Congrats my dude! You deserve every follower you have! If possible, could I get fahc Ryan with 38? You’re gonna go far ik it. :)
Word Count: 352
The entire vehicle seemed to bounce and nearly fly with every new turn it took, which made it very difficult to even stay seated. From beside you, Ryan let out a low, pained groan as he pressed his hands against his side. The two of you, along with Michael and Jeremy, were trying to get back to your base as quickly as possible without any further incidents. Jeremy was holding tightly to the rather large bag you had managed to get back from the Lost MC, but not without difficulty.
You twisted in your seat and carefully eased Ryan’s hands away so that you could see his injury. He had been grazed by a bullet in the mad dash back to the car. It cut him fairly deep, but at least the bullet hadn’t lodged itself in his skin. He let out a hiss as you gingerly touched the area and you glanced up at him.
“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, knowing it was probably a stupid question.
Ryan closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, “It’s not pleasant.”
You reached under the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of a small med kit that had been stored there. Michael took a sharp turn and you nearly collapsed on top of Ryan, making him groan again. “God, dammit, Michael,” you cursed under your breath. From up front, he murmured his apologies but continued to floor it down the dirt path you were on. You opened the kit and found some alcohol and gauze, so you quickly went to work.
Ignoring Ryan’s protests and muttered curses, you cleaned the area and managed to wrap it as best as you could. “That should hold you until we’re safe,” you said softly, pushing some of his hair of out of his face. Ryan turned his head and looked back at you. His face paint had mostly been sweat off at this point and you could see the man underneath. He smiled and reached out for your hand to lift to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
Yo for the prompt could ya do 5. with jon? ps happy holidays :)
You loved the snow enough to go for a walk in the middle ofa snowstorm. Granted, it was down to a flurry by the time you got out there,and you weren’t alone out there. Plenty of people were out, enjoying the new layerof snow on the ground. You were chuckling at the group of guys who weren’t farfrom you; they were in some sort of combination snow ball fight wrestling matchand all were sliding around. You watched them as you approached, amused, but asyou got close, you suddenly felt kind of awkward and decided to turn away.
“Dude, come on!” one of them shouted, “just stop dodging andget hit already!”
“I’m not dodging,” one of the others laughed, “you just suckat aiming!”
You looked up just in time to see the snowball before it hityou square in the face.
“Oh, shit!” you heard the first one shout, and as you wipedthe snow off your face with a glove-covered hand, you saw one of them rushtowards you. You winced a little as you touched the spot where the snowballmade contact; whoever threw it apparently had an arm.
“Are you alright?” someone asked, and you turned around tosee a guy with long brown hair peeking out from underneath a beanie and blueeyes. You stared at him for a second, completely at a loss for words as youtook him in.
“I…” you started, trying to find words before nodding. “I’mfine,” you told him finally, “other than the bruise I’m sure to have.”
“A bruise?” one of the other guys, tall with a beard, askedas he approached. “Jesus, Jon, how hard did you hit them?”
“I didn’t mean to!” the first guy, Jon, exclaimed. “I wasaiming at Miles,” he informed, pointing at his friend. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine,” you sighed, brushing the snow out of your hair.“I’ll live. I don’t think the bruising will be too bad.”
“I think Jon owes you a proper apology,” his friend Milesstated, nodding very seriously as he looked between the two of you.
“Miles…” Jon said warningly, giving him a look.
“He makes a mean mug of hot chocolate,” Miles told you,smiling brightly. “And uh, if he’s making one for you, he’ll have extra, whichmeans *I* can have some.”
“Why are you like this?” Jon asked in an exasperated tone.He turned back to you, an apologetic look on your face. “But I do owe you fornailing you in the face with a snowball.”
“Well…” you started, “I was starting to get a little chilly onmy walk. And Miles here does really talkup your hot chocolate.” You gave Jon a smile, wincing a little as your cheek stung.
“I guess I’m making hot chocolate then,” Jon said, shakinghis head. “And kicking Miles out promptly afterwards, but you can stay…” hetrailed off, giving you a questioning look.
“[Y/N],” you supplied, chuckling.
“Well, it’s good to meet you! Not under the circumstances,but still.”
Jon led the way back to his apartment after informing therest of the group that he and Miles were forfeiting, where you and Miles sat onthe couch, talking about how the snowball fight had been going. Apparently, thefact that Jon made contact with anything was a miracle and Miles stage-whisperedthat you had been the first thing you hit all day, which Jon came out of thekitchen to protest as the two of you laughed. A few minutes later, Jon came outwith a travel mug that he shoved at Miles.
“Out,” Jon said shortly, jerking his thumb at the doorbehind him.
“Oh, come on!” Miles half-whined. “[Y/N] and I were havingfun!”
“I made you hot chocolate and then I said I’d kick you out,”he told Miles. “So…out.”
“Hey, I’ll see you around,” you offered hopefully. “I livedown the block from here.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Miles warned before looking over atJon. He sighed heavily before standing up. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” heinformed before ruffling Jon’s hair and heading for the door. Jon followed himto close the door behind him before disappearing into the kitchen and returningwith two mugs of hot chocolate. He held one out to you and once he had takenit, he sat down next to you.
It turned out that Miles was not lying; Jon made a killercup of hot chocolate.
It also turned out that you and Jon had plenty of things incommon. You had noticed a box set of your favorite tv show over by his tv andthe two of you started talking about that, which spilled into other shows youliked, and Jon talked at length about a book that you had to read if you liked those shows. It was surprising how easy hewas to talk to.
“You know,” you sighed at one point, putting down your long-sinceempty mug. “I’m glad you nailed me with that snowball and ruined my perfectlycute face,” you joked. Jon laughed, putting his own mug down.
“I wouldn’t say ruined,”he said, smiling. “It’s still perfectly cute. Just has a little character now.”
“I…appreciate that,” you said slowly, “especially since you’dknow a thing or two about being cute.”
“Yeah?” Jon asked in amusement, running his hand through hishair.
“I’d say you’re an expert.”
Jon laughed, “well, I appreciate it.” He smiled at you for amoment before adding, “would you maybe want to go to dinner, you know, when thecity isn’t closed because of the snow?”
“I would love to,” you told him, smiling back at him. “Shamethe city’s closed. I love the snow, though. I never got to finish my walk, notthat this hasn’t been fun.”
“Well, we could go,” he said, “besides, it’s getting kind ofdark. I could always walk you home.”
“That sounds good,” you told him, perking up a little. “Aslong as you promise you’re not going to hit me with a snowball again.”
Jon laughed, “promise, I won’t even touch the snow.”
The two of you bundled back up and headed back out into thecold. It was still flurrying and the sun was just starting to set, even if youcould barely see it behind the clouds. You fell into step with Jon, thankfulfor the company. You definitely couldn’t complain getting hit with a snowballworked out. Now, you just had to figure out what to make when you invited himupstairs for dinner.
Congrats on 400 my dude!!!! Could ya do 12 with jon? Can’t wait to see you at 500!
Word Count: 324Thanks so much, my man!
The last vestiges of sleep slowly ebbed away and all youreally wanted to do was claw at it and pull it close. However, it soon becamevery obvious that that was not going to happen and you would eventually have towake up and face the day. Your face screwed up in malcontent as you rolled overand tried to bury yourself deeper into the mess of sheets and blankets.
You could feel the bed dip under someone else’s weight andthen gentle fingers carding through your hair. You pressed your head into thehand and let out a happy sort of sigh at the contact, but kept your eyes closedtightly.
“Hey… I’ve got a surprise for you,” Jon’s voice murmurednear to your ear.
Slowly, you peeled open an eye to look up at him, “What isit?”
Jon let out a laugh and sat up enough to begin to pull theblanket down off of your shoulders. You made a very weak attempt at keeping itthere but relented and allowed him to pull it down to your waist. With apathetic sort of whine, you sat upright and attempted to rub the sleep fromyour eyes. When you finally opened both eyes fully, you saw Jon standing nextto the bed holding a tray in his hands.
“Birthday breakfast in bed,” he said happily as he put thetray over your lap.
On the tray was a plate of homemade hash browns, an omelet, bacon,and a rather large cup of coffee. You cooed softly and looked up at Jon withwide eyes. “You’re too good to me,” you murmured as you reached out for thecoffee.
With a small laugh, Jon perched himself on the bed next toyou and smiled contently back at you. “I know it’s disgusting isn’t it?” heasked, scrunching his nose at you.
“The worst,” you playfully agreed as you took a sip.
My dude could ya perhaps do “Everything’s just fucking Disney with you. “ with Miles?
I got you my manWord Count: 219
“Hey, Hey, Y/N,” Miles called from his spot on the sofa.
You didn’t look up from your phone, “Yes, Miles?”
Miles let out a small giggle and he scooted closer towardsyou. “Do you know why Peter Pan always flies?” he asked. You sighed and slowly,painfully, pulled your eyes away from the screen in your hands. This had beengoing on for hours. The two of you were sitting nicely, watching a movie, andjust hanging out, and he would randomly bust out a random joke that wasn’t thatfunny to begin with.
“Why, Miles?” you asked in your most uninterested voice.
You watched as a wide grin spread out over his features. “Because…he Neverlands!” Miles exclaimed, looking at you for some sort of positivereaction. He did not receive one but that didn’t stop him. “I love that joke.It never gets old,” he continued, nearly dissolving into a fit of giggles, “It’sgot a great Hook.”
He laughed to himself for a moment before you grabbed athrow pillow and smacked him in the head with it, “Everything’s just fucking Disneywith you, today.”
Miles gave an affront gasp and took the pillow from you, “Someof us enjoy the finer things in life, Y/N. You should try it some time. HakunaMatata and shit.”
Yo that Asher fic was soooo cute, could I request 12 with him?
Word Count: 335@joneatingcereal
“Stop wriggling.”
You didn’t bother looked up from what you were doing but Asher seemed to listen to your words and stopped moving around so much. He let out an annoyed sigh which made you let out a soft breath of a laugh before glancing up at him from under the flare of your eyelashes. From his seat in his desk chair, Asher looked very uncomfortable but he held still with his eyes mostly focused on the monitor in front of him.
Asher finally glanced back at you and shook his head, “I’m regretting every decision in my life that has lead me to this point.”
“Every decision?” you asked with a chuckle, “You regret working for Cow Chop? You regret moving to LA? You regret meeting me? You regret dating me?”
He let out another sigh and though you weren’t looking any more, you were sure that he was rolling his eyes. From the speakers on his desk the song changed again to something more mellow and you grinned to yourself as you lifted Asher’s hand to blow a stream of cool air over his fingers. “No, but I do regret agreeing to let you paint my nails on stream,” he replied after a moment or two of silence between the two of you.
You only laughed and raised his hand to show his webcam the lovely shade of navy blue you had coated his nails in, turning it slightly so that the lights in his bedroom would show off the light silver detailing you’d managed to do over top. “Oooh, so pretty,” you laughed, turning your head to grin at Asher. He was trying rather hard to hold a stern, unamused expression but he promptly crumbled and a wide smile broke out over his face.
“You’re dumb,” he laughed as he leaned in to press a quick kiss against your lips.
You chuckled and kissed him back, “You’re the one who is going to stream with wet nails. Who’s the dumb one now?”
I would ship you with Mr. Miles Luna because you both seem like energetic, creative, and pure people.
tbh I never saw Miles but I see what you mean! I don’t really know how to explain it because it’s a vibe from me looking through your blog but I feel like you and Ryan would be good together! _____
“Jesus, Ryan,” you sighed. “Would it have killed you toshaved? I know no one’s going to see it but it’s harder to cover it than justnot have it be there.”
“Have you seen me without facial hair?” snorted Ryan, tryingnot to move his face too much as you worked on his makeup. “I know we have tosuffer for the art, but I draw a line somewhere.”
“And instead,” you muttered, “you leave me to suffer.”
“Oh, come on,” he chuckled, “you know you love a goodchallenge.” You were busy trying to cover the hair near his mouth, meaning yougot a full view of the smirk he wore when he said it and try as you did to beannoyed, you couldn’t help that skip in your heart as you took it in.
“As much as I appreciate you giving me a run for my money,”you started, “which, I will remind you I am not getting paid for this, pleasejust shave for the rest of the shows.”
“You just want to see me look like an infant,” he accused,chuckling. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Bless you, Ryan Haywood,” you laughed, adding more makeupto your brush to keep trying to hide the hair on his face. It was definitelyeasier to give someone a beard than to try and hide one, but it was working.Granted, it meant looking at his face considerably longer than you looked atanyone else’s and it was starting to get to you. It was getting to the pointwhere you closed your eyes at night and saw his blue ones staring back at youthe way they did when you tried to focus on his makeup.
When you finished up with him, you couldn’t help the quietsigh of relief. It was mostly because he was so much harder to get done upproperly because he refused to shave, but it was also because you were free ofhim. Rather, you were free of being that close to him. You always watched theshow from the audience, but whenever Ryan was on stage, he drew your gaze andyou couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. After every show, you did yourbest to help the actors get the makeup off. Some of them just came for makeupwipes, but a couple came for help.
Ryan, who you plastered with several kinds of makeup,usually needed some help. He’d wait patiently after changing for you to beready to help him. He sat in the corner, smiling at whoever looked his waywhile you scrubbed makeup off one of the other leads. When it was finally histurn, Ryan took his spot in the chair, smiling up at you.
“You know,” you started, “this would be easier if you justshaved.”
“Maybe I think I look better with it,” Ryan pointed out.“People like facial hair.”
“People, maybe,” you sighed, throwing away the cotton padyou’d been removing makeup with and grabbing another damp one out of the pack.You went back to scrubbing at his face, trying to get all the foundation out ofit. “But makeup artists whose job it to make you look young? Really not somuch. It takes me twice as long to do it. It has to bug you, sitting here forso long.”
“Not really, no,” he said nonchalantly. “I get to sit hereand be close to you longer.”
Your hand stilled and you looked up from his chin to hiseyes. “What was that?” you asked slightly breathlessly.
“I mean…” he trailed off. “Not doing what I want to is a lotharder when you’re this close, but I’ll live.”
“Not doing...what exactly?” you pressed.
“Well,” Ryan chuckled, sounding almost nervous. “I…uh…” hetrailed off, and instead of finishing his statement, he leaned forward and pressedhis lips to yours. Just as quickly as he was there, his lips were gone, and hewas looking at anywhere except you. He reached for your bag of makeup removers,pulling out a pad and trying to rid himself of the foundation.
“Do you know how many times I thought of doing that?” youasked finally, and when he heard you, his hand stilled. You looked at Ryan,makeup off one side of his face, looking as surprised as you’d ever seen him. “Toofucking many,” you replied to your own question, leaning in to kiss him again.
