#sigh.. oh well.. lets not get all negative here...

[leftnipsdoodles]

my furyozine submission 🐯

[etherafayel]

dad!Rafayel who gets his daughter to finally say dada... but only when she's angry. he's not pleased.

“Say dada!” 

“Mama!” 

“Da-da.”

“Mama.” 

Small grabby hands are aimed at Rafayel, who pouts and shakes his head adamantly at his daughter who has already seemed to pick a favourite parent.

“Noo, no cuddles or kisses until you call my name and not mama’s…” Rafayel murmurs, flicking a fine-detail paintbrush to the baby’s nose. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, reaching to itch her nose where the bristles had brushed against her skin. ‘Nose’ is actually an overstatement, because it’s barely a peak with two holes for breathing. 

“Say dada, baby. Please? For your old man?” Rafayel pleads, nuzzling his nose against her hair. All four of her limbs fly upwards as she grows restless of her father’s boring games to make her call him. 

“It’s easier to say than mama! I don’t understand,” he tries again.

“Mama! Mama! Mama!” She chants, like a little storm not willing to back down. Rafayel crosses his arms, trying to make it clear that he’s unhappy with the baby at the moment. 

After some more fussing, Rafayel concedes and lets her out of the bouncer. He melts at her little wordless demands, no matter how petty he might be feeling from not hearing ‘dada’ coming from her. 

The baby roams around the playmat, reaching for various toys to play with. Rafayel being the meanie he is, takes the plush toy and puts it further away from her every time she’s close to reaching it. With a whine of annoyance she glares at her dad before proceeding to crawl to the toy again. Rafayel moves it further. 

“Okay, okay, I won’t do it again,” he relents, putting his hands up. His daughter cautiously approaches the toy and waits a second for Rafayel to move it. When he doesn’t, she pushes herself back to sit by it and reach out to play with it. 

He plucks it from her hands and places it behind her. 

Her little face practically turns red. 

“Dada!” She yells, with all the power in her lungs. The room pauses. Rafayel’s eyes widen, before the biggest grin breaks across his face. 

“Yes! Yes, it’s dada!” He points to himself, excitedly laying on his stomach to be at eye level with his daughter. Rafayel scoops his hand behind her, pulling her closer to place a triumphant kiss to her cheek but the chubby hand that slaps his cheek stops him from doing otherwise. 

“Oh.” 

Rafayel puckers his lips, staying still to lure his daughter closer. 

“Why don’t you say dada again?” He prods. He leans closer but the baby has clearly had enough of him. She looks away to the stuffed toy, preferring to reach for that instead. 

“Dada…” He hears her murmur, but in a rather distasteful tone. It’s a small victory, but it doesn’t sound nearly as joyful as any time she has cheered or chanted ‘mama’. 

“I think she’s associating negative emotions with dada…” Rafayel whines after a long day of spending time with his daughter and analysing when she calls for ‘mama’ and when she calls for ‘dada’. 

“I told you to stop annoying her,” you flick Rafayel’s head. He rolls over on the couch, curling up into a ball of disappointment.

“I just wanted her to call for me. Is that too much to ask?!” 

You sigh, sitting near Rafayel’s legs and providing empathetic pats to his back. If your daughter started using your name as an exclamation of anger, you would probably be dejected by it as well.

Your husband tries again. He turns around, hanging his head over the edge of the couch. An exaggerated pout hangs on his lips as he watches his daughter play with a rattle. She drops it, and immediately loses it. 

“Dada!” She says angrily. Huffing, she reaches for the toy again with the slightest furrow in her brows.  You’re left consoling the babbling father again over your daughter’s new habit that is all his fault.

I hate that I don't have as much time to write rn bc my FINALS ARE APPROACHING AHHHH I'M NOT PREPARED ENOUGH I WROTE THIS IN BETWEEN STUDYING I'M STILL STUDYING IT'S LIKE 2AM HERE

[elyntiasblog]

Good luck, babe

Dean Di Laurentis x reader x John Logan

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: English’s not my first language, cursing, kinda angsty, yearning, fluff, banter, but mostly yearning, LOVE TRIANGLE (girls want a harem too)

Summary: Dean's been your best friend since freshman year, so why does it hurt to see him with other girls? You say you're fine, you're not. One night with too many drinks leads to decisions you'll come to regret later because in the drunken haze you blurt out you love his teammate, not him.

Or

How to say you love Dean without ending up saying it's Logan you're in love with.

A/n: this is part 1 and so far my best work. Can't stop giggling at the masterpiece i wrote (humbly). Please leave comments on whatever you think and let me know you if wanna be added into a tag list. Also REQUESTS ARE OPEN

“You’re spiralling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Look— not everyone has a rich ass family ready to pay for education in any uni you want.”

“First of all— rude. Second—“

Dean flashes you a dimpled grin that’s absolutely devoid of any hint of offence and oh so full of smugness.

“Got lucky being born into that rich ass family, y’know?”

His hand runs through his ridiculously too messy to be looking good hair before flopping back on your bed with a huff.

“If it comes to worst and you fail the semester test— which is as likely as me going celibate—“

Never then.

He opens his mouth before closing it and tilting his head with a warmer look on his face.

“I’ll pay for your studies.”

You quirk a brow cuz— no. You got here on your own. Got the scholarship. Got the grades. Got into the uni most dreamt about but worried that now would fail it because of a dumb test on macroeconomics. Who even put economics in a humanist major syllabus?

A sigh escapes you. Because for whatever it’s worth, his suggestion warms up your insides. You don’t wanna be in debt to anyone, too afraid that it constricts the freedom of your behaviour— gotta keep up the smile for someone who helped you out, right? Of course Dean wouldn’t hold it against you, you know that. But it’s still not what you’re used to. Yet his offer is sweet. Because you know that no matter how much of an empty head he seems— he is genuine in the ways that matter.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Negative.”

“Fucking positive.”

“Dean.”

He mimics you and calls out your name in the same tone but with a teasing tilt that has everything to do with the power of nature born in no other than Dean himself — natural charm you think you could never master.

“Deanie, we have democracy. That means you gotta get my consent.”

“Oh, I am a consent king, just not when ladies refuse a good deal.”

You try not to let your mind wander to the implication but— fuck, that again. His flirtatious remarks that keep making your heart skip a beat every time.

The worst thing? Dean does it on instinct. Flirt with anyone, strings to no one.

“Look— I just need my best friend okay and sane—… as much as a nerd can be.”

You throw him a half-annoyed look but it doesn’t hold weight because you’re sighing heavily. You’re so tired of trying to mold your brain into understanding how the formulas work that you don’t bother arguing.

“C’mon. One evening out— no studying, no tasks, no work.”

“Being your friend is pretty hard work though.”

“Jeez, easy with my heart here.”

He pulls his lips in a mock pout that looks so out of place on his gorgeous face before chuckling and abruptly standing up from your bed. He claps his hand as if finishing negotiating some business deal rather than trying to get you to get some fresh air.

“Guys are already preparing for the hang-out.”

“As in— a full blast party hangout?”

“You know me too well.”

He flashes you a smirk before turning his head back to studying your dorm room as if he’s seeing it for the first time. He’s not.

“Wait, why aren’t you helping them?”

“I’m busy.”

“Busy how?”

A wince escapes him as he picks up sunglasses from your vanity that were too small for his head but still end up perched on his nose. He strikes a pose leaning back against the vanity, his legs crossed, hand reaching to fix his hair in the way that a girl trying to pick a guy would do.

“Playing the cool bitch friend.”

A huff of laughter escapes you and that’s his cue to stand up with a smirk.

“It’s done, you’re coming.”

***

How did you meet Dean?

Freshman year. First marketing lecture. And a very awkward-filled moment when you think it couldn’t be more awkward.

You walk up the stairs in the lecture hall to find a free seat.

Despite it being just a few days since the start of the semester, a few cliques had already formed. Or maybe they’d known each other before the uni?

You see the girls with the kind of makeup that makes them look like models sit on the third row, actively chatting about something you don’t really catch. And somehow that gnaws at you cuz no matter how beautiful you think you look trying to dress up and stuff— the moment you turn your gaze from the mirror to the outside world, the pretty image of yourself cracks.

A few bulky guys— you’d say jocks but university seems the kind of place you gotta start avoiding cliches— on the second row. Closer to the desk. But not to listen- to keep snorting just as loudly cuz they don’t care. Or at least pretend not to too busy asserting dominance over the room simply by their hunky existence.

You gaze quickly scans the rest of the room— nerds on the first row, nervous kids in the back and then there are— you.

It’s kinda lame how someone can doubt if they’re good enough just because others don’t squeal at the sight of them.

But that’s how you feel.

You choose a seat on the fourth row. Not close enough to be noticed, not far enough to be forgotten.

The first lecture’s not the most difficult. At least- it’s not supposed to be. But as much as everything unknown seems daunting— it is too.

You know you’ll eventually pull in, maybe make friends, get familiar with Briar U and will remember the first day as something funny—

You hope you will. But one look at the “cool kids” and you doubt it all ever again.

Enough pessimistic thinking.

Breath in, breath ou—

DANG.

The door opens almost as if someone tried to rip it open— you flinch at the sound, so do a few others, the professor turning her head at the sound with an indignant look.

But the one standing there isn’t some angry kid slamming doors to show off some generational trauma—

Broad shoulders, tall, confident stride and—

It’s a gorgeous blonde with a smile that makes your heart beat in the way that goes through the whole body.

And not only yours, it seems.

You see everyone look up.

He saunters in the room with such a nonchalant look that you almost think his level of “don’t give a damn” could be the 8th wonder of the world.

“Sorry, Mrs.—“

He paused to quickly glance at the board with the name scribbled on it.

“—Clark. Got caught up in a—..”

You can swear he didn’t even try to come up with the excuse before coming inside as the rest would do. He snaps his fingers as if finally done sorting through the list of plausible excuses in his head.

“—in a jam. Yeah, right. ”

A few let out snickers. You feel a smile pull up at your lips too.

Everyone knows it’s a ten-minute walk from the frat houses and dorms to the campus. Let alone drive.

Mrs. Clark’s not amused though.

“You’re late on the very first week of college—“

She looks up at him expectantly but he doesn’t wait for her to ask. Claiming the room with as much as his presence. And his name.

“Dean. Dean Di Laurentis.”

“Well, mister Di Laurentis, make sure not to get into jams anymore. You won’t be able to write it on your midterm test. Take a seat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods gravely, but his face is far from bearing a hint of remorse or awkwardness from the display that drew everyone’s gaze to him.

He finally turns to the rows of students and you almost regret having him in your class. How the hell can you focus with someone like that breathing the same air?

The girls on the third row think the same, apparently. Because the moment he starts walking up they shuffle to make it seem as if they have the free seat beside them. And they do.

He gives them a once-over, a smirk pulling at his lips and— did he just wink at them?

Yeah, of course he would.

No way in hell or heaven he’d be a virgin with that body.

But he doesn’t stop there.

One step upwards.

He’s not pausing by your desk and it’s not the fact that he doesn’t look at you— he does. But it’s so brief as the wind in a Sahara desert could be because his eyes glide forward and he passes your row like nothing happened.

And that’s what girls like you hate. It’s not the fact of your invisibility— it’s the fact that you fade like grey in the eyes of someone who’s looking at the bright colours around him.

For a moment, that does it.

Because yeah. He’s a prick.

A pretentious douche with a body like Apollo, fucking gorgeous genes and perhaps even worse ego.

Easier to dismiss him as one that admit a part of you would like to get him look at you for a second longer.

Just as you huff to yourself turning back to the few notes you’d taken so far, a heavy thump emanates right to your left.

Dean.

You blink in surprise— hoping that you don’t look like a gaping Dori but he is there.

But you don’t want to stare— not that it saves you from him noticing that and flashing a dimpled tight-lipped grin at you.

Up close he looks like one of the tv show’s perfect California life savers.

“Hey.”

Oh. He can talk.

“Hey.”

You turn back to writing— or at least pretending you’re writing someone intelligent when a much larger hand comes into view picking up one of the spare pens on your desk.

“You mind?”

“No.”

You watch him for a second but he doesn’t get gown to writing simply because there’s nothing to write on.

So— this guy didn’t even bring backpack or whatever to his lectures.

He takes his time patting his pockets maybe in search of paper or whatever but comes up only with a piece of small crumpled paper.

You notice some numbers on it— someone’s number more like it but he doesn’t even glance twice crumpling it even harder in his hand and letting it fall on the desk with a soft thud.

He instinctively turns his head towards you again and you quickly look away staring at the blackboard.

You wait that he’ll ask for paper but he doesn’t.

Maybe that’s the longest two seconds in your life before he turns his head away and leans back in his chair with a sigh.

The borrowed pen— your pen is placed back on the desk, if only sometimes he twirls it between his fingers from boredom.

Devil-may-care should be Dean-may-care now. Legit.

The professor drones on and you almost focus on something other than the breathing of the guy beside you— or some woodsy cologne with a fresh minty note that makes your nose tingle yet inhale more with each breath. The type of scent you think is overwhelming at first and then can’t get enough of breathing in.

But almost sleeping with eyes open isn’t what focus is, is it?

“Think she knows she has chalk on the elbow?”

The sudden whisper into your ear makes you flinch from the drowsy slumber you were in. You blink away the sleepiness before turning your head to look up at him with a quirked brow.

“What?”

The reaction makes his half-smile widen slightly as if he’s watching some Instagram reel with an adorable but dumb koala. Cute but clumsy as hell.

“The chalk. She looks like she went through war with it and shed some blood.”

You blink again before glancing back at Mrs. Clark who indeed has some chalk on her elbow and half of the jacket she maybe didn’t even notice yet.

“Oh.“

You don’t know what to say to that.

Is he joking? Maybe. Is he bored? Damn yeah. Did he strike up the conversation because sharing glances with the girls who were ready for a quickie during the break grew boring after ten minutes? Also fucking true.

So you don’t. Just hum and study the notes in front of you. Again.

Dean’s not the one to back off. Simply because he’s too fidgety to sit quietly. So he does what he can to kill that boredom until he can leave and find something that looks like actual fun to him— party, hockey, girls.

“What’s your name?”

And just because he knows someone like you will give a one-sentence answer like before he adds.

“No, let me guess. Um— Natalie? Kate? Jessica-with-K? You look like Jessica-with-K.”

You don’t even notice how you let a huff of confusion escape you.

“What does that even mean?”

His lips press into a small pout before he clicks his tongue.

“Not Jessica then.”

An amused smirk pulls at your lips.

“No.”

“Damn bad, you looked like one.”

Your brows furrow again. What does Jessica even look like? But otherwise, thank God, it’s not Bella or some shit.

“Damn bad indeed. You don’t look like a Di Laurentis either.”

Up to this point Dean humoured this convo because yeah— nothing better to do, actually no. Nothing fucking to do while surviving a lecture on how to make people buy stuff. You just make it good and tell the people to buy. No strategy, duh.

But he doesn’t dwell on it because suddenly this quiet girl can speak.

His brows rise a little.

“And what does a Di Laurentis look like?”

You pause.

You didn’t even mean to say it, the professor could notice and give you an earful but now that he’s noticed you—

“Like— a tall, dark-haired macho with a crooked nose? An Italian.”

That makes him crack a smirk.

“So the hair’s at fault.. and the nose, I have a fricking gorgeous nose”.

He does. Your eyes trace his features, the jawline that could cut, almost translucent blue eyes, perfect lips, light brows and— a nose. A tiny crook no one would notice if not watching closely but he still looks handsome.

“Debatable.”

“What, the hair or nose?”

“Both.“

“Cruel.”

An amused grin escapes him again before he tilts his head watching you with an unabashed interest now. You think he looks like a cat— no, like a puppy that’s watching its owner hinting at a walk or snack.

“What do I look like?”

Like a freaking model on some sandy beach with red trunks on and sweat gliding down your six pack—

“Malibu?”

“Ma—“

He doesn’t finish as a loud snort interrupts the lecture. He’s not even trying to hide it fast enough before letting it fade into a fist.

The professor gives him a glance— a few other students do too. Especially the girls, so you do your best and stare at your notes as if you could never be caught as an accomplice to whatever it was.

The moment passes.

His interest doesn’t.

“You just called me Malibu?”

You hate a rush of embarrassment to your cheeks.

“…Yeah.”

“I’m a New York cookie, peaches”.

“I’m not pea—“

You sigh cuz it came out on instinct and honestly, you’re not used to the weird nicknames people give each other. So why peaches?

“You are. All sweet and stuff. And you haven’t told me your name while you know mine. I feel exposed.”

“Exposed?”

“Yeah. Name’s like— the mirror to the soul, y’know?”

It’s the eyes, actually but you don’t say it. Finally, you mutter your name back half convinced he’d forget it by tomorrow.. no, way too optimistic. By the next period.

But he doesn’t.

Not by the next period. Not in a week. Not in two years you spend together as best friends.

***

The sound of booming laughter and ear-splitting loud music greets you right from the porch of the frat house.

It’s familiar.

The way you don’t bother to knock because the door’s not locked is familiar too.

So is the sight of a crowded living room literally infested by people from all over the campus. Some of them already hitting it on the makeshift dance floor, others not drunk enough for that so they stand in line for the whiskey shots off the table.. or bodies.

A few guys play the TV hockey game almost outshouting the music whenever one of them scores or loses.

And then there’s that small crowd already off to upstairs to enjoy the life pleasures you’d never had the courage to pursue but secretly were dying too. Not that the location is the factor though— a few couples are already throwing a full on OnlyFans shooting worth makeout session right under the staircase.

All of that is familiar.

So why do you pause as if shocked by the sight of Dean making out with a brunette on the kitchen counter like there’s no one watching?

His large hands grip her hips as she arches forward into his frame, hands tangled in his blonde hair before trailing lower to graze his back. He’s clad in a graphite t-shirt tonight unbuttoned halfway down and that random girl can touch any inch of that tanned skin now. It must feel so good.

You know it does.

Because even looking at him sets your blood on fire. Along with the bitter feeling licking its way out but you quash it. As you always do.

They keep exchanging saliva and whatever you really don’t wanna think about— cuz you do know that’s definitely not innocent kisses kids share in middle school.

You quickly look away and then walk back to the living room only to realise you’d actually have a drink now. If it weren’t for the couple turning the kitchen into a minefield by making out.

A sigh escapes you at the lameness.

You two aren’t anything.

He doesn’t owe you anything.

Neither do you owe him anything.

But perhaps the heart hasn’t heard of friendzone? It’s not ears, not supposed to hear, after all.

You shake your head because at first you thought it was a crush.

Yeah. A crush on someone who looked like a dream from some teen magazine.

Then it passed. Novelty wears off— everything and everyone has their expiry date.

But friendship remained.

Between hangouts at his house, his energetic nature against your not quite but— less frantic one, you understood that he was the kind of person you didn’t wanna lose.

Warm, supportive and unbearably kind at times.

Only a few months prior you started noticing that the warm feeling grew into a molten lava every time you saw him, heard his voice or, for God’s sake, caught on his cologne.

Lots of self-denial, bargaining, suppressing the feelings that brew under the skin like poison— all of that fruitless as the reality came crashing down.

You’re in love.

And it’s not romantic as it sounds when the object of your desires is the infamous fuckboy on the campus.

You swore you’d never let a guy make you feel small but you always feel a hint of insecurity.

Maybe you’re not the girl he’d kiss like that on the counter?

Maybe he’s not the type you’d kiss openly in front of half the hockey team?

Maybe that’s it.

Match made in hell to drive you crazy and him away.

“You look— like you’re about to cry.. and even if I’m not sexist, I don’t think girls should cry.”

The sound of a melodious voice rips you out of your overthinking; it’s deep and warm, with a bit of a rasp— nice, in short.

So are those brown eyes that you could call molten chocolate or the fluffy hair you think someone styles every day but wouldn’t admit it.

John Logan.

“I’m not crying.”

He tilts his head down to look up at your face from underneath as if looking for something there, expression mockingly grave—before standing upright again with a grin.

“Yeah, false alarm.”

A small grin pulls at your lips.

“Did I look so bad you thought I was ready to spill tears?”

“No. I mean— you looked so good I was ready to spill my tears if it’s any comfort—“

That makes you chuckle. Dean’s friends were always just as friendly to you. Light-hearted. Easy-going.

Tucker always had something delicious whenever you stopped by for a visit. Logan stepped in to help with the leaking tap in the dorm kitchen once and offered a grin every time you passed each other on campus— which wasn’t often but still. Garrett was more closed off but still taught you to play TV hockey to, citing, “beat Dean’s sorry ass”.

And you did. Much to Cinderella’s dismay.

Seeing my smile makes him smile too— an easy one, the one that makes you think everything’s easy and good just because he’s smiling.

“Really, though. You good?”

“Yeah. Peachy.”

It’s visible on his face that he knows what Dean’s up to in the meantime and feels a hint of pity for someone left to wander on their own at the party. Or maybe I did seem so pathetic too busy contemplating about life choices and boys that he decided it was ruining the general mood?

“Then you don’t mind if I steal you from—“

He presses his lips, brows furrowed as he steps closer to look over your shoulder— then another as if expecting someone there. The proximity making your breath hitch for a moment and well, you could catch his scent too, it’s subtler than Dean’s, but warmer? As if cocooned in a blanket on some winter night?

Fuck, what’s with all the scent metaphors as if you’re a sniffing dog?

His soft lips pull up into a crooked grin as his gaze flickers down to yours.

“—no one.”

Maybe you’re stuck studying the flickers of gold in his brown orbs that you don’t notice his hand draping around your shoulders to lead you to the centre of the mayhem.

“What?”

“Play with us. There’s an air hockey contest tonight.”

“Air hockey? Really?”

“You’ll be less sarcastic when you see how much us hockey dudes suck.”

A huff of laughter erupts from your chest— easy, the kind you don’t gotta force as you indeed see a few players on the Briar U team go at it with the most serious faces.

He picks up your laugh with a chuckle of his own, arm still around your shoulder.

Dexter loses by two points and throws a dramatic shout at the end asking for a revanche that’s not coming because there’s someone else standing forward to the center to make everyone look up.

“Listen you— mere mortals. Your pathetic existence is but a speck of dust compared to the records of eternal fame in such a callous sport as—… air hockey.”

A few snicker at the tone Beau uses to speak with.

“Therefore we shall hereby declare—“

Dean steps up readily clapping his best friend’s back once before shouting.

“-.. PAIR CONTEST.”

“What’s a pair contest?”

Logan meets your inquiring gaze with a small smirk.

“Pair. Contest. Two against two.”

You huff a grin at the absurdity. How’s that even comfortable to play with three other people?

But once you turn your head back, Dean’s eyes are already set on you— something you couldn’t ever read in them. For a moment, you think he notices the hand draped over your shoulder and feel the need to explain but— explain what? Nothing? To someone who’s practically no one in a romantic sense? Wasn’t he tonguing the girl in the kitchen just a few minutes ago?

His mischievous grin returns just as quick as he closes the distance between you two, his large hand outstretching on instinct.

“You, my fair lady— are playing with me.”

Before you have the time to laugh off the ridiculous idea, Logan steps up with a smirk of his own.

“I’m afraid she’s already been taken, good sir. Find another partner in crime.”

Logan’s eyes flicker to mine for a moment as if making sure that’s what I want— do I?

“I actually don’t think I wanna play at all…”

Dean huffs in amusement first, hands on hips as if ready to prove a point in an argument.

“You either play with me— the victorious legend or the lil’ cane over here. It’s a yes or yes situation, peaches.”

“You call losing four times in a row victorious?”

Logan huffs amused tilting his head.

“You’re the only one who remembers that.”

“Yeah, and I will forever.”

“Fuck your Dori memory, dude.”

They share a laugh— you laugh too before a hand on your small back gently pushes you to the table in the centre. Logan.

You step forward unsurely, sending a glance over your shoulder at Dean who was left standing with hands on the hips and brows slightly raised in surprise.

He’s not dormant for long because it’s him and some over-energetic party girl with a deep cleavage against you and Logan.

He places the puck on the centre, picks up the paddle with a slow grin, gaze set on you— then Logan.

So does Logan. Both already competitive. On alert. You think it’s a bit too much testosterone for the poor air hockey table but it’ll manage. Cuz suddenly you feel competitive too. Beat Dean’s sorry ass— Garrett said.

You will.

***

“It’s like— 25$ per hour. Fixed the TV set and all the plumbs in the house.”

“Damn— only.. tenty-five?”

“Yeah. Could get myself a Ferrari in like— ninety years.. from the dump, though.”

You crack a drunk laugh leaning back the head against the cool wall of the house. The porch is empty unlike the mayhem inside— that’s gotten worse with the amount of drinks taken.

Logan can’t quite suppress a grin whenever you speak slurring the words and blinking at him like a content house cat. Who knew you were such a lightweight?

“Mm—- you’d be a handsome driver. Like— 101 level of hotiness.”

He snorts again.

“You don’t say.”

“I do! It’s like.. like— uh..”

You blink again trying to think of a metaphor with a stubborn frown at the words that keep eluding you.

“Oh yeah— uh.. pro max hot but with pro maxness of a rocket.”

He hums suppressing an amused grin but you could swear his eyes light up in the dim light, frame leaning against the porch railing and turned to face you better.

“..Specific. What am I without the pro max hot Ferrari from the dump?”

“You—“

You sigh again, brain working overtime because thinking really seems harder than usual.

“Bestest air hockey player?”

“Not without my partner.”

“You got a partner?”

A laugh escapes him as you stare at him dumbfounded— as if it wasn’t you who won it 7:4 with him just an hour ago against Dean and Rachel.. was it Rachel?

“Think it’s time to get you some water.”

He moved to carefully wrap an arm around you and lead inside when you groan in frustration.

“I already drunk— water.. it’s not tasty..”

“It’s not supposed to be, I guess.”

“But why? Why even drink it— if it’s not.. sweet?”

“To stay hydrated.”

You’d be embarrassed by how calmly Logan handled you in a drunken state, leading you inside the house towards the kitchen without a hint of annoyance.

“Hydra— like.. hydrate like fish?”

You nearly stumble over your own feet— clumsily gripping the back of the couch and Logan’s arm to keep steady.

Although it’s him reaching to catch you by the waist— not that you can tell.

“Easy.”

He pauses not making a move to lead you further to the kitchen in search of water.

You head bobs tiredly to glance around you— did you even get this drunk in.. ever? Maybe not. Because it was always about a beer or two. Nothing more. And enough to remember boys’ drunken antics when no one else did. Would you remember your own in the morning?

Couples are swaying in the centre of the room, only a few— others have left for the fun part in any room with and without a lock they could find.. some are playing beer ping pong, others are animatedly arguing about the relation of Brie to Briar U, Logan’s on his knees between your legs—

LOGAN WHAT?!

You stagger back in a fit of shock, feet tangling at themselves successfully sending you flying back on the floor.

You land with a loud thud and a groan.

“The fuck..?”

It comes out as a whine because your drunken mind can’t take the dull ache on the back of the head calmly—

Logan reaches to help you up, hands quickly checking your head for an injury— there’s nothing.

He sighs— certainly regretful of humouring you with drinks earlier.

You send him a bewildered glare.

“What were you—?”

He has the grace to look sheepish, cracking a small grin, head jerking in the direction of your feet.

“Laces.”

It takes solid ten seconds before you realise that you’d stumbled because of them twice already and he was just trying to help by kneeling down to tie them up.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Good to go?”

You are. You think so, at least but he glances at the kitchen and speaks up again.

“Actually— I’m good to go. Let me get you some water. You wait here, deal?”

“Pinky deal.”

“Pink—?“

He’s not even surprised by the drunk talk now and simply flashes you a grin before walking off to the kitchen.

You lean back into the couch with a sigh— a bit of peace would be great now.. but no.

“Peaches. Didn’t know you were such a touch cookie. A hidden talent at destroying 6’4 men and I didn’t even know.”

You see a smirk Dean sends your way lazily sauntering over.

“I didn’t.. too.”

“Where’s the bodyguard?”

“Who? Uh— off to get me water.. not sweet.”

He huffs lightly turning his head to glance in the said direction and that’s enough for you to see the stains on the otherwise perfectly tanned skin even in the dim light of the house.

Lipstick stains.

Hastily wiped off in the corner of his mouth, more leading down his neck to where the graphite T-shirt hides just enough.

Another girl in one night? Second? Third?

Your heart breaks yet again.

Maybe it’s the drinks and haze of them that clouded over your mind.

Maybe it’s the dull ache in the back of your head.

Maybe it’s the noise and music and that overwhelming ambience of the party aftermath.

You take a breath—

Air’s not coming into your lungs.

And his perfectly rugged features blur as moisture gathers in the corners of your eyes.

You bite your lip to keep it in because for God’s sake, to cry at a party over a boy?

“Hey— peach—“

His hands cup the sides of your face gently tilting up to look down at the tears with a frown. He’s defiantly not drunk enough not to notice them.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes dart frantically looking for a sign for what could make his best friend, the girl who basically swept the floor clean with him at air hockey an hour ago tear up.

“You okay?”

“Head..”

“Head?”

He almost tilts your head to watch where but you don’t let him.

“You fell?”

In love?

“Yes.” Hard.

“Logan didn’t look after you?”

“He did—- he..”

“He what? Up and left?”

“No- he was.. on the knees and—“

“He was what?”

His hand snaps in the kitchen’s direction.

“He—.. what he— you’re crying ‘cuz Logan did something?”

“No!”

You shake off his hands with a sniffle taking a step back, feet thankfully not sending you on the floor this time.

“Then what?”

“I—“

You. You are the reason. To smiles. To heartbreaks. To the warmth and fire, the reason’s you.

“Nothing.”

“There is something.”

“No-“

“Yes.”

He steps closer with a firmer expression.

“I know how drunken tears look, these aren’t them.“

Then as if knowing how sensitive I could get even more he lowers his voice, voice softening.

“What’s wro—“

“I’m in love.”

A beat of silence follows. It’s as silent as it gets with the music pumping around you but the hollowness in your ears is deafening.

The expression on his face is too.

His mouth opens, then closes as he tilts his head.

“You what?”

You don’t take a breath— you know you’ll break down and won’t be able to utter a word if you do.

“In love..”

He waits for you to crack up with “gotcha, Deanie!” but it doesn’t come.

Is this the time familiar becomes unfamiliar? Because his eyes are the same, his lips are the same, the hair’s the same but you feel that once you say it, all of it won’t be. Yet you open your mouth.

“I love—“

You can’t. It just doesn’t leave your mouth. Even if you try hard enough because no amount of booze is enough to make the fear of losing him make you speak.

“Who?”

A loud crack interrupts them.

You turn to see Dexter raise his hands in a surrender at the broken glass at his feet.

Broken bottle’s shards lie around— and that is to be expected at a party with such an amount of alcohol. Yet it’s the sight of Logan stepping around it quickly with the very promised glass of not sweet water in hand, avoiding the shards. He quickly places the glass on the counter and tells something that makes others step away before crouching to pick up the big pieces of broken glass.

Just like your heart, was it?

All this time though Dean didn’t turn away.

Too busy watching you.

And finally it dawns on him..

“Him?”

No—

He turns his head to do a double take at Logan who’s already handling it like a pro not to let anyone cut themselves in a drunken haze.

So you do what doesn’t cut you.

“...Yeah.”

[cursedbycrossovers]

Help Wanted ≠ Send Sacrifices (Pt. 5)

"Did you bring me your brother to be my secretary?!"

"Yes!" Jason answered enthusiastically, "He's the smartest person I know!" He said again, as if that explained anything.

It wasn't any less jarring to hear the second time. Jason… thought he was smart? And called him his brother? That whole presentation he'd given had sounded proud. Like Tim was worth bragging about. It was… kind of nice, actually.

It would've been nicer if Jason were not attempting to hand him over to a stranger for what sounded like it could possibly be eternal servitude.

"That's not- what I-" The glowing humanoid fumbled, putting his hands up as though he could physically stop Jason's words. "I meant that if you knew someone qualified, you could like, refer them to me, not-"

Jason tilted his head to the side. "Tim is qualified," he assured.

Tim kicked Jason in the knee, hissing at him through his teeth.

Jason shushed him. Freaking shushed him. Like a whiny cat. Tim's mouth dropped open at the indignity.

"Okay, yes, you've made that clear, BUT," The entity straightened and held up a finger, "You can't just- give me a guy! That's not how this works!"

"Why not?" Jason asked, in apparently genuine confusion.

"'Cause, aren't there, like, proper channels we have to go through? Contracts to sign? I dunno, I've never had anybody work for me before! I was expecting a little more time before anyone showed up!" He explained petulantly.

Proper channels? Contracts? Oh hell no. Tim narrowed his eyes and glared at the being in front of them with all the heat and defiance he could muster. He was not letting anyone's soul be sold today. Jason may be compromised, but Tim was still sharp as ever. He'd get them out of this mess, whatever it took.

— — —

Constantine entered the warehouse, and all the gathered bats turned to look at him in unison. His steps stuttered.

"Good lord, you lot are worse than a pack a' haunted dolls."

"Constantine," Batman spoke, his voice clear and echoing, "Come here."

"Ah, well, since you asked so nicely," the blonde grumbled, rolling his eyes. The sound his shoes made against the floor was the loudest thing in the room, the eyes of Batman's scattered brood all watching him like nervous hawks.

"Do you recognize this?" Batman asked without preamble, gesturing to the rough markings on the floor.

Constantine made a face and dropped into a crouch. He swiped a finger over the curve of the circle, then leveled it with his eyes. He hadn't picked up anything visible, but the skin was tingling intensely. After a moment of contemplation, he put it in his mouth and immediately gagged.

The fact that none of Batman's assembled children took the opportunity to heckle him was a testament to the seriousness of the situation.

Robin and Black Bat were stood close by each other, Robin shifting uncomfortably every few minutes with his shoulders noticeably tensed, and Black Bat constantly re-checking the shadows as though expecting an attack from them at any second.

Spoiler stood with her arms crossed, staring the magician down while Nightwing flanked him from the side Batman wasn't. It would have been intimidating, had John been literally anyone else.

A short sigh announced Babs's return to the comm line, the sound somewhere between annoyance and worry. "Jason's not picking up or responding to any of my messages. Anyone seen or heard from him tonight?"

A wave of silent communication passed through the Bats before Nightwing chose to respond. "Negative, Oracle. Can you take a look for him on cams?"

"Already on it." Babs responded, though it did little to reassure Dick.

A new concern had begun to pick at him, despite his best efforts to dismiss it; that Jason could've been involved in this mess, too. Jason did seem to have a preference for Tim over some other members of the family... But enough to call for him solo? And privately? For something that wasn't even in Crime Alley? Probably not. Still, Dick found himself doubting…

Constantine had been staring down at the floor for quite a few moments now, an expression of consternation on his face.

"So? What is it?" Spoiler asked, her patience finally having worn thin.

Constantine's next words sent chills down all of their spines.

"I have no fuckin' idea, mate."

— — —

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 6

Masterpost

[prescottsownthisshithole]

double date gone wrong [one shot]

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: The last person you expect to see on your double date is your ex, especially the one you still have feelings for.

18+ minors and ageless blogs dni!

Warnings: Cheating-ish (it’s a grey area), smut, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), fluff if you squint, unresolved feelings, the reader being a bit of a bad friend, a few bad puns, and references.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you say between kisses as he pushes you against the elevator wall.

“I know,” his voice is raspy, but he doesn’t stop.

Neither of you do.

One might ask, “How did you end up in this situation?” Well, as it always was with you and Leon - it’s complicated.

The restaurant buzzed with chatter as you walked in, immediately noticing your friend waiting for you.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, giving you a hug. “The boys should be here soon.”

“I still don’t know why you decided a double date was something we should try,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Why so negative? You’ll like the one I chose for you - his name is Chris, he works in finance…” You almost stop listening the moment you see a familiar face approaching the table.

“Oh, Leon, you’re already here! And with flowers! Thank you so much,” she chirps. You freeze.

Was your ex-boyfriend the other half of this double date? The universe truly has a funny way of ruining your love life.

“Y/N, this is Leon. Leon, this is Y/N,” she says, introducing you. You open your mouth to say this is all a mistake, but Leon catches your hand, squeezing it in greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he says, a glint of well-known mischievousness in his eyes.

Oh, two can play this game.

“Likewise,” you smile back.

“My friend Chris should be here in a moment. I apologise for him being late,” Leon says as you sit down.

You almost roll your eyes as it all starts to make sense - you know Chris, and he definitely doesn't work in finance. You feel a pang of guilt for lying to your friend, considering this is her third date with Leon, but you can’t help falling back into the old habit of playing whatever game Leon starts. He smiles at you from across the table, looking amused as his knee brushes yours. You try to scold him with a glare, but it’s impossible when he looks at you like that. In short - you are fucked*.

A few minutes later, Chris joins. His eyes widen at the sight of you, but Leon kicks him under the table before he can say anything. You exchange introductions, though Chris can’t help but furrow his brows at the charade.

The dinner passes in a blur of chatter, funny stories, and “accidental” brush from Leon’s knee or touch of his hand. Eventually, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. As you leave, you find Leon leaning against the wall waiting for you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, keeping your voice low.

“Can’t a man use the bathroom?” he smirks, knowing damn well that wasn't why he followed you. “You look good, sweetheart,” he says, looking you up and down. “Even better than the last time I saw you.”

You can’t help the familiar warmth pooling in your stomach. In a different setting, those words might have sparked something in you.

“Should I remind you that you’re here on a date with my friend?” you ask, raising a brow.

He grins. “She’d call you merely a work colleague. You get too attached, honey.”

You scoff. “Doesn’t matter! I can’t do this to her.”

“And what exactly is this?”

“God, you’re so annoying,” you mutter, turning to walk away, but he catches your wrist and spins you into his chest.

“I missed you. You’re hot when you’re annoyed,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Leon…”

“Tell me you didn’t miss me and I’ll let you go. I won't bother you anymore.” He whispers it so close that the distance between you is non-existent. You can't say it. It would be a lie. But the truth feels like a betrayal to your friend. You sigh, and he sees your hesitation. “Thought so,” he says, suddenly pulling back.

Just as you’re about to speak, your friend emerges from around the corner.

“Hey, did you guys get lost?” she asks jokingly.

“No, there was a long line, and we bumped into each other,” Leon smiles at her. You notice it’s not the same kind of smile he gives you.

“Oh, okay!” she chirps, disappearing into the bathroom.

Leon turns back to you, but you’ve already went back to the table where Chris is waiting.

“I’m guessing Leon won’t be taking your friend out on another date?” Chris asks the second you sit down.

“Finance? Really?” you ask, ignoring his question entirely.

After dinner, the four of you stand in front of the restaurant while your friend finishes a cigarette. She looks at Leon expectantly, batting her eyelashes.

“So, are we going back to my place?” Your heart stops.

“I’d love to, but you mentioned Y/N lives right next to me, and I already offered her a ride home,” Leon says smoothly. You almost admire how quickly he bluffs.

“Oh. Next time then?”

“I’ll text you,” he says, giving her a brief kiss on the cheek.

Chris almost snorts at the bullshit but just gives you a wink and a goodbye hug. Your friend disappears into an Uber a few minutes later, finally leaving you alone with Leon.

“Wow. You are really good at bullshitting girls,” you say.

And that’s how you find yourself here. Your back is against the cold elevator wall as he kisses your neck. You moan when he finds that one particular spot he knows you like, and you feel him smile against your skin.

“Oh, I missed those sounds,” he chuckles as the elevator reaches his floor.

You don’t even remember how you ended up on his couch. Now, you’re straddling his lap, hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands.

“You know you have to let her down, right?” you ask, grinding against him.

“I’d really rather not talk about your friends while I’m about to fuck you,” he mutters, making you giggle.

“I missed that sound, too.” Your heart does a little backflip** at the confession.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

“Never,” he grins, picking you up and carrying you toward the bedroom. He drops you onto the bed, watching as you start to crawl back towards the headboard. “And where do you think you’re going?”

His hand catches your ankle, sliding up under the hem of your dress. “I’ve always loved you in dresses. Easy access.” He smiles cockily. You open your mouth to retort, but his finger brushes your clit, turning your comeback into a strangled moan.

He kneels at the foot of the bed, grabbing your hips to pull you to the edge. One thing about Leon is - he always makes sure to maintain eye contact while taking off your panties. This time is no exception. “God, I almost forgot how wet you get for me,” he says, before diving down to eat you out.

His tongue works in circles around your clit while his fingers bury themselves deep. He groans, pulling himself closer until his nose brushes you in the most delightful way.

“Oh, Leon, don’t stop,” you purr. You can feel the orgasm approaching, your fingers tightening in his hair. Sensing you're close, he quickens the pace. You reach the peak almost instantly, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

“I could eat you out all day,” he pants, pulling back to catch his breath.

You push up on your elbows. “It’s almost a shame that’s my turn now.”

“You know you don't have to-“

“Stand up and shut up,” you command. He obliges. You reach for his belt, fingers trembling slightly. He helps you out, shucking his pants and boxers in one quick movement. “Eager, are we?”

Before he can answer, you take his length into your mouth. He tilts his head back with a low groan. You use your hand to help, taking him as deep as you can. Your teeth brushing his length from time-to-time.

“You think you could swallow me whole?***” he asks, his hand fisting in your hair. You’d laugh if your mouth wasn't full. “As much as I love this, sweetheart, I’d rather come inside you.”

He pulls you back and sweeps his thumb over your bottom lip, licking away the mixture of your saliva and his cum. The sight alone nearly gets you to the another orgasm. He pins you to the bed, his large frame caging you in.

“Can I please fuck you?”

You snort. “I think I’ll scream if you don’t, at this point.”

“Good girl,” he says, entering you in one swift thrust. You gasp, your breath hitching at the fullness.

“Still as tight and warm as I remember,” he mutters, his pace so messy, that it’s almost sloppy. “I missed you so much,” he whispers, kissing your temple.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. To feel him as close as possible.

“I’m not gonna last long after what you did with that mouth,” he groans against your lips. You just nod, matching his rhythm, feeling the orgasm building up in you. He hits his release just seconds after you do, grinding against you (already overstimulated) with a final, heavy grunt.

You lie there for a long time, wrapped in each other, silently. The future is blurry, but the present is warm - the kind of warmth only he could provide, always.

“I’m definitely not calling your friend,” he whispers into your collarbone.

You smack his arm, but giggle at the comment. A/N: I congratulate you, Dearest Reader, reaching the end (hehe). Is this my longest fic? I think so. Does Leon deserve it? Definitely. Enjoy! Please keep in mind that English is not my first language and I despise proofreading! :)

*Not yet ;)

**Like RE4 Remake Leon

***You see what I did there? ;)

[aminah1706]

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚~ protective or possessive ~

jabber wonger x raider calm gn!reader who snaps for the first time

*•*•* oh and you’re lowkey evil. you’ll see what I mean

╰─▸ ❝ @yoredoesmore, thank you for your inspiration!

synopsis: jabber gets pinned and threatened with near death by the enemy during an infiltration mission. you, the cool-headed one, snap and rage, much to his surprise

first gachiakuta fic! I just joined the fandom a few days ago and jabber is funny asf but acts like he got rabies, lol.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that you and Jabber worked well in missions, despite the prior preferred to be alone.

He was strong, that you couldn’t ignore. He was insane and out of his mind, that you also couldn’t ignore. His obsession with frankly anything that interests him and his obvious masochism has gotten anyone to try to avoid him at all cost, especially how much he can’t get enough off of poisons.

Regardless of all these negative points: something about the guy intrigued you. He was loud, loose in the head, seemed to pierce himself with his own vital instrument just to raise the stakes in a fight—yet something about him made it impossible for you to stay away.

His attitude when he’s calm, less giddy and attentive to things, calling out to bullshit other people spew with bluntness? The way his dreadlocks whipped around his figure when he flew around the battlefield, the thick strands adorned with gold flowing roughly behind him with a crazed grin on his face? His bloody clothes and flushed cheeks after coming back to the Headquarters, breathless as he would mumble “ya should’ve seen the other guy, hah, I done fucked him uuuupp”. The way whenever you two finished an assignment, he’d scurry to his room to grab vials—all dangerously colourful—taking a few to pour the poisons along his Mankira, testing how much they hurt, how potent or how paralysing they are? You could deny it all you want, or even block his easy grin out of your head.

You had become infatuated with—no.

Jabber had somehow become the object of your desires, despite you not wanting him to be it. He’s fucked up, seriously. But sure he was attractive and su— no, don’t continue that thought. Even so, it didn’t make sense for him to—it didn’t make sense for you to like him, so why? Behind your back, your hands clenched, nails digging into your flesh as you and the man of hour rushed down the corridor. The air was cool, contrasted with the warm atmosphere the lights illuminated. Running down the hallway and rounding around the corner, you focused on Jabber’s long locks move behind him. They bounced repeatedly and you watched how the back pieces hit the light skin’s back nonstop. Doesn’t that annoy him, you wondered. The dreadlocks looked good, especially with the good accessories. Would he suit another protective style? Perhaps cornrows or—

Your ears perked up and your eyes snapped forward, pausing in your step. Jabber ran a couple more steps before he stilled as well, turning around.

“Hey, you good? Why’d you just stop?” His voice rolled down his tongue, his neck craned slightly downward. You turned towards him, eyes slightly half-lidded. Was it because of the weight of the locks? They were probably too heavy for his neck’s support, but you doubted Jabber cared. Judging by how they looked like waterfall in the air, you began to feel doubtful about the real weight—

Fingers snapped in front of you but you didn’t blink. Gliding your gaze towards his red ones, staring intently into his, you let out a curt sigh and pointed upwards.

“We’ve been caught.”

Looking up, four people hung from the ceiling, heads trained at you two like squirrel monkeys.

Silence fell between you until shifting sounds from above made Jabber look up with a raised brow, a familiar tug on each corner of his mouth. “O~ohh, we’ve been caught? I was thinking where you all had gone, cuz’ no way where aren’t any guards here.”

“Right,” you said, unimpressed. As the Givers from above jumped down and walked up towards you to threateningly, you simply pulled out a vintage hand mirror. The cool, silver object catch light in your grasp. In a flash, your whole hand engulfed in bright chiffon, your own eyes succumbing to the colour as the item shifted, the hilt of the mirror stretching and sharpening at the edge as you adjusted your grip, your left hand grabbing under your right, the mirror head part becoming bigger. 

With a sharp noise, your previously small vintage mirror turned into a war scythe-staff hybrid, a mirror head at the opposite end, shining. Beside you, obnoxious giggles tore through your partner as he activated his Mankira with a pink glow.

The four enemies pulled out vital instruments of their own, and with a gush of wind, you and Jabber jumped forward, poisonous nails and a scythe’s edge aimed at them.

“Let’s get this freak show STARTED!!” He screamed, already battling. You spared no glance towards Jabber as you handled two girls, their precious instruments being stilettos and praying beads as long as chains. The dark headed girl, no less than eighteen you’d presume yanked her 2.5 meter long beads towards you like a whip. You narrowly avoided the chain and used your scythe-staff like a pole vault, jumping over to the brunette girl with the stilettos. Hopping down and meeting the ground, you bent your knees and pull the mirror side up and smack the girl’s face with it.

“Ukh!”

With a loud grunt, the girl took greedy stumbles backwards and you spun your staff once more, launching the sharp side downward to her stomach.

*RUSTLES*

“No! Heidi, get your ass up!” The black haired girl shouted, having caught your vital instrument right before it stabbed the girl. With a mildly irritated expression, you tugged on the beady chain and tugged it hard, sending the owner flying towards you. With a clenched fist, your knuckles connect with her face, immediate warmth and blood tricking from her nose.

It was broken with no doubt. You coldly resumed back to the first girl and was met with her heel piercing through your shoulder.

“Fuh—“ it burned. The sharp tip felt like barbed wire as you glared at her, her own teary eyed self glaring at you too as she spun around, twisting into the fresh wound in your shoulder. You let out a silent cry and kicked her back, angling your mirror towards her. Her hair moved around with her motion, and your head was replaced with her own reflection. Yet the moment her eyes met in the image, her face twisted and she pulled back, clutching her eyes.

You furrowed your own brows as you held over your shoulder, panting. Though, a mean smirk rested on your face as the girl’s huffs turned into blood curling screams, fingers digging into her eye sockets.

“AAAAAAHHHHGH! IT HURTS—WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DOOO!?”

“Nothing,” you breathed. “That’s your own fault for looking in my mirror.”

The other girl—Heidi—stared in horror, eyes wide. “What the fuck did you do?! MONAH!”

You halted, then leaned on your beloved staff-like mirror, looking into your own face. “Me? Like I said, nothing. You think I would tell you what my vital instrument does? Do you think I’m stupid?”

Monah clawed at her eyes and continued with her howling, Heidi growing more panicked at each shriek.

“But if you’d allow me to stop it, just say the words.”

The girl jumped up, eyes uncertainly hopeful as she kneeled, tears streaming down her face. “P-please! Please stop it!”

With a smile, you gripped the middle of your staff, scythe side up and rose it high up into the air—intentions impeccably clear. If you could rewind and spot the exact second Heidi’s expression dropped, you’d pay maybe a dollar. You weren’t that cruel.

*SLICE*

A dull thud hit the ground, rolling towards you as it stopped at your foot. You turned to Heidi, and before she could bawl, you decapitated her as well and watched her head fall from her shoulders, and hit the ground with a dull noise. Finally.

You weren’t one to toy around people like a certain someone. You liked to get down to business instantly. Now, you should probably go to Jabber, he’s probably done or playing with the remaining enemies.

The moment you turned around and wondered about Jabber for the first time of the past five minutes, your eyes flew wide, almost loosing grip of your vital instrument, Hiareth.

Almost. Right before you dropped it to the ground, your fingers tightened around the item.

In the distant, in the tight, narrow hallway: nearby walls had been destroyed and sliced away, revealing an empty vast room. Gush of wind blinded your sight and you couldn’t exactly see past the blur, and you hoped you saw wrong the first time. But when the dust had dissipated, your expression dropped and your jaw grew slack.

In the middle of the room, an enemy, 172 centimeter tall, presumably in his early twenties choked Jabber from above, pinning him down as he held his vital instrument—a bracelet turned into a bendy knife—over the lightskin’s neck. Your partner gripped the other’s wrists, but they shook immensely under the other’s strength (something you didn’t see often). Both were roughed up, but you didn’t like the sight of Jabber looking worse than the enemies. Something hummed beneath your fingers, starting out slow. Then faster, and harder. Humming turned into throbs, and throbs turned into your heart hammering against your chest, blood pumping in and out throughout your body as your breathing picked up, feeling it tight in your throat.

You felt hot all over, and you couldn’t help but twist your face in pure anger as you rushed forward, readying your staff. The man’s face turned to you the last second you stabbed his collarbone with your scythe, intentionally piercing him there as you picked him up by the blade, ignoring his choked gasps.

You discarded him on the ground and grabbed his instrument, your sight turning red as you sliced and stabbed him, over and over again. You didn’t know what you were saying, but it must be loud and furious as your ears blocked out any sound, your throat becoming more and more scratchy.

You slowed (how long had it been?) once your arm ached with soreness. You rained down a barrage of angry punches—punches that surely broke bones and cracked skin—as you spewed out more shit. Stuff you can’t recall till you get off of the man, and look at your partner.

With a couple of (heavy or light?) dreadlocks covering his left side as his right eye exposed his wide eyes, propped at his elbows as he was laying down, gaze fixated at you. His lips opened and closed, before opening once more.

“Damn. Dude—damn. You just, damn. I have never eve seen you snap like that.”

“Jabber.. I, uh,” you froze, your voice beyond hoarse. He is right. Glancing down to your hands, they were sliced up and covered in gore — both yours and the man’s. Adrenaline rushed throughout your body as you inhaled deeply, exhaling. You felt a lot, and you didn’t like it.

You stretched your legs and pressed your handkerchief against your bleeding wound. “Never mind this. Are you stabbed anywhere?”

“Oh~ you worried?” His tone turned weirdly sultry, and your lips pressed into a tight line. ‘Stop it’ you ordered. In your mind.

“..I’m just asking.”

“Oh, you did more than that. You fucked the man up and stabbed him with his own vital instrument for— what? 3 minutes?” He smirked.

You tried to stop him. “Jabber.” Your stomach felt fluttery and you hated it.

“But noo! That’s not all. You were screaming at him, talking crazy about some shit like ‘how dare you, you bitch! Don’t you ever fucking do that!’” He teased, leaning his head into his open palm as his half-lidded eyes zeroed in on you.

The warmth came back, but not in the same sense. “J-Jabber. Quit it.” You stuttered, a red hue on your cheeks.

“I caaaan’t! Not when you were looking so fucking crazy and hot like that. You sounded so fucking possessive~ you got a thing for me?”

Your eyes flew opened and you bashfully looked aside, grabbing your scythe and reverting it back into a hand held mirror. “Mission’s complete, isn’t it? Let’s go back.”

You heard loud cackles behind you. A hearty, easy laugh that soothed your rapid heartbeat.

He rolled over to his back and giggled uncontrollably, kicking his legs. “You didn’t deny it! You didn’t even try to deny it!!”

How could you? If Jabber would to be knowing about your affection towards him, who knows how much insane and infuriating he could become?

There’s only so much the human mind can handle.

And so much your heart can tolerate.

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄ES, SUGAR ♱ ℳ.𝓢.

✵ ❪ 𝒚𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐 ❫ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ms x f!r, katseye 7th member!au, fluff ── disclaimers: jealousy, ya’ll know the drill atp we three chapters deep (read in dark mode!) enjoy xx

ℭatalogue, pt one, two

MEGAN NOT PLAYING AROUND ABT Y/N (PER USUAL)

21.2k likes | 433k views | 19th Mar, 2025

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip one: [ TIKTOK + WEVERSE LIVE ] n/nlarz live

“Here in Katseye, we believe in starting strong. No beating around the bush, no stupid sub plot-lines, and definitely no bullshit when it comes to making our fans happy, because that is our number one priority. We make music to make you guys happy, and in turn, that makes us happy. You crazy kids always find a way to entertain us, so we do our part to entertain you.”

user01 omg this hoe is really tokyo drifting circles around the elephant in the room right now

user02 or team really said let’s get our very own shakespeare

user03 not eyekonville successfully cyber bullying y/n into addressing the tiktok yall this fandom is not real

“Oh my God, you’re stalling the hell out of this right now,” Lara snorted, head resting against her fist. The two of you sat at Lara’s desk, the violet LEDs on in the room with the older’s rnb playlist playing softly through her speakers.

You clasped your flushing cheeks into your hands, groaning. “Well, I’m not exactly excited to talk about this!”

Lara scoffed, raising an eyebrow and eyeing the live, as if sharing a knowing look with the fans watching the both of you at home. “You guys really thought you could put something like that out and not spark hellfire in Eyekonville?”

“It was so long ago! I didn’t think it would blow up like that.”

Two years ago, you posted a tiktok on your personal tiktok account of a challenge you and Megan did during your Dream Academy days. It was before the group was formed, and you were kindly instructed to remove it after your debut, but some fan who’s been following you since your predebut days seemed to have reposted it on twitter. The tweet gathered a total of 53M views and 1.2M likes from both eyekons and those unfamiliar to your music. Now fans shamelessly bombarded you with questions about it any chance they got.

The tiktok in question was the two of you doing the lipstick trend to the song “Appcalypse” by Cigarettes After Sex.

You appeared onscreen first, putting on some red lipgloss before the phone panned to black-haired Megan, staring at you, the camera going unnoticed by her dreamy eyes as she stared at you with a gentle smile. Every visible inch of skin littered with a variety of smudged or clear red lipstick marks.

[ holy fucking shit i did six backflips when i saw the tiktok ]

user04 they fr hard launched during da and forgot abt it

user05 deadass i always knew megn/n wasn’t just a figment of my imagination they been sus since da

user06 guys she’s abt to hard launch again act surprised

“You posted it during mission two?” Lara stared at her phone, definitely watching the video once again online. She shook her head, “Damn, I forgot ya’ll were rooming together.”

“Okay, before any of ya’ll put on your tinfoil hats and make up conspiracy theories about this, it was just a trend. Nothing more. We spent a lot of time together during training and we did a lot of challenges like that one, okay?” you stammered, clearing your throat. You thanked all the Gods the room was coloured so the fans couldn’t see your flushed cheeks. “Megan and I are friends—and now roommates, but that’s it.”

user07 oh yeah cuz i do couple trends w my friends too

user09 so this convinced a total of negative a trillion people

user08 i think doechii wrote a song about you honey

Lara giggled at the comments clocking your lies, glancing at your disapproving gaze as she fell back into her swivel chair. You sighed, shaking your head. “Guys, I swear on my mom, it is not what you think! We were just doing a tiktok trend!”

[ y/n baby you’re talented at a lot of things… just not lying ]

“Yeah, guys, come on, she’s being so for real right now…” Lara added in a monotonous tone of mockery. “You wouldn’t want everyone’s favourite Katz to get in trouble now, would you?”

“I do that with all the other girls too—How about this, if I promise to post this video of Sophia and I doing a couple’s yoga trend that was all over tiktok like two months ago, will you guys believe me?” You desperately sought to keep things tame, not wanting unnecessary trouble with your management team. Though, all press is good press, and the 63k people watching you try and make a bad case against dating rumours with your fellow bandmate would attest to that.

user09 kissing all over is different from doing poses tgt

user10 honey we saw the marks leading down meimei’s neck into her shirt you did not have to do allat for a casual trend

user11 i’d never let my bsf kiss me like that even for a trend

[ the look megan gave her though?? how is that platonic??? ]

“That’s the best answer you’re gonna get from my girl,” Lara chuckled, winking at the camera, “If y’all really wanna know what’s up that bad… guess you’ll have to stick with us.”

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip two: [ TWITCH ] d4vd x katseye streamathon

“No, have you seen this girl’s roblox avatar? She got that drip. She’s a certified gamer!” Daniela nodded, pursing her lips and giving D4vd an ‘mhm’ as his jaw dropped.

Serves him right for doubting your gaming skills. Silly D4vd.

You held your hands up as he let out an ‘ooh’, crossing your arms. “What can I say… I’m always on that bloxburg grind.”

Lara rolled her eyes playfully, “I’ll say, this bitch will stay in her room and never come out if she didn’t legally sign a contract. y/n and Megan are the most loser-coded, discord server npcs I have ever met. Like all they need is each other and their ipads.”

“Hey, why am I catching strays right now!” Megan whined.

You chuckled, a hand lifting to stroke the small of her back. She readjusted her beanie, leaning forward with a pout. She read the chat’s amused comments on Lara’s words, glancing back at you. “Are you just gonna take that?”

You shrugged, “To be fair, we are pretty addicted, Mei.”

[ it’s giving gentle husky x orange cat duo and im here for it ]

“Yeah, I know y/n’s the boss at dress to impress, we should get her on this.” Daniela moved away from the centre of the frame to make space for you. You slipped between her and the desk, grabbing the ipad from Lara. Daniela’s hands slipped up to grip your hips, locking you in place as she continued to banter.

Sat to the side just a little bit behind Daniela, Megan couldn’t help but eye the both of you every couple seconds.

The chat pointed out how she was doing her signature “laugh then lock in” bit, but in a more “show jealousy then remember she needs to lock in” way. Her eyes would linger on the two of you, on Daniela’s hands caressing your waist, a little too long with her eyebrows slowly furrowing and her smile fading. Then she would remember she was on camera.

user01 ooh somebody’s lookin a little jealousssssss

user02 megan forgot she needs to stay employed for a second

user03 bro’s fr getting war flashbacks rn

user04 what a good day to be a dann/n defender ;)

“Somebody asked if Daniela and y/n are bread and peanut butter, ‘cuz Megan is exactly the jelly they need right now,” D4vd read aloud, eliciting laughter from everybody in the room but a stunned Megan. She sometimes forget Twitch was an American platform and they were allowed to say more things they weren’t allowed on Korean ones like Weverse. But even you seemed to be going along with the teasing. D4vd sighed, “Oh my God, that’s gold, you guys have the best fan base.”

“Oh, Mei, I’m sorry for hogging the ipad. Here, you and I are both experts, if we work together, we should be able to beat these hoes at their own game.” you scorched over, peeling yourself from Daniela’s greedy fingers to make room for Megan. The redhead slid in, indirectly pushing the blonde out towards the edge of the frame, finding herself behind you.

[ y/n is so cute and oblivious oml but she loves megan sm ]

She internally cooed at your blissful ignorance, melting at you doing your best to include her. She’ll take what she could get, her mood immediately lightening up upon taking Daniela’s spot behind you, looping her fingers into the belt hoops of your baggy jeans. You two fell into your own little world, choosing outfits on the game as the others gave you input.

user05 megn/n pda i repeat MEGN/N PDA

user06 girl ain’t nobody looking at the stupid game screen rn

user07 they’re really making the most of the american rules

user08 ah yes there’s my daily megn/n fix

“So are we gonna say anything, or…?” Lara mouthed towards Daniela. She sat to your left, leaning back to gesture at the blonde so the two of you wouldn’t see. Sucked in your own world, on the virtual runway, you and Megan were too entrapped with the game and your fans to notice.

Daniela gave D4vd a look, who didn’t really know what to say. He was pretty entertained by the two of you’s intimate stance.

The blonde eventually shook her head, waving a hand. The three of them moved on to play the game with you two too. Slowly, you moved to sit on Megan’s lap, her arms around your hips and her head over your shoulder.

[ god i’ve never felt more single in my sad and lonely life ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip three: [ TIKTOK LIVE ] @meretmanon

“I think the plan is. we wake up at 6:30, we get downstairs at 7, get a coffee and maybe a pastry for breakfast, then get in the van and head for the hotel we’re getting ready at.” Manon was gathering her makeup, listing your schedule. She had decided to go live, having nothing to do as she does her makeup to ready for the seven of you heading to Sophia’s family home.

Everybody was gathered in Daniela and Manon’s room, waiting for their eldest member to finish getting ready.

The tiktok live went viral on tiktok after it ended for a couple moments in the background. This was during a time when the company was trying their hardest to manage the group’s image after some threads on twitter with the tag “#megn/n” had gotten out of hand with some unwanted attention.

You were clearly perched in the right bed behind Manon, Sophia, Lara and Yoonchae spread on the other. You rested against the headboard, entranced by the phone in your hand as the other three watched TV.

“Oh my God, don’t even talk about the early morning tomorrow, I’m absolutely dreading it.” Daniela groaned, emerging from the bathroom to stand behind Manon, gazing down at the comments flooding the chat. She caught sight of you sitting in the background, eyeing Megan, who, unknowingly appeared on camera, sauntered her way around the bed to lean over you. The blonde quickly moved to stand in the way of the view, blocking the ordeal from the live.

user01 i saw that. I SAW THAT.

user02 WAS MEGAN LEANING DOWN FOR A KISS WTF

user03 nah they trained daniela to be on it fr

user04 this is some pazzi shit all over again (pls get the ref)

user05 hold me down cuz im abt to go feral

Manon and Daniela shared a look, but neither of them dared to address the compelling topic of discussion amongst the fans.

Later on in the livestream, Daniela eventually moved off to take a call from her parents. Scurrying off, she left Manon in front of the phone, sitting on the floor in between the end of both beds. Lara was laying over the edge of the left one, talking about how excited they were to see the Laforteza’s.

Megan’s feet poked from the right side, hanging off the side of the bed. She suddenly propped herself up, laying on you, who moved just into frame as you laid on the pillow.

Knowing the group had been briefed about keeping the whole megn/n thing under tabs, Sophia nudged Manon, who then moved so her body would cover the two of you once again.

user06 show it to me please SEND IT TO ME RACHEL

user07 oml the gate keeping im foaming at the mouth

user08 so where are all the megn/n deniers now huh??

user09 nah yall can’t cover that up we saw that kiss jn

[ no cuz why were they working so hard to cover things up that live, it’s so funny cuz sophia and the girls were fighting for their lives but megn/n did not gaf like at all ]

When somebody would say things about y/n having a girlfriend or Megan having a boyfriend, Lara would very unsubtly make a face; most of the time it would be a smirk with a raised eyebrow at how ridiculous the comment was.

“y/n, somebody said they want to take you to breakfast,” Manon read aloud, not bothering to even look at your reaction.

A small, mumbled, “better not” from Megan could be heard once the fans enhanced the audio.

[ y/n definitely keeps this girl in check… ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip four: [ WEVERSE LIVE ] solo mei for the win ;)

“I wish I could read, I’m dyslexic,” Megan cackled, setting her makeup bag down. “I love audio books though, if you guys have any recommendations, I’d love to try them out.”

A knock sounded, Megan’s head snapped towards the door. “Somebody just knocked… hello?”

The door creaked open, and you popped in. “Baby, you forgot to grab your id this morning—!” The way Megan’s eyes widened, you knew you had fucked up on some level. It was only then did you notice the phone and ring light in front of her, and the extremely cautious “oh shit” look on her face.

user01 “BABY”??????????????? HELLO??????????????????

user02 IM FUCKING OVULATING DONT DO THIS TO ME

user03 oh nah oh nah i’m folding hard asf rn

user04 EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP ITS HAPPENING

user05 that has to be y/n l/n i recognize that voice

You thanked God you were still out of frame, setting the id down on the table and gesturing for you having to leave. She doesn’t react or address the situation, clearing her throat. “Anyway, I love audio books. I’m actually better at math than english, so if you guys need help with homework, I’m here.”

user06 nooooo bring y/n back we’ve missed her :(

user07 not megan acting like we didn’t just catch them

user08 WHY ARE YOU ALL SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS???

[ love how they just never talked about this after but i just know they got their ass beat by their pr team ]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ Clip five: [ COSMOPOLITAN ] Katseye Q&A

“y/n, you’ve been known to have a more impulsive tendency, and you’ve mentioned before you love getting impromptu tattoos. What’s the most recent tattoo you’ve gotten, and why did you choose to get it?” The interviewer questioned, the shot quickly cut to the seven of you. In the back row, sat Sophia, Yoonchae, you and Lara, in the front, Daniela, Manon and Megan. Six pairs of eyes turned to you.

“Oh, I, uh—” Caught off guard by the sudden spotlight burning you in place, you shifted, chuckling awkwardly. When you blanked, you began internally panicking.

You hated talking about your tattoos. It made you nervous because you’ve gotten a lot of criticism for it in the media.

“Actually, y/n and I got tattoos together. We wanted to get something that symbolized Katseye’s debut, so she got a (your charm), and I got a dual cherry on the inside of our left ring fingers.” Megan flashed the tattoo towards the camera, the editors zoomed in really quick.

You played along, showing yours as well.

“Oh, wow, that’s really cute!” The interviewer chuckled, “So will this be a ‘all seven of you’ kinda tattoo, or will this stay just the two of you for now?”

Lara groaned, “Oh, girl, trust I will be tatted the hell up in the future. I will be getting my key sooner or later.”

As the conversation shifted, you could feel Megan’s hand slide behind Manon’s to give your thigh an encouraging squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it eased your nerves. You glanced at her, and she shot you a quick wink. It drove megn/n truthers up the fucking wall. Your hashtag trending on Eyekonville.

The interview continued, but in that moment, fans knew, even if it wasn’t plastered on billboards preaching about it, the little relationship, whatever it may be, between you two was sacred.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ❪ 𝖈alliope 𝖘peaks! ❫ 。 writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet… anyway BREAKIN DISHES PART 4 COMING SOON TO THEATRES NEAR YOU!! keep sending in suggestions and ideas i dont reply to all of them but i read them all! i love you all, happy reading! xx

@sillymommy6969 ©

[gachiakaisen]

MR KRAABS I HAVE AN IDEAAAA

LISTEN LISTEN 😳🫵

a separate enjin and zanka x reader with this similar premise:

- enjin attempts to try the pickup line: "have u ever been arrested cuz its illegal to be cute". but reader says yes be4 he gets to the punchline. and now he's listening with the most expressive face on how reader got charged with aggravated assault

- zanka is not one to be a flirt but the poor boi needs a miracle so he goes to enjin and the man tells him to try that pickup line. zanka finds reader proceeds to say that but reader says yes be4 getting to punchline. HIS JAW IS DROPPED. reader has a different dog in her. reader tells the story and zanka is SAT

WHAT DO YOU WANT, SPONGEBOB? 🦀👀

OH YES, that energy of older bro/younger bro here is great too! 🥹🥹🥹

Let's dive into it:

--------

Enjin:

This idiot had his eyes on you from day one. Something about your cute face or nice butt or whatever might have caught his attention.

Shame is something that God forgot to give Enjin, because he is trying his usual techniques of looking cool and laid-back. It works like a charm most of the time. Girls love the mysterious air.

But you see? You're not impressed with such bullshit. You want an expressive man, not a brick wall, so when he sees Follo involuntarily cracking some jokes and making you give the cutest chuckle, he decides he will change his approach.

On the next morning, as the two of you are crossing the same hallway, he stops in a hum. You tilt your head, in expectation.

"Have you ever been arrested?"

Your eyes widen. You freeze and you're frowning. Hell, did he dig into your past or something? Kinda stalker-ish, but you can appreciate a man who tries to get to know a woman better - even if by ridiculous means - as it shows you determination. You like determined people.

"Yeah, actually I did."

"Because it's illeg- Wait, what did you say?" And there he goes, showing one of his infamous, expressive shocked face.

"I have been arrested before... Did you read my profile?"

"C-can't say I have, but... Don't leave a man in the dark here. What happened?"

Some minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the common room, you had a lollipop in your hand, which you occasionally licked, as you explained it to him:

"I have a short temper. And my temper is even shorter against sleazebags. So, I was out with a friend one day. She is shorter than me and kinda introverted. When I was getting us some drinks, some guys started to annoy her. They wouldn't take no for an answer. I broke the bar stool on the head of one and banged the head of another against the counter. I was this close to use my jinki on the third, but the Hell Guard came by. People who were at the scene agreed with my side of the story, but they all said I was kinda... Uh... Too brutal."

"Holu fucking shit. That's... Surprisingly hot." He throws his head backwards, chuckling amusedly. "You're cool, [Name]."

You smile.

"Cool enough for you to go for a drink with me?"

"Did you just-?"

"Life is too short for playing demure. Wanna hang out?"

"Say less, pretty. Say less."

-----

Zanka:

Our boy has a serious problem: he is 100% into you. He is also 100% on the negative rizz scale.

So when he hears that Enjin got with his wanted person, he asked him for advice.

Enjin immediately offered his best pick-up line, a.k.a the one he used on his lover.

Zanka came to talk to you once you two are finished sparring.

"[Name]." He speaks, eyes on your sitting, recovering form.

"Hm?" You look back at him, waiting.

"Have you ever been arrested?"

"..."

"..." Well, Zanka might have forgotten how to continue because you are looking at him with your cute face and now his brain is malfunctioning.

"Look, it was a misunderstanding... It didn't even..." You sigh. How people keep finding those things up?

"Wait, what are you talking about? Were you truly arrested?"

"Yeah... " You scratch your head as you continue. "I didn't have any family left, as you already know, so I had to eat. I've made some shady friends and we used to run a fighting ring of givers. I was in charge of counting the money of bets. Some big shots lost money during the events and thought it was rigged. So the place was quickly found by the Hell Guard. I was the only one inside the place when they arrived and since I refused to tell on my friends, I beared the burden of 2 years in jail on my own... Sorry... You must be... Really disgusted of me now."

Zanka is sitting in front of you, cross-legged.

"I'm not in a position to judge. I have never starved. I don't know which lengths I would go to eat. But how did it even work?"

Before you know it, you are explaining to him that Givers were given flyers and were invited. No one was forced to come and the money for the ones who won was good because of the business people who bet there. Killing the opponent was forbidden and harassing or intimidating someone out of the ring resulted in ban.

Yourself took part in some battles when you wanted easy money.

"That surely explains how strong you are with your jinki."

"Thanks... You're so cool with yours too..."

The two of you stay quiet for a moment. You're holding each other's gaze.

"It should be illegal to be this cute..." The two of you said in unison.

Eyes widening. Some chuckling.

"You think we should...?" He starts.

"Hang out? Absolutely." You smile.

-----

Taglist!

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