

➺ genre; baker!jin duh, fluffier than jin’s popular angel food cake!! jin and y/n are a couple of cuties :’)

➺ wordcount: 3.9k

➺ what to expect; “okay! that’s easy. a birthday cake is doable! see? nothing to get teary-eyed over, darling!”

➺ note; i’m not going to lie the one thing that motivated me to finALLy write this request was the phrase ‘cute little teary-eyed person’ i am soFT! I AM SOFT! okay bye i love baker!jin

»»————-　🍰　————-««

you’ve been sitting in your car for the past twenty minutes trying to remember what exactly it was that namjoon asked you to do for yoongi’s birthday

you know it wasn’t to get everyone to sign his birthday card because that was your job lasT year and also jungkook is in charge of that this year because last week he literally asked you to sign yoongi’s card

and it definitely wasn’t to decorate the venue because namjoon always takes care of that (because he likes things done a certain way and doesn’t trust anyone else with the important job of whEre to place the balloons)

and it also wasn’t to wrap his birthday gifts because according to jimin your wrapping skills are awful and you have the cutting skills of a toddler using those play scissors

it certainly wasn’t to pick yoongi up from his apartment because if that was your job then yoongi would be in the car with you right now (it’s hoseok’s job this year)

and taehyung was the one who curated the invite list aNd took care of the music playlist so you know that wasn’t your job either

so what… in the world… did namjoon ask you to do?

your memory has always been pretty shitty so you probably should’ve written it down

actually you dID technically write it down the day namjoon asked you to take care of it because you remember vividly using your pen and writing it on the back of your hand and then you remember namjoon scolding you and delving into a lecture about the dangers of ink poisoning

but then you washed your hands

and once it was wiped away from your hand it was wiped away from your memory

and that was two weeks ago

so now

here you are

in the parking lot of the venue (you guys are celebrating yoongi’s suRPRISE party at his favourite video game arcade) sitting in your car in complete silence hoping that whatever task you were supposed to complete will just naturally come to you

the party starts at 8 and it’s 7 right now so you still have an hour left to think

you came early to help namjoon set up but then the whole ‘i feel like i’m forgetting something’ thought creeped into your mind and now here you are

and you’re a little afraid to go in and ask namjoon about your mystery task because you feel like he’s going to skin you alive if he finds out that you have noT completed the mystery task

but then again he’s namjoon and namjoon wouldn’t hurt a fly!!!! he’s a sweetie pie!!!

whatever your task is it probably wasn’t that important because namjoon should know better than to send you off with completing something that is integral to the success of yoongi’s surprise party

“you have three seconds to tell me that you’re kidding before i actually lose it.” namjoon presses his lips together before exhaling slowly

okay

quick breakdown of what happened after you decided to leave the safety of your car

you came in

said hello to everyone

complimented jimin’s gift-wrapping skills

snuck one of the mini cheeseburger off the foods table

asked tae if he could add dancing queen on the playlist because no party is complete without some ABBA

snuck a mini corndog off the foods table

and then wandered over to a busy namjoon to say hi but before you could say hi namjoon asked you where ‘it’ was, to which you responded with “what… what is ‘it’?”

“by it, i mean the birthday cake. yoongi’s birthday cake. yoongi’s birthday cake that you were supposed to take care of this year because of the revolving system that i- y/n, i need you to say something and stOP staring at me like you don’t know what i’m talking about-“

“oh, the birthday cake!” you snap your fingers before putting your hands on your hips “god, thanks for clearing that up for me. i was literally scratching my head over it for like an hour.”

well there we go!

the mystery has been solved!!!

now you know what namjoon asked you to do for yoongi’s birthday

you were supposed to get his birthday cake!

…

…hollup

the smile immediately drops from your face

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET YOONGI’S BIRTHDAY CAKE

“oh my- oh my goD-“ your eyes practically pop out of their sockets when it finally registers that you were supposed to order a custom birthday cake for yoongi and you definitely did noT order anything for yoongi

“y/n, i asked you to do one thing-!” namjoon groans and throws his hands up into the air

“i know, i know!!!!! it’s okay, i’ll fix this!” you reassure as you rummage through your purse for your car keys “what flavour should i get??? classic birthday cake?? lemon curd??”

“lem- leMON CUR- oh my GOD i want to hurl you into the middle of a busy intersection-“ namjoon feels like he’s about to have a stroke christ almiGHTY

LEMON CURD????

yoongi’s not turning EIGHTY

“lemon curd??” your voice is turning piTchy and that’s an indicator that you are PANICKING “was that a yes for lemon cur-“

you freeze in fear when namjoon suddenly reaches forward and squiSHes your face in between his hand

“shut up and listen to the words that are about to come out of my mouth.” he says lowly and you swallow thickly before nodding

you’re not sure if you like this namjoon

“a four layer cake. alternating layers of chocolate cake and confetti cake. light blue buttercream frosting in between the layers. dark blue buttercream frosting all around. black sprinkles around the cake - not the top, just around the cake, it’s crucial that there are no sprinkles on the top. in black buttercream frosting, ‘happy birthday yoongi’ in block letters.” he almost growls and you feel like your heart is about to fall out of your ass

if anything will teach you to nevEr forget anything again it’ll be this version of namjoon

he’s like bridezilla except instead of a bride he’s a self appointed party planner

“four layers. chocolate. confetti. light blue in between. dark blue all around. black sprinkles all around, not on top. happy birthday yoongi. block letters. black letters. block black letters??” you probably look like a crazy person muttering things to yourself as you huStle back to your car

namjoon said that if you don’t get back to the party with a custom birthday cake by the time the clock strikes 9:00 he’ll kill you and you beLIEVE him

since you’re not going to be there when the party starts jimin said he’ll come up with some buLLshit excuse about you running late so that yoongi doesn’t get too suspicious about your whereabouts

he mentioned that he didn’t really want a cake this year but all of you know how much yoongi loves cake

and you love seeing him make that ‘i’m pretending i’m surprised but in reality i knew this was going to happen all along’ face

it’s so cute!!

you slam the front door shut and hurry to buckle yourself in as you type ‘custom birthday cakes near me’ on google maps

it’s fine! you’ll be fine

you wiLL definitely be able to find some bakery to put together a suPER last minute custom birthday cake

more specifically, a four layer cake with alternating layers of chocolate cake and confetti cake slathered with blue buttercream frosting and covered with sprinkles around it (not on top! just around! very important!) and also it should say ‘happy birthday yoongi!’ and the writing should be in chunky letters using black buttercream frosting

“why do bakeries close so early???” you wonder out loud as you continue to scroll through the results

literally everything is closed

if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this it’s that bakers are noT night owls

c’mon come oN

you’ll take anything at this point

you nearly scream in joy when you see that there’s one bakery that a) specialises in custom cakes and b) is still open for another thirty minutes and c) is not that far from you!!!!

according to google the place called sweet kimfecjins

oh dear god

what the heLL kind of a name is that???

whA-

and it is far from you!!!! it’s a twenty minute drive away from you!!!

under these circumstances that’s not close at aLL

you need a place that’s at the most thirty seconds away from you (you are noT kidding you really need this cake right here right now)

what other options are there

well

there’s a mcdonald’s near you

maybe you can just buy a bunch of those apple pies and use the oreo mcflurries to glue them all together to buiLD a cake

sure, it’s literally the farthest thing from what namjoon told you to get, but it’s a cake!!!!!

…okay you can’t do that to yoongi

if you were presented with an apple-pie-mcflurry nightmare as a birthday cake you would be pretty bummed out

so this means one thing

sweet kimfecjins here we come

surprisingly enough you make it to the bakery in twelve minutes time without running any red lights oR running any pedestrians over

you did honk at a couple crossing the street but you made sure to shoot them an apologetic smile

they still flipped you off but the point is you made it to the bakery with like fifteen minutes left to spare until they close up for the night

and-

“oh- oh no- nonONoOnONONO-“ your eyes are as wide as saucers as you practically slam yourself up against the glass doors right as the (presumable) owner is flipping the sign to ‘closed’ “oh, please- please, google said that you’re not closing for like another fifteen minutes, please, you haVe to help me i nEED a cake-“

namjoon is going to have your head on a stick if you don’t get this cake so you are going to have to beg like you’ve never begged before

jin sighs to himself as he watches the clock tick tock tick tock

it’s been a slow day today

he had a couple people in this afternoon but they only bought like one strawberry turnover to share in between the two of them

who shaRES one single strawberry turnover???

psychopaths, that’s who

and also he had some tourists come in and they bought a box of his carrot cake cupcakes so that was pretty good

he also managed to convince them to buy another box of red velvet cupcakes >:-) it was actually pretty easy because he just had to flirt with the two girls and they immediately were like okAY more cupcakes won’t hurt

…what???

he has to make a living!!!

yoU would do the same if you had to make money

but other than that business has been a little slow

last week he had a bachelorette party cake request and he spent five hours moulding a penis out of fondant so that was pretty exciting

they even gave him a bonus tip because they said it looked very realistic

what can he say?? his hands are magical

but now he’s bored out of his mind and honestly he wouldn’t even mind if he got another request for a penis cake

he just wants to maKE something!!!

he made a couple cakes this morning and put them in the display cases hoping to lure people in to buy them but they’ve been untouched!! so he’s just going to pack up all the leftovers of the day and deliver it to the food bank

hopefully they’ll enjoy all his delicious treats.,.., that they’re getting for free.,,.., even though he would much rather prefer getting compensated for his hard work

do you SEE how beautifully braided the puff pastry is for his apple tarts???????

since no one seems to be buying baked goods at this hour jin decided to close up a little earlier tonight

he’s going to clean up a little bit and do some prepping for tomorrow (his secret to the best chocolate chip cookies is chilling the dough overnight) and then he’s going to pack up all the leftovers and deliver them and thEn he’s finally going to go home and maybe order some dinner or something

as he flips the sign to ‘closed’, he-

“jeSUS fuCJK-“ jin jumps thirty feet in the air when someone suddenly slams up against the glass doors

goD

“oh- oh no- nonONoOnONONO- oh, please- please, google said that you’re not closing for like another fifteen minutes, please, you haVe to help me i nEED a cake-“

thank god the doors are locked because whoever you are you seem INSANE

“i’m sorry, i’m closing up for the night!” jin replies and gives you a shrug “come back tomorrow! i open at 7am sharp-“ jin immediately stops talking when he notices your eyes starting to well up with tears

oh god

he didn’t mean to make you cry!!

why are you crying????

is 7am not early enough for you??

“i- um, i mean i guess i could open at 6:30 but to be honest i might pass out while frosting your cake that early because my beauty sleep is-“

“no, you don’t understand- it’s my friend’s birthday tonight a-and we’re throwing him a surprise party and i was supposed to get the cake for him because that was the task that namjoon- he’s another one of my friends - that he assigned to me but i- well, i wrote it down on my hand but then i washed my hands and then i kinda forgot about it but that was two weeks ago and now i have to get yoongi - that’s the birthday boy - i have to get him his special cake otherwise namjoon’s going to be so upset with me and-“ your mouth is running like a motor and jin can barely keep up with this story because you keep throwing in new details and also it’s hard to hear you through the glass

something something birthday cake something surprise party something bukjoon something something

okay

you know what

you made a fair point

he iS technically still open so he’ll let you in

(and also you’re…,,. kind of cute so there’s that)

a fat tear threatens to roll down your cheek as you continue to blubber and jin holds a finger up

you immediately shut up and jin offers you a smile before opening the door “i’ll help you if you stop crying.”

you nod quickly and reach up to wipe at your drippy eyes

your nose has gone a little pink and your eyes are glossy and jin can’t help but find that even moRe endearing

“now - what did you need?” jin asks calmly as he leads you towards the front counter

“a birthday cake.” you sniffle before clearing your throat

“okay! that’s easy. a birthday cake is doable!” jin claps his hands together after he makes his way behind the counter “see? nothing to get teary-eyed over, darling!”

okay woAh

he’s not sure where the pet-name came from

it just rolled off his tongue so naturally!!!

you hiccup and your nose twitches and jin feels his heart pit-a-pat in his chest

o boy

“but i- it has to be four layers and it has to be chocolate confetti chocolate confetti and then i need blue- light blue buttercream frosting in between the layers and… and i think dark blue buttercream around- or maybe it’s dark blue in between and light blue around-“ you start to ramble again and jin’s eyes widen

chRist

this birthday cake might not be that doable after all

usually he just has to write ‘happy birthday ____!’ on top of a cake and maybe make some pretty frosting roses on top and that’s it

“how about-“ jin interrupts you agAin with a gentle smile, “how about i get you a pen and paper and you can list out all the requirements for this special cake? in the meantime, i’ll heat up a cup of my homemade strawberry milk for you and- are you a fruit person or a chocolate person?”

“chocolate?” you pull a chair out from a table and drag it over so that you’re sitting right by the front counter “i like milk chocolate.”

“lucky for you, i use milk chocolate for my chocolate mousse cake. do you like whipped cream?” jin asks as he slides a notepad and pen over to you

you nod before offering him a shy smile

okay

so far so good

your cake actually isn’t that complicated! it just has a loT of different pieces that have to be put together

and it’s a good thing jin still has some pans of cake that he baked this morning (usually he bakes the cakes in the morning and then lets them rest for the night and then he frosts them the neXt morning so that it’s ready for his customers)

unfortunately he didn’t have any confetti cake so instead he replaced it with plain vanilla cake and then in the blue frosting he threw in a whole handful of sprinkles

and the buttercream frosting is easy to make because he makes them by the buCket so all he had to do was dump food dye in it

and he knows about your time limit so he’s working as quickly as possible

he really wants to strike up a conversation with you but a) he needs to focus and b) for some reason he can’t seem to turn his usual boyish charm on with you because you seem so… delicate?

and you seem to have calmed down from earlier

you’re still working through the chocolate mousse cake and-

jin’s lips press together in a poor attempt to suppress his smile when he notices whipped cream on the corner of your mouth

you seem to be enjoying the cake which is a good thing

“this whipped cream is like, really good-“ you look over at jin (you asked for his name when he first started putting the cake together and just like that the name of his bakery suddenly made sense) ((and now that you think about it it’s actually a pretty clever name so braVo to him!!)) “what brand is it from?”

“oh, it’s- i actually make my own whipped cream, so it’s my own recipe.” jin smiles proudly and stands up a little straighter

“what do you put in here that makes it so good??” you wonder out loud as you scrape some off the top of the cake before sucking it off your pointer finger

“it’s easy, i pretty much just-“ jin suddenly stops whipping the frosting before narrowing his eyes at you playfully “actually, that’s for me to know and for you to nEver find out. how do i know you’re not from some rival bakery??”

“-if i was from a rival bakery i think i’d probably be able to make this cake on my own. instead i came to you and started crying when you said you were closed for the night.” you raise a brow before narrowing your eyes baCk at jin

“touché.” jin snorts as he starts to pipe the message on the top of the cake “so, um-“ he clears his throat and glances over at you briefly “this yoongi - he’s your boyfriend, you said?”

“yoongi?” you laugh lightly before shaking your head, “no, no way. yoongi is not my boyfriend. god, that’d be…. nO, yoongi is not my boyfriend.” you wipe your mouth with a napkin before dropping it on the plate

“right, right- and namjoon is-“

“namjoon is dEFINitely not my boyfriend- i don’t have a boyfriend, so-“ you lean back against the chair as you watch jin slowly piping out yoongi’s name

“ah, i see, i see.” jin nods in understanding

a moment of silence goes by

…he doesn’t know how to continue this conversation

when did he get so awKWARd at flirting????

maybe if he tries to sell you a box of cupcakes like he did with those tourists he’ll become charming again

“do you have a- is there, like, a mrs sweet kimfecjins-“

…and it’s just hitting him that yoU seem to be just as awkward as him when it comes to subtle flirting

“well, if you play your cards right you might just end up with that title, darling.”

your cheeks immEDiately go bright red and jin can’t help but smirk to himself

he’s still got it

“thank you so much for doing this at the last minute, you’re a literal life saver-“ you gush as you dig through your purse for your wallet

there are approximately 18 minutes left until the clock strikes niNE so if you drive as crazily as you did when getting hEre then you should make it back to the party before namjoon gets the chance to bite your head off

“oh, you know what?” jin shakes his head as he makes sure the cake is secure in the box “you can just take the cake - i feel like you’ve been through enough, so this one’s on me.”

“what?? no, i can’t do that to you! it’s such a nice cake!! i can’t just take it-“

“how about-“ jin stops you before you can get into another one of your five minute rambles (you seem to do that a lot) “how about in return for the cake, you let me take you out on a date?”

you blink owlishly at him and jin beams when he sees colour rising to the apples of your cheeks once again

“you- you want to take me out on a date?”

“the journey to becoming mrs sweet kimfecjins has to start somEwhere-“ jin jokes lightly before shaking his head “if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, but i’m still going to give you the cake on the hous-“

“no, i want to!” you blurt out a little toO enthusiastically before clearing your throat and rEELing it way back “i mean- yeah, a date sounds nice… or whatever.”

“or whatever?” jin teases as he slides the box over to you “i wrote my cell number on the back of the receipt, so… text me, or whatever. let me know when you’re free and we can sort something out.”

good lord

jin seems to know the way to a woman’s stomach aND her heart

‘i scrape fresh vanilla beans into the whipped cream - that’s what makes it so yummy! there’s also another ingredient but i’ll tell you what it is on our date. see you soon, darling. -your favourite very super unbelievably handsome baker, jin’

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

660 notes · View notes

iconsumeheadcanons · 3 years

Note

hello, for the WIP game.... "fanfic in my google docs? its more likely than you :/" and "theater food" :)

bro...bro..BRO you are getting large chucks of these bc im not sure if these will be finished/posted anytime soon..<3 ive gotten a lot of love today thank u so muchhh asldkfjaslkdfj i hope u enjoy!! here is all of ‘theater food’ and half of the first one

fanfic in my google docs? its more likely than you think :/

May 30th - 16:33 - Afterschool

Ren was still in the middle of hastily reading Futaba’s texts from hours ago when he opened the door to his family home and found his mother pacing in the genkan.

“...Mom, wha-?”

“I got a call from your school,” she says instead of hello. Ren freezes. Mona shifts in his bag. There’s silence for a second too long, but his mother quickly catches his tense posture and readjusts her approach. There haven’t been any arguments in a week and she doesn’t want to make this a new one.

“The counselor said you were fighting with a first-year,” she starts in a more inviting tone, but she tenses when she sees how quickly Ren’s cautious neutral face shifts into a frown.

“I-I just want to know what happened,” she says.

Ren releases an angry huff instead of turning around and leaving because he recognizes that his mother isn’t trying to jump to conclusions--that she trying to hear his side--but he still has hours worth of bad emotions at the forefront of his mind, so he kicks off his sneakers without undoing the laces and haphazardly drops them on the shoe rack before he allows himself to say anything.

Of course, because he is an angry idiot, his first response is: “There was no fight. It was just an argument,” and he snaps his mouth closed because that is exactly what a delinquent guilty of starting a fight would say and Makoto would be so disappointed in him right now. Morgana delivers her phantom message with a disapproving really, Joker?

His mother guiltily shifts her hands, one eyebrow twitching at Morgana’s muffled meow.

“I just used the words of the counselor,” she amends, gesturing for Ren to enter the family room.

When they enter, she sits at one side of the rickety couch and pats the other seat. She smiles with some invitation, a dash of hesitance, and a sprinkle of uncertainty as if she has no clue how to speak to her teenage son. She looks at him sort of like he’s a child, but at least she doesn’t seem afraid of him like she was before Golden Week.

Ren joins her at the couch, releases Morgana on to the space between them so he doesn’t have to think about the distance, and conjures up how he can best explain the events of the morning in the least incriminating way (shouldn’t have to, he thinks, didn’t do nothing wrong in the first place) but his mother recognizes his thinking face before he can start.

“W-whatever you say, I’ll believe you, sweetie,” she encourages honestly. He can tell she means it because she tucks her hands in between her knees and tilts her legs in the picture perfect display of humble motherliness to hide how her legs would bounce otherwise. He turns to face her a bit, legs spread out and back slouched in a show of teenage indifference, despite his nervous right leg and the rhythmic flickers of light that bounce off of his phone case as he deftly spins his smartphone in his left hand.

“You mean that?” he can’t help but ask, belying his blase posture.

His mother nods with lips pursed, proving to her son that she has no intention of speaking over him. Emboldened yet reluctant, Ren begins the recount of his day at school.

theater food

Ren slides into his seat while Hamuko and Ryuji chatter away about beef bowl places. Their enthusiastic discussion about cheap, fast, good food is not helping Ren’s patience or hunger. Usually Ren’s been in charge of the food prep because he’s the only one who knows how to make something all of the Thieves plus Hamuko will eat, but when they left Kamoshitty City today, Theodore pleasantly requested if he could make a recipe he’s been working on, which Hamuko had endorsed immediately.

Ren agreed because Theodore is really hot and the thought of him buzzing around the kitchen is appealing enough, but around 40 minutes later, Ren is very hungry and is cursing his inability to disagree with tall hot people. To distract himself, he tries to brainstorm ways to free Haru and Makoto from Kamoshit-man’s unproportionately buff grasp, but his brain keeps snapping back to his teammates’ loud discussions and Theodore in a heart apron and himself in a cute pinafore sharing a festival smoothie--the romantic ones with the heart shaped straw--under the setting sun. He doesn’t even like smoothies.

From the other corner of the weird theater lunch tables Futaba sends him a blank look that implies that she can hear his raging gay thoughts. Ren sticks his tongue out at her, and to Futaba’s left, Nagi raises a thin eyebrow and points at herself as though she thought he was talking to her. Embarrassed but never one to lose, Ren sticks out his tongue again at her paired with a flirtatious wink. At the head of the table beside Ren, Akechi makes a face. Futaba gags. Unaffected, Nagi returns her attention to Yusuke’s analysis of Hamuko’s preferred color palette for her hypothetical thief costume.

Ren’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out, wondering how someone managed to text him while he’s in a magical dimension theater metaphor place. He quickly gives up that train thought when he sees Futaba’s SNS username. A quick glance up shows that she’s pointedly staring at her phone, so he swipes open the message.

wat did theo say he was making?

i hungr

idk

worried u wont like it?

duh

if hes anything like those tsuntsun twins he’ll probably poison it

...i didnt think of that

prolly not though. i mean hamuko trusts him

ur only saying that cuz hes a pretty boy

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

for real though he wouldnt

The twins would without a doupt

*akechi voice* haha it was merely a jest!

DSKLFASLDKFSD STOP HES RIGHT

HES RIHGT NEXT TO ME ASSHOEL

“Food’s ready!” Theodore announces over Ren and Futaba’s unsubtle snickers. Somehow, Theodore has acquired two shining serving platters.

“Theo, you’re the best!” Hamuko says, standing up immediately to help him serve because she (and Haru) is the sweetest person in the universe.

“Thanks,” Ren tacks on because he’s ‘in charge’ and he’s supposed to ‘set good examples’. He does not, however, stand up to help because he is lazy.

The rest of the group is already chorusing thank yous and crowding around the food like hungry animals. Makoto is not around to tell them that they’re acting like children. Akechi is patiently waiting for everyone to get out of the way before he serves himself, which is probably a smarter idea than Ren who’s walking around the table so he can insert himself between Ann and Ryuji, the most destructive eaters of their current group. Yusuke, another main offender however justified, already has a bowl full of what appears to be noodles, veggies, and chicken covered in a savory sauce.

#my writing #p5 #p3 #pq #the firsts a lil wordy but i like details so ykno #idk how to make text others colors on desktop but ren is italized text

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lideria · 4 years

Text

Chaos. | Johnny

➥ request: can I ask for a fluff fic wherein popular johnny and introvert y/n shares a love for photography and bonds over it

➥ pairing: johnny x gender-neutral reader

➥ genre: fluff literally only fluff, college!au bc i miss it

➥ warnings: none other than a few swear words i think? as always, there might be errors because english is my second language!

➥ word count: 3.3k

➥ summary: it’s awkward all around, but somehow you get a friend and a model out of an encounter.

➥ author’s note: this is so late and so bad, i’m sorry. i literally struggled with this so unnecessarily much and i don’t even know why exactly, because this is such an interesting concept. please excuse my bad writing in this and my lack of knowledge in photography, i have done some research but i know it probably isn’t enough. i hope the anon is still around and sees it! have a great time lovelies, and i hope you enjoy this little.. chaos heheh 💕 (i hate it here i do)

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

The room was scorching hot, and you were just trying to leave.

The club’s meeting had started around three hours ago for the last meeting before the big competition. One that was international and people had taken their sweet time getting ready for; a few months of preparation to potentially take the photograph that would grant them money, a lot of press, an opportunity to photograph the cover of a photography magazine and overall pride. Members had been taking about possibly restarting commission work and whether the club should do commission work as a society, free of the school, so that they could have a chance at getting better coverage from local blogs and newspapers, and requiring better payment for their work.

Nothing about the competition, really. Everyone was talented, and everyone was confident. They did not make a big deal out of it. Sure, they had been preparing for months on end as well and they had taken countless potential shots that would end up in the competition— but at this point they had long selected the one.

So when Johnny, the club president (who everyone on this campus that is home to thousands of students knows and has conversed with one way or another) stops you instead of them, the ones who could actually use words of encouragement and what not, it feels kind of weird. You stop before you can go out anyway, instead of pretending not to hear him. “Uh, sure. What about?”

Johnny makes eye contact with you when you turn around, and smiles apologetically before lifting a finger up signaling one second, and moves to close the door. He starts talking before he can come back to his place in front of you, where he had ben leaning against a desk. “I was looking over the last submissions for the competition and I couldn’t see your name,” And he is back, leaning against the desk again with his hands on either side, and a straight face. “You really won’t participate?”

Oh, so he had noticed. You thought nobody would, because you thought it probably would not matter if anyone decided not to take part in it. It would be a weird move to do so, yes, but considering free will and everything it was not undoable. “Ah, it’s just,” You shrug. “I don’t have a camera right now? It outlived its lifetime, and a couple months ago it thought it would be the right time to say farewell.”

He looks at you, crosses his arms on his chest, and furrows his eyebrows a little before lifting one up. “You could’ve just asked someone for a camera.”

“Yeah, except I couldn’t.” You chuckle, which prompts Johnny to look at you more questioningly than anything. So you explain yourself. “I didn’t want to be an inconvenience to anyone— plus, I don’t think most people would want to help a rival.”

“Well that’s just jumping to conclusions.” Despite how his words sound, he smiles. “You could borrow my camera if you’d like.”

“Johnny, there’s like a week before submissions start. I don’t even know if you have the equipments I need, or if the weather’s in my favor.” Upon your words he laughs slightly. “I know for a fact you’ve seen my astrophotography. You were looking at them last semester in the gallery,”

He then nods, just once, reassuringly. “Just look at the forecast. I wouldn’t mind.”

That had been the end point, really.

You went ahead and protested further saying you did not even know if what you wanted to appear on the photos were aligned and visible anytime soon, but Johnny had protested back saying you could just find something else to photograph; just take his camera and do something with it. When you asked him why he only told you that he liked your photography and somewhat and somehow related to it— which was a little mind boggling, considering you were not friends. Only acquaintances, and he could still compliment you and tell you something somewhat vulnerable looking into your eyes just like that and wholeheartedly, coming from his chest.

It got you thinking: maybe that was why everyone seemed to like him. He just meant things he said, and he did not really hold himself back from saying things.

He lets you use his computer to check the alignments and the forecast and the cloud formations for the upcoming days and surely enough, the day after the next the sky would be something you could work with. Not ideal, but better than nothing. “Where do you want to shoot the thing?” He asks over your shoulder, perhaps a bit too into your personal space than you are used to with an acquaintance, but it does not feel weird somehow. Probably because you know that he is not a creep that is peeping over your shoulder.

“You know the little beach at the lake?” He nods. “There.”

“Okay.” You close shut his laptop, and get ready to hand it to him, but he stops you midway. “Where do we meet?”

Wait. “We meet?”

That makes him chuckle. “Unless you want to shoot the sky in the dark all by yourself.”

In all honesty, that is what you usually do. Is it fun to do? Definitely not, because the quiet of the dark can get incredibly boring especially when you are not really seeing what you are shooting. The Milky Way was so hard to spot— it would take at least half an hour of your eyes adjusting to the dark before you could see any of it, and even then it would just be a mess of dark purple, blotchy gas with stars sprinkling over. Without any exposure and brightness it was not the most exciting thing, although it still held its magic to it.

The planets were, yes, definitely more visible than the Milky Way could ever be but again: they basically just bigger stars without proper effects. And considering the shoot usually went as setting the camera up somewhere, turning on all the necessary settings and toying with them until the view looked right enough, and leaving it for hours on end by itself and only getting up and taking stills a few times throughout the said hours; looking at and sitting under the night sky with naked eyes all alone proved to be very boring at times.

“Just give me your phone number.”

What you actually end up settling for is meeting at the lake because you realize you are living much farther from each other, at least compared to what you would have expected. You have to use different buses to be able to meet, and unless there were campers on his bus, he was also one of the only people that would take the bus to the lake at the dead of the night. Dead of the night being literally 2 AM in the morning.

When he arrives you are already there sitting on the sad excuse of what must be sand but is more of a weird mush, looking at your phone, checking the forecast last minute to make sure everything would be as what you expected throughout the night. The beach was fairly small and you were the only one there, except for the couple of abandoned beer bottles that had not been thrown away in the trash most likely out of laziness and lack of respect for the environment.

Johnny sets the camera bag down next to you before he drops down as well, setting his other bag next to him. “Hello there,” He greets you, and you mumble a greeting in return. “Getting here was so hard, why don’t you shoot at the hike trails? There’s a clearer view of the sky.”

“Mm, light pollution’s worse there. I can’t deal with that.” You still mumble and shake your head slightly, biting at your hangnail as you look at your phone. Johnny does not like that, the fact that you will not look at him and that biting a hangnail is often a nervous thing for a lot of people— it nerved him, made him think he is somehow unapproachable even though that is the last thing he would want to seem as. “Let’s set up the camera?” He suggests in hopes that it will get you moving or looking at him.

Which it does, because you lock your phone and look at him. It is a bit hard to see you in the dark, but he does not mind. “Thank you for letting me use your camera, Johnny.”

It is not what he expects. But he takes it as the reason of your seemingly nervous antic. “I forgot to thank you for it before, so.”

A smile plants itself on his face before he can even realize it. “It’s no problem. Now, come on.”

Johnny helps with setting the camera up, letting you fiddle with the lenses and the lights while he deals with the tripod and the height. He lets you walk around with the camera in your hands and waits for you to find a reasonable place where the sky can come out good and the environments can enhance the shot, and it happens to be a few feet away from where you were first sitting. He secures the tripod right then and there, and watches you deal with the settings for a good few minutes before he can catch somewhat of a smile.

Though, he knows that it will take a lot more than just a few minutes to find your ideal settings, and it does. You fiddle with the buttons and the settings, take a few test stills, go back and middle some more, bend your back and stretch since you are leaning down the whole time and it is hurting your hips a little, take a few more stills and… It takes a lot of time before you can actually start your time-lapse. Throughout all of it, he waits for you in silence.

And when you are done, he smiles at you. “All done?”

“Yeah,” The relief is both audible and visible as you breathe out. “There’s Saturn and Jupiter tonight, looks super nice. I just hope I can get good stills out of this.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to.” He clears his throat before continuing with his words. “I brought a few snacks, if you’d like some.”

You look out at the lake a little and frown at how it is wavering a bit, presumably because it would make it harder to take stills later. He hears you huff for a short second. “Sure.”

He does not necessarily like the way your voice sounds when you are supposed to be agreeing to his suggestion, but you walk around the camera and go sit down with him next to his bag anyway. Johnny takes the snacks out only hoping you would like what he has, and takes some napkins out, thinking you would need them if anything melts in your hand and everything gets a bit sticky.

An idea strikes him then, something he had learned from his friends way back in high school when he was in yet another photography club. After handing you the snacks and a napkin, he holds out the pack of napkins again. “Take another one.”

“What for?” He shrugs and pushes his hand further to emphasize. “Just take one.”

You do, and do not think much of it because you turn to your bag and take a thermos out, taking the cap off and filling it with the liquid inside. The grey trail of steam and scent makes its way to his nose; it is coffee.

Johnny just about becomes friends with you when you hold the cap out to him. “Thought we could use this to stay awake.”

“This is a saving grace,” He chuckles, and does not hesitate to take a sip. A dark and heavy brew, the way he loves it. “Thank you. Now, do me a favor and tear one of the napkins up.”

You chuckle a bit as you take your own sip, which results in you choking up a little. “What, why?”

But Johnny does not answer that question of yours. It prompts an awkward silence, both of you sipping your coffees once more. It proves to be unbearable, though, so you end up doing what he asks of you. Even though it sounds extremely weird.

When you are done with tearing the napkin up, there are dozens of unusable pieces in your hand and it feels somewhat dusty. “What am I supposed to do now?”

He looks at your hand for a brief moment, and lets out a laugh that sounds like a puff because of the way it is stuck between his lips. His shoulders shake, although not violently. “Well,” He starts. “You’re supposed to say a truth for every piece you have, it’s kind of a game.”

Your face must have morphed into such a shocked and taken aback mimic that Johnny actually bursts into laughter this time. “I’m not telling you this many truths, the hell?” Because, in all honesty, you do not think you ever told anyone that many truths in a game before. All of the truth-and-dares combined.

Johnny does not care about that a whole lot though, so he just shrugs. “Better start telling me. You can just stop when you get bored with it, I guess.”

With a huff, you start.

At first it is just you admitting doing sets of embarrassing things in your childhood and teenage years, how you wasted two semesters in the debate club dreading absolutely every competition and club meeting since you are more of an introvert, how you are most definitely going to fall a couple of classes but it is okay since you had taken extra credits last academic year, how although loving photography you do not want to do it for a living, how the coolest thing about it would be you starting a blog that thousand of people would follow— just for your astrophotography.

After that point it turns into a mutual conversation about photography. You tell him how astrophotography never fails to be amazing even though the things in the sky never change, and how every time you take a shot it will look just like the others but so much more different which is what pulls you into it when he asks you why you do it in the first place. Johnny also asks you if you should be doing a simple sky shoot for such a competition, and you answer saying you are not really aiming for first place already; you know for a fact that while looking at the submissions, people will stop scrolling the website just to look at your shot and that is what matters. Because they will find it so interesting, even though it will be just like any other night sky shot they have seen before, and it will be so interesting because it will be something far from what they can see with their naked eyes. They will try to memorize everything about that photo before moving onto the others.

And that is what matters to you. The fact that they will pay attention means much more to you than getting first place.

He, although jokingly, calls you a true artist. It somehow feels true to you.

Then, you proceed to compliment Johnny on his astrophotography, because some of his shots are in your all time favorites. There is a way in how he lets the light spill in his shots, how he links the city and the sky together that you respect so much, and you really wonder if it is all camerawork or also a tonne of editing. “It’s mostly camerawork,” He says with a smile on his face. “I can teach you someday if you want me to.”

You take up on his offer, of course, because you can grow with every bit of knowledge— plus he was fun to be around. The conversation just seemed to flow.

The conversation seemed to flow so fluently, in fact, that you almost did not realize that the lake water was about to drag the tripod away and tumble it down if it was not for the waves hitting your shoes after the wind picked up.

Both of you made a run for the set-up, but one of you were not all that lucky to be able to make it.

Johnny slips when he runs and falls backwards on the mushy, weird mix between dirt and sand, sending you into a hysteric laughter as you hold the camera. The laughter doubles you over probably because of your sleepiness (no, the silhouette as he fell in his clumsy moment was too funny to not howl over it), but you make it a point to ask in proper etiquette. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He stands up, laughing just as much himself. “But I’m muddy all over.”

“Just go in the water.” At that he looks at you as if you are crazy, so you argue further. “You can either be wet, or muddy. It’s up to you.”

Johnny runs into the water and properly dips in this time, sending the two of you back into your fits of laughter.

Considering lake mud is the worst type you can get stuck on your clothes, you think he does the right thing. While he cleans up, you take some more stills— not caring too much when he walks into the frame at some point while making his way back to his bag.

Well. You actually take rapid photos of him at some point because you get a potentially great idea, but you would never admit to doing that. He would learn about it if it worked your way anyway.

You wait for him to squeeze his clothes so as much of the excess water is out as possible, and do him a favor and take the set-up down all by yourself, taking the memory card and putting it into your wallet as well. The footage is way shorter than how they usually are for you, but considering it is nearing five o’clock in the morning and Johnny would be freezing if he stayed more, you decide it is whatever. Any still would do the job according to your policy.

What really proves to be hard, though, is finding a taxi for Johnny. There are at least a few of them that pass by before you can convince one to take in your ‘drunk’ friend, telling them the address Johnny had told you for the second time after deciding on this little plan for him to be able to go home. Unlike him, taking the bus back is much easier for you especially after the sky ever so slightly starts lighting up, giving you the prettiest view to watch with your headphones blasting music, craving sleep.

Both of you do not really hear from each other until the next week, with you being too busy editing the still you had chosen trying to get it to be splendid, and him simply too busy with seminars and classes and the last bit of feedback he is giving on people’s submissions. You can only text some nights, but that is about it.

That is, until he calls you less than five minutes after you send him your submission. “Why this?”

You look at the laptop in front of you and the still you have just sent him— the silhouette of Johnny and his hair being flicked, sending droplets of water everywhere; because of his tall stature perfectly on and in between the stars, capturing the purple of the sky and the silver and red and green lights of the stars, and some of them just shine like how water does. Saturn and Jupiter are at the tip of his nose, and somehow his silhouette emphasizes them. Again, somehow in this weird state of him just walking away from the frame and the weird state of his arms and overall body, everything looks merged well together.

Chaos above in the sky, and chaos just down on the ground. “Well it’s pretty, isn’t it?”

#nct-writers #nct imagines #nct scenarios #johnny #will it post i am NOT hopeful anyway this sucks bye

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