and it's slow but i'm still like desperate to read more


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summary: a round of rough sex with luke in an l.a. party is a good way to end the night.

word count: 2,125

warnings: deals w cheating and also SMUT nasty rough smut with dom!luke because i cant imagine him being vanilla + wall fucking and mirror fucking + choking… lol and i might’ve said ‘cock’ a little too much? … anyways

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teasdays  asked:

Hi please PLEASE talk to me abt the socioeconomic state of japan in bnh verse I am SO interested to hear ur thoughts? I'm a poli theory major and let me tell u im a SLUT for fic that deal w the political/social repercussions of fictional happenings

sure thing! 

disclaimer: i only just graduated high school so i’m pulling all of this out of my ass one semester of macroeconomics i took in senior year. feel free to add onto or correct any of this 

edit: if anyone wants to use this for reference when writing boku no hero japan, feel free! i’d appreciate any credit, but it’s not necessary. 

what really got me thinking about the socioeconomic state of boku no hero japan was probably the difference between orudera junior high (bakugou and izuku’s school) vs. yuuei, both of which are in the same city, musutafu. orudera junior high gives off the feeling of a school that’s a bit run down; not terrible enough that it obstructs the kids’ education, but enough that you think the school probably can’t afford to keep it in good repair. 

here’s a screenshot of bakugou and izuku’s classroom:

and then here’s izuku’s desk, which has details indicating that it’s in slight disrepair: 

if you go back through the chapters and look at the setting at yuuei, it’s spic-n-span. just super clean and well-kept. it’s an entire world of difference… so already there is this huge disparity between the junior high school in izuku’s neighborhood, and yuuei, which is a 40 minute subway ride away (chapter 3).

makes sense that yuuei would be so nice and expensive if it’s the most prestigious hero academy in the country, right? but there’s more details too, like this brief exchange between bakugou & iida right at the very beginning: 

bakugou’s resentful comment about iida being an “elite” really only makes sense to me in the context of economic disparity. let’s infer that soumei junior high is better funded, better equipped, better everything in general. of course bakugou will resent iida for that, especially coming from the more ill-maintained orudera junior high. the difference in their economic status is already apparent. 

this isn’t even going into the difference between yaoyorozu’s incredibly rich status vs the rest of the class vs uraraka, who has decided to become a hero because she wants the financial security, and who also lives in an apartment by herself and skips meals to save on money. so even within the class itself there’s a huuuge difference in economic status. 

you could just think of it as the individual circumstances of the characters, but i think it’s more of a systematic problem – see, again, the difference in infrastructure quality between the different schools (the public school is not doing so great but yuuei is doing fantastic). maybe the city is poor, or maybe all of its funds go towards repairing the constant property damage from villain attacks, or maybe there’s just some areas they don’t care to maintain. either way: just by traversing different parts of the city you’ll probably see big differences in how well the neighborhoods are kept. 

and now, for a different question: if this is the golden age of peace, why are there still so many villain fights? 

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12.18 coda

Sam tells him in the diner that satyrs lure people away with a promise of pleasure just so they can eat them raw.

Dean thinks that well-meaning waitresses might work the same way.

She gives him a smile, a sweet one that’s everything right with a world so far from his own, and he’s able to let go of his stress after days of stewing in desperate silence. She grabs his hand and leads him out back after the dinner rush slows, and Dean knows he won’t be going back to the motel with Sam tonight. He’ll be wandering, bare foot and chasing a half-real high.

And it works. His body takes over as soon as that door shuts and it tells him he’s happy. But he can feel her teeth digging into him just the wrong side of too hard when they kiss. Her nails gouge deep into his shoulders, leave marks, remind him again that he’s hurting. Her pours his passion into her and he leaves himself cold and empty in the process. 

She devours him and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.

He lies there in bed with her long after she’s curled up and gone to sleep but invited him to stay, facing away from him in a strip of exposed moonlight. Dean runs one hand softly along the swell of his chest, the closed cavity of his heart, just to make sure that he’s still all there. He stays.

Taptaptaps his fingers. Just can’t seem to help himself. Still longing. Still worrying.

He rolls onto her again in the morning after a bad dream wakes him up and they fuck against her bedroom door before they leave. Dean keeps his tie askew even when he drops her off at the restaurant. He arches desperately closer into her in the doorway, seeking warmth, and he forgets to care if anyone is watching him.

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anonymous asked:

A fic that's just Sanvers making out on the couch since the show obviously won't let them. (I'm Salty) lol

“Hey pretty lady,” Alex greets from the couch after Maggie’s key scrapes the lock and she steps inside, and she looks up from her reading and smiles, watching.

Because she told Maggie that she thinks she’s starting to get used to this whole happy thing, but god, she doesn’t think she’ll really ever get used to Maggie coming to her apartment like its her own home after a long day at work; doesn’t think she’ll really ever get used to the way Maggie’s smile lights up the entire night when Alex’s words wash over her ears; the way Maggie freezes slightly and licks her lips and her eyes flash when she sees Alex in nothing but a henley and pajama pants and glasses, god, those glasses.

And Maggie? Maggie doesn’t think she’ll really ever get used to coming home to Alex Danvers, feared and renowned for her ruthlessness, being soft and domestic and vulnerable and relaxed, in her glasses, laying on the couch, waiting for… her. For her to come… home.

So she shrugs off her jacket and she tosses down her gun. She kicks off her boots and she makes sure her eyes never leave Alex’s, because she doesn’t want to miss any nuance of the way Alex watches her, the way Alex’s eyes widen slightly when she takes off her jacket, when she strides over to the couch.

Alex’s couch.

Their couch.

The way Alex gulps slightly and immediately tosses her bioengineering journal to the floor when Maggie says, “May I?” and Alex nods so Maggie straddles her and Alex gulps again.

“I missed you today,” Maggie whispers, stroking Alex’s cheek, and Alex immediately reaches up and mirrors her activity.

“Yeah?” she flirts.

“Yes, Danvers, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Show me.”

Maggie blinks.

“Show you.”

“Show me how much you missed me?” She says it like a question, because it is a question, because she still does need to be shown, not just told, because she still can’t wrap her mind around the fact that someone like Maggie would miss her, would like her, would love… her.

Would come home to her.

“Oh, Alex,” Maggie shakes her head, and she leans down and lifts her glasses, resting them on top of Alex’s head, so she can kiss her eyes, her nose, her temples, her forehead. She kisses her cheeks and her chin and, just when Alex’s contented sighs turn into small, needy whines, she kisses her lips.

They both sigh into the contact, into the kiss, because it’s only been ten or so hours, but god, that’s ten or so hours too long.

Alex parts her lips and runs her hands over Maggie’s hair and Maggie takes the invitation, slipping her tongue softly, gently, slowly, into Alex’s mouth, nearly moaning in relief at Alex’s response, the way her hips roll of their own accord, the way one of her hands wanders down Maggie’s back and grabs at the back of her shirt, making sure she doesn’t let go.

And she won’t.

God, she won’t.

“You good?” Maggie pulls back slightly to ask, because Alex had propped a pillow on the couch’s ledge while she was reading, but couches aren’t always the most comfortable places to be laid down and kissed senseless.

Alex answers by pulling her back down into a kiss, and Maggie does moan softly this time, Alex’s tongue teasing her lips before traveling down her jawline, down to her throat. Her teeth graze Maggie’s pulse point and Maggie’s entire body trembles.

Alex freezes but Maggie shakes her head. “You don’t have to stop.”

So she doesn’t. She marks Maggie’s neck like she knows Maggie likes, and she lets herself get lost in the sounds Maggie makes, the way she smells, the way her skin tastes, in the way Maggie’s hands travel haphazardly across her entire body, always reaching for more, groping at Alex’s breasts over her shirt, making Alex sigh and gasp and smile into her ministrations before shifting to return her lips to Maggie’s mouth, and Maggie kisses her back eagerly, desperately, hotly.

“You are so fucking beautiful, Danvers,” she murmurs in between kisses, in between Alex’s hands exploring her body like a randy teenager, in between her own hands doing exactly the same.

“Yeah?” Alex asks, pausing, and Maggie pulls back to look her in the eyes, in her perfect, perfect eyes.

She smiles softly and tilts her glasses back down from the top of her head onto her face, and she smiles deeper.

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, Alex,” she reiterates, and Alex melts up into her body.

“I love kissing you,” Alex whispers, because she doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know how else to respond, to the intensity, the thing that looks a lot like love, in Maggie’s eyes, in her voice, in her hands and in her lips.

“Well that’s good, Danvers. Cause I love kissing you, too,” Maggie chuckles sweetly, leaning back down to kiss Alex gentle, kiss her slow, kiss her always.

She makes a map of Alex’s mouth with her tongue, a guide to Alex’s lips with her own, a prayer to Alex’s breathless sighs with her thumb on her cheek, her hand on her waist.

She almost whispers that she loves her, but decides, for now, to show her instead.

And it works – the way her lips part for Alex’s, the way she pays attention to and fulfills her every need, the way she makes out with her like she’s never been made out with, and god, nothing’s ever felt this perfect – because, who knows how long later, Alex’s eyes are glistening and her lips are quirked into a shy smile when she asks, “So you’re saying you missed me. Cause that’s… that’s what I’m getting.”

Maggie chuckles and her heart thrills at the game that’s become their own.

That’s become their coming home.

“Of course, you’re not gonna go crazy on me, are you?”


Maggie licks her lips and shakes her head slightly and kisses Alex again, again, again.


anonymous asked:

I feel like there aren't enough phone sex fics in the fandom. Could you please take this as a prompt?

Hey anon, I’m not sure you really meant me? I’m not known for writing smut (cause I can’t write it). But I tried and here it is. Set in “Chinga”, NC-17 (I suppose). You get a read more cause it’s loooong.

Four rings before Scully picks up the phone and puts Mulder out of his misery.

“Hm, yeah.” Scully’s voice is nothing more than a tired mumble and yet Mulder finds himself sigh in relief, and grin stupidly, upon finally hearing her voice.  

“Hey Scully, it’s me. You weren’t answering your phone earlier and I – wait, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Mulder is cradling his basketball in his arms; he better not be interrupting anything. What was the guy’s name Scully kept mentioning? Jack? He grimaces when he realizes that he’s been stroking the basketball, treating it like a lover. He lets got of it, watches it fall to the ground with a soft thud, and roll away under his desk. Wishing it was Jack’s head, kind of. Mulder has been trying to reach Scully for hours now (Is Jack to blame? He’s not sure he wants to know). He is not going to tell her how close he’s come to flying out to Maine.

“I was sleeping.”                                                                      

“It’s only… oh, it’s already 2 am. I’m sorry, Scully. You uhm, like I said, you weren’t answering your phone. I was worried.”

“I’m fine Mulder. Just really tired.”

“Some vacation, huh?” Mulder knows that he should say his goodbye now, let her go back to sleep. Except he’s so happy to hear her voice, as exhausted as it may sound, that he’s unable to be reasonable. He hasn’t seen her in days. He hasn’t heard her voice in hours. He can’t just hang up now.

“Yeah.” Scully yawns. “Mulder, was there anything you wanted? It really is late.”

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Ponyboy x Reader

Anonymous asked: “I’m sorry I let you fall for me” Could you do this prompt with ponyboy?

“I’m sorry I let you fall for me.”


He was staring at you, tortured.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, entangling your fingers with his.

Ponyboy set his teeth on edge, turning away first. “There’s a rumble tonight. I don’t know if you heard.”

His words caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Distantly, you felt the Greaser tighten his grip on your hand, his thumb running over your skin in a shaky way. He was scared, that was obvious. You were scared. It was so stupid, both of you knew this.

You were a Soc and he was a Greaser. You’d face each other tonight in battle.

Both of you were sworn enemies. Water and oil. Blessings and curses. Deep and shallow-

“I won’t show.” Ponyboy’s suggestion tore you from your thoughts.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “They’ll find out. We both need to go.” You sighed. “We just have to try not to meet in the fray.”

Ponyboy looked unsure, but managed a smile. It perished before it reached his eyes, though.

“I love you,” he breathed.

You didn’t like that. This was a big deal, sure, but nobody was going to die. What the two of you had wasn’t going to fade. Your divisions weren’t going to take that away from you guys.

“I love you too, Ponyboy,” you murmured.

You lifted his hand up to your face and kissed the top of it, smiling back at him. “This isn’t going to change anything, you hear? We’re still on our date for Thursday,” you chuckled.

It took a few moments, but ultimately the boy joined you in laughter. “Good. I’ve been saving up some cash. You’re in for a treat, Y/N,” he said contently.

The most obvious issue seemed to wear away at that second, and Ponyboy wrapped his other arm around your shoulder. You exhaled softly as he pulled you close against his chest, running his fingers through your hair and humming easily. You felt his heart beat beneath the heel of your hand as his fingers fell away from yours.

It was dusk. Streams of orange bolted across the sky and melted deep into the horizon. Some stars flickered in and out of sight. You liked the way the scenery reflected off of Ponyboy’s eyes.

The rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence, with your hands snagging in the boy’s shirt and his fingers combing through your hair. It was too late to relent your feelings for Ponyboy, you knew this. You loved him from the bottom of your heart. He felt the same way towards you. That wouldn’t cease. Well, you hoped it wouldn’t. It was truly your worst fear.

“Ponyboy!” a familiar voice echoed over the terrain.


“Time to come home, bud! Gotta get ready!”

Ponyboy stiffened against you. It was evident that his brother was talking about the upcoming rumble. He pressed his lips to your forehead before gazing down at you.

“I have to go, but, I mean, I’ll see you later,” he stammered.

“Okay. Stay safe.” You kissed his cheek as he stood up. “See you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”


The night was still. There was no wind. No more stars either, too many clouds. And no Greasers. Yet.

You were sitting on top of the hood of your friend’s car. Most of the Socs were wrestling with each other already, but careful enough not to push each other to the ground. Your outfits were clean, something the Greasers never contributed in rumbles. Playful cursing filled the air and twigs snapped beneath people’s feet. Nobody was scared. Nobody allocated your fears.

“They’re here!” someone cried out.

So they were, you thought. Familiar faces came into your line of sight and you hurried to join your rank.

“Time to demolish the town’s inferior kids,” someone beside you growled. You were too busy looking for Ponyboy to pay them any real mind, though.

You still didn’t know all of the Greasers, but you recognized the three Curtis brothers and some more of their friends. Though a handful of them still looked unfamiliar.

Ponyboy took your breath away when you finally spotted him. It seemed you did the same for him when he saw you. The world between you two froze, and it was simply you and Ponyboy. No other labels were needed.

For a fraction of time, you weren’t a Soc and he wasn’t a Greaser. You were equals. You loved each other, and that was enough.

But the truth caught up to you and just like that, your hopes were eradicated. You were back, and Ponyboy dipped his head, averting your gaze. You did the same.

At this point the two groups were in a line, bracing each other for war. People’s teeth bared and hands formed fists. Anticipation was wearing.

“You cannot be your own saviors,” a Greaser taunted suddenly. It was Ponyboy’s eldest brother. He stepped out from his band and glared at the people you had grown up with.

“You cannot protect yourselves from us,” another Greaser jeered.

You knew the second Greaser. You had never talked to him, but you knew of him. Everyone did. It was Dallas Winston. Patches of purple already stained his knuckles. He was hungry for a fight. He was desperate.

“We wouldn’t dream of protecting ourselves against delinquents,” one of your Socs sneered.

Dallas stepped to the side of Ponyboy’s older brother, Darry, and puffed his chest. He was goading the Socs. You could almost see the steam pouring out of his ears.

“You deserve all of the hurt you’re about to get,” he seethed.

Your fellow Soc gritted his teeth. You saw the muscles straining in his neck, how his jaw tightened, how his eyes gleamed dangerously.

“Good thing your parents’ll be able to pay for your hospital bills,” Dallas stated.

The Soc couldn’t take it any longer. He pounced without say, but Dallas was ready.

The rumble was on.

A Greaser took you by surprise, slugging your shoulder and causing your dominant arm to go numb. His gray eyes flickered, and his grin widened. You did your best to protect yourself, jabbing at his stomach and dodging behind him, kicking the back of his knees. He was strong, though, too tall and too stocky for you to stand a real chance. A snicker escaped him as he landed another punch to your jaw, and you realized who this Greaser was.

Ponyboy had told you stories about the guy who could get out of any business with the fuzz. How he was still a junior at eighteen and a half. How he could brighten up anyone’s day with a joke. As he decorated you with dark colors, you wished you had gotten to know that side of him.

“Two-Bit!” you heard someone shriek. “You’re pummeling a body! Take a real challenge over here.”

That was Ponyboy talking, you perceived leisurely. Two-Bit gave you one last shove, and you stumbled to the ground, receding to your knees. But the male was gone when you peered back up.

By now your body was throbbing in multiple places. The side of your head hurt. You saw yourself curl your fingers, but didn’t feel it. There was a burning sensation in your shoulder.

“Y/N,” a hushed voice said.

Ponyboy was suddenly right beside you. You gazed at him and did your best to hide your smile. He didn’t do the same, but instead put his hand behind your head and repositioned you onto your back, grabbing the collar of your shirt to keep you from falling. At this angle, it looked like he was looming over you, spewing threats. But his eyes were soft and his lip was already bleeding.

“Stay low,” he instructed. “I don’t know how long this will last. This has been building up for months. Both sides are fired up,” he admitted.

“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’m fine. You should go, before someone realizes what you’re doing.”

Ponyboy grimaced, but laid your head on the grass gently.

“I’m sorry I let you fall for me,” he whispered.

You weren’t hurt bad, but your mind was slow, and you told him that he hadn’t let you fall. That he set you down gingerly.

Ponyboy frowned and opened his mouth to speak, although another voice rang out. A Greaser compelled him back to the fight, but he kissed the top of your hand as you had done to him only hours before. Then he bolted away.

inukag-4ever  asked:

I would LOVE to know what you think are the best, high quality, in-character, well-written fics out there. Other than LMAL and Feniknussen (too lazy to look up how to spell that author). I'm in desperate need of something incredible to read!!

Girl, I know that feel! Sometimes you just need a really good fic to read.

I’m happy to tell you about my go-to fics, but I get the feeling you’ve probably read (or heard of) most of them already. ^^; Hopefully there’ll be one or two in here that are new to you. (Also, please note that my InuKag bias is really obvious with this list, because they’re all InuKag-oriented.) 

  • Surprising absolutely no one, I must lead off with Sachi by Quillwing717. It’s still the best fanfic I’ve ever read. The quality of the writing is A++, the characterization is on point, and the slow burn is fucking phenomenal. Waiting on a Wish is also amazing, and I reread that one pretty frequently. She’s also written a one-shot called Holding Them that is super sweet and lovely. 
  • Nice Things by Bread Head is a oneshot I recently found that blew me away. Inuyasha and Kagome are very, very in-character, and the whole piece is bittersweet and adorable. (The author also has a multi-chapter fic, In the Shade of the Sacred Tree, that you might want to check out; the writing is excellent, but I’ll admit that I bailed on it because it made me too sad. But if you’re in the mood for sad, that should really hit the spot.) 
  • Basically anything written by Reinamy will be wonderful, but I particularly love Mistletoe Tales and Speed Dating for Dummies. This author’s writing style is awesome—the characters just come alive. 
  • The Half Breed’s Wife by Gypsyn is basically everything I ever want in a fic. Her other stuff is great too, though. I particularly enjoy Shattered and Remade for its imagery and symbolism; and A Story for Shippo is hella cute and guaranteed to make you smile.
  • I don’t know how she did it, but I Hear Your Silence by KeiChanz is pretty much InuKag perfection. Like I don’t even know what else to say about it. A+ fluff, to die for, 10/10 will absolutely read again. 
  • The writer bluepianos has some great Inuyasha fics—refreshingly well-written and well-characterized—and I especially enjoyed the one titled ふたりごと.    
  • I just recently read I Have a Confession to Make by kimiko888 and I love it. Humor can be hard to write well, but this author totally nails it. Not to mention the fact that it’s chalk-full of InuKag cute. The chapters are stand-alone pieces, and some are more in-character than others; overall, though, I think it’s a really good collection.
  • Folktale by HoneyBee31. Like, honestly? This fic does so many things really, really well. Pacing, world-building, characterization, romantic development… it’s a little gem of a fic that I reread a lot. 
  • Elemental: A Feudal Soap Opera by Xi Hou Jun is just quality writing. As the title suggests, it’s full of that good, good drama. The characterization is kinda up for debate, depending on how you interpret the characters; personally I think the characterization is good, particularly Inuyasha’s perspective.  
  • You’ve probably seen me recommend this fic before, but I have to include Therapeutic by everstar. It’s a perfect little snapshot of InuKag. Grade-A characterization, flawless writing, 10/10, wish there was a sequel. I also love this author’s (sadly unfinished) multi-chapter fic, Pieces of Me
  • Remember when I said that humor can be hard to write well? Shikigami by Elvirus knocks it outta the park. I swear, this fic reads like canon. It could be an episode from the anime or a chapter from the manga. 
  • The Hunt for the Perfect Man by CharmedReality is an excellent, funny, light-hearted read.  
  • I’m 100% sure most everyone in the fandom has heard of, if not already read, the following fic, but I’ve gotta include it in any list of well-written, well-characterized fics. Behind the Silk Screen by eien-no-basho is a top tier fic, ain’t no mistake. The amount of detail and historical research is wonderful, and the story itself is a joy to read. 
  • Again, I feel like I’m preaching to the choir with this rec, but I gotta, I just gotta: Phony Digits by our very own StoatsandWeasels is 100% worth the read. She nails Kagome’s character, and I love how she writes Sango. 

Okay, I think I’d better stop before I bury you alive. I’m sorry if these are all fics you’ve already read—if so, maybe a couple of them are due for a reread? XD

Happy reading! 

Ficlet: Make you work up a sweat

I got an anonymous Tumblr prompt a while back for ripped, personal trainer Isak with a buzzcut. I fulfilled the first part of that—hopefully you still like it, anon, wherever you are! <3 <3 I’m soooo sorry I lost your ask, bb, Tumblr just glitched out on me hard. Anyway this is my unfortunate contribution to SKAM Fic Week, Day 3 (alternate first meeting). Other, more talented people have written much better gym fic (I hope they can forgive me), but I still hope you all enjoy! Title from Salt-N-Pepa’s “Shoop.”

Make you work up a sweat [AO3]

Even is deeply, utterly, monumentally screwed.

Also, if Even could actually get deeply, utterly, monumentally screwed by the dude in front of him, preferably into a mattress in the next forty-five seconds, that would be great.

(Or they could do it in the locker room, for convenience’s sake. Sure, it smells like feet and is probably overrun with naked geriatrics, but time is of the essence and Even’s not picky.)

Because this dude just happens to be the single most attractive thing—human, animal, or mineral—that Even’s ever seen in his twenty short years on Earth. If someone asked him why, he’s not even sure he’d be able to point to anything specific. Like, sure, there’s the kind, green eyes; or the delicate, upturned nose; or the sweet rosebud mouth; or the sharp, masculine jawline; or the thick, blond curls; or the glorious fucking abs that Even can just make out with how tantalizingly the dude’s tight shirt is clinging to them.

But it’s the whole package, really, all of it together, that does him in.

Also, he really shouldn’t be thinking about the word “package” right now.

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anonymous asked:

Wait if u have a lot of fics you want to read do u think u could rec some? I'm lost for what voltron fics to read and I want to start somewhere (I'm good for every ship but shidge honestly) thanks in advance!

*claps hands together*


A large portion of it is gonna be Klance cause i haven’t really found any other ones that I thought were interesting. Even being a multishipper, you still can’t find good ones of other ships besides the most popular ;w;

I’m also gonna give you the ones I have read cause I don’t wanna give you a fic rec and have you go in blindly not knowing what to expect from one of the fics.

Chances are this is gonna get long so imma cut it right here

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Hello, hello, hello~! I hope you don’t mind, but I kind of combined these two into an epic piece of angst, moving on, and new love ^^ I will be splitting this into two parts, because otherwise it would be too long, so please look forward to the next installment! Enjoy!

Part I

Today was the day. You would confess your feelings to the infamously stoic and emotionally constipated captain of the Sixth Division, and there were no ifs, ands, or buts to be had about it.

…Or so you told yourself.

You’d been arguing with yourself about it for the last month, and so far, nary had been done about it except berating yourself in the mirror over being such a coward. True, there was much to lose–his respect, for one thing–but the heart wanted what the heart wanted, and it relentlessly beat for the same man. It was obscenely improper to harbor such feelings for your Captain, but it was damn hard to resist when he looked like that. Being the Third Seat, however, had its perks, because aside from Renji and Rukia, you were the closest person to him at all times.

When Lieutenant Abarai was otherwise occupied with paperwork, general errands, or personal duties as a lieutenant, Captain Kuchiki always called on you to deliver messages, take care of annoying Hollows in the Human World, or finish up some of the more mundane papers Renji left unattended. You never complained, even when Byakuya–as you’d taken to calling him in your head, because he couldn’t call you out for disrespect that way–seemed annoyed, or grumpy, research and study proved that he’d sooner take it out on his lieutenant when he returned, or one of the more…eccentric captains, than on you.

The longer you were around him, the harder you fell, and you never really tried to stay away. You were the first person to volunteer to take on extra work, or train some of the Green Horns when your schedule was free, and no one batted an eye when you did, because as the Third Seat, wasn’t that your job? You liked your position well enough, and the work load never bothered you, but if the bonus was extra time with the captain? Well, who could say no? The only people to notice were, coincidentally, the only two who would notice something like that, Renji and Rukia. Rukia was supportive, and encouraged your crush, but Renji was on a whole different level. He was your number one cheerleader, and he was the only reason you’d managed to psych yourself up enough to finally do the deed.

To prepare for your inevitable confession, you performed your duties flawlessly. You usually did, to be sure, but you went out of your way to go the extra mile and assist Renji, scold some new recruits before Byakuya could hear about their less than stellar achievements of the day and get a hold of them, and even took it upon yourself to tidy up the front of the division–namely, sweeping when there was nothing else to be done. As you were sweeping, a shadow fell over your dust pile, blocking the sun from hitting you, and you blinked up only to find your captain standing there, evidently finished with his weekly captains meeting.

“Hello, Captain,” you beamed, pausing your cleaning enough to give him a light bow. You were shaking with nerves, trying to muster the courage to say the things you were dying to. They danced on the tip of your tongue, your mind ready to speak them… What came out, however, was: “Did the meeting go well?”

Captain Kuchiki, expressive as ever, only nodded briefly as he stood with his hands at his sides. “As expected, there was nothing noteworthy to speak of. It is relatively peaceful, for the time being, so these meetings are pointless.”

You giggled. Typical Byakuya, not one to waste energy on things that didn’t require it. You loved seeing this side to him to, when his guards were down just a fraction, so that you got to see the parts of his personality that he tended to bury when dealing with his subordinates, his rigidly traditional family, or anyone else for that matter. When he quirked an eyebrow at you, you could already hear what he was going to say before he said it.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, taking you in with a slow, deliberate gaze. Swallowing, you gripped the broom a little tighter, something of an anchor to ground yourself. “And why are you sweeping the barracks? That should be left for those with less substantial duties.”

“Oh, I finished all my work!” you replied hastily. “I didn’t think it would be good to just sit around doing nothing, so since I was free I took it upon myself. I get…antsy without something to do…”

When you stopped, you looked down, and there was a silence that followed. You could feel Byakuya gazing at you, steady, looking for holes in your statement, and upon finding none, exhaled lightly.

“It is…admirable,” he started, as if unsure of the right words to use, “that you would continue to work when you’ve finished for the day.” Smiling, you finally looked back up at his face. “However, that doesn’t mean the Third Seat of the Sixth Division needs to be out cleaning. I have some papers I need to go through, so if you’re that desperate for work, then come.”

Turning like the graceful noble he was, he walked past you silently, and you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face. Byakuya never asked for help. He was quite capable of dealing with the hefty workload that accompanied being a captain, and he never even asked Renji for assistance unless it was absolutely necessary. You couldn’t help but feel at least a tiny bit special, and the gentle fluttering in your chest pressed you forward.

“Captain!” you called to his back. He slowed, half-turning to meet your eyes with that signature somber expression.

“Yes, what is it?” His deep, even voice made the fluttering quite erratic, and you took a deep breath in an attempt to quell it.

“If possible,” you began, standing as straight and tall as possible, trying to exude the confidence you so desperately needed through your posture, “could I have a moment of your time after work?”

He didn’t answer right away, but there was something that crossed his face that gave you reason to pause. Fidgeting with the broom handle still within your grasp, processing what you hoped was warmth that made its way to your stoic captain’s features, you waited. Then, he closed his eyes on a sigh, and turned back around.

“Once we’ve finished the paperwork in my office,” he said smoothly, “I’ll give you as much time as you’d like.”

Having sent your heart into a state of elation, the detached nobleman continued his way inside the barracks while you blushed. You could barely form a coherent thought, and you were glad that there was no one around to watch you flounder for direction as you carried the broom just inside the door, and followed Byakuya to his office.

The paperwork wasn’t difficult so much as mundane, but you were both proficient and dutiful, so the stack dwindled to completion rather quickly. He gave you a little less than half of the stack to complete, partially due to the nature of the documents, you thought, and he dismissed you once you were finished to gather your belongings, and wait for him outside the barracks. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling in your gut at the idea that you were waiting for Captain Kuchiki to finish work. You weren’t really expecting too much, after all, if you were rejected it would be much easier to deal with without having anticipated something grandiose. Regardless, you savored the feeling of waiting for the one you liked after a satisfactory day of work, but you still thought you had somewhat of a chance.

Hearing the doors to the barracks open, it really struck you how lucky you were. It wasn’t often that the captain of any squad got out of work on time. They didn’t have a set schedule, as it were, but leaving their office as a reasonable hour was a rare occurrence. It almost, dare you think, felt like a date. Turning with a genuinely happy smile on your face, you faced your expressionless captain head on…and the words died on your tongue.

Byakuya had said he would as much time as you wanted when you were both finished, though he didn’t really look like he was in the mood to speak. Don’t be silly, you told yourself, Byakuya always looks like this. This is just his face… It did little to quell your nerves, however.

“G-Good evening, Captain,” you greeted, internally smacking yourself at the quiver in your voice. “Have you finished what you wanted?”

“I have finished enough,” he replied, tone flat. His gaze froze you in place, something in them always sent a shiver of want through you. “What is it that you wanted to talk about, ___?”

“W-Well…” Gathering your thoughts, you took a deep breath, then leveled him with your most confident gaze. “I want to preface this by saying that I have an immense amount of respect for your position, both has Captain of Squad Six, and as head of the Kuchiki Clan, so I mean no disrespect, but I’ve been mulling these feelings over for a while now. So, um, Captain…? I really like you, a-and not because of your position! It’s just, I love the way you care about your subordinates, even though it may not always look like it. I like the way you’re always sure about your convictions, and you never back down when it’s something important to you. You can be uptight, but no one can really blame you with the responsibilities you bare, and I think it’s all very…captivating, for lack of better word. Uh…”

Trailing off, you decided that that was quite enough of a confession, and it was time to see what his response was. When you finished your piece, you’d averted you eyes nervously, but now rose them to try and read Byakuya’s expression. His face, however, held nothing. It was the same face he used in every situation, whether tense or mirthful, betraying nothing about what he was thinking or feeling. If anything, it seemed even more closed off than usual, even his eyes showed no sign of acceptance—or rejection, for that matter–and your heart sank. It was a long shot, and you knew it, but you had dared to hope, and now you were paying for it. Although it looked like he was debating on what to respond, you knew the answer, and you didn’t want to hear it said aloud.

“A-Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that.” You bowed, plastering a small smile on your face. “You don’t need to respond or anything, I just… Thank you for listening. Excuse me!” 

With another curt bow, you used your Shunpo to get as far away as you could as fast as possible. Not that you Captain couldn’t catch if he wanted to, and you foolishly hoped that he might, but he didn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. He was a man with a position to look after, a man who didn’t have time for such trivial things as a lover, at least not now. It was no secret to you that Byakuya was once married, and you and your naivety had thought that maybe you could he would give you a chance. But you were wrong, you thought. 

By the time you reached your own quarters, it hit you that you were crying. Ah, yes, the familiar sting of heartbreak. Laughing self-deprecatingly at yourself, you let yourself feel miserable for the rest of the night, and resolved yourself to move on from this experience in the morning. For now? Girlfriends and ice cream were in order…

anonymous asked:

54. “You drive me fucking crazy.” but in a good way with Archie?

Sure! Thanks for requesting :) Just a little side note, though, I felt like making this in more of a teasing way that’s just kind of cute. Idk, I was feeling cute over NSFW stuff tonight so this is just some cute. Even though Archie is a not-so-subtle hoe, he’s an adorable hoe.

Trying To Study (Archie Andrews x Reader)

Summary: Archie is determined to get a good grade on his upcoming test, you’re determined to get attention. It’s not a very good combination. Regardless, your current devotion is distracting Archie. Tests are important and all but you’re bored.

Word Count: 1060

Prompts: In the ask. Taken from my prompt list here

“Guess who,” you smiled, jokingly putting your hands over his eyes.

“Very funny, (Y/N). I don’t have time for this right now,” he gently pushed your hands away. When he didn’t look up from his textbook, you frowned. Sitting down across from him, you watched him intently. Archie could practically feel your stare burning him but he still didn’t look up, “What do you want?” You shrugged. He briefly glanced at you before returning to the pages in front of him. 

Slowly, you reached over and slipped the textbook away from him. He looked up at you, “I was reading that.”

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anonymous asked:

hii, i've been reading your malec prompts fics and i'm loving it! if you're still accepting prompts, could you write a fic where magnus gets really hurt in battle feat. worried and sad alec? thanks :)

Thank you so much! I hope you like this. 💜 (sorry it took so long, college is rough)

read on ao3

The world slowed to a standstill as Alec watched Magnus fall to the ground, his hands clutching his abdomen where one of Valentine’s followers had just pulled his seraph blade out. Between one breath and the next Alec had embedded an arrow directly in the man’s heart, but it still felt like it had hit his own instead. No sight or noise captured his attention other than Magnus’ labored breaths and quiet whimpers, the way his cat eyes were glazed over with pain, the blood that seeped over his fingers like it was desperate to hit the open air. Another breath, and Alec’s hands were over Magnus’, applying pressure to the wound. Golden eyes stared up at him, the fear so potent Alec was sure every single person present could feel it.

He’s dying.

The thought came unwarranted, quick and merciless in its arrival, and tremors wracked through Alec’s body. Every bone in his body shook, but not with fear. Rage. Absolute, uncontainable fury. Images of his blade slashing through the skin of every circle member flashed through his mind in quick succession, and a rough, humorless laugh ripped from his throat before he could stop it. He was fairly sure he was losing his mind, but one word, a small, strained voice that cut through all of the chaos, brought him back to reality.


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A zombie apocalypse AU (oneshot)

The streets of Soho were empty. Cars were crashed into brick walls, blood was spilled on the pavement. Russel Hobbs held a young girl’s hand in his. His other hand had a tight grip on a hatchet he’d stolen from a nearby restaurant. The little girl clutched a wrench.

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velkynkarma  asked:

Microfic! Smol!Shiro and Hunk, pasta with jam sauce. :)

oh my god yes

“I’m so sorry, guys,” Hunk says hopelessly.

“Is this some sort of Earth delicacy?” Allura asks, poking delicately at her plate with her spork. The teal noodles squish unappealingly beneath the bright maroon sauce liberally coating the rest of the food.

“Uh,” Pidge says, gulping queasily.

“Normally the noodles aren’t blue, I’ll give you that,” Lance offers weakly. Even the mice have abandoned them, turning their noses away from Lance’s offered spork and darting away from the table. (They’re probably in the kitchen hunting down the food goo. Lucky things.) “Hunk, it’s not that I don’t like your cooking-”

“We made ‘pasghetti!” Shiro announces with delight. He’s halfway through his plate already, practically inhaling the overly sweet dinner offering. “Hunk let me help!”

“Slow down there,” Keith says, instead of touching his own meal. He leans over, gently but firmly placing his hand over Shiro’s grip around the spork. “You’ll make yourself sick. Chew that bite first.”

“Aww,” Shiro says, with his mouth full.

Allura, typically interested in many of Hunk’s edible creations, is still wrinkling her nose at her plate. “Your - ‘noodles’ - are normally flavored with starberries? Are you quite certain this is edible?”

“He was so excited,” Hunk tries.

“How exotic!” Coran declares. He swallows the last bite of his rather sizable portion and holds out his cleared plate with a flourish. “Serve up another one, Number Two! This Food Lion’s hungry for more!”

Shiro laughs out loud at the silly face Coran pulls; Pidge takes advantage of the distraction to push her bowl several inches away from her. “Glad somebody else can eat this.”

“I’ll make something else later,” Hunk offers, a desperate peace solution. “Sorry, guys.”

“Yes please,” Pidge groans.

Lance swallows, face pale as Hunk dishes up another portion to hand back to Coran. “I’ll help. After Shiro’s in bed.”

“No, Lance.” Allura says firmly. “The timing is not optimal. You will be too busy with Shiro for too long.”

“Maybe if Lance read Shiro two bedtime stories instead of five,” Pidge quips, adjusting her glasses with a smirk.

“Hey!” Lance protests.

Allura shakes her head, point proven. “Precisely. If someone else is with Hunk in the kitchen, we can have a fresh round of dinner completely prepared by the time Lance has - what is your phrase? ‘Tucked Shiro in’?”

“Yes,” Lance says, slowly. Coran’s building some sort of food-mountain out of his second helping; Shiro’s giggling, delighted and fully oblivious. “But - ”

“Then it’s settled.” Allura lays her spork down, sitting up straight with a regal toss of her hair. “I will assist Hunk instead.”

Allura’s just as bad in the kitchen as Shiro. Pidge pales. Hunk gulps.

“I’ll do it,” Keith volunteers. The sigh of relief around the table’s practically audible. “You have enough going on, Princess. Shiro, if I let you have your spork back, you have to promise to take smaller bites.”

Shiro sulks, sticking his lower lip out. “I know how to eat ‘pasghetti.”

“You know how to get it all over your face,” Keith says, fondly, but lets Shiro have the spork anyway. “Chew this time. I’m watching.”

“'kay,” Shiro says happily, and tucks right back in to his pasta and jam.

anonymous asked:

Hiya Laura! I notice you're a reader. I've been taking some steps back into the world of YA fiction but I find myself consistently disappointed with the character-writing and the over abundance of insta-romances. Do you have any recommendations for a book or book series featuring a slower-burn romance? It doesn't have to be Hakyona level slow burn, but I'd like something that has some decent build-up. It doesn't have to be YA either, I'm open to adult fiction too.


Aaahhh yes… the instalove curse… I feel thy plight, Anon. I’m going to drop a few of the YA novels I’ve recently read with a slow-burn romance that I really enjoyed here:

  • The Wrath and The Dawn duology, by Renee Ahdieh. This is a very cool take on the 1001 night stories. I didn’t enjoy the second book as much as the first, but the first one has such a deliciously angsty romance!
  • Uprooted, by Naomi Novik. Fantasy world of wizards and witches and magical creatures with a genuinely intriguing conflict as its backdrop. The romance isn’t the focus of the story, but the main couple is extremely shippable. I screamed a lot.
  • The Winner’s Trilogy, by Marie Rutkoski. You can read my general comment on the trilogy here. This is another angsty enemies-lovers romance. The books are beautifully written, and I remember staying up until 4am reading them.
  • The Chaos Walking Trilogy, by Patrick Ness. This isn’t actually a book I read recently, but oh hell, I’m so desperate to get people to read this trilogy… It’s a sci-fi with an illiterate protagonist in a world where you can hear people’s thoughts. The focus isn’t on the romane, but main couple is adorable and the trilogy is B R I L L I A N T. Read iiiiiiiiiit.
  • The Assassin’s Curse duology, by Cassandra Rose Clarke. Though the main character doesn’t take too log to develop feelings for the main guy, the romance takes quite a while to quick off. Plus magical Arabian setting!! With lesbian princesses!!
  • Strange the Dreamer, by Laini Taylor (duology). This book technically falls in the instalove category and the second book isn’t out yet, BUT I CANNOT STRESS HOW GOOD IT IS ASDFGHJKL

If you’re looking for something a bit more adult-orientated: 

  • Hidden Sea Tales (trilogy), by A.M. Dellamonica. A wonderful other-world fantasy adventure with a clever 24 year old protagonist and a slow-burn romance! Again, the focus isn’t as much on the romance as it is on the adventure, but it still has a very satisfying conclusion. I reviewed the first book here.

If you don’t mind gay romances a little bit more orientated at older readers, I also really recommend:

  • The Captive Prince Trilogy, by C.S. Pacat. Read iiiiit~~ (you can also find my review here)
  • The Song of Achilles, by Madeline Miller. You’ll suffer, you’ll cry, but you’ll enjoy every moment of it.

Aaaaaand if what you really want is a story purely focused on the romance and you’re up for some regency chick lit that’s actually worth your time, you should totally check out:

  • Not Quite a Husband, by Sherry Thomas
  • Tempting the Bride, by Sherry Thomas
  • Proof by Seduction, by Courtney Milan

I know chick lit tends to be meeh and the titles are awkwardly embarrassing, even worse than those cheesy romance shojo titles, but trust me these were really good. I wouldn’t say you’ll remember them for the rest of your days, but they’re the sort of novel you can binge-read and be incredibly satisfied with. They’re a liiitle bit on the instalove side of the scale, but they’re pretty well written.

Hope that helps!!

If anybody else has any other recommendations add a comment, because I want some too :D

the beating of a heart

 ➳ pairing: seokjin x reader
 ➳ genre: angst
 ➳ word count: 1.423
 ➳ authors note: so this is like super short but it helped me get back on   track with my other writings haha
 ➳ summary: some risks are worth taking and this is the story of one.

Seokjin is aware that he needs to leave soon, that his touch on you is already starting to fade. He also knows that you need to get some rest. He can see you fight away drowsiness as you gaze at the stars, a small smile settling on your lips. Yet Seokjin couldn’t ignore the thunderous beat of his heart as he watched your breaths curl into mist in the air.

“Seokjin,” you whisper, your head turning so your eyes are even with his, “I’m scared.” but he already knew you were. He can feel your vice like grip on his hand, he can hear your shivering heartbeat but most of all he can see your desperate eyes. They’re seeking for re-assurance in his, they’re begging for what was to come to not be true but he can’t muster up a response. All he does is lean forward and places a feathery kiss on your forehead and sighs.

“Rest my dear,” he whispers, leaning down to meet your lips, “rest.”

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anonymous asked:

Can I get a scenario where Tanaka and his girlfriend are hanging out and start a pillow fight which turns into a tickle fight and his girlfriend is extremely ticklish and falls on the floor from laughing so hard and he's laughing with her until he looks down at her and suddenly realizes "Holy shit... I'm so in love with her"

this is so cute i actually started tearing up reading this when i saw it in the inbox. tanaka is so wonderful on so many levels i’m so glad i finally got a request for just him!

“And then they thought that Kageyama was going to toss to Hinata but there I was on the left—”


Tanaka blinked after the impact against his face. It’s not that it was forceful—it was only a pillow that you had swung, after all—but he certainly was not expecting his face to be met with the lavender cotton of your pillowcase while he recounted one of his favorite matches to you. It had been a clutch victory too, with him scoring the final point to put Karasuno on top.

“Got you!” you cheered, sticking your tongue out for good measure. You stood on your knees victoriously next to him atop your bed. With one hand, you swung the pillow around by your hip with a circular motion to your wrist. “You should have seen it coming, Ryuu. You know I’ve heard that story so many times already.”

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HEY GUYS it’s time for another verbose Blutrunst post about how much I love the thing! Today we’re talking about disease and decay and fresh food.

One of my favorite things about Herod is the leprosy; not only is it a classic standby to indicate a slow, isolated death, but it’s also historically laden and perhaps a little fraught. With modern medicine, leprosy is curable! But the damages can’t be reversed, and so even though Herod’s living decay is halted, it can never be undone. He lives with the damage of history, caught in a kind of suspended but inevitable death, always aware that if nothing else gets him, this dormant disease will.

This makes his consumption of children all the more poignant; he is driven to eat that which he is not: young, healthy, unblemished. Eating the young is a long and proud tradition: veal, suckling pig, duckling, lamb, goat’s kid, the list goes on. Even vegetables don’t grow to adulthood. Herod doesn’t appear to consciously want to reap these benefits from those he eats, but one must wonder if he still hopes to take in the glow of life from his food. It isn’t rotten or decayed like he is, and it isn’t allowed to spoil: Herod takes only what he needs, he does not kill to excess or waste. His prey doesn’t smell stale or cold or decay-sweet the way I imagine he might. It’s also a nice bit of a call back to the presence of Saturn Devouring his Son in the first chapter, a desperate bid for self-preservation even at the cost of the lives of innocents–and ultimately a futile one. Perhaps one of the children to cross Herod’s path will be the metaphorical stone swapped in for Zeus.

But I think it’s the leprosy that’ll get him in the end.

anonymous asked:

slides in i saw you were willing to write things for rarepair week! maybe some castiel/armin? armin invites cas round to show him how awesome his music video games (like guitar hero or the game he plays the drums on) are and starts noticing lil attractive things about cas?? has a mild bi panic like "be still my useless bisexual heart"?? idk if that makes sense i'm very tired :')

Ok I slightly misread your post and wrote Castiel crushing on Armin and not the other way around as requested, I hope that’s okay !

Drummers Get All The Guys
Rating: G
Ship: Armin/Castiel
Summary: They’re not real drums, but Castiel might just let him in the band anyway; Lord knows he’s been looking for an excuse to kick Nathaniel out.

Also on AO3

“What’s changed ?” Armin asks, a brow raised. Something must have happened with the band to bring Castiel to his door, it’d take something bigger than a sudden change of heart to make him come begging. Especially after all he said last time.

“Nothing, just changed my mind.” Castiel says, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to appear casual. It doesn’t work.

“Bullshit.” Armin replies, dragging out the syllables. He looks at him sternly and folds his arms. “That’s not a reason.”

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Title: Frostbite { CH3 }

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Pairing: Jumin Han x MC/Reader/You

Summary: All is fair in love and war.
But whoever falls first will deal the greater damage from the other. It’s
always better to be safe than sorry.
Part 2.

Disclaimer: this is part 3 of Frostbite! this story is an AU and is entirely different from Jumin’s route. Jumin Han is not owned by me and is rightfully owned by cheritz. enjoy reading!

update mentions:
@osymbolico ;; @jetblckcrow ;;

But somehow I'm still alive inside
You took my breath, but I survived
I don't know how, but I don't even care

You were blindfolded and tied apart from the tape that plastered your mouth together, preventing you to talk. You grew tired of squirming and insulting Jumin since all that ever came out of your mouth sounded like desperate cries. You didn’t know where you were and what time of the day was it. It was the longest car ride you’ve ever been in. You’ve always imagined yourself riding a limousine before but not like this, not like a kidnap victim who’s being transported to some place you didn’t know.

A few moments of silence later and the car stopped. You debated of whether you’d squirm again or make them believe you’re asleep or something – not like they’d know. You’re blindfolded. The only thing they can only notice is the rise and fall of your chest. Then, just as expected, you can feel yourself being carried by someone. You pretended to be asleep.
Your entire body was limp from all of the squirming you did earlier in which resulted to nothing more but making you a lot tired than you already were. It was actually no problem on your part to pretend you were sleeping just so you can observe.

You can hear a faint noise of cars from somewhere and you were certain they still didn’t leave the city at this moment. At least they didn’t take you to the mountains.

But right after that, even your hearing was reduced to almost none when you felt a cloth was draped over your body. Panic rose your system but you tried to be more level headed and decided to wait it out. You heard an elevator ding and the sound of its doors opening and immediately, you can feel that the men carrying you were now inside.

It was for a while when the elevator stopped and you can only assume that the floor where the elevator was must have been the top most of whatever building they brought you in. You can feel a little shuffling of feet from here to there – and then a door clicked open. Few more steps and you felt yourself thrown against the soft sheets of what seemed to be a duvet of a California King-sized Bed. You tried to hold back the voice you almost let out when you were suddenly thrown or they could find out you’re awake and do something to you.

You heard several footsteps and the door of the room suddenly opened and clicked. You felt lightly calloused palms graze the side of the skin of your face and the blindfold they have put over your eyelids were now being removed. Of course, you didn’t open your eyes yet. The next thing that was removed was the tape over your mouth. You felt his hands then go lower your body to where your hands were bound and then the rope was untied. The only thing left were now the rope on your ankles.

You opened your eyes and it didn’t take you any adjustments as you have observed that the room was dark and only a small blue light from an aquarium over the corner illuminated the place. Though it still wasn’t enough for you to clearly see what room you were in but you already had your own assumptions.

“You’re awake,” his jerk-of-a-voice filled your ears and your eyes then drifted to the man crouched before you, the heat of his hands resting to your legs. You squinted to see him better and it didn’t take you longer than a minute to realize that you’re probably inside the bedroom of none other than Jumin Han.

“Get your hands off of me.” You hissed and he raised his hands up in the air like a mocking surrender. His metallic grey irises shimmering a glint of amusement as his mouth curved to a familiar smirk.

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