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nanamiya3 · 2 years

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i don’t know how to use tumblr pls tell me if i do something wrong :D

synopsis: day at the zoo with toji, megumi, & tsumiki! and then baking cookies!

toji x gn reader - flufffffff - domestic/parent!toji - mentions of food & knife - wc. 1.6k

(i wanted to add one of those “keep reading” things but idk how to & i also don’t know if tumblr does it automatically so i’m sorry if you have to scroll past this big long post) OK NVM I FIGURED IT OUT!!

It was a warm Sunday afternoon, and you were all gathered around the dining table after a day at the zoo. Megumi had recently developed an interest in big cats - lions and tigers were his favorites - and you suspected he’d picked it up from the nature documentaries Toji watched. Tsumiki was excited about the trip too, because she’d learned about giraffes in class and thought they were the absolute coolest (Toji had lifted her up on his shoulders to make her taller, but she still had to crane her neck up at the giraffe. She let out a string of “woahh”s every time the animal moved, giggling like crazy with Toji when it stuck its tongue out.).

The kids were exhausted after a long day of exploring the zoo. Tsumiki had insisted on seeing all of the exhibits, and none of you could ever say no to her. Her giddy reactions to each animal were contagious, and even Megumi was smiling in the aquarium, eyes wide with awe at the floor-to-ceiling tank that housed multiple Zebra and Hammerhead Sharks. Megumi tugged on your hand, eagerly recounting facts about oceanic life that he’d heard from Toji’s documentaries. The documentary fan in question had brought along his camera, clicking away and capturing shots of Tsumiki and Megumi moving happily from one display to the next. You were bent down to Megumi’s height, laughing with him as you both tried to predict which hole the next meerkat would pop out of when- CLICK! You whirled around, hand covering your mouth in shock, giggling at Toji as he stood there with a grin on his face and camera in his hands. Megumi had stuck his tongue out at Toji, to which Toji responded with another click! This time, the shot captured Megumi, brows furrowed and tongue stuck out at the camera. You’d all laughed when you stopped for lunch and bits of Megumi’s blue cotton candy got stuck on his lip. He’d grumbled, quickly wiping at his mouth, a small blush on his pudgy cheeks. At the gift shop, you picked up matching bucket hats for the four of you, tugging one over Toji’s head as he looked at you like you were ridiculous. When you’d all clambered into the car, ready to head home, you reached over the console to grab Toji’s hand, heart full and heavy with love. He leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead (forehead kisses!!!) and Megumi retched from the backseat. Tsumiki rolled her eyes at her younger brother and gave him a light smack on the arm - she thought you guys were sweet! Toji smiled at their antics, letting out a small “thanks ’Miki” as he shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot.

When you got home, Tsumiki had declared that she was hungry for cookies. Lunch had only been a few hours ago, and you’d packed a pretty big meal for the trip, so you didn’t mind swapping dinner with some homemade cookies. You turned to Toji, shrugging; as long as he and Megumi weren’t too hungry, you were okay with Tsumiki’s suggestion.

“Hmmm…” Toji pretended to think, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “I think I’m hungry for some cookies too, ’Miki.” Toji turned to your son, raising a brow. “Whaddya say, ’Gumi?”

Megumi frowned. He really liked your cooking, so he looked forward to at-home meals. On top of that, Megumi wasn’t too big on sweets. But… you also had a pretty mean shortbread cookie recipe…

Tsumiki, sensing Megumi’s uncertainty, jumped forward. “Pleeeease ’Gumi?”

And… Cookies it was.

So, there you all stood (though Megumi and Tsumiki stood on stools), rolling out shortbread cookie dough on the dining room table.

Toji, the big menace, had “accidentally” added too much sugar, not realizing you’d caught him winking at Tsumiki. The kids had helped you weigh and portion out all of the ingredients, taking turns kneading the dough. When it was time to shape the cookies, you portioned the cookie dough into four chunks, setting one before each end of the table. Tsumiki ran into the kitchen, pulling up a stool to dig out a small dish of cookie cutters from the cabinet. She spread the various designs across the middle of the table so that everybody could make fun-shaped cookies.

There were only two rolling pins, so you and Toji flattened the cookie dough with your hands, opting to let Tsumiki and Megumi use the rolling pins first.

When Tsumiki and Megumi started to punch out their first few cookies (Megumi chose a bird-shaped stencil for his first cookie, Tsumiki used a heart stencil), Toji slipped into the kitchen and lined a baking tray with a sheet of parchment paper. He preheated the oven and grabbed a small paring knife so he could custom-cut his own cookie design before moving back to the dining table.

Toji set the baking sheet down on the corner of the table so that Tsumiki and Megumi could begin getting their cookies ready to be baked, and you shot him a grateful smile.

Using the rolling pin Tsumiki had passed to you, you ran over your cookie dough one final time.

“What are you making your cookies into?” you asked Toji, peering down at his flat sheet of dough.

He grinned, “I’m gonna make you!” Sure enough, he had what looked like a decent head of hair outlined for his cookie.

You laughed, shaking your head, a light blush spreading across your cheeks. You reached to fumble through the cookie cutters, watching as Megumi and Tsumiki loaded their cookies onto the tray.

Tsumiki’s cookies were a bit thin, so when she picked up her fourth cookie -- cut in the shape of a gingerbread man -- the arm fell right off.

“Shit!” Tsumiki cursed, small hands mashing the broken guy back into a ball of dough.

You froze, turning to look at Toji accusingly.

He caught your eye, laughing awkwardly, gaze darting between you and his daughter. “We don’t use those words around here ’Miki.”

Megumi turned to Toji with a confused look on his face. “But Daddy, you use those words all the time.”

Toji winced. He might have audibly groaned. “’Gumi!” he whisper yelled. “You said you’d keep it a secret!” Toji couldn’t believe he was being betrayed by his own kids like this.

You turned to your husband with narrowed eyes. “Are you teaching my kids bad words?”

Toji turned to look at Tsumiki and Megumi for backup, but they just stared back at him. The three of them were screwed.

Toji turned back to you, flour-dusted hands up and a nervous smile on his face. This situation was still salvageable: he just needed to play innocent.

“I would never do such a thing, love. I’m not sure where our dear ’Miki heard that word from. It must have been at school…” He winced at his obvious lie. Was calling you “love” overdoing it? He was screwed.

You rolled your eyes, mouth opening to reprimand him about his language when the oven beeped. It was time to bake the cookies.

You sighed, and Toji mentally thanked his past self for preheating the oven so diligently. You cut your eyes down to his cookie-in progress and said with a frown, “That cookie better look flawless.”

Toji swallowed, quickly getting back to work. “Yes dear,” he affirmed.

Megumi and Tsumiki giggled at their father’s swift defeat until you directed your attention back to the pair.

“No more bad words,” you warned the kids. “If you hear your dad say any other bad words, tell me and I’ll fix him up.”

The two nodded their heads obediently, and Toji shook his own, disappointed by their lack of loyalty.

As Toji worked on his masterpiece of a cookie, you helped Tsumiki and Megumi load their cookies onto the waiting tray. You brought the full tray into the kitchen, Tsumiki on your heels, before sliding it into the hot oven. Tsumiki reached for the timer on the fridge, setting it to 10 minutes.

You ran a hand through her hair, the two of you heading back to the dining table. You and Toji were the only ones with cookie dough left, so you ushered Megumi to come over to your side, letting him and Tsumiki churn out your portion of cookies. You smiled as you watched them discuss which cookie cutter would be better - the rocket or the star - and headed to the kitchen to ready another baking tray.

As you stood at the counter, pulling the roll of parchment paper over the baking sheet to eyeball how long the paper needed to be, you felt large, steady arms wrap around your middle. Toji propped his chin up on your head, arms circled around your waist.

“M’sorry for teaching the kids cuss words,” Toji apologized. One of his hands slid up your shirt and rested against your stomach, his head dropping to brush his nose against your neck.

It really wasn’t fair. Toji knew your weaknesses well -- too well. A small kiss to the column of your neck, a big hand flat against your front anddd… You were gone.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “I’m not that upset, I just don’t want them talking like that when they’re so young.” You turned around, slipping your arms around him, head buried in his chest. “Thank you for today.”

Toji’s chest felt tight - like he had a million things he wanted to say, but couldn’t get anything out. Instead, he dropped a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you,” he whispered, arms wrapped tight around you.

— ok i have no idea how to end this & im tired as hell but toji’s cookie def comes out rly wonky & ur just like :/ & he grovels & megumi laughs at him hehe

#toji x reader #toji fluff #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fushiguro #jjk fluff #jjk toji #how do you use tumblr #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro fluff #toji scenarios #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fic #toji drabbles #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toji fushiguro fluff

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jennamacaroni · 2 years

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prompt list, fluff #59: “You’re very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

(for @soulofacircus babs i’m slowly chipping away at the... twenty-one you sent me)

edit: sry for stealing a line from you babe 💕💕💕 @fleaflofloyd

“Ava. Wake up.”

Something is prodding at her shoulder and she definitely doesn’t remember falling asleep. Why is Deborah–is this a dream? If it is, it’s definitely not as good as… nevermind. Ava inhales against the pillow, and there’s just the ghost of Deborah’s perfume. She smiles, digs her nose in deeper, and draws in more of Deborah’s smell. Those ridiculously expensive face creams taking up the majority of the bus’s fridge sure do smell lovely. RIP to that kombucha, though.

“You’re drooling on the pillowcase. Those are silk and cost more than your paycheck.”

“Mm just add it to my tab,” Ava says, voice sleep-scratched and muffled by the pillow as she rearranges the splay of her legs underneath the weight of the duvet. The smoothness of the sheets slip against her freshly shaved legs, the complete opposite of the shitty stiff and scratchy ones on her own tiny bed a few feet down the hall.

The hand at her shoulder becomes more forceful in pushing at her but Ava refuses to open her eyes, instead swatting blindly at Deborah and rolling onto her side, finding the cooler half of the pillow and leaving Deborah at her back.

“Go to your own bed.”

“Can’t. Asleep. Cozy. So fucking cozy.”

They’d been watching SVU again, Deborah’s suggestion, and Deborah’s bed was the only place on the bus big enough for the both of them. Though she spoils the ending of every episode without fail, Ava cares less and less as these moments provide her with the rare opportunity to lay down without feeling like she’s in a coffin.

“Please, Deb. I don’t want to feel like a vampire just for one night. You don’t know how good you have it.”

“I promise you I do. Lest you forget this isn’t my first tour bus rodeo. Or my second or even my third. Plus you talk in your sleep. Full-on conversations, both sides, and I can’t fall asleep.”

Ava rolls over again, this time facing Deborah who is clad in the silk zebra pajamas and still propped up with multiple pillows and the latest copy of the New Yorker spread open across her lap. Her readers sit perched at the very tip of her nose and she peers down at Ava over them.

“Yeah, you really look like you’re going for some shut-eye there, D.”

Deborah purses her lips and tries to look annoyed, but Ava’s not buying. Maybe she’s just too sleepy and content here in Deborah’s bed, or maybe she’s simply too used to being on the receiving end of Deborah’s glares to care much anymore.

“What did I tell you about that nickname?”

Ava ignores the hint of the threat and yawns, relishing that she can fully stretch her limbs without hitting any walls. She pulls the hood of her sweatshirt up over her still damp hair and down over her eyes, hiding as much of her face as she can, trying to block out the light from Deborah’s reading lamp.

“Five more minutes, pleeeease,” Ava begs, closing the short distance between their bodies to rest her head against Deborah’s arm. “I promise not to complain next time your rejuvenation bed or whatever overheats and turns my bunk into a hotbox.”

“That was one time.”

“Yeah, well, the heat rash still hasn’t gone away completely, so.”

“I really don’t need to know.”

Ava pulls back but misses Deborah’s warmth immediately. She rubs at the sleepy crust around her eyes and meets Deborah’s. She probably looks as in love as she feels, but Ava is too sleepy to attempt to hide her affection. “Okay, name your price.”

“You’re very endearing when you’re half asleep,” Deborah says, tugging at one of the strings of Ava’s sweatshirt and cinching the hood half-closed around her face. “And so much less of a pain in the ass.”

“Thank you?”

“Okay, one more episode.”

“Yes!” Ava picks up the TV remote and hits play, the familiar voiceover playing as Ava snuggles back down beneath the sheets. They both make the iconic ‘chung chung’ sound perfectly in sync with the audio as the episode begins and Ava is stupidly content.

After the opening credits and just as Ava is closing her eyes, Deborah adds, “and my price is we’re getting acai bowls for breakfast. No complaints.”

“Ugh, fine. Just no coconut flakes please? You know I’m allergic.”

“Honestly, I can’t keep track of your multitude of skin conditions.”

“It was a heat rash, Deborah!”

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” Deborah says, picking the magazine back up and picking up where she left off.

#hacks #prompts with friends #soulofacircus #ava x deborah #idk this was short and stupid and not at all what i sat down to write today #not even the second choice of what i wanted to write today #but c'est la vie #deb really has that giant bed on the bus so it really would be a waste if they're not sharing it at some point imo #as always i'll fix typos and grammar shit later if i notice it

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platoniclokiimagines · 2 years

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just,,, braiding loki's hair and putting flowers and stuff in it? thats all. do with that what you will :D 👍

A/N: This was so Soft to write. Thank you for requesting it.

WC: 1200

Rating: G

TW: None

When you had suggested the idea of braiding Loki’s hair, it really hadn’t seemed like such a big deal. Thor wore braids in his hair all the time, and you’d even seen Hela allowing Loki to braid hers, an honor that only Loki had been entrusted with, as far as you could tell, and you had to admit, they were quite good at it.

So one afternoon after Loki had finished with Hela’s hair, you sidled up to where they were still sat, hands behind your back as you twisted back and forth on the spot.

“Hey, Loki?”

“Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

You pouted dramatically. “That’s no fair, I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“Please, I can practically feel the mischief emanating from of you.”

“Oh, is that a special skill that comes with being the God of Mischief?” you teased, flopping down next to them on the couch.

“No, it’s a special skill that comes with centuries of causing mischief,” Loki jabbed back, finally looking over at you. “Go on, then, I’m listening.”

You beamed, now that you were in the clear. “Can I braid your hair?”

Loki seemed taken aback by the request. “Beg pardon?”

“Your hair? Can I braid it? I watch you braid Hela’s all the time, and I know Thor wears them, too. I just wanna see how you look in them.” You put on your best puppy dog pout, the one you knew Loki had little chance of arguing with. “Pleeeease?”

“Why would you want to do that?” Loki seemed genuinely confused at the idea, and you found yourself shrugging in response.

“Just do.”

Loki narrowed their eyes as they regarded you, seemingly trying to find out what your true motive was. “…and what will this braiding entail?”

Leave it Loki to know you didn’t just want to braid it. “Well, I was gonna wash and dry it for you, and then braid it, and then… maybeputsomeflowersinit?” You rushed the last bit in the hopes that Loki would gloss over it, but as luck would have it, they did not.

“Flowers? You want to put flowers in my hair?”

“Just once. Just this once. Pleeeeease? I won’t even take any pictures.” That they would see, anyway.

Loki looked at you appraisingly for a long moment, and then finally gave a huff of a sigh. “You will, but fine.”

You beamed. “Yes. Can I do it now? You’ve still got the hair ties out, anyway, and there’s all kinds of flowers out on the ground. I’ll even let you pick them out.”

“...of course you can.” Loki was putting on a big show of looking like there were a thousand other things they would rather be doing at the moment, but you could tell that they were happy to be making you happy.

Half an hour later and you’d gathered some flowers with Loki, gone through the process of washing and drying their hair, and were back in the living room, Loki sitting on the floor in front of you while you sat where they’d previously been sitting on one side of the couch.

“You know, I didn’t take you for a sunflower kind of a person,” you admitted, looking over at the bunch of flowers ready to be added to Loki’s hair.

“…they were my mother’s favorite.”

The both of you got quiet for a long moment. Loki rarely talked about their mother, fondly or sadly, as it was a topic that weighed on all three of the Odinkids to varying extents. And you didn’t ever want to say the wrong thing when she was mentioned, so you usually just let one of them do the talking until the topic of conversation changed.

“…I think it’ll look nice right at the back of your head, at the top of the braid? And then we’ll add some of the other flowers along the back as we go down.”

Loki nodded once, and settled down to sit still as you got a comb and sectioned off their hair so that you could begin to braid it.

A small part of you had banked on Loki being a little more restless while you were working. Had expected them to be their usual, mischief-making self and make comments or squirm and refuse to sit still, causing you to have to stop every five seconds to remind them to stop moving. But the second that you started braiding, they fell incredibly still and silent. You almost wanted to check to make sure they hadn’t stopped breathing.

“…you can still talk, you know,” you murmured, feeling the need to match Loki’s quietness as you tucked the sunflower into the beginning of the braid.

“Are you saying you’re not enjoying the peace and quiet?” That sounded more like Loki being Loki, and you couldn’t help but to smile.

“That’s putting words into my mouth.” You huffed out a quiet laugh, and Loki did the same before falling silent again, and this time, you did the same. It made it easier to focus, anyway, and you had to agree, it was rather peaceful, just braiding their hair in the calm silence of the living room.

You worked for a half hour, sectioning of parts of the braid to make smaller braids and weaving them all together with the different flowers Loki had chosen. They’d actually picked out quite the variety from the flower garden on the grounds. There was the sunflower they’d chosen, but there were also some daisies, some peonies, and even a hydrangea, which had given you a slightly difficult time with settling into Loki’s hair, but by the time you finished, you were rather impressed with your own work.

You couldn’t resist taking a picture of the back of it, even though you’d told Loki you wouldn’t, but you wanted to remember how nice it looked. There was something about the way that the bright colors of the flowers looked against the inky black of their hair that just made it look all the more beautiful.

“…you should wear your hair like this more often,” you declared, handing Loki a hand mirror so they could see the back of their hair in a mirror that you were holding.

“What, so Thor and Hela can tease me about it to no end? No, thank you.” Once again, Loki was acting tough, but you could see the smile in their eyes as they turned their head back and forth, so they could see more of the flowers in their reflection. “…it does look nice, though.”

You smiled, setting the mirror down and scooting down to sit on the floor next to them. “Doesn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever manage to make something look that nice ever again.”

Now it was Loki’s turn to give you an exaggerated look of offense. “Are you saying I’m not good looking without the flowers in my hair?”

You grinned, and braced your hands on the floor, already preparing to bolt. “Yes.”

You could only imagine how silly you looked to the rest of the team, shrieking as you darted through the Compound being chased by Loki with flowers in their hair.

#Loki imagine #platonic Loki imagine #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki x reader #platonic!Loki x reader #anonymous #ask #answered #soft #fluff #thank you for the ask!

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syubits · 3 years

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fake dating au bc fake dating aus will never ever go wrong ∞ roommate yoongi

“No.”

“Yoongiiiiiiiiiii –”

“No.” His back is turned to you as he scours for some instant coffee in the pantry, but you can hear the flat-out rejection of your suggestion loud and clear, making you scowl.

Min Yoongi can predict a major sulk fest coming on like a storm, and sure enough the glance he sneaks to where you are sitting on the couch showed the telltale signs; a dark cloud settling down and casting a heavy glum look on your face. He controls the twitch of his lips and conceals it under a mask of what would be called apathy – knowing all too well any hint of a smile or amusement would bring the simmering anger to a full blown volcanic explosion on your side.

“Pleeeease. I only have you.”

If his heart stuttered at your words, Yoongi was sure not to let it show in his explicit movements as nimble, pianist fingers curling around the mug that he brings to his lips for a sip of the strong drink. Yoongi lets the warm caramel coloured rivulets course down his throat, eyes closed in deep rumination. Out of all the wacky ideas you had, this way by far the one that clinched the golden trophy. Although Yoongi wasn’t sure if he really disliked the notion of being your boyfriend, even if it was a pretend one for a period of two weeks.

“What do I get?”

You huff. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.” As soon as the words carelessly tumble from your lips you grimace, knowing you’ve practically sold your soul to the devil by letting Yoongi decide on the price.

“Whatever I want?” Yoongi repeats the tempting offer, interest piqued.

A groan sounds from the couch. “Yeeees.”

“You must be really desperate,” Yoongi lightly comments, setting the mug on the counter.

“I am,” you retort. “My ex-BF and my ex-crush will be there and I accidentally revealed I didn’t have plans for the week so…”

This makes Min Yoongi perk a brow. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” Your face pops up from the back of the couch, arms waving the misunderstanding away.

“No no, ex-best friend. Who is currently going out with my cr– err.. ex-crush.”

“Yikes,” is all Yoongi has to offer.

“I know,” you respond, slumping back into the cushions. You’re already racking your brain for ideas on how to bail, but with your mind a tangled mess like your hair, searching for a shred of an idea was equivalent to looking for a needle in a haystack. You groan out loud, flopping back into the cushions, almost missing Yoongi’s quiet sigh of fine.

Almost.

You jackknife up into a sitting position, grabbing the edge of the couch so hard your knuckles turn white. You were pretty sure you heard it, but you needed to hear it one more time just in case.

“What did you just say?”

Yoongi downs the rest of his coffee, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before turning to place the mug in the sink. “I’m not saying it again.”

He hears some trampling going on and before he can wonder what the fuck is going on, you’ve launched yourself towards his back in a hug, almost making the small man stumble at the sheer force of it. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you, I could kiss you right now,” you squeaked into the back of your roommate’s shirt, and Yoongi thanks the heavens because you can’t see how he shifts his gaze like he does when he’s shy.

“We don’t have to, though.” You quickly interject, almost placatingly. The most we have to do is hold hands in front of them, I think that should be enough,” you add. “So don’t worry about doing anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Yoongi just hums boredly in acknowledgment at the same time your phone rings. He doesn’t miss the roll of your eyes when you read the caller ID before you swipe right to pick up the call.

You hang up after a brief string of ‘yeahs’, turning to Yoongi who just gives you a curious look.

“So. When is it?” He drawls out as lazily as he starts to lay on his side on the couch. The sheepish look that crosses your features never indicated a good thing, and Yoongi pauses in the middle of retrieving his phone from the small coffee table to narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“Tomorrow.”

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Yoongi grumbles as he shoves the remaining stash of clothes into his duffel bag. The zipper looks almost ready to pop with the way he forces it over the other end of the bag, and you wince pitifully for the innocent thing.

“It’s the same thing, we’re gonna stay together and all, except this time it’s going to be in a nice little resort in the hills. Just consider it like a getaway,” you say, stringing the sentence as sweetly as possible. The dark haired boy just glares at you from his spot on the floor, and you immediately purse your lips.

“Fucking finally,” he rolls his eyes when the bag zips all the way. “What are you standing there for, kid? Don’t we have a train to catch?”

You frown at the nickname he’s plastered on you for the past year, shaking your head in response to his question. “They’re picking us up. And stop calling me that, we’re supposed to be a couple.” You remind him with a flick to his forehead.

“What’s wrong with someone calling their significant other kid?”

Yoongi never liked people. He didn’t like small spaces either. He definitely didn’t like small spaces full of people.

Which was why there was no rational explanation to how he ended up in a 4-seater car crammed with 6 people. Yoongi was never one for technicalities, didn’t give a shit about them, but at the moment he has a headache because right about everything didn’t make sense, but he’s hanging in there with at least Namjoon isn’t here to preach about how nothing in the world makes sense. That with a side of 5 chaotic boys to add on to the dull throbbing in his head, amidst the background of music booming in the car – these people should be banned from getting aux cords – but. At least you were here to agree. Even if you had fallen asleep on his shoulder a for little more than half a hour, and he regretfully had no one to talk to now. It was a little disappointing, even for Yoongi who didn’t particularly enjoy talking.

Yoongi tilts his head in some sort of reaction to his inner monologue, a sudden pang of damn, he really doesn’t like a lot of things hitting him like a flick to the forehead. He would’ve pondered on about any rational, logical possible explanation to why he was in this shithole of an idea, but a niggling, all too-knowing echo of an answer in the back of his mind was all it took and Yoongi quickly decided he didn’t like to think. Especially if it was going to involve you.

He feels you shift slightly in your seat, huddling closer to his arm that you had claimed for yourself. If Yoongi leaned back far enough, he can see your lashes fanning over and lightly dusting the apples of your cheeks with how tightly shut your lids are, down the slope of your nose to your parted lips where your breath escapes in small, even, warm puffs.

For some reason, a sigh swells up in his chest, and it escapes the seam of his lips quietly just as he tears his gaze away to focus on the moving scenery out the window.

At least he was given the window seat. This was going to be a long ride.

“Wake up, sleepyheads.”

You’re being shaken awake, not all too gently by Yuna, who then moves to nudge Yoongi in a significantly softer manner. It takes a while for you to get your bearings, because all you can see is greenery around, and after a few minutes you stop caring and let your head fall on Yoongi again, who appeared to be fast asleep. The boy had waken up the first time he was told to, eyes instantly searching for your sleepy figure that was still latched onto his arm. He swears internally when he sees your sleepy eyes and right cheek lined with creases from the sleeve of the jacket you had slept on, because that has got to be the cutest fucking thing he had ever seen and he thinks he’s probably still dreaming, and decides to continue sleeping a little bit more.

“Yoongiii.” His brow twitches. “We’re here. Wake up.”

He feels a soft, terribly aimed poke near the corner of his bottom lip, and with much difficulty opens his dreadfully heavy eyelids to see you regarding him with droopy eyes, laced with almost lazy catlike curiosity.

Before Yoongi can gulp down the sudden lump that had formed in his throat for whatever reason, you blink out of it and grab his hand to tug him out of the car. There’s a chill in the air, not so sharp it pierces through bones but just enough to tickle your cheeks pink and make your breath fog – something that you’re entertaining yourself with, as Yoongi notes. He takes it upon himself to unload your baggage and his combined, frowning extra hard to hide the smile tugging at his lips when you come running like an excited puppy upon his summon to retreat towards the luxurious lodge up front.

Dinner was all too dreaded. It also came all too soon. That was how you and Yoongi found yourselves sat at a table opposite two other couples, Yura with Hyunsik, and your two ex classmates Mina and Jin (whose parents owned the lodge). You had done introductions a while back, and Yoongi remained pretty neutral until he was introduced to Hyunsik. He had the gall to give you a disapproving look, even showing a three out of ten under the table and then shrugging when you give him a death glare.

“So, how did you two meet?” With a cock of her head, Yuna twirls a perfectly curled lock of hair around a perfectly manicured finger. Yoongi pays her no mind, continuing to stuff some chicken into his mouth with no intentions of answering. You resist giving him the stinkeye for leaving it all up to you, but then again you considered yourself lucky he was even sitting next to you at this table.

“Well, we met at school,” you start off promisingly, slowly munching on a piece of meat in a way of stalling some time while your mind quickly worked on pieceing together a story. “I didn’t like him at first.” A snort was all that was elicited from the boy next to you, which you trampled down on by stomping on his foot. “But we had to spend some time together on a project… and everything just kind of hit off from there…?”

From the corner of your eye you see as Yoongi shoots you a look of wow, so very convincing before shoving an entire lettucewrap in his mouth, and you grind your heel into his toes harder.

“Romantic,” the word drips from her lips, sickly sweet, with a maraschino cherry on top. The colour painted on her lips was of the same shade as well, pulled into a smile to show a set of perfectly lined teeth. “I would tell about how me and Hyunsik met, but everyone knows it’s all thanks to you.”

Despite being over Hyunsik for a few months, Yura’s words sent a bitter twinge of discomfort in your chest that had you tightening the grip on your spoon.

“Can you pass the fish?”

All heads, yours included, turned to Yoongi, whose tone, while not overbearing, cuts through the conversation like ice. Jin is polite, and so hands over the plate of grilled fish with all mannerisms of the perfect gentlemen. Yoongi stabs at the content on the plate with his chopsticks and puts a tantamount too much for someone his size, but no one says anything. He picks the meat apart from the bones, handing you the better portion of the fish, before picking up an eggroll and plopping it into your bowl of rice.

As always, his expression is unreadable when you turn to regard him, a quizzical look on your face. He finally looks up when he thinks you’ve stared long enough to burn a hole into the side of his face.

“What? Eat.”

You quickly gobble up the rest of your food.

“Thanks for that.” You murmur, suddenly wanting to swallows your words and hoping your voice was small enough to drown under the sound of running water and dishes clanking.

“For what?”

“Back there,” you hesitate, looking down at your hands after passing the plates to Yoongi for him wipe dry. You and Yoongi were stuck in the kitchen with the dishes, only because you both that agreed that you would choke from the noose of thick, awkward air if you hung around in the living room any longer, and then Yoongi whacked you in the head with an empty bottle for making a stupid pun.

Yoongi doesn’t respond to your mention of thanks, only looks down when he feels you tug at the bottom of his shirt. You signal for him to come close enough so he can hear you whisper, and he bends down in an uncharacteristically compliant manner.

“Hyunsik’s watching us right now.”

At the mention of his name, Yoongi feels a something akin to irritation crawl up his neck like an annoying gnat.

“And…?” Yoongi is close enough that his breath tickles the shell of your ear and makes the hair on your skin rise in goosebumps.

“And… I don’t think he’s buying our little act.”

“…And…?” You whine at his blatant disinterest in the conversation and where it was going.

“And…!! I don’t know,” you sigh, feeling all sorts of unmotivated and hopeless as you draw away from Yoongi. He can practically see the life whoosh out of your frame with how deeply you sighed. Hyunsik wasn’t wrong to be curious – the two of you had barely done anything that bordered on romantic – just sat next to each other the whole day, although Yoongi had ardently insisted that was actually, quite romantic as hell.

But Yoongi also sees the way your brows are wrinkled with worry, and guesses you’re probably thinking about how stupid you are and being regretful and guilty for dragging him into this. That first part he would agree with, but something uneasy stirs inside him knowing you’re probably thinking up a storm about feeling like a burden to him because you never have been and never will be. Something cool touches your forehead, and you can barely restrain the soft gasp that slips from your mouth as you look up. Yoongi is pressing his forehead to yours in the most innocent but affectionate gesture, arms surrounding you, depthless eyes dark as ink fully focused on yours.

“Don’t worry so much.”

“I know.” You hear him tsk at your stubborn reply. “I just…”

“You’re overthinking again. Stop it.” He expects a retort, but is presented with a pleasant surprise when you lean into his warmth submissively, burying your nose in the front of his jacket that held a faint lingering scent of his familiar, musky cologne.

Yoongi doesn’t get to decide in time what to do with your sudden display of need for affection before your names are called from the hall. You pull away as Yoongi internally groans how he just missed his chance to run his fingers through your very soft-looking hair, appearing from the kitchen with a deep scowl on his face.

“Truth or dare? What are we, 16?” This was Yoongi’s 142nd complaint in just a span of four hours, and the 143rd time you had shushed him. You pull him down to sit next to you on the floor, making a circle with the others around the beer bottle in the middle.

Yura spins the bottle, and of fucking course it lands on Yoongi first, whose lips cannot get any more pursed.

“Truth.”

“Boooring,” you jeer and Yoongi wants to gag you, and then kind of swallows because actually, actually. That is kind of hot. And the images that begin to play in his artistic, creative and predominantly detail-oriented mind is enough to make his mouth go dry.

“How far have you gotten...with _______?” Yuna asks, a little glint in her eye.

He answers with the calm before a storm.

“We went on a trip to Daegu together once?”

It’s so silent you can hear Jin blink from the spot opposite from where you are sitting, before your laughter ripples through the room. It echoes off the walls of this too-large house, and you can’t really tell whether Yoongi is answering seriously or just smartly avoiding the prying question, and because it’s Yoongi it could mean either and that just makes you laugh until you’re panting for help and clutching your belly.

“What I mean is, how far have you gone…intimately…” Yura huffs, obviously not finding it as funny as you do. Wet blanket.

“That’s another question that you could ask me at the next turn,” Yoongi winks, and you noisily shoot him some finger guns for that snarky comeback. He says nothing, just spins the bottle, which slows down to halt arrowing straight at Hyunsik.

He smirks, jaw set in challenge. “Dare.”

Everyone looks expectantly at Yoongi, who is sitting and looking like he gives zero fucks about this game.

“What? I don’t know, someone else dare him.”

Mina giggles, and she sounds like a spirited forest dryad in comparison to your previous werewolf howling on a full moon kind of a laugh. “Okay, I dare Hyunsik to kiss whoever the bottle points to next. But not on the cheek,” she adds quickly with an impish grin.

Hyunsik just perks a brow, moving to spin the bottle.

Sometimes, you had premonitions about imminent inconveniences. Like the sinking feeling in your gut you get in class when the professor’s eyes land upon you when no one else wants to answer his question. This was one of those times.

For once, you hated being right when the bottle comes to a halt pointing right at you. Your first instinct was to turn towards Yoongi, who just gives a little nod. You don’t know what you wanted him to do, but somehow that was all the assurance you needed. There’s a rush of thrill, nervousness and a little bit of everything shooting up your spine as you slide over to Hyunsik.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” You balk at the question that leaves his mouth so casually, as if he’s asking where you want him to place some books he’d helped you carry.

“Uh…” you toy with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, mind full of nothing but white, static buzz. He chuckles, rich and velvety smooth drizzling like fondue from his lips and – lips. Was he going to kiss you on the lips? There wasn’t time to think, because Hyunsik dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he plants his lips on the curve of your shoulder.

His eyes flick up to yours, deep brown piercing yours and you feel something settle in the pit of your stomach.

Yura is the first to speak up, clipped tone breaking the silence. “Well then.”

“Yoooongi.” Everything was spinning, and your legs felt like jello.

“You’re so noisy when you’re drunk,” Yoongi groans, there to catch you anyway when you sprawl your limbs all over him. While standing up.

“You’re shooo noisy even when your sho-shoober,” you hiccup into his shoulder, head lolling back far enough to look at his unamused expression. A stream of giggles bursts through your lips, the sound muffled into fabric when you smoosh your face into the front of his jacket. Somehow, Yoongi makes it to your shared room with you still hanging on to his side and you roll off him, landing with a loud oompfh on the bed.

Yoongi pauses to catch a breath before he perches on the edge of the bed next to your flimsy mess of limbs, listening to your incoherent mumbles stringed from jumbled thoughts and driven from vodka. He only left to grab some punch. Who knew you could’ve been dared to down four shots in that time, but there you were, giggling and halfway hanging off the end of the couch dangerously when he came back with two mugs in hand.

“Yoongiii. Yoongi Yoongiyooooooongmffgf—” something soft suddenly covers your face, effectively muffling any noise from you but you were quick to swipe the offending item away, right back into the face of the boy you were calling out for.

The pillow slides off his face, but the narrowed eyes beneath pinched eyebrows and his frown remains intact. “I heard you the first time, didn’t have to be so noisy about it.”

“You’re always so grumpy,” you complain, sitting up to and poking both corners of his lips upwards in a smile before the room spins and you crash down into his chest. “Wanna play truth or dare?”

“No, I do not,” his answer is sure and immediate as two strong hands wrap around your forearms, prying you off of him. Most of your hair falls into your face, but you stick your lower lip out far enough for Yoongi to see the pout. “Go play with Hyunsik or something.” Yoongi didn’t mean for it to sound snippy, or like he was annoyed or like anything, but he figures it’s fine because you’re drunk and you won’t pick up on it anyway.

Apparently, he was wrong. Having been roommates for over a year, you were bound to tell apart every tone, pick apart every line or crease in his features and piece them together back again. And right now, he seemed ticked about something. You frown and say the first thing that comes to mind, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. But you were ridiculously drunk at the moment so – “Are you jealous?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and you smile dizzily.

“I choose truth.”

“I told you I don’t want to play.”

“It’s just a game, Yoongi.” Somehow, it felt like you were talking about what happened. He watches as you try sitting up on your own and end up flopping backwards with a groan. Your head’s pounding and fuck – you have no filter on your mouth whatsover so you blurt it out: “I wish it was you.”

He pauses mid shrugging the jacket off his shoulder.

“What?”

“Your turn now.”

“__________.”

“Hm?”

“What did you say?”

You roll over to regard him through bleary eyes. “I don’t remember.”

A sigh draws from his throat, long and tired.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Liar,” you say. The alcohol is starting to fade, but it still humming in your veins like white noise, faint but still present. “You’re always mad at me. Why?”

This time Yoongi really does frown. “What are you talking about?”

Your mouth really doesn’t have its filter on now, and you’re still drunk, but you speak with unwavering certainty as you stare hard into the creamy whitewash of the ceiling. “I know you care about me… sometimes…but… I don’t know…” You trail off, and for a second Yoongi thinks you’ve fallen asleep, with your eyes open.

And then you blink. “I don’t know why I like you so much.”

Yoongi suddenly felt all the air leave his lungs all at once. “I thought you liked Hyunsik?”

“I liked him a year ago, you dim ass lightbulb.” Yoongi bristles at that, but you speak again before he can complain. “And then Yura dug her claws in and whatever and then we lived together and I had to see your sleepy soft eyes and hair every morning even though you’re so grumpy and always forget your coffee but I still like you so much and-“

“You look like you liked it when he kissed you,” Yoongi mutters, but it’s drowned out by your howling and rambling.

“Iiiiiii just want to take care of you.. and kiss you and bang and all that..but not necessarily in that order…”

“Bang?” Yoongi quirks a brow, not quite knowing what to make of that expression or in this situation, what expression to make.

“You’re so pretty when you smile.”

Yoongi bites down on the inside of his cheek, tamping down the smile and the blush spreading up his neck and fanning out to his cheeks. “You’re so drunk.”

“Maybe,” you laugh drily, the empty sound ringing hollow.

“Will you remember in the morning?”

“Remember what?” Your head lolls to the side to face him, another sob-groan coming from you when your balance goes off kilter and your head drops heavily onto the sheets, blunt sharpness shooting through your head. “God my head hurts…”

“Truth.”

“Truth?” you echo. What was going on again?

Yoongi’s voice sounded so faded, the image of him blurring into splotches of colours under your lids as you try keeping your eyes open. You see Yoongi’s mouth move and form words that you don’t hear as everything dulls out.

Morning rolls around too fast and bright, and you wake up the opposite of how you fell asleep with sunlight bursting across your lids and the hangover screaming in your head.

Yoongi was the first name your voice found, eyes looking for him. You find his arm draped around your waist, face pressed into the back of your shoulder. Yoongi looked ethereal sleeping, moondust still swept on his lashes and mouth parted slightly where his breaths buzzed out softly.

Attempting to sit up right away was probably not a good idea, but you were known for making questionable decisions, so. You tipped over, landing on Yoongi’s stomach and effectively punching the air out of his gut.

“Fuck,” he wheezes, coughing out the word as you mumble out a flurry of apologies, still crossed over his body like a limp noodle.

Yoongi groans, struggling under the combined weight of hefting the pair of you up.

“You’re heavy,” he complains. His voice is gravelly and rough with unuse, but you have no time to think about it as something twists in your stomach, acid rising in your throat before you make a run for it to the washroom.

You feel your stomach contract and flip and slingshot all of its content out into the toilet, tears pricking at your eyes at the bad taste and mostly disgusting sight that you quickly flush down.

Everything was shitty, and the only source of comfort you wished for was Yoongi, but you also wished he took the liberty to leave the room and save you and himself of the embarrassment you are. Tears and throat burning, you feel the warmth of a hand on the small of your back, then another gathering back your hair by the base of your neck to keep it away from your face.

“Yoongi? I feel gross. Don’t-” you lurch into the into the toilet again. Yoongi’s reply comes in the shape of a toilet roll that you can wipe your mouth with.

“I’m- don’t feel good.”

Again, he says nothing, just rubs the hand on your back up and down as you try not to throw up solely from the foul taste in your mouth. “I want to go home.”

“Okay.”

The next time you opened your eyes, you find yourself wrapped in familiar floral sheets in your dimly lit room, while your head is wrapped in a band of metal feeling like it is constantly drummed with a percussion mallet.

“Yoongi?” You call, not actually expecting a response in the form of a groan coming from the floor. “Yoongi? Why are you down there?”

“Because you kicked me off the bed,” he mutters, eyeing you from under a messily swept fringe. You barely take in the familiarity of the grey rug and the parquet floor, to your own workdesk and Yoong’s pair of headphones sitting there that you borrowed (Yoongi considers it stolen) before you realise you were back home.

“When did we get back?” ask, squinting through the sleep to get a good look at the small clock sitting on your dresser, and then scraping the idea because it’s been months since you remembered to change the battery.

Yoongi doesn’t even try before he’s already lazily replying with an I don’t remember.

“…Thanks.”

“For what?”

You slump back into the warmth of your bedsheets, slowly exhaling. He’s good at pretending to not know what you’re on about and like he literally does not give two shits, but you know better.

“I decided what I want.” Just like that, the topic is dropped and forgotten and you’re blinking at Yoongi.

“Huh?”

“You owe me a favour.”

That effectively makes you roll over and away from the boy, a groan deflating out of you.

“I need you to be my date. Uh.. for my sister’s wedding.”

Yoongi feels his stomach churn when your reply is a heartbeat later than he expects. For an alarming nanosecond, he thinks you’ve figured it, figured him all out. A peripheral glance showed that you were squinting at your phone between the curtain of hair frazzling in your eyes, scrolling down and seemingly distracted and he averts his gaze just in time before you switch your attention to the raven-haired boy sitting on the floor.

“Sorry? Sure, I’ll go with you,” you nod, and he hears the papery click of you locking your phone. The following groan was muffled from your burying your face into the sheets and when Min Yoongi sees a chance, he takes it.

Yoongi flees the room. The excuse of going to shower isn’t even utilised because you are too busy curled up in your blankets and wallowing in misery, rambling to yourself about being a fool for drinking when you know you have low tolerance.

::::::::

“Yoongi?! You don’t have a sister??!?!”

#yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #bts scenario #bts fluff #writing #yoongi fake dating #bts fake dating #bts au #erm. how do u tag properly idk but have this.#oh wait he looks so sweet in the gif...#its so embarrassing to post gifs like that bc op wld get notified #bc it happened to me and was like oh we get notified DAMN??#man I miss giffing #I miss being on Tumblr but I'm too busy !!! AHHH #but I think I'm gonna slowly put up all my old but completed works!#u rly need to be inspired or to practice bc its been yrs since I touched my document and I rly kinda lost the fluff touch..

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

"newt isn’t sleazy and is also too busy wrestling with the ethics of hitting on his hot TA if the guy is 5 months older than him to even notice" pleeeease write this

Anonymous asked: "When I Kissed the Teacher" AU ft professor newt and his hot 5-month-older TA hermann

and coincidentally, this older one

Anonymous asked: i just rewatched mamma mia 2 and was wondering if i could request a "when i kissed the teacher" newmann fic?? love your writing!!!!!!

Ask And Ye Shall Receive. sorry ive been MIA 😔 concept from this post I made earlier this month. idk what class newt teaches that hermann would be qualified to TA for but just like, decide for yourselves

---------------------

Newt’s never been a list-making kind of guy, or--for that matter--even really a planning ahead kind of guy, but certain circumstances have thrown his life more out of wack than usual lately, and he kind of needs the stability the like of things like lists offer. Desperate times and everything. Or, at the very least, Newt is desperate.

So Newt plans, and plots, and deliberates, and he even agonizes a little, but most of all, he makes a list.

On one half of the page, he writes pros. On the other, he writes cons. On top, he writes--what else?--Hermann.

The problem started in late August. Newt knew for months he was going to be assigned a teaching assistant come that semester--it was him, after all, who’d suggested it to the dean in the first place--but the Hermann Gottlieb of extensive, impressive, overachieving CV and overly-former cover letter was a far cry from Hermann Gottlieb in the flesh. Newt expected a dork, frankly. Someone too socially awkward to feel brave enough to thank someone for holding a door open for him. He expected a PhD student so eager to please he’d cater to Newt’s every whim, whether it was grading horrendous freshman lab reports or fetching him a sandwich from the commissary between class sections.

They met for the first time at the campus coffee shop. Hermann was dressed in an oversized pair of slacks, a threadbare green sweatervest, and honest-to-God saddle shoes; the buttons of his Oxford were done up all the way, from the collar to the cuffs, and an ornate cane was settled against his thigh. His haircut was tragic. “Dr. Geiszler,” he said, all clipped and English, and held his hand out to Newt. “Hermann Gottlieb. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I’m an admirer of your work.”

"Sup,” Newt said, and tried to bump their fists together.

Newt knew he was in deep shit then. It wasn’t just because Hermann was gorgeous (which he was, in a sort of weird, frumpy, ripped-outta-1945 way), or that the scowl he proceeded to level Newt with made his soul wither and his heart race a little bit too fast, but both of those things in conjunction with a big one: Newt was, and is, so fucking love-starved. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of being made a professor when he was as young as he was and completing a PhD before he completed puberty. His early twenties should’ve been spent dyeing his hair terrible colors and adding to his already impressive tattoo collection and having questionable hookups with other young twentysomethings; unfortunately, the only young twentysomethings Newt ever seems to come across are his students, and he has a very strict code of ethics. Not to mention it wasn’t like he was getting any action before that as a weird, gangly teenager with peers several years his senior. He was bound to latch onto the first genius hottie who crossed his path who wasn’t trying to flirt their way into bumping that B- to a B+. And better yet, Hermann is five whole months his senior!

The shit only got deeper when the semester started. No, Hermann was not the sort to fetch Newt sandwiches, or coffee, or Aspirin from his office, nor was he the sort to handle the dreaded lab reports (at least not unless Newt handled them with him), and he definitely wasn’t eager to please. Newt, anyway. If anything the opposite was true: he seemed to actively derive enjoyment from undermining Newt at every turn.

“Wrong,” he’d mutter during class if Newt screwed something up in a lecture, or “No, Geiszler, you’re doing it wrong again,” or “How in the blazes did you get three bloody PhDs when you can’t even do simple addition?” and snatch Newt’s dry erase marker away to scrawl his own answers on the whiteboard. It was less like having a TA and more like having...well, a bitchy, annoying co-teacher. Or, God help Newt, a colleague. And boy, did he wave those five months over Newt’s head like a fucking flag. Newt was immature; inexperienced; clearly not as serious about his studies--his completed studies--as Hermann. Meanwhile Newt’s class (bright young twenty somethings, taller than Newt, cooler than Newt, with more friends than Newt) would giggle and snicker, and Hermann would look smug.

It drove Newt fucking batty.

It also made him, like, super turned on.

The two can co-exist. Apparently. Hermann Gottlieb is already helping Newt discover new and existing concepts; what a fucking excellent TA he is. Someone give that man a raise.

So Newt draws up a list, and he writes Pros, and he writes Cons, and he writes Hermann. The pros are regrettably easy to come up with, because Hermann is Hermann, and (bitchiness and undermining of Newt aside) it’s unfair how many he has. Hot. Stupid sexy accent. Stupidly smart. This is crossed out and replaced with so smart he makes me feel stupid (in a good way), because it seems like an important distinction. Glasses on chain. Mysterious. (In a tall, dark, and handsome way. Sort of. Average height--which is tall to Newt, pale, and handsome. He still scowls more than he talks, which makes him feel mysterious. In a Bronte sort of way. Newt can picture Hermann drawing a billowing cloak around his shoulders and stalking some desolate moor in the moonlight, though in this case maybe’s more of a puffy parka than a cloak.) In tiniest font of all is makes me laugh, because Hermann does, goddamn it, with his snide asides and cutting remarks and sarcasm, often not even directed at Newt when it’s just the two of them alone in Newt’s office at night.

The placement of “is my TA” on the chart is acting as a particular annoyance to Newt, entirely on account of the fact that he can think of several pros and cons for that as well, and he’s not sure whether to nestle it between dark eyelashes and once called me a moron in front of my class and I got a hard-on or beneath sweaters smell like sweat and mothballs, has annoying tic of clearing throat when lost in thought, and the dick wins 86% of our arguments. Sexy forbidden fling. Abuse of power. Is older than me so it's not as weird as it could be? I’m his boss. The school’s paying Hermann though, not Newt, and it’s not like he’s going to scurry off to the dean and demand Hermann’s funding slashed if Hermann turns him down (which he’d most likely do). But it still feels like a breach of ethics.

On the other hand, Hermann is exactly the sort of guy he’d try to pick up at a bar if he still did things like that. (Tenure, rather than giving Newt breathing space to kick back and relax a little, has only increased his obsession with his work, and now when he gets a Friday night free to himself he mostly switches crap on the TV and falls asleep with his cat on the couch.) It’s about the experience, the impossible task of seducing someone who--by all accounts--is too straight-laced and tight-buttoned to indulge in something that debase. They were always the best in bed. Tension, Newt knows, has to snap at some point.

He’d like to wrap Hermann’s personal piano wire around his thumb and bang away at the keys until it snaps, too. Ethics, Newt thinks (folding up the list and stuffing it out of sight), his ass.

Newt sacrifices a Friday night with his cat and Unsolved Mysteries in favor of working on a solution to his Hermann Problem. Swamped with work, he tells Hermann over the phone, it fucking sucks, dude, I could really use your help in my office, and Hermann grumbles, and snaps that Newt should learn to be better prepared for his own damn classes, but declares he’ll be on campus in half an hour and that Newt will be ordering him takeaway for dinner as an apology.

The door swings open at half past five. Hermann is bundled in that heavy parka and scarf (which, even for a Boston November, still looks a little too warm), and his hair is damp. “Is it raining?” Newt says, perhaps stupidly, because there’s not a single droplet of water anywhere else on Hermann’s body.

Hermann makes a face at him and pushes the door shut with his cane. “No,” he says, tersely.

“Then why...” Newt touches his own hair.

“I was taking a bloody bath,” Hermann snaps. “I don’t work on Fridays, as you well know, Newton.”

The use of his full first name stings Newt oddly even as the notion of Hermann luxuriating in a bathtub excites him. “That’s Dr. Geiszler,” Newt snaps back, because goddamn it, he’s Hermann’s boss, he deserves respect, and then mentally adds a small, depressing tally to the Cons half of the board. Ethics, ethics.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says. He throws his scarf and coat viciously at the small couch in the corner of Newt’s office, then takes his usual seat across from Newt. “Well? Where are those papers it’s so crucial we grade?”

Hermann in a bathtub, Newt thinks. Hermann naked. Papers, Newt thinks. “Papers,” Newt says, and he shoves a stack at Hermann with twice as much force as he means to, causing several to flutter to the ground. “We need...to grade them,” he says. Hermann naked, in a bathtub, maybe some candles lit around him, some nice music on, daydreaming about that wretched professor he works for. Damn it. “I have a pen,” he says. “To grade.”

“What on earth are you saying?” Hermann says. “Be quiet. I can’t concentrate with your abominable prattling on.” Then he mumbles something that sounds like incessant, rips the top paper off the stack, and begins to slash at it in red ink. He doesn’t bother gathering the two from the ground.

Why did Newt invite him here, again?

Oh, right. He pushes his glasses up his nose and feigns casualness, pulling out another paper for himself to grade. “A bath,” he says. “Just to, uh, relax? Or...?”

Hermann narrows his eyes. “Or?”

Newt shrugs. “It’s Friday. Were you getting ready for a date or something?”

This time, Hermann’s mouth twists down into a frown. Almost suspicious. “Why do you care?” he says.

“I don’t,” Newt says quickly. “Just making small talk.” God, he could picture some stud of a computer science PhD candidate winning Hermann over with techno babble--or maybe one of his fellow students, ugh, maybe they made a study group together that meets Friday nights, and Hermann was getting all gussied up, goddamn handsome astrophysics grad students--

“I was relaxing,” Hermann says. “You must be aware at this point you cause me a great deal of stress, Dr. Geiszler, on a daily basis.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

He gives up on the small talk after that. Hermann’s promised takeout arrives--a small carton of pad thai--as does Newt’s--a large carton of the spiciest thing they had on the menu--and they eat in silence. They have about three-quarters of the papers to go when Hermann suddenly sits back in his seat with a groan and rubs at his eyes under his granny glasses. “Bugger,” he says. “I can’t fathom this one for the life of me. I’m too tired.”

“It’s getting kinda late,” Newt agrees. “Maybe we should--”

“It’s not that,” Hermann says. “I had a glass of wine earlier, and--oh, it doesn’t matter. Your students need to learn how to write in a way that’s actually bloody legible--it’s like chicken scratch.”

Newt hops up and leans over his shoulder, squinting down at the page. Hermann’s hair smells nice, like something floral, and his skin has a small hint of what could almost be cologne. Why is Hermann wearing cologne? “Okay, let me see it,” Newt says, struggling to keep from getting lightheaded at the close proximity to Hermann. “I’m used to that kind of shit.”

“No,” Hermann says, drawing the paper close to his chest. “I am perfectly capable of managing it on my own.”

“Dude,” Newt says, “let me look at it, seriously. Hermann--”

He manages to tug it away from him. The handwriting is pretty bad, but the math seems to be worse. “Didn’t they do the readings?” Newt mutters under his breath. “That’s not even the right equation for the diameter. I gave them a cheat sheet, man.” They’re junior year engineering students--they should know this shit.

“I know what the equation is,” Hermann snaps. “I can grade it on my own. Give it back.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t know,” Newt says, “I said this kid--”

“It’s the radius squared--”

“Hermann, dude,” Newt says, “I know you’re--”

And that’s when Hermann grabs him by his skinny tie and kisses him, hard.

They stare at each other afterwards. Hermann’s eyes are as wide as saucers; his mouth is hanging open. Newt’s tie slips from his fingers, which then fall limp to his lap. “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks.

Hermann is gone with a swish of his parka and a loud clack of his cane. And with a stack of papers Newt still has to somehow get through. Figures.

Their next few classes together are subdued. Hermann doesn’t interject any of his biting commentary or corrections, or even offer critiques of Newt’s lack of professionalism (when in the past his skinny jeans were such an easy target), and when the period is over, he practically sprints from the classroom before he and Newt can be alone together for even a second. It’s fine by Newt. Whatever. Maybe Hermann can get over it over Thanksgiving break, and Newt can try to get over the memory of Hermann’s strong fingers tugging him down, Hermann’s floral shampoo, Hermann’s chapped, wide lips against his, the little grunt of shock Hermann made as he did it, like he couldn’t believe his own audacity...

It’s not likely.

It’s December, the last week before finals, and Newt’s in his office bundled up in a sweatshirt (because the heat never seems to fucking work in here), revising a draft of an exam, and dreading the thought of trudging home in the snow, when there’s suddenly a knock at his door. Anticipating some overeager freshman here outside of office hours, he doesn’t look up as he says “Come in.”

A familiar clearing of a throat.

Newt shoots straight up to his feet. He knocks a mug of coffee to the floor in the process. “Hermann,” he says. “Uh. Hi. What--what are you doing here?”

Hermann shuts the door behind him, then takes a careful step forward. He’s back in his big dumb coat and big long scarf. “I thought I ought to tell you myself first,” he says, primly. “I’ve submitted a request to the dean to be reassigned to another professor next semester. Our research interests are far more in line, and I don’t imagine our personalities shall clash as much.”

“Oh,” Newt says, pretending his heart isn't sinking in his chest like a hunk of lead. Was he that bad of a kisser? He feels like he deserves a second shot at it--he wasn’t ready last time, you know, he bets he’d really wow Hermann if he had a fair heads up. “Are.. are those the only reasons why?”

“No,” Hermann admits. “They’re not.”

He crosses the room, and corners Newt against his desk before Newt even realizes what’s happening. “They’re not,” he says again, then adds in a murmur (lifting one hand to brush his fingers against Newt’s hair), “Dr. Geiszler.”

Neither of them talk much, after that.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #thxstral

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youllneverknowrac · 4 years

Text

Oscar Diaz-Party Of Seven

(Momma Bear Series)

For @princesshenney

Sunday’s were meant to be one of leisure but not for you. For you it meant going to the grocery store to stock up on enough items to feed six people and a baby for the upcoming week. It was hectic to say the least and honestly something you preferred to do alone so it would be done faster. However today everybody seemed to want to tag along. Oscar not wanting to stay alone since Alexander was being more fussy than usual. Angel not wanting to stay with just his big brothers if daddy and mommy both had to go. Carlos being a bit more clingy that usual and wanting to be at your side at all times. Anthony now wanting to come since Carlos wouldn’t be home to play with him, and Junior coming since he was home from school for the weekend and needed to do a bit of his own grocery shopping for his dormitory. So a ‘Diaz, party of seven’ outing to the grocery store it was.

“You boys buckle up back there.” You call out to the three older boys from the passenger seat. All of them crammed into the third row since the two car seats were in the second and no one wanted to sit in between them,”You too Junior.” You add, when you look over your shoulder to see him not moving.

“I’m doing it.” He mumbles, not turning back around until all of them are safely buckled.

“Thank you.” You tell him, taking Oscar’s hand in your and resting it on the middle console,”Come on, I don’t want it to get too late.” You sigh, already knowing this was going to be a long trip.

“Which store mami?” Oscar asks, knowing you usually liked to switch up.

“Sams.” You tell him, only because the baskets were bigger, meaning both little kids could sit in one together. Plus they had really tasty pizza at the entrance and you figured bribing your kids with food would be a good way to get them to behave. At least you hoped.

“Sams?” Angel asks excitedly,”I want pizza mommy, pleeeease. I wuv pizza.” He grins, Oscar finally pulling out of the driveway and heading in the right direction.

“If you all promise to be on your best behavior everybody can get a slice.” You say, all the boys excited at this information.

“Can I get a toy mommy?” Angel asks hopefully

“Yeah us too!” Carlos calls out from the back, us being him and Anthony.

“I don’t thin...”You begin, Oscar cutting you off.

“Deja de pedir cosas.” He says, glancing at all of them in the rear view mirror,”We came to get what we need and that’s it. So don’t get in that store and start asking for random little stuff,”Me entiendes?”

“Yes papa.” All three voices grumble, Angel pouting and crossing his arms. You don’t say anything and smile over at Oscar when he looks at you, bringing your guys intertwined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to yours. You yawn and look out the window, watching the scenery fly by as the rest of the car ride is quiet. Thankfully Alex always passed out in the car, but that also meant he was going to be upset when you wake him up. And you were, because you were not carrying around the car seat just so he could sleep.

When you reach the store thankfully it wasn’t too packed ,meaning you could also get out a smidge faster,“Ima go grab a basket.” Oscar says once he finds a spot that wasn’t too far away and parks in it.

“Okay.” You reply and open up the passenger door, all the boys taking off their seat belts, even Angel who mastered how to do it a few days ago. You go to Alexander’s side first and take your time taking him out. Your youngest son wasting no time in protesting as a soft cry turns into a full blow wail,”It’s okay my baby.” You say, holding him to your chest and shushing him,”Grab the diaper bag. One of you.” You order the older boys before going around to the other side so they can climb out. You open Angel’s door next and lean against it, the toddler still in his car seat as you wait for Oscar to return.

“Why is Alex sad?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows

“He just doesn’t like to wake up, he wants to sleep all day long. Kinda like daddy.” You tell him, still bouncing Alexander in your arms who was starting to quiet down. The other boy’s standing to the side after getting out and closing the door. Oscar approaching with not one, but two carts.

“Daddy’s lazy.” Angel giggles,”He snores in my ear.” He says before imitating a sleeping Oscar, causing you to laugh out loud.

“Shhh, he’s coming.” You playfully warn, Angel instantly calming down and sitting still.

“Where’s the wipes?” Your husband asks when he reaches you, knowing that you liked to wipe the carts down if the kids were gonna sit in them.

“Diaper bag.” You inform him, letting him clean down the one that was going to hold the kids before putting Alex and then Angel in.

“Mommy?” Carlos asks walking up to you

“Yeah baby?”

“Can I sit in your cart?” He asks hopefully,”I don’t want to walk. My feet hurt.”

“Sure, but you can’t complain when I start throwing grocery’s in.” You say and he nods happily in understanding before climbing into the cart as well, your sassy toddler turning around to look at him.

“No Car-car. Only two here, you go sit with daddy.” Angel says and points to the other cart,”Now mister.”

“Nuh uh, you don’t tell people what to do.” You scold as you began pushing the basket, everybody else following behind,”Carlos can sit in here if he wants too, so be nice.”

“But mommy...”He begins

“No, no but’s. Tell your brother he can sit with us.”

“You can stay with us.” He says softly, holding his head down,”Sorry.”

“It’s okay bro.” Carlos reply’s nonchalantly, giving you a smile to reassure you about his feelings.

“Can we get some stuff for nachos?” Oscar asks behind you,”Like loaded nachos. I want the works. Pinche cheese, frijoles, jalapeños. Todo.”

“Aren’t you the one that said don’t ask for anything?”

“I meant our pack of four-lokos that can actually talk. They don’t got money for extra shit, but their daddy sure does.” Oscar says as he uses a free hand to ruffle Anthony’s head,”Broke ass. Even bigger broke ass.” He adds pointing a finger to Junior. The lot of you entering the store and heading down the first aisle.

“Aye, I got a part time job now.” Junior defends amusingly as he shoves Oscar’s side.

“My bad big baller.”

“Can you guys tone it down please? We’re in the store now.” You say and stop to give everybody a look,”And just for being a show off, now everybody is getting something they want.” You tell your husband, who keeps his mouth shut and looks away in defeat.

“You two.” You say to the oldest boys,”Are in charge of getting the pizza. Here’s some money. Come find us when you have it.” You tell them and hand them over some cash, watching as they go get in line,”You stay with me.” You tell Oscar before continuing down the aisle,”Dairy first.”

“I know that, I’m your husband not a child.” He says but nonetheless does as you say.

“Shhh, I’m thinking.” You wave him off, looking at everything on the cold shelf’s.

“Yeah. She’s thinking.” Angels grins,”Smart mommy.”

“Listen to the kid, he knows what he’s talking about.” You say and pull Oscar closer by grabbing his cart.

“You two always gang up on me. It isn’t fair.” He chuckles

“Life isn’t fair papi. Now let me shop.” You smile sweetly, patting the side of his face before you work on filling Oscar’s cart first. Grabbing two gallons of milk, cheese, eggs, butter, yogurt and other small things you had on your mental list. Heading to the deli section next, letting Oscar grab a few different things he could throw on the grill while you grab basic lunch meat.

“Should we get some seafood?” He asks as you look around for where to go next.

“Next time.” You say,”Let’s not overdue it, besides I already have dinner planned out for the week. Unless it’s something you really want, then I’ll make it.”

“Nah, it’s okay mami. I just wanted some shrimp and fish, we can get it on the next trip.” He shrugs,”I don’t mind, besides you’re already making the nachos for us.”

“We can do a whole seafood boil next time.” You smile and give him a quick kiss before carrying on with the shopping. Junior and Anthony soon coming up to you guys with a small box of pizza, one slice for everybody. You all shop while eating, even letting Alexander chew/eat one of your pepperonis. After while both carts becoming full, Carlos having to climb out towards the end of the trip so you could add a few last minute items.

“Okay one game or one toy.” You tell each of your kids when you reach the toy aisle,”You can get whatever, it doesn’t have to be this aisle obviously.” You tell Junior when you reach him. Anthony settling on a board game, Carlos getting a little nerf gun and Angel wanting a little hot wheel car. Junior going to a different aisle and grabbing some deodorant.

“I ran out. I was going to steal dads, but since he’s paying I might as well get a new one.” Junior says when he comes back.

“Yeah you’re welcome.” Oscar says and lightly hits him with the basket,”You’re all welcome.”

“You wanted to show off, so it’s only fair.” You laugh

“Thank you daddy.” Angel says and hugs the toy to his chest,”We can play together when we go bye bye from here.”

“Thanks mijo.” Oscar smiles and leans down to give Angel a kiss before all of you head over to the empty check out line.

“Start with the heavy stuff.” You say as you begin to pile everything on the belt, the kids helping out.

“Papi, get the baby.” You say when he starts to cry again, Angel covering his ears since he was so close.

“Let me see.” Oscar says and makes way through the cramped area to grab Alex,”Want me to just head out with him? I can pull the car up.” He suggest

“Yeah that will probably be easier Carlos and Anthony go with your dad.” You order, watching as the total on the screen goes up and up. The four of them head out, leaving you with Junior so he could help with the basket and Angel.

“You’re total is 245.56.” The lady behind the cash register says. You Internally groan at the cost as you pull out the debit card from your wallet and hand it over.

“I’ll spot you when we get home. I forgot my wallet.” Junior says quietly, knowing that some of these items would be heading back up to campus with him.

“It’s fine baby, don’t worry about it. You save your money.” You tell him and grab your card back when she holds it out.

“Mom I can’t do that. I threw a lot of stuff in the cart.”

“Junior, I mean it.” You say seriously,”It’s okay.”

He groans and nods his head,”Thank you. I love you mom.”

“Love you too JJ.” You say waiting until both carts are refilled until walking towards the exit of the store. Oscar parked on the side directly in front. You hurry over and take Angel, letting Oscar jump out of the car to help Junior load the back of the car up.

“Mommy my car was free?” Angel asks as you buckle him up, just now realizing that you didn’t put his car on the belt.

“Yup totally free.” You smile and shake your head,”How cool is that?” You ask rhetorically

“So cool.” He giggles before playing with it some more. You smile and leave his side so you can help with the last of the grocery’s. Junior going ahead and climbing through the back.

“How much was it?” Oscar asks as he slams the trunk close

“245.” You tell him

“Damn. You sure we can’t send at least one of them back?” He chuckles

“Too late.” You grin, the both of you going to your respective sides, Oscar pulling out of the lot moments later to begin the journey home.

“Everybody grab some bags.” Oscar says after a lengthy car ride home, traffic making the car ride 25 minutes longer. He grabs Angel and sets him down, letting him run to the front door to wait. You grab Alex and dig around for the house key, the three of you entering after you manage to unlock it.

“Leave it open.” You call out,”Come to the potty.”

“Coming.” Angel says and heads inside, going to your bedroom so he can try use the bathroom while you change the baby. The rest of your family bringing in the grocery’s so you could put them away, never letting them help with that part since they never did it to your liking.

“Did you do anything?” You ask Angel when he comes out of the bathroom in just his pull up now, fastening Alex’s diaper at the same time.

“No. Potty’s empty.” He says

“Why did you take your shirt off?” You giggle and poke his tummy

“I don’t know. I wanted to.” He laughs, causing you to laugh more as you three head back to the main area of the house.

“That’s all of it.” Oscar informs you and takes Alex so you can get started in the kitchen.

“Thanks.” You smile and give him a kiss before moving on to your task. The boys in your life all gathering around the the tv to watch something while they wait for you to finish up and then make your famous nachos. You occasionally glance over and a smile can’t help but form on your face, even though they made something as simple as shopping so crazy, you still wouldn’t change it or them for the world.

#oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz #omb imagine #spooky diaz #on my block imagines #on my block season 3 #spooky x reader #omb #julio macias #kids #family #babys

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jaxl-road · 4 years

Text

Scar Tissue, chapter 8

One step forward...

Pairings: Slash/Duff, side Axl/Izzy, side Steven/Vince

Warnings: ((not in this chapter)) Implied/discussed past abuse (non-explicit)

~~~~~~~~

The next three weeks were… interesting.

Don’t get him wrong, Slash was over the moon. He no longer had to restrain himself around Duff, was finally allowed to run his hands through his hair and hold him and kiss him and lace their fingers together anytime he was in arms reach. It had been years since his last serious relationship, but he knows it didn’t feel like this.

On top of that, Guns N’ Roses was making waves again. With each show they played the crowds seemed to get bigger and wilder, and they were starting to snag better dates and times at the bigger venues. They were starting to actually make a decent amount of money from their shows. At night, as he fell asleep with Duff in his arms, he felt like everything was falling into place.

But…

At the same time, Slash couldn’t help but feel a little lost. Because something didn’t feel right.

Duff seemed happy, smiling into their kisses and playing with Slash’s curls and bursting with energy on stage. But he was also drinking even more than usual- bottle always in reach, almost never anywhere near sober- and he still jolted awake from nightmares, and there always seemed to be an apology on his lips.

And then there was the other thing…

“You guys haven’t fucked yet??” Steven gaped, slamming his beer down loudly on the table.

Slash groaned, putting his head in his hands. He and Steven had the house to themselves that night, and had decided that they were overdue for a hangout. As they drank and smoked and laughed, sitting next to each other on their beat up couch, the conversation inevitably veered towards their love lives, the two friends rambling about their boys happily. That is, until Steven joked about his and Vince’s bedroom activities, and then asked about Duff and Slash with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and Slash could only stutter out a “well, actually-”

Steven shook his head in disbelief, “How? It’s been weeks, and you’ve been wanting to climb that boy like a tree since day one.”

“I know, I know,” Slash sighed, “It’s… hard to explain.”

“Try.”

Looking over at the drummer, Slash saw that his friend actually had a look of concern on his face, frowning thoughtfully. It was easy to forget sometimes that Steven was more than just the sunshine goofball he appeared. He and Slash had been best friends since their childhood, and if there was anyone Slash could talk to about this, it was him.

So, taking another swig of his beer, Slash started talking, “It’s like… most of the time, we’re fine, right? Like, other than getting kinda blushy, he doesn’t mind PDA or anything that much. But when we’re alone, he just… doesn’t seem that into it, I guess?” He sighed, “And that’s not even getting into the fact that he’s almost always wasted by the time I get him alone, and that just makes me feel… gross, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Steven nodded sympathetically.

“Uuuuuuugh,” Slash dropped his head onto the coffee table in front of them, “Maybe he doesn’t really like me. Or thinks I’m unattractive. Oh my God, Steven, Duff thinks I’m ugly-”

“Oh, shut up you idiot,” Steven rolled his eyes, even as he reached out to pat Slash on the back, “Maybe he’s a virgin or something,” he shrugged.

Slash sat up, frowning in consideration, “Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, just because we had a promiscuous youth doesn’t mean he did.”

“But he’s had a boyfriend before,” Slash pointed out.

“Yeah, but wasn’t he an asshole?” Steven argued, “Maybe they never got to that point. Duff definitely likes you a lot, but he’s also a nervous fucking dude, so, y’know,” he shrugged.

“That’s… actually a good point,” blinking in surprise, Slash leaned back as he thought more about it.

Meanwhile, Steven grinned, “See? You just needed some wisdom from your much smarter friend.”

“Oh fuck off,” Slash laughed. But he did feel better. After all, he didn’t mind taking things slow (what’s a few more weeks of long showers? He’d live), he had just been feeling insecure. With this new theory in mind, he felt like he could relax a little.

For that reason, he was in especially high spirits when he pulled Duff against his chest the next morning, “Hey, you have today off, right?” The bassist hummed and nodded, so Slash grinned, “Then we’re definitely due for a date. We need some time away from all the other couples,” he joked. Not that he didn’t love his friends, but Axl and Nikki especially always seemed to get a kick out of fucking with them. (Or rather, fucking with him.)

Duff grinned, “Sounds good to me,” he kissed Slash lazily, “What did you have in mind?”

Up until now, their dates were pretty standard- usually bar hopping, grabbing cheap food, seeing a movie or a show or something like that. “Not that I don’t love our usual outings,” Slash drawled, “but let’s do something different.”

“Like what?”

“Uuuuh,” Slash blinked at the ceiling, “I have no idea,” he smiled as Duff laughed. He tried to think of something, Duff burying his face in the crook of Slash’s neck, seemingly unconcerned with Slash’s dilemma. He poked at the blonde’s shoulder, “You have any ideas?”

The only response was silence, which Slash had learned meant that Duff definitely had an idea, he just didn’t want to say it. Sitting up swiftly, Duff rolled to the side with a soft “oof”, allowing Slash to look down at him with a grin.

“What do you want to do?”

Blushing, Duff scoffed, “I don’t know, whatever you want to-”

“No, no, no,” Slash interrupted, “You have an idea, I know it. Come on, pleeeease?” he whined.

Duff bit his lip lightly, hesitating for a minute before finally admitting, “It’s supposed to be nice today, and… I’ve always wanted to go up to the Hollywood sign,” he was quick to add on, “But seriously, it’s just a thought, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

While that was certainly not the suggestion Slash had expected, it only made him grin wider, “No way, let’s do it!” He hopped out of bed enthusiastically, “Y’know, I’ve lived in Hollywood most of my life and I’ve never been up there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I guess when you live in a place long enough you kind of forget to do the touristy stuff.”

Sitting up, Duff stared down at his lap, “Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s probably stupid, I just-”

“No, no!” Slash cut in, “I meant that that’s why it’s a cool idea,” he clarified.

He hated that after all this time, Duff still looked surprised when Slash showed any sort of approval towards him. He hated it, and he didn’t understand it, and he didn’t know how to ask about it. As such, he was a little relieved when Duff quickly shook off the surprise and gave him a sly grin.

“Not to mention I doubt there will be anyone around to bust us if we have a couple open containers.”

“I like the way you think,” Slash laughed.

Before long, they were both pulling on some boots and shoving a variety of bottles and a few joints into a beat up backpack. It wasn’t exactly early by the time they left, nearing noon, but still early enough that the rest of their housemates were still confined to their own rooms, allowing them for a clean getaway.

Duff was right that it was a nice day outside. The sun was shining, but there was a cool autumn breeze, and the odd hour on a weekday meant the bus was practically empty when they hopped on. That didn’t stop them from sitting in the very back, stretching their legs out across multiple seats and talking shit about random people they would see on the sidewalk and occasionally sneaking sips from a bottle of whiskey.

Needless to say, the bus driver was happy to see them exit when they reached their stop. When they reached the start of the trail through Griffith Park, Duff turned to Slash with a grin.

“We should think of a drinking game.”

Slash snorted, “What, like, take a shot every time we see a lizard or some shit?”

“You would go straight for lizards,” Duff laughed, elbowing him playfully.

“Alright then,” Slash continued, “One shot every time we see a lizard, but THREE shots if I can catch one,” he grinned deviously.

Duff hummed in consideration, “...Fine. BUT, you can’t take it home with you,” he bargained, giggling when Slash whined.

“Where’s the fun in that? Tell me you wouldn’t kill to put a lizard in Axl and Izzy’s bed.”

“I think they would kill you.”

“Hm, it’d be worth it though.”

Starting their trek, they were happy to find that the off-season left the trail open and empty, and wasted no time in passing a joint back and forth as they expanded the rules of their drinking game. Pointing at random things mostly as an excuse to take a swig from the bottles held in their hands.

“Shot every time you see a broken bottle!”

“Shot every time a plane goes by!”

“Everytime you hear a crow!”

“Everytime you see a rock with graffiti!”

“Everytime-”

“LIZARD!”

Duff jumped at Slash’s exclamation, the guitarist leaping forward drunkenly and diving to the ground in a clumsy attempt to catch the small reptile that had crossed their path. The whiskey left him uncoordinated though, and he landed roughly on the ground, the lizard scurrying away into the brush.

Laughing heartily, Duff nearly dropped his vodka as he staggered forward, tugging at Slash’s arm to help him back to his feet, “I thought you were good with reptiles?” he teased.

“Yeah, well, it’s an inverse correlation to my sobriety,” he replied sheepishly, dusting off his clothes and picking up his whiskey bottle from the ground where it had fallen. Luckily only a little had spilled, the bottle being half empty anyway, so he wiped the dirt from the top and declared it good enough.

As they continued their journey, Slash reached out to lace their fingers together, swaying their arms between them as they continued up and up the hillside, Duff ducking his head with a shy smile. They took their time, the alcohol and weed keeping their pace leisurely as they laughed and giggled at practically everything, stumbling when they tried to walk as Slash pulled Duff closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and nearly tangling their legs together mid step.

Before they knew it, they were standing at the end of the trail, looking down at the Hollywood sign and the expanse of the city below them.

“Wow…”

The view was gorgeous, but Slash only looked for a moment, too distracted by Duff’s wide eyes, awe and alcohol blending as he smiled excitedly down at the landscape. Tugging the bassist’s hand, they carefully made their way through the brush down the hill. Once they were in the shade of the ‘H’, they slid to sit on the ground, and Slash wasted no time pulling Duff into a kiss, feeling like he hadn’t gotten nearly enough of them today. Duff smiled against his mouth, leaning against the sign behind them as Slash pressed against him.

They lazily exchanged whiskey and vodka kisses, hidden in their own little world behind their city’s landmark. Eventually they broke away when Slash’s stomach growled loudly, Duff laughing as Slash ducked his head in embarrassment. Pulling a handful of granola bars from their backpack, they ate quietly, enjoying the companionable silence while Slash rested his head against Duff’s shoulder.

Eventually, they felt rested enough to start making their way back down, abandoning their games in favor of simply drinking and smoking leisurely while Slash rambled about all the parties he’d been to with his parents across the freeway on Mulholland Drive. By the time they were getting onto the bus again, the sun was beginning to set, and while they were both tired and half drunk-half high, they agreed that junk food was in order.

Hopping off at a stop near a diner they both liked, Slash grabbed Duff’s hand again, grinning happily as they chatted. The blonde was smiling easily, his body relaxed, and while he wasn’t sober, he wasn’t as wasted as he had been the past few weeks. Maybe Slash had been overthinking it, worrying about nothing. Duff seemed fine now. Maybe he had just been overreacting like Steven said.

But then, just feet away from the diner, someone approached the two musicians. And Duff sucked in a breath, freezing in place as a voice called out behind them.

“Michael?”

#It's starting folks #Scar Tissue #my writing #Guns n Roses #gnr #guns n roses fanfiction #sluff #slash #duff mckagan #duff/slash #next few chapters might be a bit shorter but hopefully I'll get them out quicker #writer's block is a BITCH #get ready for 'Slash and Duff Roller Coaster Shit-Show Weekend'

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franklyshipping · 5 years

Text

The Scariest Zombie Of All ~ A Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

THIS IS A LOOOVELY ANON PROMPT AND YOU HAD ALL BETTER BE PREPARED FOR CUTENESS GALORE IN THIS HERE FIC! LET'S DO THIS!!!!!

TAGGING: @anti-switch-glitch and @robbie-lee-zombie

Robbie the Zombie was practically vibrating. He was filled with energetic jitters and kept letting out the occasional spontaneous squeak or yip, which despite his regular energetic nature, wasn't exactly normal for Robbie. Why was he exhibiting all this you may ask? Well, simply, he was more excited than he had ever been in his whole entire life....because it was Halloween, and thanks to Anti, he was experiencing every last aspect of the season to the full.

Anti was similarly excited, because he'd been waiting month after month until the season started so that he could finally teach Robbie everything related to the spooky season. Whether it was pumpkin carving, constantly eating candy, pulling pranks or dressing up, Anti was all over it. Especially when it came to dressing up, since as soon as Robbie heard that he could dress as anything he wanted he made it his mission to have the best costume in the world! That was what the pair were up to now.

Anti was going all out on the gore, embellishing the slash along his neck as insanely as he could with the end goal of looking like an axe murderer of some-kind; classic Anti quite frankly. Robbie meanwhile, in his words, was dressing up....as a Zompire. This is a creature Robbie made up himself. When he first heard how popular zombies were at Halloween he almost wept with joy, because it meant he'd have no trouble going out as himself, but he wanted to add MORE to himself. Thus, the concept of the Zompire was born. Basically, it was Robbie with fangs, fake blood dripping down his chin, and smart swooshy clothes borrowed from Jamie.

'Hey Robz should I go for bleeding eyes too?'

Anti called behind him, since he didn't think that his fake blood covered neck, lips, nose and fingernails were enough. What Anti didn't expect to hear however, was a partially distressed whine in reply. He turned around....and honestly had to try not to burst out laughing. Robbie's head and arms were somehow trapped together, and later Anti would discover that Robbie had tried to put his waistcoat and cloak on at the same time.

'Aaaantiiii....'

Robbie whined again, squirming because he couldn't see and was feeling a little nervous at being stuck, and he didn't want to ruin the nice swooshy clothes! Anti grinned and shook his head before shuffling over to Robbie and gently placing a hand on his shoulder so Robbie would know he was there.

'Ahaaawww bud, d'ya get stuck? Ya want some help?'

Robbie whined again, but he wasn't distressed anymore because Anti was there, and that meant he was all safe.

'Uh huhh pleeeease...'

Anti grinned and got to work, it all looked easy enough to fix. It looked like Robbie had tried to put the waistcoat on without unbuttoning it first and the cape was somehow tangled within it all, but Anti figured he just needed to unbutton the waistcoat, and all would be well. However, fate decided that today was a day to test Antisepticeye. Fate was going to test him with temptation and distraction, in the form of Robbie's exposed tummy.

'Freeee meheee!'

Robbie groaned with a hidden smile and a giggle, wiggling with playful impatience which made Anti splutter.

'Be patient ya lil brat!'

Robbie giggled giddily at Anti's reply, Anti was always so sassy and funny and Robbie loved him SOOOOOO so much! Anti shook his head fondly at Robbie's goofiness, he was the cutest, squishiest little dude Anti had ever had the good fortune to meet. Instead of continuing to help Robbie however....something suddenly caught Anti's eye. It seemed that with all his little wiggly bids for freedom, a portion of his lower belly had been exposed....and it was the most tempting piece of pudge that Anti had ever seen.

'Aaaantiii?'

Robbie cocked his head to the side, since he'd stopped feeling Anti's hands fiddling with all he stuck clothes. Anti grinned softly as he replied; it seemed fate had won today.

'Looks like all those impatient wiggles exposed ya a bit buddy....'

Robbie was confused, until he jumped at the feeling of a finger swiping at his exposed tummy. Uh oh. He was already smiling and blushing as he heard Anti teasingly croon.

'Maybe some more wiggles will help get ya un-stuck, whaddaya think?'

Anti smirked as Robbie started frantically shaking his head, giggling in adorable anticipation; frankly, it was melting Anti's heart.

'N-Noho n-no wigglies Anti no wiggli-EEEE! Ahahahantihi nahaha!'

Robbie squealed and tried to recoil, but he couldn't escape the devious tummy scratches that Anti was giving him. With his fiendishly sharp nails skating over his skin with practised malevolence, Robbie was a giggly wreck in seconds. Anti got onto his knees so he could lean closer to Robbie and coo huskily.

'Coochie coooo, c'mon let's get you freeeee!'

Robbie's giggles were high pitched and his wiggles were giddy as he carried on trying to shuffle away from the tickles, but Anti merely followed. Robbie knew premature escape was useless though, Robbie was tickled by Anti often enough to know that Anti would have mercy when he was good and ready. Robbie thought it was just not fair! Anti tickled him ALL the time, proclaiming that Robbie's ticklishness was too cute not to exploit, whilst the zombie just got overcome by embarrassment!

'Nohohoho tihihihicky! Nahahat f-fahahair!'

Anti grinned fondly at Robbie's slightly muffled cry, oh how he adored tickling the little guy to pieces. It was one of his favourite things to do, the zombie was just too adorable! Anti let his nails start to scribble more over the zombie's soft tummy as he purred teasingly.

'You're the one stretching and exposing yourself in the first place! I mean, you're practically asking for it!'

Robbie's hidden cheeks blushed a deep lavender as the zombie's entire torso started shaking along with his head; Robbie couldn't believe Anti would suggest such a flustery thing, it was so mean and gave him so many flustered butterflies!

'Nahahat t-truhuhue n-nahAHAHAT TRUHUE!'

Robbie's giggles became hysterical and wild as Anti really put his claw-like nails to use, digging into the sides of Robbie's tummy as Anti put on a smarmier tone amidst his teasing.

'Well I don't see any evidence to the contrary my dear little Robbinson!'

Robbie whined, exhibiting a hidden embarrassed pout at the silly nickname, before letting out quite the yelp; Anti had taken to pinching one of his hips spontaneously.

'EEEK! NAHAT THERE!'

At that single pinch, Robbie had seriously jumped....and now Anti had seen it once, he just wanted to see it again and again. Anti grinned a feral grin with gleaming eyes, and maybe if Robbie hadn't been blinded by his clothing trap...he would have tried more valiantly to escape what was to come.

'I'll stop pinching if you stop jumping! Silly boy....'

Robbie let out a wild yelp once more, in addition to jumping nearly out of his skin again....and again and again as his hips got tickly pinch after tickly pinch. He was a mess of sporadic cackles and yips in response to the sporadic tickling, and felt more flustered butterflies fluttering in his system as he wailed.

'IHIHI CAHAHAAAN'T!!'

Anti threw his head back with his own gleeful giggles, before deciding to softly push Robbie down onto his back, just so he could have a lovely vantage point. Of course, Robbie couldn't stop him, and could only wriggle about on his back and try and tug at his trapped limbs as he continued to yelp from the pinchy tickling.

'Well....I guess that means I ain't gonna be stopping for a whiiiile....'

Anti cooed down at him, relishing in all of Robbie's sweet, sudden ticklish reactions. Anti had fun with this for about a minute more, just enjoying watching Robbie twitching and yelping his heart out....before one of Robbie's exclamations caught his attention.

'THIHIHIS NAHAT FREHEEING MEHEEEE!!'

That made Anti pause, and the sweet zombie beneath him panted and gasped, entertaining the glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, Anti had had his fun. Oh no. Not quite yet I'm afraid Robbie.

'Oh, oh how silly of me! Course it's not freein' ya, I mean, it's your arms that are trapped really, not your hips....I should really focus closer to them, shouldn't I?'

Anti mused, adoring watching Robbie tremble as the teasing glitch walked his eager claws up Robbie's torso nice and slowly. Robbie started tittering and babbling, because he knew where they were headed.

'A-Ahahaaanttiiii p-p-pleheeeease! L-Lemmee gooo! Noho mooore!'

Anti merely chuckled at Robbie's sweet begs as his nails crawled higher and higher, slipping under Robbie's t-shirt so they grazed up his bare skin....before reaching their long awaited prize. Robbie's sweet, sensitive hollows. Robbie whimpered softly when he felt Anti lying on top of him, and got goose-bumps all over when he snickered.

'Ahawww but buddy....you're so perfectly exposed that....I don't think I could ever let you go now.'

Robbie's eyes widened under the tangled waistcoat, and he absolutely shrieked with laughter when Anti let his claws go to town at his armpits. They scratched at a lightening fast pace, making Robbie thrash and howl with ticklishness.

'PLEHEHEHEEASE AHAHAHA AHAHAHANTIHIHIIII!!!'

Anti smirked and chuckled, keeping up the malicious scratching as he growled evilly.

'Ohhh I love hearing you howl my name, do it again for me would ya?'

Robbie had tears in his eyes as he struggled and laughed a high pitched laugh, howling once more as the tickling set shockwave after shockwave through his form.

'NAHAHAHA AHAHANTIII!!! NAHAHAHA TIHIHIHICKY!!!'

Anti grinned as he scratched and scratched, just enjoying Robbie's sweet mirth and the feeling of him writhing and unable to escape his tickles. Anti leant in to where he figured Robbie's cheek was, nuzzling a tad as he purred.

'I love how ticklish you are Robbie....you're so soft and sensitive and you laugh so hard and for so long. I just wanna keep ya aaaall to myself so I can tickle tickle tickle aaaall day long. Hey, maybe instead of going trick or treating I could just treat you to tickles all Halloween, how does that sound?'

Robbie was shrieking more as he arched at his back, tugging at his arms desperately now to try and part them as the vivid notion of being tickled all Halloween flooded Robbie's mind. What a truly terrifying, evil thought! Robbie started letting out little hiccups as he cried out in reply.

'NAHAHAHA PLEHEHEEE! NUHUHAHAHAAA!!!'

Robbie's thrashes and struggles started getting a little weaker, and Anti's malevolent smirk transitioned back into a fond, loving smile as he sensed Robbie's resolve reaching its limit. He slipped his hands out from Robbie's armpits, and swiftly unbuttoned the waistcoat, unclasped the cloak, and moved them away.

'I've gotcha bud, I've gotcha....'

Anti's voice was soft as he looked over the blushing mess of a zombie before him. Robbie was quick to curl up, hugging himself as he gasped and wriggled and let out incoherent whines as he recovered from it all. Robbie almost couldn't believe it was over, but he believed it properly when he felt Anti's fingers combing through his hair as they always did after a bout of tickles. The zombie bashfully looked up at Anti, smiling cutely.

'M-Meheeean....'

Anti smirked, and kissed Robbie's forehead with a smirk.

'You love it mister!'

Robbie squeaked and looked away, which made Anti smirk fondly since it was just confirmation in of itself. Soon though, Robbie shuffled into Anti's lap where the glitch kissed his forehead again, before musing.

'Now....about that trick or treating thing....howsabout we get all that make-up and dress-up done so we can go give the others an early fright?'

Anti raised a playful eyebrow down at Robbie, who hummed, before nodding with an excited smile....and a cheeky twinkle in his violet eyes.

'Uh huh! Spooky scares!'

Anti giggled, before the pair of them set about fixing waistcoats and capes, and of course adding great amounts of fake blood. Anti didn't know how it was possible....but somehow Robbie was both the sweetest, AND the scariest zombie, to have ever existed.

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOOOO LUV YOUS XX

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #antisepticeye #anti #robbie the zombie #robbie #sfw #platonic #prompt #ego fic #ego fanfic #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #luv these bois

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journeyofbell · 5 years

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Tumblr staff being salty about their new group chat just falls flat because, once again, we don’t need this feature. Facebook did that ages ago, Discord already have most of us there. What purpose does group chats have when Tumblr staff already scared everyone away??

Seriously, since the “porn ban”, nothing has changed. I have been followed by at least 10 different bots, just in October and November. Banning “female presenting” nipples but still failing to fix the problem, A+ work there, Tumblr head office! (I’m not blaming the developers here as this is clearly a leadership issue)

Instead of wasting the time of the developers with a group chat system no one ever wanted or needed, try this instead:

Timestamps on posts (to avoid old issues being brought up years later)

An option to save Tumblr chats as a file (pleeeease!)

Bookmark feature (because the app can’t figure out endless scrolling without crashing every single damn time)

A functioning audio player (about time, it hasn’t worked since ever)

Changing colours of your dashboard (you know bloody well why, staff)

Feel free to add any suggestions, this is really just a couple of mine!

#Tumblr #Tumblr staff #update

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conjure-elemental · 5 years

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"Neurotypical Karen" things that actually work

Look. I get it. There are few things less enjoyable than having your struggles brushed off by someone who just DOESN'T GET IT, no matter what their intentions are when they suggest "have you tried yoga?" Etcetera, etcetera. So here I am, your local Struggle Queen, with MY tried and true tips for managing yourself. Some days these tasks will feel monumental. Sometimes they're more in reach. The more you practice these habits, though, the better you will feel. I PINKIE PROMISE. No, it doesn't solve everything. But I'm in a better place than I was just from trying to incorporate these habits intermittently. Bad days still happen! I won't lie to you. But I feel healthier in body and mind, and I know you can too.

Step one. Fix. Your. Sleep. Schedule. For the love of all that ever has been or will be, FIX IT! There is a remarkable difference in my moods and ability to manage them between when I'm sleeping right and when I'm not. And it's kind of common sense, I mean, we know we're supposed to get x amount of hours a night and whatever. When you wake and when you sleep is going to be up to you and your schedule, but try to keep it consistent every day. Even weekends. What? No sleeping in on weekends? Jk, feel free to catch an extra hour or two, but the "catching up on sleep" thing is actually a myth. You can't do that. Buuuut you also don't have to push yourself right into work when you get up "early" (read - same time) on weekends. Have a slow morning, lounge around with coffee and your favorite show! Just don't sleep the day away, even though you will be tempted to. Which brings me to my next point.

Nix naps. I'm sorry. I know. I'm guilty as an absolute nap lover myself. And sometimes you really need them, like between double work shifts! I get it! But if you find yourself taking multiple naps a day or sleeping through entire afternoons in a depressed haze, recognize that. I used to, and it directly contributed to worsening moods/feelings of hopelessness and panic/etc. My hypothesis is because it directly interfered with my sleep schedule. Oh. Reread point one. Plus, when you're actually tired at bedtime from not sleeping all day, you will fall into a harder, deeper sleep...and less of a hazy uncomfortable one. I know what it's like. Sleeping when having mood issues has never actually felt like sleeping to me, just...ickiness. SO! When you feel those nap cravings. Find something to do, do it then. Don't put on TV or grab a book, you will fall asleep. Get moving! Go outside for a walk, play with a pet or sibling, have a quick workout, make some art, ANYTHING. Put on some music and dance to it. Call a friend or family member and catch up. Pick a spot of your house to clean, it will make things feel so much better.

That's point #3 is get moving. Yes, exercise is hard. My whole life I thought I hated it. But god, there's ONE HUGE SECRET that nobody is considering when looking at exercise! Exercise comes in SO MANY forms and you can PICK ONE that you are INTERESTED IN! you don't have to rent the Ab Blaster 5000 VHS series. You don't have to struggle through Buns of Steel. (But maybe you will like it!) Go take beginner level dance classes, zen flow yoga, take up hiking, fencing/swordfighting, oh my god, anything. You know why? BRAIN HACK. Getting yourself moving will directly release happy chemicals into your brain and disrupt whatever pattern is causing you to sit in your well-formed couch/bed dent in 3 day old clothes. Oh, and don't think I forgot that it's super hard to do stuff when you don't feel good. If you're not ready to go schedule a community yoga class right now, please, join me in my YouTube playlist from whatever device you're reading this on.

Water please. Pleeeease. You need to stay hydrated or you will feel like garbage. If you don't want water, drink juice or Gatorade or get those water flavoring drops. Just get something in your system so you're not withering away like a neglected houseplant!! Staying hydrated WILL: make you more mentally alert/chase off brain fog. Help prevent muscle cramping and general body pain. Make your body function easier. Make you feel less gross.

While we're at it, please eat something. Ideally, this would be something fresh and natural; grab a fruit or veggie tray from the store and keep it around for snacking. Start looking up low-energy recipes to make. Keep around foods like bananas or apples for grab-and-go foods (apples and peanut butter or cheese slices are a godsend!). But, if all you can manage is some buttered toast or a cup of ramen, I totally get it. The important thing is that you're not starving.

Help yourself feel less gross. I can only speak for myself, but I have this awful thing where feeling unclean makes me feel worse, but the worse I feel, the less motivated I am to get clean. If you can muster up a shower or bath, DO IT. And I'm proud of you. But if not??? Brush your teeth, honey. Pull your hair away from your face and wash it if you can. Baby-wipe your underarms and other crevices. Ta-da, I bet you feel a tiny bit better now!!

I'm sure there's other tips I could add on, but this is already a long post.

So in conclusion, fix your sleep schedule. Get rid of naps. Get moving. Drink something. Eat something. Wipe down. Be kind to yourself.

I know that this list may not be attainable to everyone for one reason or another, and I'm not claiming it can be. These are things that have improved MY life from MY experience. However, I would be overjoyed if anyone wants to add on their adaptations/alterations to any of these steps, be it because of disability, you're at a different point in your journey, or something else.

If you take one thing away from this post, I want it to be that consistency is key. Building routines helped me so much. Building routines is the first step in regaining control of your life. Find one, or two, of these things that you can start incorporating into your life. Then start adding in more things. Even if it's just committing to waking up at a certain time, or going for a walk twice a week.

If you read this far, thank you! I really hope that something here was helpful for you! Also, I'm sorry for the shameless plug, but I'm quite poor and my hours have been cut back at work. So if you're liking my content and can spare a dollar, my Venmo is @sage_lundquist and my PayPal is paypal.me/sagespirit

#been thinkin about this #self care #long post #long post tw #self care tips #healthy living

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sheisbornadreamer · 5 years

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Blend in, chapter seven

Disclaimer: Sex without consent is bad. 'Nuff said. This is fiction, not sex-ed

Chapter seven

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Please give up, please give up, please give up, please… Let him give up…

"Yamato, quit bitching and open the fucking door!"

Taichi has been banging on that door for ten minutes. He's tried everything; begging, alluring, nagging, whining, demanding, threatening, pleading and of course constantly knocking. Nothing has worked so far.

"I'm not gonna give up, you hear that? And then your dad'll come home and I'll say you wont let me in and he's gonna let me in!"

Yamato rolls his eyes. He knew Taichi would go there sooner or later. Right now he sounds just like child who's threatening to 'tell mommy'. He feels slightly tempted to yell 'he's not coming back for the next fifty minutes anyway', ending with a teasing laugh just to piss him of. But that would be sinking to Taichi's level and he's not supposed to respond anyway.

Taichi sighs and sinks down to his knees, leaning his forehead against the door.

"Maaaaaaaatt" he whines, banging stubbornly. "Pleeeeeeease let me in… if you let me in I promise I'll fuck you" he adds, just low enough for the neighbors not to hear. He knows that last line was a pretty stupid thing to say, but right now he's willing to try anything.

"You know you'd want that" he continues, letting his voice drop an octave.

"I'll do anything you say Matt, I'll make you feel good." He murmurs to the Ishida's door using the sexiest voice he can muster, partly to make the blond uncomfortable and let him in just so that he'd shut up. "Come on Matt, I'll make you scream my name, I'll do you on the kitchen table or wherever you want it!" he says a little louder, hardly keeping himself from laughing. He almost expects some old lady to open her door and tell him to show some manners. Or whatever it is old ladies say to boys that are trying to work their best friend up through a door.

To his surprise (well maybe he was expecting it just a little) Yamato unlocks the door and opens it. Taichi clumsily gets out of the way and stands up.

Yamato looks at him, standing in the doorway. His cheeks are a little flushed and he looks embarrassed. Taichi knew he would break and let him in before any of the neighbors would hear.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Yamato's pov

"Maaaaaaat" the Idiot whines, still banging. "Pleeeease let me in!"

Yamato sighs deeply, closing his eyes. And he's back to whining…

"If you let me in I promise I'll fuck you" Taichi says in a playful voice, low but still annoyingly loud enough. Yamato feels his heart skip a beat and a shiver goes through his body.

Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him…

"You know you'd want that. I'll do anything you say Matt, I'll make you feel good…"

Yamato shuts his eyes and tries to push back the thoughts that are already taking over. Lips under his ear, Taichi's surprisingly movable hips rolling over his, hands wandering, teasing, exploring, testing and pleasing him till he can't hold back moans of pleasure. His clothes just disappearing and Taichi's eyes taking him in the best he can in the dark.

"Come on Matt, I'll make you scream my name, I'll do you on the kitchen table or wherever you want it!"

He sounds amused, but it doesn't help Yamato to calm down. Even though it's just a joke it still gets to him. He unlocks the door and opens it.

Taichi stumbles up from where he apparently has been sitting on the floor.

They observe each other for a while. Yamato glances around to see if anyone's there to see them, and pulls Taichi in.

He shuts the door and faces the hesitant brunet, who doesn't seem to know what to expect.

"Fine." He mutters, a familiar blank expression on his face. "But you better be good at it."

Taichi's eyebrows fly up and he laughs embarrassed, placing a hand behind his neck. The look on his face makes Yamato want to leap on him.

"Um…"

He's cut off when Yamato grabs his wrist and drags him with him. Taichi, confused and slightly awkward, follows him into his bedroom. Yamato shuts the door behind them and leads him to the bed. When he faces the brunet he's greeted with a 'what the hell?' look on his normally carefree face.

"Dad's home in fifty, no" Yamato gives the clock a quick glance, "Forty-five minutes." He says no more, just giving him a suggestive look that says it all.

"Wait, you're serious?" Taichi blurts out, staring at him. Yamato rolls his eyes and attacks his lips.

The football star gives out a muffed noise and falls down on the bed, followed by the horny blond. Yamato prods his lips open and enters his mouth, feeling a strong relief of finally getting to do that. Taichi, after a short moment of shock, responds and wraps his arms around Yamato's waist. They kiss intensively, the musician all the while prompting and hastening, grabbing Taichi's t-shirt and pulling it off quickly. He strokes his hands all over the brunet's chest while kissing him deep and passionately, making said boy utter content noises into the kiss. Yamato straightens and pulls his shirt off, throwing it out of the way. He unbuttons Taichi's jeans and pulls the sip down, drags them down his legs and moves to pull them off completely. Taichi just watches him in amazement, never expected his friend to rip his clothes off like he was doing right now. Figuring he shouldn't make Yamato do all the work, he starts working on the blonde's jeans as well, undoing them and unzipping. With Yamato's help he removes the jeans and let them fall to the floor. Yamato hurriedly drags Taichi's boxers down and the brunet's mouth drops. 'Damn, he's horny.' Yamato lets the last piece of clothing land on the floor and quickly looks him over, smiling in satisfaction. Taichi pulls the blue-eyed teen's boxers down as well, -not too fond of being the only one naked- and pulls him down, letting their erections connect. Yamato moans and grinds eagerly, breathing into the brunet's neck.

"Touch me" he murmurs, panting a little. "Now!" he ads hurriedly, as Taichi doesn't immediately respond. Taichi rolls him over to his back and wraps his fingers around Yamato's arousal. Not wasting any time, or risking another irritated command; Taichi starts pumping him, immediately speeding up when hearing encouraging whines from the blond.

Yamato lets his arms fall to his sides and rests his head back against the pillow, breathing heavily. The feeling is amazing and he had no idea he'd been longing for it this long. Tired of the drab work, Taichi's hand begins to wander, light fingers teasing and caressing. Yamato lets out a groan in protest, pushing his hand away. Taichi gives him a confused look and mumbles 'sorry', not receiving any response. Yamato takes a look at the clock, relieved to see that there's lots of time left. He turns to the other boy, leans over and climbs onto him, knees on each side of his hips.

"Remember your promise?" he asks lowly, not managing to hide a coy smile.

Taichi blinks slowly, trying to think straight. "Promise?" No success, many things are distracting right now.

"Yeah, your promise. Remember?" Yamato repeats, giving him a sharp look.

But it's not enough to make the boy underneath focus.

"Um…"

Yamato lets out an irritated sigh, rapidly lying down next to him. If it weren't for his hormones he would've given up by now. Throwing a steady arm around the other boy's waist, he rolls him onto himself, letting the football player's legs rest between his own. He smirks when a light blush colours the tanned boy's cheeks.

"Remember now?" he asks, burying his gaze into Taichi's slightly unsure one.

"For real?" Taichi manages to choke out, not exactly expressing himself the way he wants to. "I mean…"

"Yes, for real" Yamato quickly assures, growing impatient. He wraps his legs around the brunet's waist, adjusting his body the best he can. Taichi is still hesitant.

"Shouldn't I…"

"No, it's alright, just do it." Yamato hastens, on the line of getting desperate. "Please."

He briefly regrets that command when a shocking pain shoots through his body. He can't blame it on Taichi; the brown-eyed teen is being as careful as he possibly can be. But it's not enough to keep the blonde from feeling like he's about to break into two halves. Yamato keep his mouth tightly shut, not feeling like making Taichi worried. That would only slow things down. He manages to pray one eye open to look at the clock, noting that they should really hurry up unless they want Yamato's dad to walk in on them.

"Are you okay?" the teen on top asks worriedly, his length buried into the blonde's body.

"Move" Yamato groans, shutting his eyes again. Taichi obeys, shortly working up a nice rhythm that for a few blessing seconds pleases the blue-eyed boy. He gives him one last command to speed up before letting go, allowing the brunet to blow his mind. Taichi's in heaven as he passionately thrusts in and out of the gorgeous body under him, hearing groans and soft cries out of one hundred percent pure pleasure. Yamato has lost control of himself and the football player is enjoying the hell out of it.

Sadly, everything has got to end sometime. The two boys' bliss ends rather quickly, leaving them sweaty and panting and, well… pretty much in a mess.

Yamato is the first to recover, turning his head to see that there's only about ten minutes left before his dad will come home. Taichi catches his breath slowly, enjoying the peaceful moment. The fact that he's still lying on top of his friend doesn't seem to bother him.

"Wow." He breathes out, nuzzling his face into Yamato's neck.

"Off."

"…huh?" Taichi pulls himself up to look at him, just about to catch Yamato's eyes when two hands push him away, making the brown-headed boy roll off and land on his back beside his friend. He opens his mouth to ask something, not completely sure of what exactly, when the blond gets out of the bed, heading towards the door.

"Where're you goin'?" Taichi calls after him, blinking.

"Gonna take a shower. You should get dressed."

Taichi frowns a little, staring after the naked teen as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. Then he shrugs and lets his head fall back against the soft pillow. He grins up at the ceiling, stretching his legs out in the warm sheets. Still warm after what they've done.

"Amazing…" he mumbles lazily, rubbing his eyes. With a soft smile on his face, he gets out of the warm bed and collects his clothes. He could use a shower too, but he figures that can wait until he gets home, no point wasting time now if Mr Ishida could walk through that door any minute.

Done getting dressed, he walks out of Yamato's bedroom and knocks lightly on the bathroom door.

"Matt? I'm leaving now."

Yamato doesn't answer so he knocks again. "Matt?"

"Alright, will you get out of here already! He'll be here any second, which part of that didn't you understand?"

Taichi looks at the door for a short moment, sulking a little. "…'kay. Bye?"

"Bye"

Taichi walks out of the apartment, takes the stairs down just in case and fortunately doesn't meet Yamato's dad. Perhaps Mr Ishida is late, he thinks to himself, grinning like an idiot. Not because of the thought of Mr Ishida being late, but because of what he has spent this afternoon doing.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

...ya'll hate me now, don't you? Ah well...

Review!

#fanfiction #digimon #taito #yamachi #taichi #yamato #yaoi

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krreader · 6 years

Text

the wrong victim | chapter 1

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader fandom: bts ; (mentions of got7) ; (mentions of exo) warnings: non idol!au ; gang!au ; kidnapping ; language genre: angst ; crack ; crime ; smut

summary: in which jeongguk accidentally kidnapped the wrong person and begs you to play the part of the one he actually had to kidnap, just so he could become a member of the famous Bangtan Boys. And, well, you were always a sucker for boys with a tragic past.

a/n: listen, gang!au’s are a treasure that I’ve been meaning to explore for a while now. I never really knew how I wanted to write it and never with whom, because the usual members you think about when you say gang!au (at least for me) are Yoongi and Namjoon. But I already have on-going fics for both of them so I was like: ‘meh’. this idea popped up in my head while I was studying for the economics exam (don’t even ask how) and I immediately knew that it was the right one. So this is going to be a lot of humor, as you were probably able to tell and even though kidnapping is a serious topic, that I don’t want to downplay in any way, I thought it was a good plot! Also, pleeeease note that all of this is an AU, including how JK’s parents are portrayed!!! Nevertheless, I hope you guys are going to enjoy this story and all its’ chapters!!!

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When he was a boy, he wanted to be a firefighter, a pilot, a magician and the typical other things that every boy growing up wants to be. He was as naive as the rest of them, to think that any of his dreams in his youth, would turn out to be reality one day. Because how often did that actually happen?

To cut it short, things had never been easy for Jeon Jeongguk.

His childhood wasn't the best, his parents definitely weren't either and he had been alone, always so alone, in his life. He had barely made it through school and not with grades that he could study.. well.. anything. His parents weren't happy about it, in fact, they had been so upset with their 'failure' of a son, that they threw him out on the street, even though they knew that he had nowhere else to go. They knew that he wouldn't have a lot of options and would either have to steal, or do worse things to get by.

The fact that they didn’t care, only makes it more clear of what kind of parents they were.

Looking back a month, when all of this had happened, he never thought that things would turn out this way.

He had thought that he would die somewhere in an alley, maybe because someone had killed him, maybe because he had starved to death, maybe because of an infection. But none of that happened. Only on the second day of his 'new life' living in the streets of Seoul, he came across a very interesting young man. One, that was maybe two or three years older than he was, in a leather jacket and a lollipop in his mouth, walking down the street like he was owning it, when his eyes landed on Jeongguk, who leaned against a wall and quickly lowered his head.

The stranger had mustered him for a couple of seconds, cocking his head to the side and letting out a long sigh. Because he knew this look that Jeongguk had on his face only all too well. He has had that same look on his face only two years ago. And then someone had helped him. Someone offered him a way out. A way that didn't mean dying on the streets. And on that day, he had promised himself that if he ever had the chance to do the same for someone else, he would.

That's how Taehyung met Jeongguk.

That's how Jeongguk met the rest of the Bangtan Boys.

And that's how he was now trying to become a full member of their ‘little’ gang.

“I don't know, Namjoon,” Jimin said, studying every little detail on Jeongguk's face, “I think he's too young.”

“I was as young as he was when you guys recruited me.”

“You were different. You had talent and could steal stuff in less than five seconds,” Namjoon was leaning back in his chair, biting on the back of his pencil. You could literally see the wheels turn in his head.

“Well, maybe he's got talent too! Tell them, Kookie! Anything you're good at!”

In less than a month, Taehyung had quickly become Jeongguk’s best and probably only friend. Maybe it was the fact that they both came from similar backgrounds, or that they were so close in age, but he knew that whatever would happen with him, he could always, absolutely always count on Tae. But it was only Tae that he could count on, so far. He was still intimidated by the rest of them and quickly lowered his head when all of them were now staring at him, “I.. uh.. I can sing.”

Jeongguk wanted to mentally slap himself for giving answer like this. What would they, a dangerous gang who did all sorts of illegal stuff, would care about singing? Unless they needed an entertainment program, probably not at all.

“That's great, but not very helpful, Jeongguk,” Hobi said, his voice as soft as everything else about him. Or at least that's what you'd think, if you didn't really know him. That’s what you’d think about most of these six guys. What he had thought. And then he really got to know them and realized just how dangerous and scary they could actually be, if they wanted to.

“Okay but listen,“ Taehyung started, leaning his forearms onto the table in front of them that they were all sitting at, “Imagine this: all of us are good at one thing, right? That's what makes us the best gang in Seoul. Myself, good at stealing. Jimin-hyung, good at spying. Hobi-hyung, our assassin. Yoongi-hyung, amazing hacker. Seokjin-hyung, the one that stitches us up. Namjoon-hyung, the best leader there is out there. But tell me. What do we not have yet?”

“Pizza. I called an hour ago,” Yoongi got up, an annoyed look on his face and walked over to the couch, picking up his phone again.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, “No, hyung. We still haven't got a playboy! The one that can seduce the women!”

“If you’re upset that you’re not getting any, we can call a hooker for you,” Namjoon said with a chuckle, the rest of them, all but Jeongguk, joining in.

“No, hyung. I don’t mean it in that way. Remember when we had that big fight with GOT7? Where they wanted to steal the exact same thing that we had wanted? Remember why we failed and they didn’t? Because they had Jackson. And Jackson knows how to get a woman to do anything he wants for him. We didn’t have a Jackson back then. But now we have a Jeongguk. A cute, yet sexy guy, who can charm every girl with his singing and cuteness, but also make her think he could pin her against the nearest wall. That’s exactly what a woman wants!”

Jeongguk? A playboy? How? He had never even had a girlfriend, how was he supposed to seduce women?

“No offense,” Seokjin started, “But he doesn't look like he's experienced in that field.”

“No, no, I'm sure he is. Right, Kookie?”

Jeongguk knew that this was his only chance to prove to them that there was a reason for them to add him to the group. That he was valuable. His chance to be in this gang and to be a part of something for once. To, maybe, if he was lucky, find a real family in Bangtan. He couldn't fuck this up by telling them the truth about his non-existent sex life. Especially not when all of them were looking at him with so many expectations.

So he mustered up all the courage and confidence that he had when saying: “Sure.”

“See? I told you!” Taehyung clapped him on the shoulder, but Namjoon wasn't so quick to believe him.

“Then prove it to me.”

Ah, shit. He should have expected something like this. He had realized it when he had first arrived here, that it wouldn’t be easy to earn Namjoon’s trust. But now Jeongguk had already begun playing this game, so that he couldn't get out of it anymore. He would have to keep that act up of the playboy up, until he was actually as confident as he pretended to be. Or until they realized that he was just fucking around and threw him back out on the streets. It was either the one, or the other.

And he’d rather take the first option.

“How?” Jeongguk asked.

Namjoon considered a couple of ideas, before scribbling down something on a piece of paper, ripping it off and walking around the table to give it to him.

“You want to be a part of this gang? You want to prove to me that you are of value and that we need you? Then I want you to go to that address and kidnap this girl,” he casually continued to chew his gum, like he had just asked him to get Chinese take-away.

“K-Kidnap?” now that was another thing. Jeongguk knew that they were doing shady things here and that most of them were wrong. But when they suggested him to be the playboy, he thought this was about him only seducing women. Not kidnapping them!

“Yes. I don't actually know her, but I heard that EXO has shown an interest in her. Apparently she’s.. quite the beauty. And see, we could use a pretty face around here.”

“What.. what do you want to do with her when she's here?” he gulped hard, gripping the piece of paper a little tighter in his hand.

Namjoon shrugged, “Nothing. Maybe ask her to clean. And if she wants to fuck one of us, that's great. But we're not going to harm her in the ways that you might think we will. We're assholes, but we're not those kind of assholes.”

Jeongguk let out a sigh of relief, because that would not have been something that he would have gone through with. Even he had a limit, as much as he wanted to do this. Not that he thought kidnapping was right, but it would save his ass.. and if they promised not to harm the person..

..if he could maybe even protect that girl?

“Alright. I'll do it.”

“Are you okay, love? You sure you don't want me to come around?”

You smiled when you unlocked the front door and closed it behind you right after again, “I'm fine, mom. You don't have to worry about me, I promise. I'm doing great so far..”

“I know, it's just..-” you could hear your mother sigh from the other end of the phone, “I'm just really worried about you, (Y/N). I have a bad feeling. Call it mother's intuition.”

“You always do, mom,” you took off your shoes and your coat and walked into your kitchen straight away, “But I'm really okay.”

“Just promise to call me every once in a while, alright? And make sure that you eat and drink enough. Oh, and do your laundry properly, please!”

“Will do,” you grinned, shaking your head a little and taking out some juice from the fridge, “Love you, mom.”

“Love you too, honey. So much.”

And with that, you ended the phone call and shook your head with a smile, whispering to yourself, “Mother's intuition,” like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

Why would anything happen to you? And how could anything happen to you?

You weren't exactly the type of girl to go out and party every night, so the risks of something happening to you – at least in that sense – were so slim. No, you'd rather enjoy your night with a good movie and then fall into your bed, exhaustion taking over you a couple of moments later.

But see, there was one thing that you forgot. One thing, that every child often liked to forget when it came down to their mothers.

The intuition of a mother was almost always right.

Those were your last thoughts when someone suddenly pressed a cloth against your mouth and nose from behind when you were about to walk into the living room and you were beginning to pass out.

The last thing you heard was a soft voice saying: “I’m so sorry. I promise, I’ll take care of you.”

How reassuring. Not that you were in any way to thank him.

And you didn't know how long you were out when you at one point opened your eyes again, this time sitting on a chair, ropes tied all around your body, so that you had no way to escape.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, while slowly waking up. You tried to move, but the restraints were too tight around your body. And the previous unconsciousness was still weighing heavily on you, so you gave up only after a few sorry attempts of freeing yourself.

“Are you okay?”

Not that you had any experiences with kidnappings, but you were pretty sure that that's not how it worked. You were still a little dazed when you raised your head and found a young boy staring at you with wide eyes, worry written all over his face.

“You don't look like a kidnapper,” you blinked a couple of times, trying to get the blurriness away.

“You don't act like a kidnapped,” Jeongguk cocked his head to the side and studied you for a moment. He had expected this to be different. He had expected you to scream and cry and beg him to let you go. But you just looked like you were drunk.

Maybe he shouldn’t have left the cloth in the chloroform for that long?

But the longer you looked at the boy, the more you realized nervous habits that you hadn’t expected from a kidnapper. Again, you were no expert, but he was fidgeting with his hands and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He kept biting his lip and he looked really uncomfortable in this situation. And not just uncomfortable. But scared as well.

“What is this.. a gaming show of some sort?”

“Wh..- why would it be a gaming show?”

“Because there is no reason for anyone to kidnap me,” you snorted, “Seriously. None,” maybe your mom had set this up. Maybe she wanted you to see that the city was dangerous and to come back to her. You wouldn’t put it past her to do that, to be honest.

“Well.. I was told that there was this gang that liked you and my gang, or.. you know, the gang I want to be a part of, wanted to get to you first.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, blinking at him a couple of times, before saying, “Dude.. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The.. other gang? EXO? They wanted to..,” but the more he explained, the more confused you actually looked. Namjoon had told him that you knew EXO, that you have had dealings with them before, actually. So why would you..- ”Oh god.. please tell me you're Kim Soomin?”

“No. I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Kim Soomin moved out two weeks ago. I moved in three days ago.”

Jeongguk didn't know whether he should laugh for kidnapping the wrong person, or cry. Because how could he so royally fuck up this one thing that was supposed to be so easy, or so Namjoon had said.

Kidnapping the wrong person, who does that.

And while he was self-loathing, you started remembering how weird this whole deal with Soomin had been in the first place. One of the reasons your mother had warned you about it. You had actually found out about the apartment through a friend, who had gotten the info from her friend and so on and so on. And the weird thing about it was that the apartment was in the middle of the city and it had been so cheap, that you had thought there was mold in it or something, because of how badly she wanted to get rid of it. And because of how quickly. But there was nothing. It was in a perfect condition, the location was great, and the price even better.

But it seems like she knew exactly what would have happened to her if she had stayed. And that bitch actually put you in harm’s way, even though you had nothing to do with it? Just to get out of whatever she had been caught up with?

Oh, if you ever got out of here, you would have a little word with her.

“I am.. SO sorry,” Jeongguk started, but he heard the laughing of the other members, so that meant they had come back and that meant he was here with a girl that wasn't the one Namjoon wanted and THAT meant, he wouldn't be able to become a member of the Bangtan Boys. And so even though he knew what your answer would be, he turned back around to look at you and said with a pleading voice, “I need you to help me and play Kim Soomin.”

You snorted after staring at him in disbelief for a couple of seconds.

“Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me. First you kidnap the wrong person, then you want me to play the person you were supposed to kidnap? What kind of rookie are you?”

“Listen,” he knelt down in front of you, his voice barely a whisper now, “I will do absolutely ANYTHING you want. Anything. If you just play the part of Kim Soomin for me for.. just for a little while. I promise you that nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Why do you even want to be a part of a gang? You don't look like the kind of guy who should join assholes like that. You should be out there and party with your friends, even though you should be studying for your next medical exam or something.”

“Because..,” he looked back, finding the rest of the guys already approaching you. Good thing this empty warehouse, that they turned into their base was so huge, so it would take them a couple more seconds to get to you. But he could already hear their excitement when they saw you and him, “Because I don't have a choice. It's either this, or die on the streets. And I don’t want to die.”

“What, am I supposed to pity you know? You kidnapped me!” you hissed that last part.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE YOU,” he whisper-screamed, while getting up and scratching the back of his neck nervously. Taehyung wrapped an arm around his shoulder and licked his lips when he looked you up and down.

“She's.. really pretty.”

“No, she's hot,” Namjoon said, grinning cockily.

“And you're a piece of shit,” you cocked your head to the side, “Glad we all said what we’re thinking right now. This is very therapeutic.”

“Oooh, not even afraid, this one. I knew Kai had good taste when it came down to women,” Hobi knelt down in front of you, “You're Soomin, huh?”

“I'm the girl that’s about to spit in your face, if you don’t keep your distance,” you didn’t know why you were like this. Maybe it was your body trying to compensate for the fear. Because even though you acted confidently, you surely weren’t.

“Fuck me, she's fantastic,” now even Yoongi clapped Jeongguk on the back, “Guess we just found ourselves our 7th member, guys.”

Everyone started clapping while Jeongguk, again, scratched the back of his neck, this time, out of bashfulness.

Just when you were about to tell the truth and ruin their little moment, because why the fuck wouldn't you, Taehyung said: “See, I told you you wouldn't have to die out there. I told you you'd find a family in us. And I told you your parents were idiots for abusing a son that is clearly not an idiot, but a hero!”

Great. Abused boy, who just wanted to belong somewhere and who desperately tried to fit in somewhere, maybe even find a family, plus, looked at you like he was actually sorry for what he did and regretted it and would do everything for you, if you could just play this part for a little while? If you could - in a way - save him from a life on the streets?

You couldn’t believe it, but you actually began to pity him. Because not only was he stupid enough to abduct the wrong person, but he has also had a difficult childhood.

Or maybe the chloroform had been worse than you had thought it to be and you were still high when you decided what to do next.

“Fuck,” you sighed and closed your eyes, already making the decision of playing Kim Soomin in your head, because this guy right here didn't even know how to look at name tags on doors, apparently.

“What was that?” Namjoon asked.

“I said, fucking untie me. Your rookie already kidnapped me, there's no reason for me to be tied up anymore, unless you’re into BDSM. And quite frankly, I’m not, so: Untie. Me.”

“What.. do we not have to tell you the whole: 'If you'll try to run we'll murder your family' thing? I always love that part.”

“Is that what you're going to do?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I'll just promise to hunt you down for the rest of your life, if you run away,” he wanted to touch your cheek, but for some reason, Jeongguk jumped in between you two and he looked up at his new leader.

Good thing he actually kept his promise of ‘protecting you’.

“Uh.. I think I tied the ropes really tight. If you want her to do some cleaning, she's going to need her hands right?”

Cleaning? That's what you were here for? They could have fucking hired you, they didn't have to kidnap you.

“Good thinking,” Namjoon clapped him on the shoulder and turned around, “We still have that dirty bed in the basement. She can sleep there for now. Make sure you handcuff her, though. I don't trust her, yet.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, you hissed to Jeongguk: “Cleaning?! You wanted to kidnap Kim Soomin because you wanted her to be your maid?! What the fuck is wrong with you, that is so weird!”

“No! Well.. kind of. It's a complicated story. She’s involved with our rival group and we just wanted to score them off,” he knelt down behind you and began to untie the ropes, “Anyways. Thank you for playing the part. I don’t know why you did it and I don’t understand why you did it.. but thank you.”

“Yeah, you owe me big for this, rookie. And just so you know, if you do anything that I don't like, I'll tell them the truth.”

“Deal,” he smiled and helped you up, “Come on.. I'll show you the basement.”

“Yeah, see, that's the first thing that I don’t like. I'm not going to sleep in a dirty ass bed. If you want me to stay here and play your little prisoner, I'll be sleeping in a nice and comfortable one with lots of pillows and a soft blanket.”

“But.. there's none left.”

“What about yours?”

“Then.. where am I supposed to sleep?”

“The dirty ass bed, obviously. Keep up, rookie.”

This was his own fucking fault. As happy as he was that he was now a full-fledged member of the Bangtan Boys, he couldn't help but think it wouldn't be for long. Because eventually, you would tell them. And they would kick him out at once, if they didn’t do worse, because of how he lied to them about all of this.

So he had to do whatever it took to convince you to stay for as long as possible. For as long as you needed to.

“Fine.. Come on then.”

Everything in your body screamed to run, now that you were free from your restraints and it was only the rookie left.

But you didn’t. For some, weird and fucked up reason, you followed him, knowing what a horrible idea it was.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jeongguk imagine #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #reader #jeon jeongguk x reader

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tracies-tales · 6 years

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you'd take prompts for Danny Sexbang and Arin Neverbone? I'm really enjoying your story (Never)Boned and how you portray the Ninja Sex Party universe! If not, I understand; it can be for Egobang instead: 22, “Make your own goddamn toast”. I also wanted to express thanks for writing some great stories; you're really good in keeping in the spirit of the source material, no matter how silly, but still add heart and an engaging plot. Thank you, and have a nice day!

i absolutely will take prompts for the good boys!! thank you for the support and the suggestion, feel free to send more :D

~~~

Danny yawned loudly as he walked into the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head. He scratched his ass as he made a beeline for the coffee machine, managing to stub his toe on the leg of the dining table.

“Balls!” Danny yelled, hopping on one leg as he held his injured foot. He heard a crash and looked over to see Ninja Brian, who had just punched a Brian-shaped hole through the door from the bathroom to see what had caused Danny such distress. He was wielding two knives, looking around with fire in his eyes for the perpetrator.

Dan said, “Oh, sorry to startle you, Bri. I just stubbed my toe on the stupid table.”

Brian shot the table a look and kicked it, breaking one of the legs and sending the whole thing crashing down. Dan stared at it and looked back up at his partner, who crossed his arms and nodded in satisfaction. Dan rubbed his hand over his face, sighing, “Great, guess we have to go shopping for a fifth table.” Brian set his fists on his hips. Dan said, “It’s at least five, now, man. You’ve gotta stop breaking our furniture for tripping me.”

Brian threw his hands up and stepped back through the hole in the bathroom door, flushing the toilet a moment later.

Danny rolled his eyes and went back to grabbing a mug of coffee. As he selected a coffee mug with the text “My other hand is working on the creamer,” he heard a yawn emanating from down the hall. He looked over his shoulder in time to catch Arin rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt with a picture of a rooster beside a wooden block. Dan smiled, “Good morning, roomie.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” Arin drawled.

“If we weren’t roommates, I wouldn’t have to call you that.”

“And agreeing to sign the lease with you was one of the worst decisions of my life.”

Danny pouted, “You’re just grumpy because it’s before ten o’clock in the morning.”

“I don’t sleep that late,” Arin retorted as he meant to grab one of his cat mugs and accidentally picked up one of Dan’s which read, “Blow me, I’m Hot.” He didn’t notice, pouring himself a cup of coffee and saying, “But maybe I’d be less grumpy if I hadn’t gotten woken up by-” he turned around, finally noticing the table. He blinked tiredly at it.

Dan chuckled nervously as Brian returned to the kitchen with shaving cream over the top of his mask. Dan shrugged, “Surprise, we need a new table!”

“Jesus,” Arin mumbled, taking a sip of coffee and stepping around the broken table to the cupboard. He opened it to grab a loaf of bread, yawning widely and grabbing two slices from the bag. He slipped them into the toaster and turned the dial to medium heat, hoisting himself onto the counter to sit while he waited.

Brian sat at one of the chairs still around the table, crossing his legs and using a knife to continue shaving. Dan was keeping a wary eye on the toaster, determined not to jump when it popped. Arin took a drink and paused mid-sip, staring at Dan’s head. Dan noticed him watching, asking, “What?”

“…Are you wearing hair curlers?” Arin asked.

Dan’s hands immediately went to his hair, feeling the pink curlers tangled up in his already curly locks. He shot Brian a look, whining, “Briaaan, we’ve been through this!” Brian looked taken aback and set a hand on his chest in disbelief. “Don’t play innocent, dude, you know these things take forever to come out. Kinda like me, heh,” Dan smirked, coughing when he noticed the look Arin was giving him.

Pop

“Agh!” Dan jumped and flailed his arms wildly as the toaster shot up Arin’s breakfast. Arin snorted and slipped off the counter, putting the two slices on a plate and getting a jar of peanut butter and the bottle of honey out of one of the cabinets.

Dan forgot about the hair curler issue as he watched Arin curiously, peering over the samurai’s shoulder as Arin smeared a thick layer of peanut butter over the two slices of toast before using a spoon to drizzle a zig-zag of honey over each. Dan said, “Huh, never tried that before.”

Arin startled a bit, as he hadn’t realized Dan had been standing so close. He said, “Yeah, it’s something my mom does,” slowly. He screwed the lid back onto the peanut butter and carried his plate to the chair across from Brian.

Dan followed him and sat in the chair next to him. Arin chose not to comment, ignoring him and taking a bite of toast. The peanut butter got stuck in his mustache, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. Dan leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin in his hands, watching Arin take a few more bites before he asked, “Can…I try it?”

“Make your own goddamn toast,” Arin huffed around a mouthful of toast.

Dan frowned and clasped his hands together under his chin, doing his utmost to make his eyes look big and sparkly, “Pleeeease?”

“Dude, seriously?” Arin glared at him, holding the plate further away from him, lest he try to snatch the slice of toast off it. “Quit being a lazy ass and just make some fuckin’ toast.”

Dan locked eyes with Arin for a solid three seconds before he lashed his hand out, trying to nab the toast. Arin instinctively threw his arm aside, which sent the second slice of toast flying–right into Ninja Brian’s face.

The duo froze with Arin’s arm sticking out awkwardly and Dan holding one hand on Arin’s knee while the other stretched out towards the now-empty plate. The slice of toast had stuck to Brian’s mask due to the sticky combo of peanut butter and honey. It slowly slid down until it landed in Brian’s lap, leaving a trail of peanut butter down his face.

They sat in shocked silence for another moment before Arin made a strangled snort, which only broke Dan’s carefully composed expression. The two broke out in uncontrolled laughter, Dan throwing his head back and clapping as Arin leaned forward to clutch his stomach. They laughed so hard they began to wheeze, struggling to breathe as Brian wiped a hand across his face to try to rid some of the mask of goo.

What the two couldn’t see was Brian’s smile, the ninja equally amused that the two had finally managed to get along over something, even at his expense.

#game grumps #egobang #danny sexbang #arin neverbone #ninja brian #dan avidan #arin hanson #fluff #ficlet #funny #humor #roommates #ninja sex party #fanfic

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