ten ways to get a girl to like you

pidge: keith i have a gay problem and need the help of a gay who is more experienced

keith: ok. what is it?

pidge: i like this girl but there’s no way she likes me back and i dunno what to do about it

keith: nothing. absolutely nothing. you do nothing, and then you do your best to ignore it but it’s just eating at you and it’s so hard to pretend it’s not there so then you watch ten thousand heteronormative hallmark movies but eventually you start getting daydreams about how great your life would be if you actually were dating and how much fun you’d have doing the cheesiest coupley stuff and you aren’t even paying attention to the hallmark movies anymore they’re just lights and sounds in the background of your daydreams but we’re in space so you don’t even have the hallmark movies so you just go straight to the daydreams and you get this idea in your head that if you two date you’ll finally be a happy functional person and you won’t have any more problems ever and you know that’s not true but you still wanna believe it anyway and now the crush is getting bigger and bigger and you’re even more of a mess and you talk to your friend about it since he says he’s always there if you need someone to listen so you think that’ll help a little bit but it turns out it doesn’t because your friend is an asshole and says “well why don’t you just tell him?” but if i could tell him then this wouldn’t. be a problem, shiro!

keith: (breathing heavily)

pidge:

pidge:

pidge: actually i think i’m gonna go to lance

keith: …good plan.

cryptidsanonymous  asked:

I just read everything in your gods and monsters series and wow I am in awe. I am absolutely blown away by your writing it's beautiful the Icarus one had me staring at a wall for ten minutes afterwards absorbing what I'd just read. anywhoozle, I love everything you've written and not to rush or pressure you or anything but I was wondering if perhaps we could get more of the greek mythology stories?

a continuation of this


Caeneus has only ever had two loves in his life.

First is the sea. He’s loved her his whole life, heard her siren song from the time he had long curly hair and still tolerated being put in dresses and called a girl. He loves the sea like his parents go to temple, in an unmovable and inexplicable way that he no longer questions.

Second is Poseidon. Foolish, but so achingly kind. He’s a man who professes his wish to master the sea without ever really understanding it, and Caeneus smiles and kisses the stress lines from his brow but does not worry.

The sea has never loved him back, and it never will. She is power and coldness and loss, and her beauty is in her tragedy. Poseidon is warmth and thoughtfulness and strong hands on his hips. He is nothing like the sea, and he will never rule it.

Caeneus knows this, and he’s relieved by it. Poseidon loves him back. Poseidon is not the sea.

Then he wakes up to his lover’s lips on his neck, cold enough that flinches away from the sensation, and for a terrifying moment he doesn’t recognize the person touching him as the man he loves.

“I can do it now,” he whispers, and cool fingers splay against his waist, “I can make you the man you want to be.”

Caeneus wants the body that men usually have, wants people to stop looking at him and seeing a woman. But if Poseidon had asked, he would have told him – Caeneus would choose his lover over a new body, would rather live as he does now than have Poseidon harm himself for his benefit.

But he did not ask, so Caeneus closes his eyes and accepts the gift his lover is so eager to give him.

~

Amphitrite has never had a heart before.

She was the sea, and what she desired, she took. Men, women – she wanted, and she had, and then she moved on.

But the heart in her chest is softer, warmer. It turns her pearl hued skin pink and makes her swim to the surface to watch the sun set, makes something like empathy stir inside her when before all she had was selfishness.

The heart in her chest is in love, and she thought it was something she could control, something she could stop. It’s not. It will be one day, when she masters this heart in her chest, but not yet. She spends hours following Caeneus as he sails her seas, guides fish into his net and feels her borrowed heart beat that much faster whenever he pears into the ocean and she catches sigh of his gorgeous amber eyes.

So she says to Poseidon, “You spend too much time on the shore for a god of the sea.”

He glances at her, and his eyes are green just like hers, are cold and uncaring just like hers used to be. She wonders what her eyes look like now. “Caeneus is on the shore.”

“Bring him here if you’re so concerned with your mortal,” she says, focusing on weaving shells into her hair and giving the impression that she couldn’t care less what he does with his mortal plaything. “The palace is big enough.”

He stops and turns to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not mind me bringing him here?”

“Do with your mortal as you wish,” she repeats, and stamps down on the trembling joy in her chest, “It’s no concern of mine.”

~

Caeneus doesn’t know how to love a god of the sea. He knew how to love Poseidon – take him onto the water to watch the sunrise, feed him warm, sweet drinks, and let him curl around him at night and listen to his stories of his siblings, of impossible gods who do impossible things.

But now he sits in a palace under water, with his own room and the freedom to see the other side of the ocean he loves so dearly. There are no sunsets here, no cocoa to barter for, and Poseidon doesn’t tell him stories any more.

Poseidon still loves him. He kisses him and holds his hips when they sleep together and keeps him by his side while he crosses the sea and gains more and more control over this domain that he now commands. Poseidon still loves him, he tells himself when he itches to return to the surface and the home Poseidon build for him, and the life he built for himself.

He didn’t want to be a consort of the king of sea. He just wanted to be Caeneus, a man who loved a man and was loved in return, a man who loved the sea even though it would never love him back.

The sea will never love him back. He’s known that since he was a child, so the real question is – how much of the Poseidon he knew is left, and how much of him the depths of the ocean?

~

There’s a hurricane that requires her husband’s attention, and even he is not so foolish as to bring his lover to a place as dangerous as that. Which means it’s the perfect time for her to run into him in the interior gardens, as he stares up through the iridescent seaweed to the rays of sunlight that just manage to penetrate the water. “Do you miss it?” she asks him, and he startles, swinging around to face her and stumbling away.

“My lady!” he says, and falls to his knees before her, bowing his head. It’s what she expects of all mortals, but not from him, never from him. The heart in her chest loves him, and if it’s not her heart, well – the rest of her doesn’t know the difference. “A thousand apologies.”

“You are welcome here,” she says, and smiles. She’s never smiled quite like this before, she’s never felt quite like this before, fond and fluttery and so painfully eager that it would be embarrassing if she ever dared articulate it. It’s a wonder Poseidon managed to get anything done at all if this is what he had in his chest.

He looks up, hesitant, and she holds out her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer until they’re nearly touching and he’s forced to look up into her eyes or be stuck staring at her chin. He’s warmer than her, she can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, and she wants him to hold her in his arms so she can languish against him like she would a sun-warmed rock.

Before she had a heart, she took who and what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Now she has a heart, and she takes his hands in both of hers and says, “Would you like to visit the surface? I can take you, and bring you back before my husband returns.”

He’s hesitant because he’s afraid of her. Caeneus will never love her, because although she holds the heart he loves she is not the person the heart belongs to. Not that he knows any of that, not that anyone will ever know the details of her and Poseidon’s arrangement. But she doesn’t want Caeneus to be afraid of her. She wants him to smile at her like she is a sunrise. “Yes, please,” he decides on finally.

She stands and watches as he walks through his home, as he touches the hearth and looks longingly at the bed, as he stands in the small cottage that he clearly prefers over her palace, over all the riches and adoration that comes with being consort to the sea.

Caeneus is a simple man, whose heart loves with a simple love.

He is a man whose heart loves someone who now has no heart, and Amphitrite can’t bring herself to tell him. She’s the one who took it away, and she won’t give it back.

She likes having a heart, and one day she will need to return it, but not now, not yet, not for a long time.

~

Caeneus lies besides Poseidon, curled up so his head rests on the god’s outflung arm and he can watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. There are bruises on Caeneus’s hips and down his chest, bite marks on his shoulder and up his neck. It’s not the first time his lover has been rough with him, and he doesn’t mind, like that Poseidon doesn’t touch him like he’s afraid he’ll break, likes that whenever he’s rough he’s careful enough with his strength not to ever cross the line from bruising to breaking.

It’s different than it used to be. It’s been different for a long time, ever since Poseidon somehow convinced the Lady to hand over her title as monarch, to share her power with him for no reason that Caeneus can see. It’s not love between them, because the sea does not love. But she got something out of it, something valuable enough to bargain away part of her power, and as soon as she did the man Caeneus loves ceased to exist.

He slides out of bed and angrily rubs at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore, can’t sleep and live with this man who has his lover’s face and memories and nothing else.

He knows this palace well, and everyone else knowns him too. The servants don’t question him, only offer shallow bows before hurrying on his way. He’s a fisherman who lives on the outskirts of society. He’s not any sort of person that people were meant to bow to. He stands in front of an ornate set of carved doors, the beautiful shimmering inside of a muscle shell of impossible size. Two guards stand at each door, but neither move to stop him as he pushes it open and slips inside.

“Lady?” he whispers. Large, bioluminescent carvings flare to life all across the room, bathing them in soft golden-green light. Amphitrite pulls herself out of bed, green hair loose around her and the rest of her on display, pale and flawless, as perfect an example of a beautiful woman as Caeneus has ever seen, and he averts his gaze. “Lady!”

“So modest,” she teases, and when he glances over she’s in a simple white robe and pulling her hair up behind her. She looks vulnerable like this, almost like his mother did when she would rouse him and his father from sleep in the darkness of early morning so they could catch the fish while they were still sleeping. “What’s going on Caeneus? I thought my husband had exclusive rights to your nights,” she winks, and he forces a smile.

He walks over to her, takes her hands in his because he knows she likes how warm he runs compared to her, and her smile slips off her face. “Please,” he whispers, “Poseidon is different than he once was, and I want to know why. Please.”

~

She shouldn’t tell him, but the heart in her chest loves him, and she loves him too, thinks she would even without Poseidon’s heart influencing her.

So she tells him, and when he starts crying she brushes away his tears and he doesn’t stop her. “He’ll never love you like he once did,” she tells him, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t.”

“The sea doesn’t love you back,” he says, because he knows, because he’s a skilled sailor, because he’s one of the people who has worshipped her his whole life without ever expecting anything back, because that’s what an ocean gives back – nothing at all. “Can – can I give you my heart?”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“Let me give you my heart,” he pleads, “so that I may hold Poseidon’s in my chest. You can have mine, I know I’m only a mortal–”

“You’re all mortal to me,” she says, because a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, what does it matter – she and Gaia were around long before gods and humans, and they’ll be around long after them. “If I give you Poseidon’s heart, you will become a god.”

He pales and flinches away from her. He’s not in this for power, this was never about power to him. It was always about love. “Lady, I’m not trying to – I don’t want that.”

“If you become a god,” she continues, because she loves him and that means she wants him to be happy, even at her own expense, “you will be alive when the time comes for me to reclaim my title of monarch. One day I will take back my heart from Poseidon, will reclaim the cold, black thing in his chest as my own, and when I do he will no longer be master of the sea. When I do, you can give him back his heart, and he will love you as he loved you before, as he will always love you.”

Caeneus has a hand over his chest and there’s so much hope shining in his eyes that it’s almost painful to look at. “Please, Lady. Please. I love him, let me carry his heart, let me have him back once you are done. I will wait.”

“It will be a long time,” she answers honestly, “Empires will rise and fall before I’m willing to give this up, before Poseidon will be willing to give up his power over the sea.”

“I will wait,” Caeneus repeats, “I love him. If you have my heart, maybe you will grow to love him too. If you have my heart, you will protect him, you will keep him safe.”

Amphitrite loves Caeneus, and Caeneus loves Poseidon, and Poseidon is incapable of loving anyone at all. “Very well,” she whispers, because a heart is a heart, and just like Poseidon she’s unable to deny Caeneus anything.

She breaks open her chest and takes out the warm, beating heart of Poseidon. She slits open Caeneus’s chest for him, and holds him upright while struggles to take out his heart and clumsily places in into her chest. She heals over instantly, and nestles Poseidon’s heart in Caeneus’s ribcage. He too heals over, and his eyes flash with power as the heart settles inside of him.

Caeneus becomes so much more than a mortal man in that moment.

This heart doesn’t feel too different, she still loves Caeneus because she’s capable of loving and he is worthy of it. “Go,” she says, “Say your goodbyes, and leave. If you stay, he’ll just continue hurting you, and in a few thousand years he’ll hate himself for it. Leave now, and spare both of you that pain.”

He leans forward and cups her face in his hands, kissing her on each cheek. “Thank you,” he breathes, and then he’s gone.

~

Caeneus can feel the power of a god flowing into him, but he doesn’t care about that, the only reason he’s glad he’s a god now is so he’ll live long enough to get Poseidon back, to get the Poseidon who loves him back.

He goes back to where Poseidon is sleeping, and takes a long, careful look. It will be a long time before he sees this man again. He kisses him on the lips, softly and carefully, the way Poseidon first kissed him when he thought he was sleeping.

Then he leaves, stepping outside the palace and using his newly gained powers to bring himself to the shore.

~

Poseidon is furious, bur Amphitrite won’t budge, says only that Caeneus left. He throws a temper, and half the palace is lost in the aftermath, but she does not care.

She doesn’t tell him that she no longer carries his heart. It doesn’t matter. Caeneus’s heart beats in her chest, and she sits on her throne amongst the rubble and does nothing more than sigh at the way he threatens to tear the world apart looking for his lover. It will pass. The depth and coldness of the sea is unable to sustain such fits of wild passion.

Years pass. Rumors reach them of a sea god, one who is known for rescuing sailors and fisherman from storms, one who they say used to be a mortal fisherman himself.

They call him Glaucus, and say that he swallowed a magical herb to become a god.

She smiles when she hears these rumors, and thankfully Poseidon has long given up trying to get her to explain herself. The rumors are only half right, but she likes hearing them none the less.

It comforts her to hear that Caeneus is well.


gods and monster series, part xiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

DannyMay Day Twenty one: Pain/Rest

…It’s finally over. Pariah is back in the sarcophagus of forever sleep, the town is out of the Ghost Zone and all the ghosts are back in their own lairs. He’s so exhausted not even his Ghost Sense could wake him from his slumber.

Even if the ghosts were inside his room watching.

They could finally return home. All was well in both worlds. They wanted to visit their favorite ghost punk and thank him for saving the Ghost Zone, in their own special way. By causing mass chaos and wrecking havoc throughout the town. However, when they passed the portal’s threshold the house was empty. No sign of the hunters. The only sound was the snoring coming from upstairs.

Phasing through the lab ceiling, the hoard of apparitions make their way to the brat’s room. The snoring is so strong the doorknob rattles. They exchange puzzles glances. The boy should have made an appearance by now. They turn to the door and Ember slowly reaches for the knob. Glancing at the others she opens the door. What greets them is not what they were expecting. Sprawled every which way is Danny sleeping like a log.

“Awww, the poor dearie is exhausted!”

“Who cares, wake the welp. I have a new weapon to test”

“Shut up Skulker, the dipstick wouldn’t be much sport if you hunt him while he’s whipped out”

“Besides, he looks so cute when he’s sleeping! I just wanna cuddle him!”

“Hey! You’re my girl. I’m the only one you get to cuddle”

“Oh shut up Jonny, I didn’t mean anything by it”

“Hmmm, the punk still owes me ten thousand years regardless if he saved the Zone or not”

“Oh hush you! He just saved the world! Don’t be such a bully, give him a break”

“What I want to know is how he can live in this pigsty, ewww!”

“Bertrand, that is hardly the issue here, the real issue is why a kid would need so much NASA memorabilia? I wonder how miserable he’ll be if we destroy it?”

“I think it’s cool! Space is way cooler than a pirate! I’m gonna be an Astronaut next!”

“Why is he not cowering in fear of me? I AM THE BOX GHOST!”

“Quiet you fool! You’ll wake the young whippersnapper!”

“I do believe it is time for us to take our leave. The boy has long wished for a good night’s rest. It’s about time we grant his wish”

Desiree waves her hand and in a puff of green smoke the denizens of the Zone return to their lairs. Danny none-the-wiser, turns over and continues his well deserved full nights sleep.

New Girl - Three

One | Two // Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten


“No, no! It’s like this.” I shooed Tom out of the way and showed him how to grade the paper again. He groaned and put his hands on the back of the chair I was sitting in.

“Why don’t you just do it then?” I sighed, turning to face him again. It’s been three months since the bar incident, and Tom and I have been getting along quite nicely. We bicker here and there – but, like we’ve noticed, we’re completely different people. It’s expected. We’d go to lunch together, go grocery shopping together and we’ve even gone a couple of, non-successful, double dates.

“You said you’d help grade the homework! I have to make this test that I forgot I assigned tomorrow.” Tom looked at you, his eyebrows pulled in. “What?”

“If you don’t have the test ready,” his hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “why don’t you just reschedule the test?” I opened my mouth to say something, probably to call him an idiot like I usually did, but noticed he had a point. I turned back toward the homework Tom was grading and reached toward my laptop, quickly hitting the ctrl + s keys and saving the work I had already done before closing my laptop. I heard Tom scoff above me, I looked up to see him shaking his head. “Idiot.”

“Shut up, Holland!”

“Well, you’re welcome.” It was my turn to scoff.

“For?”

“Um,” he gave me a look that could only be a duh look, “for saving you time?”

“Oh, you’re right,” I said sarcastically, “thank you, Tom. For having common sense – for once.” He nodded his head, pursing his lips.

“You know what, (L/N)?”

“And they’re fighting again.” Tom and I directed our gaze toward the front door, seeing Jacob and Harrison walk through with a couple of boxes of pizza. I walked over to help Jacob with the drinks as he closed the door.

“We’re not fighting, we’re bickering,” I nudged Harrison’s shoulder, “it’s good for moral.” He rolled his eyes, a smile on his face as he passed me a plate.

“So, you going out with your boy-toy tonight?” I looked up at Jacob, sticking my tongue out at his childish tone.

“Don’t call him that, his name is Tony! And, no, it’s a school night.” I had been seeing Tony for about a month. We started out as just bed buddies and one day something just snapped. When we kissed we didn’t rush it, and he started to stay over more and then he asked me out – he broke the bubble.

“Well, don’t have too much fun with all that homework, tiger,” Tom grabbed his plate and winked at me, grabbing a beer and heading toward his room. I watched as he left, trying to ignore the burning in my cheeks after he winked at me. I tried to replace Tom’s face with Tony’s. Tony, Tony, Tony.

Keep reading

somebody responded to us posting that emma watson is a clueless activist with this

and i’m just like… yeah because emma watson was born to rich parents and got sent to a freaking private boarding school in oxford and getting tutored in drama from a very young age, and landed a role in a very visible movie franchise .

like… both people who work on this blog are lower middle class at absolute best. if i had a rich mummy and daddy that sent me to rich people school and paid for a better education then maybe i would be a some kind of ambassador that makes speeches that don’t say anything as well, but instead i’m just a local activist who tries to support people in the best way she can with the resources she has.

for what it’s worth i’m from roughly the same geographic area as emma and i’m just like… maybe if i was a rich pretty cis girl i could work for the UN in promoting equality in an ineffective way too, but instead i’m working class, transgender and finding it hard to even get a job as a shitty position in the same city she went to school, all because we both played the cards we got dealt and she happened to have all aces.

jesus. think before you speak, y’know?

Keep Quiet

Originally posted by sosjimin


Pairing: Jimin x reader 
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 3.7k
dt: my soul sister, the Ji to my Kook<3

“Shhhh baby girl, try to keep quiet. Unless you’re wanting to get caught.”

What was suppose to be date night for yourself and Jimin, turned into a big gathering when six of your boyfriends best friends decide to crash your date. Things start to get heated when you go into the kitchen to get something to drink when Jimin decides to follow right behind you. 

Keep reading

Confidence

Spencer Reid

It was dark when you woke up. You searched for your phone, surprised to see that it was only 11:17 pm. You had text messages from Garcia and Morgan, all wishing you well and begging you to join them at the bar if you felt better.

You did feel better now you’d slept non stop for the past 5 hours. The team had returned from their latest case yesterday and you had spent most of the day completing the mountain of paperwork that went with it. It had given you a migraine. Penelope and Morgan had wanted the team to go out together for drinks afterwards but JJ had wanted to get back to Henry and Hotch had needed to spend some time with Jack.

That had left you, Reid and Rossi for them to bully into taking part in their drunken shenanigans. You’d been game originally until the migraine had hit you around 4pm and you’d felt the desperate need to retreat to a dark room to hide.

Spencer had seen you wincing and rubbing your temples. “Go home” he’d said tenderly, understanding the pain you had been feeling. You took his advice, texting Penelope as you headed to the parking lot. She’d called you immediately asking if she could do anything to help.

“No thanks” you were touched by her concern. “I just need to take some meds and sleep.”

“Well if you’re sure my little cupcake. If you feel better later we’re still planning on heading out to Ben’s,” she’d said naming the bar right around the corner from your apartment.

You’d had a text from Spencer too. ‘Hope you feel better soon Y/N. Sleep will help,’ he’d sent not long after you’d left the office.

He’d text you again at around 9pm, ‘I think Morgan is trying to get me drunk. He keeps buying me funny coloured fruity drinks. Did you know that the human body actually produces its own supply of alcohol naturally, 24 hours a day and 7 days a week.’

You’d received a picture message from Garcia about 30 minutes later showing a table filled with shot glasses, all with various brightly coloured liquids in them, and then another picture showing the glasses empty but with Reid and Morgan in the background pulling disgusted faces.

Reid had texted you again only ten minutes ago which must have been what woke you up. ‘Save me Y/N. I think Morgans trying to break my liver.’

You giggled. 'You still out?’ you messaged him back. You dragged yourself out of bed quickly going to the bathroom and freshening yourself up. After ten minutes Reid hadn’t replied so you sent the same message to Garcia.

'Oh Yes Yes my gorgeous little munchkin’ she’d replied almost instantly.

'Be there in ten’ you shot back as you quickly brushed your hair and re did your make up. You threw on a short denim skirt and a black vest top grabbing your purple converse and hoodie. Not exactly classy but you looked good enough for the local dive bar you frequented so often.

“Sweetcheeks you made it!” Penelope squealed excitedly from her perch as you made your way through the bar to the table where her and Derek were sitting. You placed the bottle of wine you’d just purchased on the table and gave her a quick hug.

“Yep I feel tons better after my nap,” you said quickly downing a glass and refilling it.

“You need to catch up with us lady bird,” Derek smirked at you, handing you a shot glass full of an amber coloured liquid. You took it, screwing your face up at its bitter taste.

“Where’s Rossi and Reid?” you asked scanning the room for them.

“Rossi left with a hot blonde about five minutes before you arrived,” Garcia replied happily.

“Yeah she looked like she was ready to eat him up,” Morgan added in. “And the pretty boy is currently being chatted up by a very attentive cougar over there,” he made a notion with his head and you followed.

You laughed as your saw your friend looking horribly uncomfortable as a women in her late forties was sat drawing circles on his arm with her nails whilst attempting to lean over seductively, giving him a good view down her dress. You could see him trying to avoid looking, but every so often his eyes would drift down.

'Men and boobs eh?’ you thought to yourself. You caught Spencer’s eye and waved. His eyes lit up as he saw you, mouthing 'Save me’ in your direction. You giggled shaking your head watching his brown eyes plead for you to come and help him.

“Poor Spencer,” you chuckled taking another long sip of your wine.

“Poor Spencer nothing, princess. That boy needs some female attention. It’s about time he got laid, ” Derek knocked his drink back.

“Yeah but really Derek…..a cougar, she’ll break him!” you giggled. “How long has she been there?“

“Well I pointed him out to her about 30 minutes ago when she grabbed my ass and asked if I was looking for a good time tonight, ” Derek laughed. “I figured the boy genius could have a good time instead. If he can’t find himself a hook up, I’ll do it for him.”

You shook your head at Derek feeling sorry for Reid. It wasn’t that the profiler was unattractive. Far from it. In fact, as far as your own tastes went, Reid was preferable to you than Derek. But he lacked confidence with women, not knowing what to say or when to stop rambling. You’d been surprised at how quickly you two had actually become friends outside of work to be honest, seeing how awkward and shy he could be around people.

You glanced at Reid again. He looked so miserable, but you knew he’d rather sit there than risk offending someone, even someone who was blatantly trying to get him into bed.

“Be right back,” you said to Garcia and Morgan as you hopped off your stool and walked over to the booth where the cougar had imprisoned Reid.

“Baby!” you exclaimed sliding in next to him hoping he’d catch on. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” you took his hand and squeezed it gently, leaning in and pecking him oh so lightly on the cheek.

He smiled gratefully, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’ve just been listening to Shirley here telling me about her job as an air hostess.”

You smiled at 'Shirley’ sweetly. “Well thanks so much for keeping my boyfriend company for me.”

“Boyfriend?” she sniffed curtly. “His friend over there told me he’d be in need of a good time tonight,” she nodded over at Morgan who you could see was trying to hold back laughter. Spencer’s cheeks started to blush at the implication of what she meant.

You started to stroke his hand softly feeling him getting flustered. “Yes boyfriend, Shirley. Our friend over there must have meant someone else. The only person showing Spence a good time tonight will be me, right Spence?” you raised an eyebrow at him. He flushed red at your words.

“Pffft,” Shirley huffed. “He’s too scrawny for me anyway. Probably wouldn’t be able to handle a real women.”

'Bitch,’ you thought to yourself. Some people just didn’t know how to handle rejection well. You felt Spencer wince at the insult from her. 'And there goes his confidence levels plummeting to the ground again,’ you sighed internally.

“Let me tell you something Shirley,” you leaned over looking her dead in the eye. "This man right here may look scrawny, but he has no trouble pinning me up against my bedroom wall and fucking my brains out. He definitely, 100 percent knows how to handle a real women. Now I suggest you leave so I can discuss with Spencer exactly how he’s going to handle me when we get home.“ You smiled as her jaw dropped. Her face started to flush as she gathered up her bag and stalked away from the booth in the direction of the bathroom.

You knocked back your drink and turned to look at your friend. "Hi” you said nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Hi yourself” he replied licking his bottom lip. “Thanks for getting rid of her,” he smiled taking a sip of his own drink.

"No problem…. She pissed me off when she didn’t seem to believe that I was your girlfriend. So I had to put her in her place a little!“

“Well of course she didn’t believe it Y/N. Why would someone like you be with someone like me,” he said softly suddenly seeming very sober.

"What’s that meant to mean Spencer,” you asked sharply turning to look at him.

He gripped your hand realising how what he’d said might have sounded. “Oh no. N-no. T-that didn’t come out right,” he stuttered. He looked at you sadly and sighed. “You’re gorgeous Y/N. She couldn’t believe that someone as beautiful as you would be with someone like me. Like she said; I’m scrawny and definitely don’t look like I’d be any good at….. Well….that,” his eyes focused on his drink not wanting to look at you.

“Look at me Reid,” you put your hand out and touching his jaw, turning it towards you. “Spencer look at me.”

His sad brown eyes found yours. “Spencer, you may not be as built as guys like Morgan but trust me when I say that you could have any girl in here, if you’d only learn to be more confident.“

He huffed as if to say 'yeah right’ and started to look away again. You grabbed his face keeping it aimed on yours and moved closer to him. "I’m being serious Spencer. You’re gorgeous. You have a jaw line that most guys would kill for, eyes that someone could easily get lost in and hair that most women would love the opportunity to run their hand’s through. Add that to the fact that you’re a genius as well as kind and funny and well… What’s not to like?” He started to bite his lip the way he does at least ten times a day. "Oh and lip thing you’re doing right now Reid? Sexy as fuck….When ever you do that I can guarantee there’s at least one girl in the room watching you, wanting you to bite down on their lips instead…..Seriously, if you can teach yourself a whole new language in the space of a weekend then you can teach yourself to be confident. You could have anyone you wanted if you just had confidence in yourself.”

You sat back in your seat feeling sad that your friend didn’t realise what a good catch he was and feeling angry with Morgan for sending that bitch over to try to seduce him. You weren’t saying those things just to be nice either. You genuinely meant them. He was gorgeous and would make someone an amazing partner.

“What if I don’t want just anyone?” Spencer spoke quietly after taking a deep breath. “What if there is someone I like but I’m too scared that she doesn’t think of me like that?” he looked at you shyly.

You sighed racking your brains trying to think who this girl could be, feeling slightly jealous that there was someone he liked.

“Then tell her Reid, at least that way you know. If she doesn’t want you, then that’s her loss but at least you have an answer. Tell her.”

“I’m trying to Y/N. I’m trying to tell her right now,” he spoke so softly you almost didn’t hear him. He must have felt you tense as the meaning of his words finally clicked in your mind.

'Wait what?’ you thought. 'Me, he likes me?’ As much as you wanted to believe that’s what he’d just said, you couldn’t.

“Shit.” he muttered. “Guess that’s my answer. Can we just forget about this please?” he smiled at you weakly.

When you didn’t respond he made a move to leave the table. When you realised he was going to leave you blurted out, “NO.”

“No?” he asked quizzically.

“No, we can’t forget about it. Spencer…. You like me? Like properly more than a friend like me?” you wanted to be sure before you made a fool of yourself.

He blushed, “Well, erm, yes I do. A lot. A hell of a lot actually. I just never thought that anyone as awesome as you could like me. I don’t really have girlfriends, you know this.” He brushed a brown curl that was escaping back behind his ears as he bit his bottom lip again nervously.

You giggled, “Spence… I’m that girl.”

He looked confused.

“You’re biting your lip again… I’m that girl who wants you to be biting hers instead.” you laughed at the expression on his face. "I like you too. A lot,“ you whispered.

He smiled at you, his eyes lighting up. He looked so adorable right now.

"Listen,” you said. “Let’s go somewhere and get some coffee and talk okay.”

He nodded and you both stood up. You caught Penelope’s eye and mouthed 'We’re going’ across the room to her. She looked confused. You made a 'I’ll text you later motion’ with one hand and slipped your other hand back into Reid’s hearing him sigh happily at your contact.

Garcia clocked the hand hold and her eyes widened as a huge grin came over her face. You could almost hear the squeals that must be happening inside her head.

“Come on Dr Reid. We’ve gotta go find a wall for you to pin me up against. Wouldn’t want to have lied to Shirley now do we?”

He coughed and spluttered at what you’d just said.

“Haha. I’m joking Spence…. I don’t do that on a first date,” you turned to look up at him. "But someday, when you’re ready, we are soo doing that okay?“

He lowered his head so his lips were next your ears and whispered, "Okay, but maybe tonight, we could try some of that lip biting you mentioned instead.”

It was your turn to cough and splutter then as you pulled his hand and nearly dragged him out of the bar.

I got another one.

So this time Lance is the one who gets bitten by the love bug.

I noticed that most of the time in this au, Keith gets bitten and it makes sense since it’s really unlike him to show any displays of affection unless it’s with Shiro but i think Lance being affected by the bug holds a strong potential too so hear me out:

I really like the idea of the bug poison making you flirty toward the person you like. So i think Lance would just start behaving with Keith same way he behaves with any alien girl. And we knew he was already lowkey doing that what with “uh.. The name is Lance” in the first episode of the show but now it gets ten times worse and he won’t let Keith rest and he’ll just keep assaulting him with his best pick up lines like, imagine he gets dizzy after getting stung and he almost faints but then Keith catches him and Lance is half contious when he says “hey there, beautiful, the name is Lance”, so Keith is definetly not blushing and he just replies “ yes Lance i know what your name is”
And it goes on for days.

“Hey Keith, are you an alien?”
“Actually half Galra but my father was human i think, or is? I don’t know i haven’t seen him in more than a decade …”
“‘Cause your body is- aww maaan what the fuck”

“Keith, i lost my number, can i have yours?” *wink*
“…… What?… I’m confused”

I saw a lot of fics where he one who got stung loses his mind and totally changes his personality but in this au Lance would behave like he does usually, plus the constant flirting. And Keith would get more and more flustered by it.

“Hey Keith!”
“?”
“I’m a furry.” *wink*

And one day Keith just looses it and his brain overheats until he has a mental breakdown and storms out of the room like 'I CAN’T DEAL WITH IT ANYMORE’

Matty Healy Fic- ‘You’re Cold And I Burn’

Prompt: Can you do a Matty fic where you two grew up together?  Like best friends since birth, and then as you get older the age gap separates you and eventually you drift apart?  But then reconnect in following years?  Thanks so much tay :)) 

Authors note: This took me sooo long to write and I did no proofreading whatsoever, so please pardon the inevitable errors below.  

Trigger Warnings: drug use 

MATTY HEALY FIC

You’d been obligatory friends for years, because when your parents were best mates, surely you had to be too.  Your friendship with Matty was comfortable, genuine, safe, always there, achingly present and solid. You never felt uneasy confiding in Matty, somehow your three year age gap made him seem more worldly, more experienced. You spent the quickly passing school years making one another’s homes your own, your mom called Matty her honorary son, while Matty’s mom doted on you, saying you were the daughter she wished she had. Everyone knew that if they wanted to find Matty, they had to find you first.

The summer that Matty’s ten and you’re seven, is the best in both of your eyes.  All of Matty’s friends think he’s way too old to be hanging out with such a little kid, but you’re convinced that you’re a big kid now too. You don’t need to hold your mum’s hand everywhere you go. Matty had taught you how to swim without floaties and you can ride your bike without training wheels. Besides, you and Matty’s friendship surpassed any of the teasing he might get from the other year five kids.  You two share everything, popsicles, beds, secrets.

When Matty turns thirteen and you’re ten, it’s like a switch has been flipped. Matty’s discovered music and cigarettes and girls. You’re finally old enough to go places on your own, but Matty’s outgrown the movie theater across town and the ice cream place down the street. Your mum tells you it’s called hormones but you don’t care, you just want to watch VCR’s and eat sweets and fall asleep talking to your best friend every night.

It’s a turning point, ten years of friendship nearly right down the drain.

At sixteen and thirteen, your age gap has never seemed wider. Matty stops coming over and eventually trades in his football cleats for a new guitar, candy for cigarettes, and you for older girls.  You feel a bit like you’ve lost part of yourself; a big, important part of yourself that you aren’t sure how to function without. It was bound to happen, your mom tells you, but it still hurts nonetheless. You aren’t really sure that Matty even feels it, not over whatever high he’s chasing next.

By eighteen and fifteen, Matty starts coming around again, but only in the middle of the night, when he’s high out of his mind. You try not to care though. You sneak him in through your bedroom window and let him curl beside you underneath your comforter. Sometimes he’s crying, sometimes he’s shaking so badly he can’t say anything, and sometimes he smells like vodka and cheap perfume. You always hold him and pretend that he isn’t falling apart in front of your very eyes.

On your sixteenth birthday, Matty’s already turned nineteen. He gets you drunk for the first time, even though you swore you’d never touch the stuff, down at the park where Matty taught you how to kick a football around.  As you sit on the scratchy blanket from the trunk of your car, taking another swig from the bottle, you realize that in the past sixteen years, Matty’s taught you a lot of things.  Not all of them good; you gather from the burning feeling in your throat, but that’s besides the point. What you don’t know is that Matty’s come to the same realization, and it terrifies him.  You terrify him. Especially when the moon hangs high above you and Matty’s rambling on about the last song he wrote and you lean over and press your lips smack against his.

In your opinion, the kiss was a long time coming.  You’d imagined it before, countless times actually, but knew you’d never be brave enough to actually act on your feelings.  At least you thought you wouldn’t be brave enough, that was before the alcohol made everything seem so much simpler.  

When you pull back, butterflies rampant in the closed confinements of your stomach, you’re finally able to gage Matty’s reaction.  His eyes have lowered to the ground, like he’s staring intently at his hand picking apart a blade of grass next to the blanket.  You wait a little longer, staring at the thin line Matty’s mouth is forming into.  His lack of response sobers you up.  The buzz that once gave you infinite amounts of courage melts away like a coat of ice, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.  

Finally Matty speaks, his words hanging heavy in the night, “I think maybe it’s time I take you home.”

It’s a subtle rejection.  There’s no boisterous protesting or him telling you you’re disgusting like you’d imagined in all of the worst-case-scenerio reruns in your head.  But somehow, this is infinitely worse.  This can’t be played off as embarrassment or denial.  It was just apathy, disinterest.  

You and Matty don’t speak about it for the next year, when Matty’s twenty and you’re seventeen. And Matty says he’s finally leaving for good. Your first impulse is to cry, to scream and yell and shove.  But ever since Matty turned you down, you’ve been afraid of being honest with him,  afraid of looking weak.  So instead, you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest and leaning against the doorframe of his kitchen.  “I don’t blame you,” you say.  Even though you did.  You blamed him for his unhappiness, and you thought maybe if he didn’t drown himself in alcohol every night, he wouldn’t be so agitated.  Maybe if he didn’t settle for these people who continuously treated him like shit, he wouldn’t be so lonely.  Maybe if he stopped seeing you like a little kid, he wouldn’t feel so unloved.  Everything inside of you blamed him for his own unhappiness, but a part of you was beginning to blame him for yours too.  

He’d made you a promise years ago, that you’d never be alone, best friends forever, through thick and thin. But Matty stands in front of you, talking about how he just can’t take it anymore, his parents or their hometown or the looks he gets when he buys weed in a back alley and picks you up from the high school across the street after his shift at work.

What he doesn’t tell you, is that most of all, he can’t take you. He can’t take the way you’re growing into your own skin and out of your curls. He can’t take the way that you’re still finding yourself, desperately exploring all these outlets and destinations and finding your heart.  Or the way that he holds you back.  He can’t take the way you think you want him, because Matty knows what happens when he lets people in and he knows he really won’t be able to take it when you finally realize you deserve better.  You just were never meant to be, at least not in this lifetime.

He’ll never admit any of it out loud though, instead he’ll pack up in the middle of the night without really saying goodbye and he’ll drive until he hits London. He’ll find a shitty flat and a new best mate and start a band. He’ll get a new job and a new guitar and maybe, hopefully, a new heart.

You hadn’t really realized how much time you’d actually spent with Matty, until he’s gone.  You try to find a semblance, you try to get into your own routine, but it’s harder than you want to admit and you spend the coming months wandering down the same old paths Matty and you used to walk, through the same worn fields, taking photos of the sky, the ground, your shoes, all things that didn’t matter, things that didn’t make you smile.

The following year, you start looking into colleges, applying to just one local, safe school, but the rest of them are far.  Places you only ever dreamed of visiting.  You played it off as wanderlust.  But secretly, although you’d never admit it, you had this dream of Matty coming home to find you, ready to finally settle down, and just expecting you to still be around, but you wouldn’t be.  You’d be gone.  Long gone.  

London is appealing. Bristol is, too.  You get excited at the idea of leaving, at the idea of experiencing life outside of what you’ve always known, and you’re working up the nerve to tell your mom where you want to go when you get a phone call late Thursday night.

“Hello,” you answer on the second ring.

“Y/N—” a voice that you instantly recognize as Matty’s, says after a slight pause. “I didn’t think you’d have the same number,” he murmurs, voice slurred.

You freeze, completely blind sided. “Um. Why did you call it then?”

“I guess I hoped.”

You bite your lip, falling back into the pattern of overthinking everything you say in Matty’s presence.  

He sighs loudly.  

“How’ve you been?”

The question comes out so nonchalantly. Like it’s only been a few days since they reconciled last.  And just like that, a switch flips and the anger you’d been feeling so heavily inside boils to the surface. “How’ve I been?  Since when? Today?  Or the past year?” you snap.

At first you think he’s hung up the phone, because there’s complete silence other than your own heavy breathing.  But then the faint whimper comes across the line.  Matty is crying and suddenly, your heart hurts, your entire chest aches. “‘M sorry,” Matty mumbles incoherently, “I’m sor-sorry..”

The harshness of your words bites back at you with guilt, “It’s okay. Matty, it’s okay. Did something happen? Why’re you calling?”

He’s crying harder now, the obvious influence of alcohol is not helping. “There’s a girl here and she likes me and she keeps asking me to ask her out on dates and it just— it felt wrong, because I haven’t been with anyone since I left— and I don’t know why… but I got drunk.  I got drunk and realized she reminded me of you and suddenly it didn’t feel wrong anymore so I slept with her—.” He coughs, taking shaky breaths.

You hear his words.  You do.  You listen with every intent that you’ve always shown your friend.  But you don’t let yourself feel them.  “It’s okay, Matty,” you say, with utmost sincerity.  

“But she’s not you—“ he chokes out, “She’s in my bed and she’s got dark hair like you, but it’s not the same shade and it doesn’t smell like your shampoo.  She’s not you.”

“Shh.” you coo, burying the tears threatening to surface deep inside of you, “It’s okay.  Matty, it’s okay.  Take a deep breath.  How much did you have to drink?” you ask softly.

You hear a grunted protest on the other end, but no response.

“Take your deep breathes, Matty.  You know that always helps.  I’ll count with you if you want.  Or try running cold water over your hands.”

He breathes through the receiver for a beat too long. “I miss you.”

You let your head fall, chin to your chest, trying not to think about the girl in Matty’s bed, who she is or what she looks like. “I miss you, too.”

When the line fills with Matty’s deep breathing, you realize he’s drunkenly fallen asleep and you can finally hang up.  You wonder if he’ll even remember he called in the morning.

It’s a Wednesday and the vending machine in the hall are broken.  It’s a sign, an omen, you’re sure, because you know how to kick it in just the right way, so that as many bags of crisps as your pack can hold dump out.  But today, there’s nothing.

You have two choices, you think to yourself.  You could wander back to your own floor with a grumbling stomach, or you could venture down to the ground floor and check out those vending machines.  Your hunger outweighs your laziness and you decide to head downstairs.  

Once you’ve come to the first floor, and all stairs are evaded for now, you hold the change out in the palm of your hand and begin counting it again.  In the midst of your distracted state, you find yourself colliding with someone, head on.  

You gasp loudly, stumbling back and tightening your fist around your money so it didn’t all go flying.  But after you ground yourself, and get a chance to look up at who you ran into, is when the breath really leaves your lungs. Dressed in a ratty white t-shirt, a worn leather jacket, and jeans ripped in the knee is absolute heartbreak.  And then Matty’s eyes land on yours.

You think the world has just about stopped spinning, it feels like slow motion. Both of your eyes meet and both of your expressions fall. You’re secretly glad the vending machine was out of food, because you think if you’d had anything to eat in the last five hours, you would’ve been sick.

“Y/N—”

It isn’t a question, it’s a realization. One that makes your stomach churn. Somewhere in the back of your head, you remind yourself to keep it together.

London is a big city, you knew that before Matty left for it. You convinced yourself when you left for school that their paths would never cross again simply because they weren’t destined to. Matty had fucked off to do God only knows what with a guitar and only one suitcase. And you had waited it out, graduated, gotten into uni and done everything right. You and Matty were two different people now, moving in two different directions. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You can’t even identify what emotion you’re really feeling or what’s bubbling underneath your skin.  There was anger, sure.  Frustration and aggression.  You wanted to punch Matty right in the nose, although you weren’t sure that counted as an emotion.  But there was also this wave of nostalgia that hit you unexpectedly.  Because no matter how much you wished this was ten year old Matty standing in front of you, waiting to go grab an ice cream cone or ride bikes, you knew it would never be that simple ever again.  And that made your chest ache.  

“What’re you doing here?” is all you can think to say.

But before he can answer, a girl you recognize from your floor comes stumbling behind you, giggling loudly.

“There you are, Matthew!  You texted me like five minutes ago saying you were here— I thought you got locked out or something!”

You knew the jealousy you felt inside was unjust.  It wasn’t fair of you to stare daggers at this poor girl that Matty was inevitably using for one reason or another.  It really was your fault for expecting anything more out of the boy who’d only ever broken your heart.  

He turns his head to look back at you as the girl pulls him down the hall towards the stairs.  

“Bye Matthew,” you spit sarcastically to yourself once he’s out of earshot and you can finally let your shoulders slump and eyes fall.  

You walk all the way around the building just to take the opposite staircase and forget all about the bag of crisps.  

No deadline or piling amount of stress could give you the incentive to focus on homework.  Not with the knowledge that Matty was in the same floor as you this very moment.  Living, breathing, kissing another girl.  You feel that familiar pressure in the bridge of your nose, evidence that tears were starting to surface.  You punched the pillow on your bed, sniffling loudly.  It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t fucking fair. You hadn’t seen him for three years.  Hadn’t spoken in two.  And yet, just like that, at the drop of a hat, one fucking glance and he had you once again.  You needed a distraction.  Something to pretend he wasn’t fucking Clara or Carissa or whatever her fucking name was, just down the hall.

You grab your keys and a jacket hanging from the back of your door before deciding you just needed to be somewhere, anywhere, away from him.

You let your door slam shut before turning around to lock it.  You fumble with it at first, your hands shake as you try to fit the key in.  In retrospect, you wished you’d just left it unlocked, risking a robbery.  You would have preferred it to Matty approaching you in the hallway.  

“Please go,” you manage to say while still keeping your eyes trained on locking your door.

“Y/N, I-I had no idea-”

“I don’t really care,” you will Matty to give up. To just fucking leave again. But Matty could never just leave, he could never let you have a clean break. He had to feel blameless first. A fucking martyr, is what he is.

“Do you really think if I had any idea, I would’ve come?!”

And there it is, just what you’d been expecting, Matty proving to you that he hasn’t changed at all. All he cares about is proving his innocence, his victimization, and if anything comes in the way of that, he caves.

“Dunno,” you sneer, “Depends on how cruel you’re feeling on any given day, I suppose.”

“Don’t be like this,” he sounds older, frustrated. Like he’s talking down to a child. Your blood run hot.

“I think you should leave.”

“I think you should let me take you out for some drinks.”

You’re sure there’s steam coming out of your ears as you spins in your spot, staring him down, “I think you’re out of your mind.”

Matty grins, that same crooked smile with the same crooked teeth that still does something to your stomach that you aren’t proud of.

“My treat?” Matty asks with a smile.

As you sit in the back booth of a pub that smells like piss, you tell yourself that you couldn’t have said no, because you were being offered free alcohol, not because you knees felt weak when Matty flashed his teeth your way.  And hell, you knew the minute you decided to leave your room you’d end up at a bar anyway.

You order a beer, and resist from an order of chips, praying to god Matty couldn’t hear the grumbling noises your stomach was angrily producing from where he sat across from you.

It’s awkward, Matty asks short questions and you offer nothing but short answers.  You’re waiting for Matty to take charge of the conversation to steer you wherever he wants you to go so he can ramble about himself and his music and his wonderful new life without you in it. But he doesn’t.

It occurs to you on your fourth beer (still on an empty stomach), that this run in isn’t to Matty what it is to you. To Matty, it’s just coincidence, a chance to catch up with an old friend whose friendship ended on the wrong foot. To you, it’s a living, breathing nightmare, something you’ve fretted over for years.

“Are you going to order chips?” Matty questions after you list off a few of your courses, more focused on the condensation from your drink than Matty in front of you.

Your head whips up, already feeling a bit dizzy, “No.”

“Why not?” he wonders, chin resting in his hands and eyes still looking completely sober, “You always used to. With extra vinegar and salt.”

You shrug, ears burning with shame and annoyance. You won’t give him a real reason, that you’re embarrassed and don’t want to eat in front of him.  Instead you’ll let Matty wonder and think that things have changed, that he doesn’t know you at all anymore.

“Well I’m going to,” he downs the rest of his gin and tonic drink and stands up, patting his jeans, “I’ll be right back, yeah?”

You give him a slight, tense nod and watch him walk away, all confidence and curls and leather.

It’s been just as awful as you imagined it would be. Matty’s not as mean as you had thought up in your head, but the awkward pauses and uncomfortable topics certainly make up for it.  You keep telling yourself that you just needs to get drunk. Once you’re drunk, you’ll be able to pretend that you don’t care so much and then you can just go home and get a long night’s sleep. Then you can wake up, go to economics, and forget it even happened.

Fifteen minutes later, and you’re sure that Matty’s ducked out and left you with the tab.  It’s a very struggling rockstar thing to do and in turn, a very Matty thing to do.  You slap your thigh angrily at the realization that you didn’t even bring your wallet with you, meaning you couldn’t pay the tab either.  You stagger, annoyed and bitter and slightly tipsy up to the bar.  

“Have you seen a curly headed guy?” you ask the bartender, leaning on the counter.  “Leather jacket, this tall-“ you hold your hand up, impersonating Matty’s height.

“Yeah,” the guy answers, rubbing a glass clean.  “Ordered chips, then ran off to the bathroom.”

The men’s room is across the pub and you hesitate slightly before entering.  You’re not sure why you’re worried about Matty.  But that worry is quickly replaced with panic, as you push open the door to the bathroom and spot Matty at the sink.

He’s bent over, curls falling in his face and eyes shut, like he hasn’t even heard you enter. He’s off in his own little drug-induced world. There’s a half empty plastic baggy on the counter and just enough remnants of a line for the pieces to click in your drunk mind.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you say out loud, in complete shock. Your head is spinning a little too fast all of a sudden.

“Y/N—” Matty breathes, eyes still squeezed shut as he straightens up and lets his head tilt back, lets it hit him. It scares you a bit because Matty inhales like he’s done this a thousand times before.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” your voice raises a bit. You feel a little bit outside of your own body. Now that you’ve found a reason to be angry, everything you’ve felt and bottled up all night is hitting you all at once.

“‘S alright,” his eyes open, but only half lidded.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you say in disbelief, shaking your head as you feel the influx of tears falling down your cheeks.  You wipe them away angrily with your hand.

Matty’s eyes widen and he looks so different than the version of him you’d been formulating in your head the past three years. The messy hair, tired eyes, and chapped lips all looked the same.  But there was a sadness about him now.  An aura of tragedy and dismay surrounded him, making you wonder if the three years he spent away were really as outrageous and spectacular as you’d always thought.  Your face softens.

Matty’s absolutely fucked.  And there’s so much you want to say to him, so much you need to say.  But now’s not the time.  Not when there’s snot running down his nose and his pupils were practically bulging out of his skull.

“Let’s just head back, yeah?”

Matty doesn’t protest in the slightest.  In a quick motion, he slings his jacket over his shoulder and sniffs the remainder of cocaine up his nose before following you out of the bathroom.  You’re glad he remembers to slap down some money on the table before letting you drag him back to the dorm rooms.

“Which room’s hers?” you ask once you’ve reached your floor.  You pretend like it didn’t eat away at you to have to drag Matty back to some other girl’s dorm room.

“Hm?” Matty grunted.

“Clara? Which room’s Clara’s?”

“No—“ Matty protested, stopping dead in his tracks near your door.  “Common, she knows I ditched her, she’s not gonna let me sleep in there.  Can’t I just crash with you? Like the old days?” he says with a smirk.  

You nod grudgingly and push by him to unlock your door.  You find yourself trying to remember what state you left your bedroom in, hoping nothing embarrassing was left out for Matty to see.  

Luckily, you’d left it in tact and only swipe up a few articles of clothing once you make your way inside.  You hear Matty already collapsing on your bed before you have time to even take your coat off.  You sigh as you turn around, but notice he’s got one eye propped open, watching you from the mattress.  

“You know that shit’s terrible for you, right?” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, in the most sincere way possible.

Matty shrugged nonchalantly, and sits up on your bed, his eyes bloodshot. “And? We’re all gonna die anyway.”

“How beautifully cryptic of you,” you say sarcastically.

“It’s just coke,” he plays it off.

“Just coke?  Matty, common, I know you’re smarter than this.”

“Why do you care so much?” Matt asked apathetically, though you both know it was a loaded question. Matty was right, why should you care?  You didn’t know Matty, not anymore.  You didn’t owe him anything.  If Matty didn’t care about himself, why should you care?  But maybe it’s for the same reason that you comforted Matty over the phone. Maybe it’s for the same reason you let him take you out for drinks tonight.  Maybe it was because you knew you’d always love Matty, even though you knew fate just wouldn’t allow it.  But of course you couldn’t tell Matty that, so you just shook your head as you stripped off your jacket.  

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” you state quietly, more as a reminder to yourself than an insult to Matty.  But you hear him sigh softly from the bed.  

You huddle near your dresser, grabbing an old pair of shorts and ratty t-shirt from your drawer before changing behind the door of your closet.  You don’t even both to run a brush through your hair before you trot back over to your bed, where Matty was sprawled directly in the middle.

“Scoot over,” you order.

He looks up at you questioningly from the pillow.

“If you thought I was giving up my bed, you don’t know me at all, Healy.”

He smirks before hiding his face in the pillow and scooting against the wall.  

You awkwardly lift as much of the blankets as you can before sliding in, noticing Matty hadn’t covered himself with them at all.  

“Thanks for lettin’ me stay,” he grumbles.  You can tell how trashed he still is so you just nod, staring straight up at the ceiling.  

“Goodnight, Matty.”

At around three in the morning, you wake up to Matty shivering violently beside you. He’s got his arm coiled around his thin body and you swear you can hear his teeth chattering. You look for a moment at how vulnerable Matty was, shivering and asleep, and it makes your chest ache inside.  

Your first impulse is to cover him with a blanket, but with him laying directly over both the comforter and sheets, that option was shot.  Instead, you opt to just wake him up.

“Matty—“ you say, nudging his shoulder.  “Matty, wake up.”

His eyes pop open with a start and he looks at you, surprised, like he’s forgotten where he was momentarily.  

“You’re shivering,” you whisper.  

He stares for a moment, like it’s taking that much extra time for your words to sink in before he speaks, “m sorry,” he grumbles in that deep, sleepy voice you used to love so much.  

“Get under the blankets,” you suggest and he nods, lifting himself higher on the bed before scooting underneath the sheets.  You immediately feel his toes touch your bare leg, and you can’t help but notice they’re not freezing like you’d expected.  He lays on his side, facing you, and before you can convince yourself otherwise, you flip so that you’re facing him, too.  You stare into his tired eyes, waiting for them to shut any second, but they don’t.  They remain focused on yours, his pupils returned to a normal size.  

“I really missed you,” you say, because you’re exhausted and you have no filter when you’re tired.  

Matty nods, “I really missed you, too.”

You nod in return.  Like these were just facts, not needed to be said out loud, but still glad that they were.  

And again, because you were impulsive when you were exhausted, you don’t even hesitate before sliding yourself across the distance that separated you and Matty, curling your arm around his waist and pressing your head into his chest.  Only when you feel his arm wrap around you, his fingers spreading wide across your back, do you inhale smoothly.  He smells like cigarettes and whatever drink he had earlier, but it’s still Matty, and it’s the freshest breath of air you’ve had in a long time.  

You wake up early.  Hours earlier than Matty.  Once you’re awake, and no longer on the brink of exhaustion.  You let the fact that you’re curled into Matty’s side, with your head resting on his beating heart sink in.  You bite your lip, wanting to stay in the moment a while longer, and play with the hem of your baggy t-shirt.  You let the tears fall silently down your cheek, mostly because you were so mad at yourself.  

It’s not like you and Matty hadn’t cuddled before.  You spent the latter of your sleepovers curled up in blanket forts together, after all.  But this was different.  Because in one, weak, desperate moment, you let yourself feel for him again.  After spending three entire fucking years accumulating reasons to hate Matty Healy, in one moment, you let them all melt away.  You let yourself be vulnerable to him; open, exposed.  And you remember all too clearly what happened the last time that happened.

You pull yourself out of bed and pretend not to notice Matty’s arm searching for you in his sleep.  Instead of curling back beside him, like you wanted, you grabbed your shower caddy and hurried off to the bathroom.  

Matty slept until nine thirty, and when he opened his groggy eyes, he found you sitting in your desk chair, knees tucked against your chest writing vigorously away.  

“Morning,” he said, the same, sleepy voice softened your heart slightly.

“Good morning,” you said back, turning around timidly in your chair.

Matty’s got this wild hair-thing going on.  His curls stick straight up in the air and it’s so endearing it makes you want to slap and kiss him at the same time.  But then he scoots off to the toilets, and you have a moment to compose yourself before he’s coming back looking a bit more refreshed.  

You hesitate when he invites you to breakfast, worried he might sneak off and do a line of coke in the bathroom again or worse, but you don’t say so out loud.  Instead you agree, ignoring the class you’re blatantly skipping for him, just another reminder of the influence Matty had on you.

You find yourselves sitting across from each other at the back of a coffee shop. You had ordered a bagel and some tea and Matty was sipping at a coffee, straight black.

“You sure you don’t want anything to eat? Not even a bite of my bagel? It’s good,” you offered.

“Nah, ‘m good,” Matty says as he takes another sip of his coffee.

“Matty be honest, when’s the last time you ate?” you asked, looking at Matty with serious eyes.

Matty held the stare for a bit until you quirked your eyebrows up and he realized that you were actually being serious and weren’t going to let him avoid answering the question.  “I’m not bloody starving myself, if that’s what you’re wondering. I told you I just don’t get hungry much but when I do, I eat. Don’t worry— you sound like a mum.”

“Okay,” you say, crunching up the paper from your bagel and letting it go.

Matty didn’t respond for a few minutes. Just sipped at his coffee silently until he spoke again. “You know you don’t have to worry so much about me.  I do fine.”

“I’m sure you do,” you say, shrugging.

“Come off it-“ Matty says, nudging your arm, “I know you, Y/N.  I can tell when something’s bugging you.  What is it?” he asks.

You bite your lip and trace the edge of your mug, contemplating for a moment before asking him “Why are you so afraid to let someone care about you?” you inquired cautiously.

Matty frowned, “I’m not ‘afraid’" he said defensively.  “I just.. I know how the world works and I know what’s worth worrying over and what’s not.”

You shake your head.  You were sick of Matty pretending like he was so much wiser.  So much more experienced.  You were sick of his pretentious outlook, his excessive need to bullshit his way through life.

“What is this?” you ask, finally gathering the courage to just look him in the eye.  

“Look I don’t know what you want—“

“I want to know what this is, Matty,” you state clearly. You debated on elaborating further, but Matty’s fallen gaze indicated that he knew exactly what you meant.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you almost think it’s sincere until he looks up and lets out an innocent, hearty laugh, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Fuck you,” you sigh, feeling so defeated and drained.  You dig into the pocket of your coat and throw money on the table, not wanting to give Matty the satisfaction of buying breakfast too, before sliding out of the booth and walking towards the door.

“Woah, woah!” he calls, you can hear him hurrying after you.  You only quicken your pace out into the brisk morning air.  “Please Y/N, just look at me.” His voice is wobbly. Like he knows he’s fucked up. “Wait a second, please.”

You spin around at the contact of Matty’s hand, and turn to face him, squeezing your eyes shut before deciding you’d just had enough and you didn’t care.  You didn’t care about looking weak or vulnerable.  You just wanted it to stop.  

“You left,” you bark at him, making his eyes go wide.  “Remember?  You did.  Not me.  I was in love with you and you just left, like it was nothing.  Like I was nothing.”

Matty’s mouth hangs open slightly, his eyes still hooked on yours as he listens to the words that should have been said years ago.

“You were my whole world, Matty.  And you just fucking left.  I had to learn how to live without you, and that sucked.  But I did it,” you pause to wipe the tears from your face, before continuing with a choked voice, “Why didn’t you call me?  Or ever check in?  Or god forbid fucking visit once and a while?  Why’d you have to disappear?”

“I did call,” Matty says quietly.

His words make you freeze.  You narrow your eyes in on him and say in disbelief, “You remember that?”

He let’s out a heavy sigh, and fidgets in front of you, clearly uncomfortable.  “Of course I remember that.”

“You called me about some chick you fucked,” you say, annoyed.

“Yeah,” he admits, “Some chick.  That’s all they were.  Some chicks to fuck.  They were a shag.  They were nothing.  They weren’t you,” he inhales sharply on the last word, like he’d embarrassed to say it out loud.

But you shake your head, confused.  “No, you left.  You left, Matty.”

He nods, “I know.  I know, I did.  I left cause I was a mess. I am a mess.  I mean look at me—“ he holds his arms out straight like he’s showcasing himself, “I’m a fuck up.  And you kissed me, that night on your birthday, and it was perfect.”  He closes his eyes, like he’s remembering that night. “You were perfect.  And I was gonna ruin that—you— I don’t know.  But I couldn’t.  I couldn’t drag you into my shit.  The drugs, the alcohol.  I was never going anywhere, that much I knew.  But you?  You graduated top, you’re at uni, you’re gonna make a difference.”  Matty pauses briefly, getting to the ultimate point of his rant, “I was afraid I wasn’t enough for you.”

You let his words sink into the layers of your skin, absorbing their impact and trying to make sense of it all.  But that’s the thing, you realize.  Is that none of it made any sense.  Because all this time, you’d been trying to listen to fate and realize what you really wanted, what was meant to be.  And it sounded like Matty had been doing the same, chasing happiness.  Chasing something written in the stars.  

Maybe if you’d actually talked to each other, and been honest, this mess wouldn’t have happened.  You can already feel the temptations that beating yourself up bring, but you sigh, acknowledging that you were here now; standing in the middle of a busy, London street with Matty standing in front of you.  

“Not enough for me?” you repeat, the words sounding bitter on the tip of your tongue.  “You are everything to me—“ you say it like it’s obvious.  Like there’s nothing more true in the entire world.  In your world, there might not be.

Fuck fate, you think when Matty closes the distance between you two in just three quick strides. This is what you’ve always wanted, before you even knew it was something you could or couldn’t have.  You know you aren’t meant to have it, your whole lives have been a story of how they were never meant to be, how one of you was always two steps ahead of the other. But for now, you were here; Matty’s hand cupping your cheek delicately, your hands finding their way to his back, your lips moving as one.  And you decide, in that moment that you were going to fight for what you wanted, fate could go to hell.

water fight | yuta

Pairing: Yuta + Reader

Genre: Fluff (way too much fluff that I almost threw up)

Word Count: 2,051

Warning: Make-out sesh, ass grabbing (overall, not that bad)

Request:  hi! i just came across your blog and i love it! could i request a cute lil scenario with yuta and he takes the reader to a pool for a date? thank u 💝

 __

Reader’s POV

“Yuta, what are you doing?” You huffed in annoyance while closing your lovely book you have chosen to read after your college exams were over. You watched your boyfriend walk into your room with a huge bag.

“Well, hello to you too nerd.” He rolled his eyes, dropping the bag down onto the floor, and you watched him as he walks up to you. He was dressed in a tank top and summer shorts. You quickly got up just in time for you to be in his reach. He held on to your hips placing a light peck on your lips. 

“Okay seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you had practice today?” You asked while playing with his t-shirt going in for a hug which he responded by wrapping his arms around you tightly. 

“Practice has been canceled so I thought ‘Why not take my beautiful girlfriend out on a date?’” He pulled back to watch your face beam with happiness making him smile in return.   

“Ahh, then where do you plan to take me?” You asked taking one of your hands up to move his hair out of his eye so you can see him better. 

“The swimming pool!” 

“Why the swimming pool?” Yuta mentioned a lot of places he wanted to take you on a date like the amusement park, an arcade, a bowling alley, but never has he mentioned swimming. You watched Yuta’s smile turn into a devilish smirk making you wonder even more. 

“You’ll see” Yuta responded while grabbing your hand and making his way out. 

“Wait, I have nothing prepared like a towel or even a bathing suit!” You protested trying to make him stop. 

“Don’t worry babe, I got this.” He turned around to flash you a wink and the beautiful smile which you dearly love so much. 

“Should I be worried?” You asked raising one of your eyebrows. 

“Nope, not at all.” And with that, he grabbed the bag he dropped on the floor earlier and dragged you out of your dorm. 

The elevator took no time in arriving at your floor making you thankful you didn’t have to wait for long. There was no one else in the elevator which Yuta found as an excuse to touch you. While you were leaning back on the cool wall, Yuta stood beside you and had his arm behind you on the railing while his face was buried in your neck placing kissing in between talking. 

“I missed you so much, baby.” He said making your neck tickle with the soft kisses and his warm breath against your neck. “I missed you like crazy.”

“I missed you too.” You sighed. With Yuta preparing for his comeback with his group, you guys rarely had time to hang out. For the past weeks, the only communication there was between you guys were the late night texts which don’t even last long before one of you falls asleep. 

You moved from beside him so you can stand in front of him. He started whining when you moved but stopped the second your lips met his. Giggling, you pulled back resulting him to start whining once again. 

“Yah, stop being a baby.” You giggled lightly hitting him on the shoulder. 

“Kiss me then.” He puckered his lips leaning in. 

“Nope.” You simply turned around showing him your back with your arms crossed. As a result, you felt him wrapping his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest.  

“Stop being a baby.” He said in your ear mocking you. Releasing yourself from his arms, you moved away to the other side of the elevator which wasn’t really far because the elevators in your building were small. 

“I’m not acting like a baby, you are.” You said in an obvious tone playfully rolling your eyes. 

The elevator finally stopped at the ground floor, making a ding before opening. Before you were able to move, Yuta came in front of you quickly pecking your lips. 

“You’re right. I am acting like a baby.” He said while walking away like he was on a runway. 

“YAH.” You yelled walking quickly behind him. 

As both of you walked out of the building, you noticed how beautiful the weather actually was. The sun was shining and the small breeze felt so nice against your skin. Not too hot and not too cold. This is truly the perfect weather to be swimming. 

Yuta opened the passenger seat door and waited as you took your time walking and admiring the weather. You thanked him and buckled in while Yuta walked around to the driver’s seat. 

“Which pool are we going to?” You ask once Yuta has driven out of the parking lot. 

“The pool in my apartment.” He replied with his hand running over his hair. 

“There’s a pool in the building where your dorm is?” You asked surprised. 

“Yeah and don’t worry about any members or anyone else being there because I found a way to book the pool for an hour without having to pay.” This made you ten times more excited knowing that the whole pool is only yours and Yuta’s. You squealed in excitement not being able to keep it in. Yuta only chuckled at you before placing his right hand on your thigh. 

“Excited I see.” The drive to NCT’s dorm wasn’t that far from where you stay.

“Let’s go!” You clapped your hands like a little school girl, quickly unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car with the bag. You skipped half way until you realized you forgot about your date. Turning around, you saw Yuta leaning against the car looking offended, jokingly of course.

“Forgot something?” He asked. Smiling sheepishly at him, you made your way towards him giving a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with you. “Shouldn’t I be offended that my girlfriend forgot about me on our date?”

“Nope, not at all.”  By the time Yuta can reply, you both were already inside the building. “Which way is the pool?”

“Right this way.” Yuta let himself out of your grip and locked his hand with yours instead. Taking the bag from your hand so he can carry it, he took you to one of the back doors and into this long hallway. Going through another door, the scent of chlorine hit you like a ton of bricks. The pool was huge and the best part, it’s all yours for an hour.

“Here.” Yuta handed you a bathing suit and a towel and pointed to the direction where you can change your clothes.

The changing rooms were small but since you were the only one there, you didn’t have a problem with it. Looking at the bathing suit, you cringed. Yuta, you little shit. You didn’t really have a choice but to wear it and two seconds later, you were standing in front of the mirror with a tiny black bikini. Wrapping your body in the towel, you left your clothes on the bench and walked out of the change room.

“Why are you wearing a towel?” Yuta asked pouting. He was standing in front of the pool wearing swim shorts with his shirt off. You’ve seen him shirtless multiple of times but that doesn’t mean your use to it. He must be working hard on his new comeback because his arms look great. 

“Because you purposely gave me a small bikini.”

“Why, I thought it was sexy.” You rolled your eyes at that one.

“Of course you did.”

“Now come one. Take the towel off and lets jump in the water.” Your face suddenly heated up. It hasn’t been that long since Yuta and you have started dating and you never been in such revealing clothes in front of him.

“I-I can’t.” You looked down at your feet.

“Huh? Why not?” Yuta asked walking up to you. The lack of response must have been obvious because soon you felt Yuta’s finger under your chin forcing you to look up at him. “Don’t be nervous baby, you’re beautiful.” 

“Let’s go jump in the water!” Yuta smiled at how quick your confidence changed and you were as well. He helped you take the towel off and you saw him throw the towel in the direction of the bench where the bag was. 

“There’s my baby girl.” He chuckled. Soon you were lifted up in the air and before you knew it, both of you were underwater. Your arms were around Yuta’s neck and his were around your waist while coming up for some air. Your faces were close enough that your noses were touching. His arms left your waist and moved to behind your thighs encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist which you happily obeyed. 

“I love you.” Your smile dropped as you processed his words. You were not expecting that at all and before you could reply, he started freaking out. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“No no no Yuta, I love you too.” You said not giving him a chance to respond before crashing your lips onto his. It didn’t take him long before responding and taking full on control over you. He bit your bottom lip causing you to let out a little moan giving him a chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. The kiss got more intense and your hands moved to his hair while his hands left your thighs and moved to your ass giving it a slight squeeze making you pull his hair in surprise earning a small moan from him. Pulling away for some air, Yuta’s lips went down to your jawline and down your neck to start sucking. Your panting started to increase making your chest raise up and down rapidly as well. 

“Y-Yuta.” You managed to get out and he hummed in response. His lips started making their way back up to your lips giving you a little peck before pulling back. Your face heated up once you realize his hands were still on your ass. He caught on pretty quickly and he playfully squeezed your ass once more before letting go of you all together. You were still a blushing mess when all of a sudden, water was being thrown at you. You blocked your face before splashing water back at him and soon the only thing you could hear was the loud laughs of you and your boyfriend filling up the pool. 

You couldn’t keep up with Yuta’s speed and started screaming that you surrender. With one last splash towards you, the playing as stopped. You took this as your chance to get your wet hair out of your face and you noticed Yuta staring at you while doing so. 

“What?” You asked grinning.

“Nothing.” He shook this head. “You’re just so beautiful.” 

You blushed at his words making you speechless once more today. 

“I love you so much.” He added. To think you were a blushing mess before, boy were you wrong. 

“Okay okay stop.” You laughed. “That’s enough. Let’s get out before my hands get all wrinkly.” 

As both of you got out of the water, Yuta threw the towel at you before you each made your way into the changing room. You were smiling the entire time you were changing forgetting the fact that you even were changing in the first place. You dried your hair with the towel making sure the ends of your hair weren’t dripping as much before you headed out. Yuta was already waiting for you outside and gave you a small smile once he saw you. You sat down beside him on the bench leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“That was a fun date.” You said locking your hands with his.

“I know. I was so proud of myself for coming up with this.” You giggled in response. You were about to move your head away from his shoulder when suddenly you felt a drop. Looking up, you noticed that he hasn’t dried his hair at all. Sighing, you got up and grabbed his towel to dry his hair up. 

“Sometimes I feel like I’m your mom, not your girlfriend,” You stated standing in front of him. 

“I like that. It means you take good care of him. A quality which is great for a wife.” He winked at you making you hit him on the shoulder. 

“Yah-.” You were about to start before he spoke once more.

“I’m kidding babe. Or am I?” 

anonymous asked:

Omgomg first of all your I love you bet story is ADORABLE and everything I needed in life. Second, I saw your tags on it and now I'm desperately DYING for the isak version pretty please❤️

thank you so much friend!!! you are too nice!!!

isak version coming right up!

even’s version/part 1 is here!

  • so it starts with the boysquad groupchat after even wins
  • jonas: so boys, what’s the result?
  • even: :D
  • isak: …he won
  • mahdi: yessssss!!! cough up, boys!
  • magnus: seriously? i’m impressed but annoyed
  • isak: we’ve broken up btw. jonas can i crash at yours?
  • even: D:
  • magnus: what the fuck??????
  • even: he’s kidding mags
  • isak: i’m not.
  • mahdi: isak, buddy, don’t be a sore loser
  • isak: fuck you, i am a sore loser.
  • someone didn’t tell me they loved me for 24 hours
  • mahdi: no-one’s told me they love me in months, isak. i’m sure you’ll recover 
  • magnus: mahdi i love you
  • as a bro
  • but isak how about you give him a taste of his own medicine
  • i’ll bet on you to win
  • even: no no no no no no no no
  • isak: thats actually an awesome idea
  • so that’s how it starts
  • even tries his best to talk isak out of it because he doesn’t think he can survive that
  • but isak is pretty set on beating even
  • the bet is for 24 hours again, scheduled for exactly a week after even did it, with the same rules
  • isak says he could go 25 hours, if he wanted (but he’s not going to because that’d be mean)
  • the same people bet as before, but this time the votes are a little more biased towards isak being able to manage it
  • only even, sana, and jonas vote against him
  • (he doesn’t speak to any of them for an hour after he finds out)
  • (”sana, what happened to having faith in your best bud!”
  • “there’s a difference between having faith and lying to yourself”
  • “it’s not lying, i’ve got this.”
  • sana just raises an eyebrow and turns away)
  • the rest of him think he’s so grumpy that he probably doesn’t say it that much anyway
  • (they’re wrong)
  • jonas doesn’t bother to remind them how soft isak turns around his boyfriend because the more people who vote for him to win, the more money jonas gets when it turns out they’re wrong (he may be a socialist at heart but he lives in a capitalist society and he sure as hell isnt missing out on the chance to win money (he needs it for weed))
  • isak has a plan, though.
  • he’s not going to avoid even, per say, because that’s against the rules
  • but he’s pretty confident in his ability to turn “The Grump” on, so that no-one wants to talk to him anyway, and even won’t talk to him and he won’t be tempted to say it
  • (granted, he’s never really used The Grump on even, but that’s a minor detail, he’s sure he can do it)
  • so they’re in the cafeteria again on friday, and this time the girls are there too because they don’t wanna miss out on the fun
  • jonas counts down from ten and isak is completely silent, ignoring the way that even is pouting at him and nosing at his cheek like a little puppy that doesnt have enough attention
  • “i told you i loved you in the countdown” he complains, and isak just smirks
  • “deal with it”
  • naturally, even’s first attempt to get isak to fail comes a second after the countdown, just like isak tried (and nearly succeeded at) last week
  • “isak i love you”
  • isak just raises an eyebrow
  • “you think i’m that easy?”
  • “worth a shot”
  • even bothers him non-stop for arround two minutes with kisses and nose nuzzles and i love yous
  • everyone’s kind of laughing because isak is doing a really good unimpressed face
  • even is pulliing the saddest face ever, magnus kind of wants to hug him, but isak just says “24 hours, baby” with a little smirk
  • even gives up after that, not completely but he puts less effort into it and just turns to have a conversation with jonas (while keeping one arm around isak’s waist because, come on, he needs something)
  • isak turns to eva and starts a conversation with her, and then the table dissolves into normal lunchtime conversations
  • five uneventful minutes later, even kisses isak’s hair and stands up
  • “i’m going to get some food, you want anything?”
  • “no thanks”
  • even comes back two minutes later and he’s brought isak a cheese toastie anyway (it’s kind of a sad looking cheese toastie, but still)
  • isak looks up at even’s smile and down to the cheese toastie that he’s holding out to him, and without thinking -
  • “i love you”
  • there’s a pause, in which everyone around them looks at isak and just… sighs
  • “….fuck”
One Day // Ten Chittaphon

-

the prompt: can you do a chittaphon scenario where him and the reader are baby sitting the reader’s little sister or nephew n then start talking about the future n like having children bc children r cute, to sum it up fluff fluff fluff!!

words: 1647

category:fluff fluff fluff

author note: i love kids. like it took awhile, but the little buggers grew on me tbh. here’s ten being adorable :’) note: i will just be using Y/n/n for your nephews name. also ten’s new selfies why must he do this to me

- destinee

Originally posted by y-ta

Keep reading

SugarDaddy!Cal Pt.13

A/N: I wrote this whole chapter while listening to the entire Migos album and a huge bag of hot fries so I’m pretty satisfied with this. The way she reacts in this part is honestly mainly focused on how I would as well as my slang, so sorry if you can’t relate. The main character was supposed to be black anyway and Imma black girl soo…As always get this to 100 notes and feedback is appreciated. This is long as hell with a lot of dialogue too. Hope you like this part, sugarplums💕

**WARNING**: Lots of profanity and small makeout session


One/ TwoThree/ Four/Five/Six/Seven/Eight/
Nine/Ten/Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen/Fourteen/Fifteen
SixteenSeventeen/ EighteenNineteen/Twenty{END}


~ Blonde Babe: Heyyy
~ Y/N: What do you need? I’m not in a playful mood.
~ Ahhh I see
~ *In your voice* “Who tf we have to fight?”
~ Lmaoo, your bestfriend
~ …Calum?
~ Ding Ding Ding
~ What did he do?
~ He got a fucking girlfriend…
~ Oh wow uh…
~Ice cream on me in 20?
~ Hell yes

You let out an animalistic growl, rolling in your bed until you could gently slither off the side of it slowly and land on the floor with a soft thump. The best way to describe how you were feeling this morning was shitty. Beyond shitty, actually. For starters you were hung over from consuming half a bottle of vodka with Felix, and to top it off you felt like you weren’t worth a damn. Having spent so much time with the bassist you couldn’t help but to fall for his cheeky charm and his kind heart. If only you knew that he’d just toss you to the side, you could’ve avoided this whole situation.

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we're electric

Because I heard this song multiple times at work with nothing to distract me.

AO3

Summary: When you become a Power Ranger, your possible romantic partners become limited.

~~~


“Hear me out” Trini’s pen stilled mid-word over her English homework. Whenever Kimberly used that sentence, trouble was usually not far behind. She had expected a generally low-key study date at her friend’s house since her own was not ideal. 

“Okay, I’m hearing” She carefully lowered her pen to give the pink Ranger her full attention.

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Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy (Faraday x Reader) NSFW

Originally posted by aleclightwqqd

THERE ARE NO SPOILERS IN THIS FIC

WARNING: NSFW


“How much?”

“Two bits for the cheap stuff, three dollars for the good stuff.”

You were too busy cleaning the aftermath of a fight to bother looking up. The voice didn’t sound familiar, but then again, most didn’t. People were always drifting in and out of town. It was rare to see a face stick around for more than three days, and even rarer for you to bother recognizing it.

“Hey Johnny, you got two bits on ya? Gonna buy me a whore for the night.” The stranger could barely finish his sentence without bursting into hysterics, and you could hear a few others join in. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the joke, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it still stung.

“Either drink or get out,” you replied coldly as you continued wiping down the bar, careful to avoid the broken glass.  

“She’s got some fight in her! I like it. A buck. I think you’re worth a whole buck.”

“Alright now listen,” you hissed as you finally stopped what you were doing to meet his eye line. He was an ugly looking guy, just as you expected. His beard was long and mangled. He was missing a few teeth. You weren’t sure when the last time he bathed was. Disgusting. “I think it’s best you leave.”

“Oh yeah?” He stood up, placing one hand on his gun, and grabbing your wrist with the other. You winced a bit as he tightened his grip. He’d pinned your hand down hard against a large shard of glass. “How about no money but instead I let you keep that pretty little head of yours.”  

“Fuck,” you mumbled as panic started to set in. Men made lewd comments all the time, and on nearly a daily basis they got in fights with each other, but never had one gotten physical with you. In all honesty, you considered yourself relatively lucky. With the trash that drifted through here, you were surprised nobody tried anything sooner.

“ ‘Scuse me, but I’m gonna need you to move aside. I’m trying to order a drink from this here lady.”

The man blinked and turned his head. Resting against the bar was yet another man you didn’t recognize. This one seemed calm and collected, but you still caught a spark of wildfire in the corner of his eye.

“The hell you think you’re doin’, Faraday? You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you dead after you cheated back there at poker.”

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I’d Rather Choke: 1

Pr   2  3 /// Masterlist

Originally posted by tytaeyongtrack

Pairing: Yuta/Reader (Female)

Series/Fluff/ANGST/smUT/College au

So like all of my other series please tell me if you guys like it! I do really want to continue this but if you guys don’t like it there’s no point in continuing it. Please enjoy this and tell me what you guys think. If there isn’t much interest I may stop writing it and start on something else. Thanks!!!!

Warnings: Suggestive Themes/Cursing

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Artificial Intelligence [LCK]

↠ changkyun x reader feat. hyungwon; 16.3k; boyfriend simulator gone wrong
↠ your new boyfriend is a mystery and hates being jealous, slight possessive behaviour, horror/mystery, video game!au

“I would do anything for you, baby. Why would I lie to you about there being a way for us to be together?” Changkyun asks. He waits a moment, but seeing you’re not going to answer his more rhetorical of questions he moves closer to you, copying your action from a while ago. The lips that ghost over your own are so kissable. You’d wish to do it now. “Forever.”

Originally posted by wonhontology

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courtship rituals

i don’t know if it is because i have been watching period dramas, but i have suddenly got it into my head that it is really fun to consider the different wars star wars characters would express romance. think about it: they come from very different societies, and very different cultures, and rey ‘raised by sand’ rey is going to think romance means something very different to poe ‘’in a committed relationship with rebellion’ dameron, or leia ‘had protocol hammered into her from a young age’ organa, or anakin ‘what is healthy relationship’ skywalker. and i find the idea of these cultures/rituals clashing absolutely fascinating. 

to take a well-tested (and still fucking adorable) example: rey has spent her entire adult life on the brink of starvation, in a desert planet where only the strong survive, where your worth is completely dependent on the work you can do. on jakku giving food and water to someone was a sign of bone-deep commitment and adoration. for like a straight week she thought that everyone in the Resistance was hitting on her and she was both flattered and terrified. I’m not that pretty, she said to bb-8 in private, and went half insane trying to keep track of the various debts she thought that she was accruing (jakku has a very complicated economy of favours and debts that one has to balance if one wants to avoid grievous bodily harm). it takes her a while to calm down. she hits on finn by giving him half her lunch every day. finn does not understand, because stormtroopers always share everything; it is part of being in a unit. there’s no real privacy in the first order. (this attitude almost costs him an arm when he goes to raid rey’s secret stash of moisturizer – he learns quickly and violently that one does not just take things from a half-feral scavenger from a hell planet). for the same reason, finn is oblivious to the significance of The Jacket. Stormtrooeprs always share kit. (for what its worth, troopers flirt via an intricate series of tiny body movements and finn is constantly vexed by his intended target’s – poe or rey or both, he still can’t work out precisely which – complete obliviousness because his fingers have been splayed open like that for ages surely everyone knows that this means i would hold your hand if it wasn’t for regulation)

and i see tattooine as pretty mercenary about courtship: you have to prove that you are a good provider before anyone will want to pair-bond with you. when luke was fifteen and intent on getting into biggs’ bed he killed four krayt dragons over the course of four weeks, skinned them, and dumped both skin and meat in biggs’ larder. biggs had only consented to luke’s advances after the fifth dragon; and he had pretended that he wasn’t impressed, because that’s what the one being pursued is meant to do (tattooine is an ancient planet with long-held rules that don’t always make sense but everyone keeps to them; tradition is important; and oh how stifling it is to farmboys who dream of the stars – ). this stringent idea about courtship really really stilted luke’s flirtations with leia (thank the Force for that!) because he couldn’t work out if he should be the aggressor, or if she should be: she was of higher status, but seemed disinclined to commence courtship; but she kept flirting, needling away, and that was something briggs used to do, taunt him about being shite at flying and hunting. then again, leia did that to han as well. and han! corellian courtship is the simplest thing in the world, and he’s just so confused when luke drops a dead rathtar outside the falcon one day and grins, blood all over his hands. or when leia, raised to believe that it is improper to display overt affection, shorts at him for ten straight minutes over him using her conditioner – because when you get a girl full of fury and try to get her to be a diplomat you tend to get random outbursts, like too much energy stuffed into too small a space.

(han’s directness baffles the obtuse skywalker twins; but they work it out, in their own way)

anyway: thoughts? what does romance mean to different characters?