#AND the complexity of him on top of all that being a kind person...

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Weekend Ramblings

Thame·Po Episode 10

Yeah, I'm late but my brain was not working properly on friday, so, now works. Congrats on the sex! I love this friend group so much. This episode was a lot. First of all Baifern needs to go touch grass. I did appreciate that the show went there, all things considering, but she made me mad. And not that I needed more proof, but Po is a better person than me. Also I hate Pemika and this whole thing around idols and dating. It's insane, but obviously eventually the company will come around, cause glass houses and all that. The PepperGam noble idiocy thing was a bit whatever, although still heartbreaking, but I'm hoping this means that our mains won't follow in their footsteps. This show is as close to perfection as I have seen from gmmtv in a while, so let's not ruin it. The best part was definitely seeing the group supporting each other. The hand holding at the press conference had me all emotional. I'm giving up on screaming at Thame. I guess since they were technically already caught, he's not bothered. Not that he acted like he ever was. Thame and Po continue to be them. I just love how even through all this, they keep checking in on each other.

GelBoys Episode 2

Never has a show made me feel so ancient. Also this show is a massive reminder of how much I absolutely hated all that love drama in high school. I had zero patience for it. Obsessively rereading messages, overanalysing every word to find some hidden meaning, wondering, Does he actually like me? Honestly, I’m exhausted just thinking about it. And on top of that, I’m beyond grateful that I didn’t have to deal with any of it in the era of smartphones, social media, selfies, apps, and so on. So much angst. I guess playlists are the new mixtapes. It's certainly easier. I continue to really like the atmosphere, it feels very grounded. And although I like Fou4Mod, I adore Baabin, so I'm not a huge fan of the way Fou4Mod is using him to make Chian jealous. Like since he's his bestie, he could've at least been honest. I'm sure he'd be on board. And I know he's gotta learn this for himself but, Fou4Mod, sweetie, this is a terrible idea. You are going to be crying a lot on that train in the future. But, I mean, who hasn't done that before?

Perfect 10 Liners Episode 17

I got YothaGun and PondSand. What a joy! I really could watch Perth do anything but seeing him being the biggest love sick puppy is a special treat. Faifa seems to have a bit of a savior complex, which we kinda knew but it's pretty obvious now. I love characters that hide their pain behind a smile, and he's so kind on top of that, so of course I love him. I also liked that he noticed Wine's overall mood and checked in with him about boundaries. I'm hoping Wine can break some of his walls and perhaps teach him the word 'NO.' I'm thinking maybe we won't get a side couple this time because we have enough couples to check in with, in between FaifaWine stuff, but we'll see.

The Boy Next World Episode 7

First of all, it was great to see Thorn/Tong again, I keep forgetting this is part of the TharnType Universe. As I said last week, BossNouel can bring it in those scenes, but I still feel like I'm watching RainPhayu. Now Cir, you had to see this coming, no? I mean you only had like a million chances to come clean. I feel bad for Phu, but I gotta say, last week I thought he might have an inkling about this, but maybe not?Now…for that ending and the preview. So not multiple universes, but something else is going on. He's dissociating. I'm intrigued and worried if they will land this part of the story. It seems we'll be getting our beloved amnesia trope and I'm so excited about it. Honestly I was thinking maybe he doesn't really have amnesia and he's faking, but wouldn't that be a bit much, all things considered? I mean, they’re going to end up together, so I’d really love to not completely despise Cir by then. The second half of the episode was strange though, pace wise. It felt a bit disconnected, and rushed. Part of it might be intentional, given Phu's state of mind, but it still felt weird to me. The sides are kinda cute, although I must admit, Wim gets on my nerves a bit. That dude must end each day with a tension headache. Like seriously, he's so tense it makes me stressed. And also, why is he so annoyed by Jin?, cause like he listed a bunch of stuff but honestly I don't see it. Wim needs to forget about Cir for 5 seconds and focus on something else. This animosity feels a bit forced.

Sangmin Dinneaw Episode 8 [Finale]

I honestly don’t even know where to start. I’ve come to expect a certain level of whiplash from this show, but this was on an entirely different level. We went from child abuse and murder plot straight into that cucumber scene. I can’t even begin to imagine the thought process behind it. This was a roller-coaster, and not in a good way. That said, at least we finally got a storyline where a guy gets revenge on his abusive parents, so that wasn’t terrible. But the fact that the hotel dude didn't get run over is unfortunate. Now that it’s over, I genuinely don’t know what to say. The main couple was cute enough, and the sides were decent, but overall, this whole thing was a mess. Honestly, the ending was the only part that felt even remotely normal. And still I'm not sure about the amnesia. But who cares? Most of this makes no sense and I'm not gonna waste any more time trying to figure it out.

[chaifootsteps]

hard agree that Stolas is worse - tbh I think it's the self-delusional victim complex that makes Stolas feel worse than Stella

when Stella hurts someone, she does it on purpose and would crow about it. the only exceptions are probably imps who she hurts because she sees them as beneath her and like furniture - that's the closest she gets to Stolas' brand of ignorance and malic.

meanwhile when Stolas hurts someone, either no he didn't or he didn't mean to or whoever he hurt just doesn't understand whatever thing totally lets him off the hook. On top of the sexual abuse that he can only admit to in brief moments (then immediately act shocked when anyone gets mad at him for it), there's such a disconnect in terms of how he seems to see himself as this kind guy who's trying his best and so put upon by the world (and is such a good ally to the lower classes, you guys), and who cries and assumes as long as his feelings are hurt whoever called him out is in the wrong.

knowing someone like Stella in real life wouldn't be pleasant, but she owns her cattiness and enjoys it. she might even probably be good company if you had a bad ex and needed someone to rag on them with

meanwhile knowing someone like Stolas in real life would just be nonstop disappointment, confusion and the frustration of trying to have the basic respect of being seen like a person.

it'd be having someone act nice and then continually let you down and when it's pointed out, they either promise to change and don't or get mad and deny they ever did anything wrong (and then don't change). a real life Stolas would probably have a long string of people not in his life anymore who all have stories about how he screwed them over but none of them feel like they can talk about it except to each other because Stolas has such a sensitive, nice veneer. and that's not even getting into the number of times an IRL Stolas would push someone's boundaries and then refuse to own up to it

I feel like it definitely says something that Stella, as abrasive and catty as she can be, frequently enjoys tea parties and throwing regular parties and has many, many friends. She's exactly who she is and hides literally nothing, holds nothing back, even when it would be to her advantage to do so.

Stolas will hurt you and try to make you believe it's your fault, and that's insidious and scary.

[quenthel]

that was in some gale stan's bio too... like thats painting a very grim picture ngl...

[pirateshelly]

While I very much do think Lestat is an extremely enjoyable/interesting/entertaining character (he's probably my least favorite in the show but that's entirely a me thing and it doesn't mean I dislike him he's just not a particular character type that tends to grab me!) I simply cannot imagine watching all of season 2 (which I personally enjoyed even more than season 1) and being like "this is really suffering from a lack of lestat". It just does not compute. My love for Louis and Claudia and Armand is simply so all encompassing that my brain just short circuits at the idea of watching them on screen and thinking "hmm this is fine I guess but what if lestat was here right now?"

And I am 100% looking forward to season 3 because I still do very much enjoy him as a character, and Louis and Armand and Daniel are still no doubt going to have solid roles even if it's a very Lestat focused season. But the thing that confuses and vexes me is when people (like a LOT of professional reviewers) act like he's THEE main draw and that the others simply aren't enough to hold the show up without him

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses part 5: complexes

Note: this is jokes!! Please don’t take my cartoon pathologizing too seriously!

cw: some daddy kink level stuff

Gaz has a soft spot for girls who suffer from oldest sister syndrome. Girls that are a little world weary and too grown up at too young an age from caring for others while not having people to rely on. He just loves how pleasantly surprised you are literally every time he does something helpful that you didn’t ask him to do. Doing the dishes. Spackling that hole from the picture you took down. Refilling the air in the tires. Bleaching the bathtub. Very small things— but you’re so used to being the only one who can stay on top of things. Literally the high he gets from telling you to sit down and relax is unparalleled.

Soap is, quite frankly, into girls who grew up thinking they were ugly. It’s a terribly selfish, but he likes telling you all of the dirty things he thinks of doing to you, how he feels like someone’s knocked him upside the head when you enter a room in a new outfit, how he has to take a cold shower every time you’re going out to some event and he gets to see you dressed up. Honestly, he has to take the cold showers pretty regularly. Seeing how you’re flustered, and you don’t 100% believe the things he says— so he has to put in the time to make you believe him. You’re the kind of girl boys would dare each other to ask out in middle school, and now Soap has the absolute pleasure of convincing you that sometimes you make him so turned on that he thinks he’s about to throw up.

Ghost likes outcast girls. He likes how you eye him with a little bit of suspicion when he chooses to hang around you. He sort of gets this idea in his head that he’s the only one that can handle your eccentricities— handle you. That other people are afraid to approach you but he’s not afraid of anything. That his interest in you is because honestly, he has a much more refined palate than any of the shitheads you’re surrounded by. And you know what? He likes the idea of you as a couple being the scary, freak ass couple. Two lone wolves becoming mates.

Price likes former gifted students. He loves that you’re talented and quick, yes, but he also can’t help but get excited by all of that pressure that’s on you— that you put on yourself. He gets to be the one that relieves it. He’s the one that gets to lavish you in praise, and he’s also the one who gets to pin you down and force you to take it easy for a little while. He loves gently handling any mistakes or missteps, rationally perceived or otherwise. Because he can tell no one’s ever bothered to treat you so gently, have they, sweetheart? They’ve just been content to push you to your limits and have you run yourself ragged because you’re special. You are, he won’t deny it— but you’re also a little thing that hasn’t seen enough nurturing, in his eyes.

König loves so called “high maintenance” girls. Girls with high standards who know what they want, who have gone through some partners that couldn’t take the heat. He gets a very unique sense of control out of it— knowing all of your rules, rituals, likes, dislikes. Like Ghost, he likes thinking of himself as the only person who knows how to handle you— that everyone before him has just been unworthy of you. That he is strong where others have been weak. And you know what? It’s not rotten work. Not to him. Not if it’s you. He’s just built different.

Nikolai… I’m just going to say it. He likes girls with daddy issues. He kinda throws his whole self into relationships at times, and he likes it when he can be your everything. Your love, your friend, your hero, your source of approval from an older man. And he loves a brat. Because he knows you only act that way because someone didn’t pay attention to his special girl in the past. You’re testing him— daring him, unsheathing your claws to see if he’ll flinch and he never will. He’ll endure it all and chip at your defenses until you’re the soft, satisfied, sweet girl he knows you really want to be. Lavishing you with praise and attention, bragging about you to anyone who will listen. He wants you to have a complete breakdown because you’ve been holding it all in and putting up walls for so long that you don’t even know how to cope with being in the arms of someone who will always catch you when you fall.

[demonic0angel]

Phantom Family (In Uniform)

My headcanons for when the Phantoms are in costume and working with other DC heroes :3 (click for clarity)

All four of them work separately, but team up whenever there is a world-ending crisis in their universe or in the DC world (where they’re currently staying). Cue shenanigans bc they’ve been gaining the trust and love of people around them who had no idea they were siblings??? (The Batfam feel a strange sense of deja vu)

More notes:

+ Danny joins the JL, Jazz joins Jason's gang as his assistant, Dani joins Young Justice, and Dan is a loner who only works with Nightwing.

+ Danny is named Phantom, Jazz is named Wolf, Dani is named Spirit, and Dan is named Wraith, named for multiple reasons.

+ In my hcs, the DP world and the DC world are separate, and the DP characters go to the DCU for various reasons. Ofc, these makes people from both worlds slightly different from one another via genetic makeup, culture, politics, etc.

+ Jazz was the first to arrive and she mainly wanted to study and practice her fields at Arkham Asylum. However, she got bored and decided to join Jason’s gang as his assistant before quickly earning his trust and then accidentally gaining more power within the gang. Dani came next and asked to join Young Justice. She was accepted and thus became friends with everyone there. Dan was next, but he thought he got the wrong universe and wasn’t able to contact anyone for awhile. He met Nightwing, and after being interested in his innate goodness, decided to stay around him and continue bothering him, eventually resulting in a genuine relationship where he strives to become better. Danny came last and asked to join the Justice League, which they allowed after awhile as he proved himself, eventually becoming one of the top hitters and most powerful members.

+ Danny’s relationship with the JL was cold at first because his arrival was unprecedented and he was considered an unknown. Eventually, they started realizing that he was chill, but it took a long time before anyone could even trust him since he wasn’t really a team player. At some point, Batman was able to get his identity out of him, and after realizing that he was genuinely young, Batman softened and everyone started trusting and befriending him slowly.

+ Jazz’s relationship with Jason was stilted at first bc Jazz was lowkey suspicious and Jason didn’t trust her. After a while, she proved herself to him and helped him a lot, so they began developing a friendship and eventually, she gained the trust and loyalty of everyone around her. She and Jason have a great but complex relationship with the only hurdle being their secret identities. Both of them have an irrational fear of rejection from the other, so they go out of their way to avoid finding each other’s identities (even if it would be really easy for both of them) which has resulted in a lot of frustration and slow burn.

+ Dani’s relationship with Young Justice started out a little awkward, but her personality and charm won them over and with her assistance towards Secret, she was able to integrate herself into the group easily. She’s considered the newest, so they kind of treat her as the baby, but after a lot of crazy adventures, they trust her with the spiritual and supernatural stuff.

+ Dan’s relationship with Nightwing started out as extremely hostile since Nightwing took no chances and almost immediately wanted to attack him. Dan had no problem with this and often provoked him, but was too powerful to be fought off, only leaving whenever he wanted, which resulted in a lot of frustration and anger. As time passed, Dan made himself into a neutral force in Bludhaven as someone who would not kill others, but would not help unless it was Nightwing asking. He wore down Nightwing enough by popping up for more fights that eventually, Nightwing just lowkey teamed up with him until he was accidentally established as his partner.

+ Danny has both his job of being hero and of being the High King of the Infinite Realms. He balances it out pretty well, since JL is also rather flexible. Jazz has both her job of being Jason’s assistant and of being a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. She cannot sleep well so she has a bad habit of overworking herself until she drops, but Jason convinced her to sleep in his office at times. Dani has no jobs and only studies or has fun whenever she’s not out and about as a hero. Dan has a bunch of random jobs whenever he’s not flirting with Nightwing, so he can be seen as a bartender, a babysitter, an accountant, a barista, an artist, etc.

+ At some point, they all meet and everyone looks at them like 😟😦😦 bc WHO WAS GONNA TELL THEM THAT 4 PEOPLE WHO ARE STATIONED SUSPICIOUSLY NEAR THE MOST IMPORTANT PLACES WITH PEOPLE WHO CAN BE CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS ARE ACTUALLY SIBLINGS????

[hexhomos]

Dropping into the Mel convo to add that I don't see how the stans that erase/ignore the Things She Actually Does And Says and claim she was just helping Jayce out of the goodness of her heart can claim that anyone pointing out that she's a billionaire imperialist who manipulated him for her own gain is racist when THEY'RE the ones claiming she spent all of season 1 helping a nonblack man for. idk. reasons. Why is it "better" for her to be a Black woman who supported a man and asked for nothing in return...?

That reading of her makes everything with her mother make no sense. Is she like, just mad her mom is interfering with her ability to Support and Love Jayce? Lmao.

The reading that the text and the inherent set up of the politics of Piltover/Zaun supports is a complex woman with her own personal motivations, wanting to live up to the image of the family she believes shunned her on her own (nonviolent) terms, using the craft of social engineering (manipulation, etc) within the political and economic sphere rather than through weaponry and warfare. She starts to shift due to growing some actual attachment to Jayce, but it's not a perfect switch flip, and then her mother arriving forces Mel to contend with what she had actually been doing by "preparing" the city for her family.

That's infinitely more interesting than "oh she just helped this guy out of the kindness of her pure heart and because he's hot" and also has canonical basis that can be pointed to In The Text. That's a complicated, multifaceted character. The fanon Mel who just helped Jayce because she's a good person is a flat, tired trope.

And personally, I find people who "love" characters but have completely inaccurate readings of them to be far more annoying than people who "hate" characters but understand them perfectly. Love/hate is just a matter of taste. If someone can spend time honestly analyzing a character, that's more important than ten thousand blandly positive comments or tweeted out fanfictions dressed up as appreciation.

Paragraph #2 on this actually blindsided me like I could kiss you on the cheek (consensually) rn I've never been able to properly articulate WHY the take rankled me so much even when I tried to see it from a completely best-possible-intentions perspective. And this gets it. It's like you're not even flattening her into a girlboss caricature, it's worse, you're actually making her a 2D saccharine pastry servant with no will of her own except furthering some man's narrative as his mommy and denying the one massive, defining character conflict Mel has in the entire show: she is her mother's daughter! She IS a wolf in sheepskin!

When you have all this power, all this privilege and resources at your disposal from day 1, and you choose to look the other way - what happens then? Is this really being kinder than her mother? Is this being merciful, or just prolonging a sort of system-wide torture? It's absolutely relevant to how we see kid-Mel in that flashback from s1 too. Her idea of mercy and salvation from her mother's more violent ends is to enslave someone. She puts it in gentle terms and dresses it up fancily as a beneficial thing to both parties, but that is what she is proposing, in the context of the Noxus' hostile invasion of Ionia; they'd chain that princess and mold her in training until she became an useful asset in their service. Is that kindness? Is that good? I don't think Mel is able to answer to this even in her big age during season 1.

She certainly thinks it could be, when compared to death, but it's also a lie she tells herself while she ignores the rest of the world and the place she holds within it. Mel hates getting her hands dirty, because she's never /had/ to do that to enjoy the brilliant spoils of success; her mother loves her enough to make sure she could avoid the bloodshed. She carries the strategist's fallacy of thinking whole wars and countries can be managed from the privileged seats up top, out of touch with the blood and gristle. From up there, when people die you don't see it. You can mark the numbers off as necessary collateral damage in the path to Exponential Growth.

The core assumption that has always bothered me is defining this as 'kindness' without actually examining what it says about her character and the story. She was created that way for a reason. She was clothed in this way for a reason. The first fact we learn about Mel in the first episode she appears in is that she is the richest person in the entire city, and then there is a 10 year timeskip, and she hasn't truly done anything to address or prop up the undercity at all (they are ONE city too, under her own philosophy; Zaun is only a separate entity in the mouths of the zaunites who want freedom.) In that context, when her goal of statecraft clearly is to continue advancing Piltover as much as it can be advanced and do nothing about the screaming bleeding diseased dying hordes below the bowels of her capital - is that goodness? Is that really better than mother? I think Mel's arc is about finding out really quickly and really horrifically that it isn't, and that she played a big part in making a lot of things worse.

It's not that she failed at her job, it's quite the opposite. She succeeded in her mission so incredibly well her mother could swoop into power in a single day and then put another hundred necks to the blade, no sweat, and Mel has to reckon with what that says about her, and what she thought of herself. The power she has obviously always had and never sought to use as it Should have been used.

The idealistic future-path here is that now in full control of her Mother's armies, she's returning to Noxus to challenge the predatory system it perpetuates on a world scale, but only god knows what we'll see come January. And all of this is infinitely more interesting to me than docile fandomized ship accessory n.9999

[poemfortheprinz]

bumper sticker that just says “i have strong opinions on the tiktokification of will wood”

[poltoreveur]

Seduction by the Shores

Pairing: Luke Castellan x GN!Reader (implied pussy lol)

Warning: NSFW, set before tlt, smut, PWP, piv, semi-public sex, doing it on the wet ground, dom!Luke to slightly sub!Luke and back to soft dom!Luke, choking, going in raw and creampie (wrap it before you tap it!), slight aftercare.

Word count: 5.3k+ (I got carried away).

A/N: In the wise of SZA, “now I’m ovulating and I need rough sex.” So I'm back again with another fic. Weirdly enough, I reappeared last year just to write a smut fic and leave (oops). I usually have a summary for this, but this is just pure smut.

Edit A/N: Partial credits to supercutsszn (details on why in comments)

!Not readproof! I’m too lazy to reread my own writing.

Everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood. Handsome, generous, and kind. Helps out the new kids. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. You’d even love Luke if you didn’t know better. Maybe you did anyway.

But you've always known there's more to him than his charming exterior. You've seen his eyes change like they're hiding something. That shift happens mostly when his father is mentioned, and he tense up. You've tried to avoid him, but he always seems to find you. One night, he caught you by the lake, his eyes kind but troubled. "I'm guessing you're not having a great night."

For all his charm and charisma, Luke Castellan is more than just the beloved golden boy of Camp Half-Blood; he's a human being with a complex inner world, one that's filled with secrets and conflicts. Despite his best efforts to hide it, at times, his inner struggles emerge, leaving you to wonder just how much more there might be to Luke than meets the eye.

You glanced over at him watching him approach you but kept your quiet. Luke sits down next to you, close, but not touching.

Luke looks at you, waiting for a comment or an explanation. The lake is beautiful, shining in the moonlight. It's actually quite a lovely scene, he's not sure why you'd be miserable here. He has this habit of looking at you without actually looking at you, somehow making it feel more personal.

"I could help with that, you know? Make your night a little more fun."

"Don't start with me, Castellan." You simply commented, rolling your eyes as your gaze stayed staring at the lake.

You can't tell if he smiles or not, but he laughs before speaking. It's actually just adorable when his lips curl up. Luke leans closer, not much. Just enough to make you a little anxious.

"How was I starting anything? I was trying to brighten your mood. I bet I could help."

Something comes into his eyes, a darkness.

His voice is still the smiling flirty guy that everyone loves, but his tone changes a little.

"Besides... you look so miserable. I've always been really good at fixing people's moods. It's one of my best qualities."

He leans a little closer than before. Close enough that you can smell the honey, citrus scent coming from his cologne. You're not sure if he does that intentionally, but he's quite close now.

"Come on now, you know you can tell me. Maybe I could put a smile on that pretty little face."

"You could, but I might have to kill you after." That made him smirk. The way he's looking at you... Oh Gods.

"You can try, you know I'd get you right before you got me, though. I'm too quick." He grinned. He was flirting, he always flirted, but there was something else in his eyes. Something darker.

"Come on, what could be so serious?"

“Not gonna talk it out of me, Castellan." You closed your eyes before lying down on the ground. The ground was damp but it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience, finding comfort just lying there.

He smiles and lies down right next to you.

Too close now, too close. You're practically on top of each other but he doesn't pull away.

The grass is very green, the lake is a beautiful dark blue. It's actually quite peaceful here. The air is still but not too cold.

"You're too stubborn sometimes. Why won't you tell me?" His hand brushes her hair absentmindedly. "You can talk to me, even if you don't want to."

"I feel like if someone doesn't want to, they won't talk." You pointed out the obvious, slowly glancing up at him again.

Luke smiles, his hand resting on your head now. He's actually being surprisingly gentle.

His eyes are so hypnotic in this light. His voice grows softer, a hint of that darkness in it still. “I like to make people change their minds. You would talk if I got you into the right mood."

"Not gonna happen."

"Really now?" He leans in just close enough to almost kiss you. He's still smiling, his voice a little bit softer, a little bit more husky.

"You're stubborn." He said, lightly tapping your nose. "I'm stubborn. We can stay like this all night if you want. But I'll stay here to remind you that I care."

Luke pulls back again, smiling at you. He gets a little bit closer though, until his face is mere inches away from yours. He tilts his head at just the right angle to catch the moonlight coming off his blue eyes.

"Think about that." Luke looked into her eyes for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, placing his hand on your head and kissed your forehead.

"Just a reminder."

Luke pulls away and sits up. His hands are resting on his legs now, and he's looking up at the moon.

"What do you think about the sky, you know? The stars. It's quite beautiful. Makes you think about things. Life's so short. Maybe you should do the things you want to do, while you can." Luke chuckles, sitting back down and looking up at the sky. He looks at you for a second, then looks away.

The air is thick with tension. Luke looks at you over his shoulder, with kind of a half smile on his face. His eyes are still that darker colour, but they're softer now. You're not sure why it's so tempting to lay your head on his shoulder.

"The sky is beautiful. You know, most demigods think of it as a symbol of the gods, right? But I've always thought of it as... freedom. I mean, who cares what the gods think?" He said, looking back at you.

"The sky makes me feel free. I'll look at it sometimes when I'm feeling trapped, you know." He glances back at you, expecting an input.

"You think the gods are looking down at us from the sky?"

He laughs a bit, turning back to the sky and looking at it.

"I don't know, maybe? But even so, why should we care if they are or not? I don't get what all the fuss is about the gods, why do so many people at camp obsess over their opinions so much? They're just like any other person, except they have a little more power. They don't really care about us, if they did, then we wouldn't be the ones doing all the important stuff."

“I mean, they say that Jesus is always looking down on us, do you think they meant the sky?”

He laughs again, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

"You're really not going to let me distract you from whatever's bothering you, are you? Even when I'm trying really hard." There's another hint of that darkness in his eyes.

"I don't want to think about it, I just wanna lay down and have a relaxing moment to myself, but I'd rather it not be on this damp ground." He knows how stubborn you are. Instead, he smiled and scooted closer.

He's so close to you now, his body is close to yours and he can feel your breath. He just stares up at the sky.

"Where else?" He looks into your eyes. He's enjoying this. You’re falling for this. He smiles. "The lake sounds pretty lovely to me."

"It's wet here."

The darkness in his eyes is getting stronger. His voice is growing husky again, the way you like it.

He can’t help it, Luke leans closer again. He wants the intimacy between you. There is a subtle change in his eyes. He stares at you, and now his hand is brushing your leg.

His voice is low and rough and seductive. “The lake is fine. I prefer it, even. It’s the perfect place for us.”

A hint of a smirk rises from his lip. He knows how much he affects you. You both know exactly what he’s trying to do, and you both want to do it, but he will not let you think you have any control over this situation, he’s always in control.

He leans towards you again, his hand moving further up your leg.

"Castellan." His name came out of your lips like a warning but you said it softly enough for him.

The smirk slowly rises on his lip, and he whispers.

"What, love?" His hand keeps creeping up your leg, his voice sounding almost like a growl. It's such a change from the charming guy you know, and it's so tempting, yet so unsettling. He stares at you, waiting for a response, waiting to see what you'll do.

You can almost feel the dark energy coming off him. His presence is just so dominating right now, he wants this. He is getting closer and closer until he's practically lying on top of you. He's not looking at you anymore, he's just looking down at his hand which is resting just below your thigh. It is not moving up, but you can feel the tension.

He leans up, his eyes searching yours. You can tell that he wants something more than just a little flirting. He wants to see how far he can take this. Luke's hands are going up even higher, brushing her thighs now. He's so close now, you can feel his breath brushing your neck.

The tension builds more and more. He is so close to just taking you right here. You can feel him starting to move his hands to the sides of your back, to the small of your back. He wants this, and he can't help but try. The darkness in his eyes is getting more potent, as his breathing gets heavier and heavier.

He leans in closer, his mouth less than a few inches away from your neck. You can feel his breath. He's waiting. That anticipation, that temptation, is just so intoxicating and it's making him crazy.

The darkness of his eyes fades away as he finally makes a move. His lips come closer, so close, until they just touch, making a soft clicking sound. His eyes close, and his lips finally meet yours, his lips opening slightly to let the kiss linger longer until he pulls back and leans towards your ear.

It was such a soft kiss, nothing more than his lips barely grazing yours. But the heat between them builds when his eyes reopen. He pulls away just barely speaking.

"Castellan."

Your voice is so low, so quiet, and yet so alluring. Luke’s breathing starts to speed up, and his grin gets wider.

He looks down at her with the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. His voice is low. "Luke." He corrected.

You only called him by his first name, whenever you’re gonna or when you’re doing it. He was certain you’ve been deliberately conditioning him with it.

Luke's movements slow, his body unweights your body.

His eyes are dark. A little bit too dark. He seems less sure of himself now. Still, Luke's hand is sliding up your thigh. Closer to what he wants.

He's so close to you now. He's moving his hand up and down your leg. Slowly. Almost teasingly. His voice is barely a whisper.

He quickly took the initiative by kissing you aggressively. But somehow your hands making their way to the back of his neck and into his hair.

His tongue flicks into your mouth as his hands grip your thighs, he squeezes tighter. Luke’s breath comes out in short little moans.

Luke is on a whole different level now. He's enjoying this more and more. His eyes are closed as he kisses you deeper. His hands move further up your thighs. This is going exactly how he wanted it to. He's got you completely trapped and submissive at this point and he knows it. He opens one eye and looks at you.

"Do you want me?" He asks, his voice dark and smooth. He's holding himself just on the edge. Right where he wants to be. He stares into her deep sapphire eyes, waiting for an answer. It's a dark question, but he wants to hear it from you.

You simply smirk at his question. You knew that he wanted you to say it, your admission is everything to him. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction as you pulled him closer and just started kissing him again, slowly, biting down on his lower lip.

He groans and then laughs quietly. You weren’t giving him the words he wanted to hear. That was fine. He was going to make you say it.

He kisses you back, harder, faster. His hands are moving under your shirt, tracing the curves of your back and waist.

Luke leans back, his forehead leaning on you. Your breaths are coming faster and faster. Your lips touch when you kiss. He is in complete control over you right now, and he likes that. "You want me? Say it."

"I'm not giving you that power." Your hands travelled down his shirt and slowly went underneath it, feeling the tone of his abs.

His body is still now, but you can feel his muscles tensing as you move your hands.

It's like you're pressing switches that turn a machine on. A low groan escapes his mouth, as his breath quickens again. His eyes close tight as he tries to resist the urge.

His breath hitches in his throat, but you probably doesn't notice that for a moment. His eyes snap open when he can't fight it and he stares at you, waiting for you to admit it.

He's the only person at camp who actually has this level of control. He pushes you back down, his hands going down to your waist now. His breath is almost like a growl at this point. It's pure pleasure to hear that he still has complete control over uou. His voice is soft in your ear now. "Please."

You chuckled and moved down to his neck to kiss it.

Luke tenses again. His neck is his weakness.

He always liked to be in control, and his neck feels like it gives him away. He likes that you found this. "Please." His voice is low but pleading. They both know that he is very much begging you to say it now as his neck is being kissed aggressively.

Luke gasps as you continue trailing kisses down his neck. He tenses again. His breath is heavy in his throat.

The sound alone is like music to your ears. His hands are still at your waist, squeezing a little harder. He likes the feeling of you pulling at his shirt, but he tries to still keep himself on. "Please." His voice had the sound of urgency, almost begging now as his eyes dart to yours.

"I like it when you beg."

That wasn’t exactly what he wanted you to say but his body responds to your voice. His breath catches in his throat again and he arches back against your body. His eyes roll back and another low groan escapes his lips. One of his hands moves up to your neck as he pins you down against him, and starts dragging his hand down your back.

"You'll have to earn that," you purred, licking a trail along his neck that made his gut twist taut.

Luke's body moves away from you. His breath comes out in short but heavy breaths, he arches his back and lets out a deep grunt of pleasure. "I can earn it." He pushes you back down now.

He is taking control again. He kisses your neck passionately, his lips against your neck, his breath almost like a growling moan against your skin. He is moving slowly around your neck now as if he's exploring.

He positioned himself between your thighs. One hand supported your back, while the other fumbled to unclasp his belt.

It was difficult to recall how he'd ever got aroused before you came along. The way you both demanded and begged all at once sent his brain spinning.

Luke's hand is fumbling with his belt, it's not coming undone though. Like him, he's lost control. He's lost control over you, over himself, he never loses control. Maybe that is why he's enjoying this so much. Your presence and your kisses have turned him completely into someone else, someone whose only thoughts are pleasure. He leans forward again, kissing your neck passionately yet again. His breath is coming fast but heavy now. He's completely and utterly obsessed with the feeling.

You smirk before your hand slowly starts to help him undo his belt as well as unbutton his pants.

His head arches back slightly and he lets out a low groan again. "Yes..." He whispers softly. His breath is heavy in his throat. He takes a look down and is startled to see she is helping him undo his belt. Now he is almost completely submissive to you. You’re the one in charge now, completely at your whim. All he wants is you.

"Say please," you whispered, nipping his lower lip as he pulled your pants hastily down to your ankles, impatient as he is, he moved your soaked underwear to the side. “I like it when you ask nicely."

Luke is almost embarrassed. He has never been this submissive before. He always thought he’d be in complete control at all times. But you had to take control away from him and he doesn’t even mind. “Please…” His voice is soft, begging for you now. He looks down at you now, wanting you to reply. He wants to give up all control to you. All he wants now is your eternal pleasure.

You simpered before kissing him, your tongue eagerly seeking his.

You swallowed his moan as he hurried to himself free from the restraints of his boxers. He couldn’t wait anymore, he pushed himself into you. Tight, hot, and quivering as he gave you everything he had. He loosely wrapped his fingers around your throat, and you whined against his mouth, my head tilting back as my eyes fluttered shut. He tightened his grip, your own hands scrambling at his waist to encourage him deeper.

This is more pleasure than he has ever felt. The feeling of being completely submissive is a thrill that he had never felt before. He loves being at the complete mercy of someone else. Luke pulls you closer to him, arching his back again and letting out low grunts into your mouth. He holds your neck and he pulls back, looking down at you. His breath is heavy in your ear, his eyes closed tight. “You have… complete control.”

He was completely lost now. All he could hear was her begging now. All of his focus was on you now, he was consumed by you. Your hands around his waist, his mouth kissing yours passionately, your bodies moving in perfect sync with each other. His breathing grew heavier as the pace grew faster. His hand tightened on your throat, as if by instinct, but still gentle.

Luke’s breathing was heavy, his body tense and quivering. His breath was all he could hear now. Every time he moved forward, you moved her body and his would follow, and vice versa. You both lost yourselves more and more in a world where nothing mattered but you and the feeling you could give him. His breath caught in his throat, it came out in moans of pleasure. His hand was tight around your neck, but you could feel the soft grip of it.

You close your eyes in the pleasure of everything.

Everything around you felt a little fuzzy even your vision as you threw your head back while still trying to keep your hands on his waist, but you didn’t think you could hold on much longer as you gripped on his way, slowly started to falter.

The pace was getting faster now. His breath was coming faster and heavier now. “Hey, stay with me…” He whispered. It was so close. He was so close.

His body shakes uncontrollably. Every nerve in his body was tingling with pleasure. His grip on your neck tightened slightly as you moved faster and faster. His breath was coming out in short little exhales. His eyes are closed tight, his whole body quivering. All he can hear is your breath and soft moans, which are getting louder now.

He is so close, but he doesn’t want to finish right now. He wants to drag it out for you. He wants you to experience more of this. His grip tightens again, but still gently. His breathing is coming out in short little gasps now. Every fibre of Luke’s being was consumed with you and this pleasure.

You keep going, your bodies moving together, the pace has reached its peak now. His breath is short and loud now, his grip is tighter on you but not harsh.

He pulled you closer by your waist with one arm, maintaining his grip on your neck with the other, aligning me to accommodate all of him. With each thrust, I bit down on the flesh of his shoulder as his whole body tensed and his breath caught in his throat. His body shudders, and his entire body shakes with the pleasure. His hand is now tight around your neck, as he hits the peak of pleasure now. His breathing comes out in the slightest groan of satisfaction as your bodies combine together in one last movement.

Luke is shaking by this point. His breathing is deep now and his whole body is a quivering mess. Your touch is the most intense feeling he’s ever had. The pace was steady now and the feeling had only gotten more intense. The feeling of your hands around his waist, as you move with him. Your eyes looking into him. His body is twitching and tense, his breath is sharp and loud now. He can almost feel what you’re feeling as you move together.

“Luke, I’m—“

“Don’t stop.” He whispered in your ear. He was so close. His whole body was tense and she could feel the vibrations of his breath. Your touch was all he was thinking about now. He was in complete control for the first time in a long time. He was in complete control of your pleasure. Your breathing became louder, and he knew you were close to your climax too. You could feel the vibrations of his breath as you got closer and closer.

Luke’s body is shaking uncontrollably now. The grip around your neck is the tightest it’s been all night, but still gentle. His breath is coming out in loud sharp gasps now, his body twitching like crazy. Your body is twitching with his, the both of you moving at your own pace.

His grip is tightening even more as he feels the buildup of energy in her body. His breathing is like a growl now. He has completely lost control again, you were the one in control. You were the one making the pace. Now he just wants to hear you finally call out to him, call out to him that you’re almost there. Your body is the only one he feels now. You, your breathing, your motions. You are all he feels. He wants you to let go of it all, he wants you to call to him. He could feel you getting closer and closer.

“I swear to the Gods, Luke. I’m gonna—“ You finally mumbled his name again, but it came out breathless as you tried to hold onto him. You were practically clinging onto him for dear life. He could feel you clenching inside around him. Which almost made him lose control, he would’ve given up at that very moment if it wasn’t for your voice grounding him.

Your voice is like music to his ears. It’s all he wanted to hear. He was holding on to you tightly as the both of you were so close to the end. You calling out to him sends waves through his body, but he is losing even more control of himself. Your calling out to him only sends him further into the pleasure. His grip around your neck tightens even more, as he pulls you closer, his forehead coming to rest on yours.

Both of you are extremely close and are moving together at the same pace. He can feel your breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. You both move together like there is only one body moving. You both have reached your peak now and are moving like machines now. The pace is too much, you calling out to him is too much.

Your breathing is his breath. Your heartbeat is his heartbeat. The pace has built to its peak and it’s pushing you both to the end. Luke is so close to the end now, he is feeling what you’re feeling. You both finally are at the absolute peak of pleasure. You both reach their finale simultaneously. Your bodies shake uncontrollably and his grip is the tightest it has been all night as he lets everything out at once.

He came inside of you, his groaning was the only warning as you felt him shoot up his release.

He nuzzled right up against you, wrapping his arm around your waist. He was still slowly thrusting inside, just warm white liquid started spilling out of you.

Both of their breathing settles down and their bodies relax. Luke is out of his trance now, his breathing is coming out heavy but no longer is it an animalistic growl. He’s calm now, but satisfied. The whole night had been a thrill for him. It was exactly what he wanted: someone to take complete control of him, which he didn’t even know he wanted. His grip around your neck loosens and he pulls away from you.

Luke finally finds himself again. He is looking right into her eyes and his voice is low but soft. He is looking right into her eyes and he gives a small grin. “It’s okay, I got you.” He mumbles, nuzzling his head right into her neck. “Don’t worry.”

He kisses your neck softly again, but his breathing is normal now. He isn’t losing control anymore. He was now just content with your presence. He snuggles closer to you, his voice is soft and the glow of his eyes is different than before. He is relaxed, calm, and content.

“Are you alright?” Luke thought he might’ve been too hard with the choking earlier, but based on your expression, he didn’t really have anything much to worry about.

Luke was content. His body movements were slow and smooth now. He had complete control of himself now. The pace of his thrusts had slowed down but he was still inside of you. His breath was still heavy, but not because it was intense pleasure anymore. It’s just because it was comfortable. The glow in his eyes was not the same as before, his eyes were full of content and pleasure. Instead of intense pleasure, it was more like satisfaction now. His hand was still tight around your waist, and he brought his other hand up to your hand, squeezing it softly.

Luke’s breaths were coming out in slow grunts and he was keeping a pace with no intensity to it whatsoever. It felt more like he was moving in slow motion. The two of you were finally just moving together now as if you were one single person. Neither of you were looking at anything else. Nothing else mattered in this moment but this pleasure you finally felt with each other.

“I’m okay.”

It was as if his body was just flowing smoothly with you. His hand is still tight at your waist and your hand is still holding him tightly. The feeling was a complete mix of pure bliss and complete pleasure. The two of you were enjoying each other’s touch so much that nothing else mattered at all. You were just locked together, moving in an endless rhythm now.

You were still letting out heavy breaths in mere seconds, one after the other. “This is disgusting.” You motioned to the wet damp ground that you both were lying on.

He laughs at you. You both were pretty disgusting. But it’s also somewhat funny that he didn’t care, your whole bodies are soaked and sticky. Luke’s laughs are soft and low now. He lifts up one of his hands to wipe the sweat off of his brow. He looks over at the ground and laughs again as he looks back at you. He lowered himself as he planted a kiss on your forehead, his hands slowly grazing upon your cheek.

“Look at us.” He laughs silently, keeping his voice low. He chuckles a little bit, the two of you are such a mess right now.

Luke laughs a little bit more, it’s funny to him how much of a mess they both are. The ground is totally soaked and sticky as is your body and his. You both are completely covered in your own bodily fluids. It’s quite the scene to take in all at once.

Luke’s laughter dies down slightly, though it’s still somewhat there as he just chuckles at the whole situation. He looks over at you and smiles a small and soft smile at you. He shakes his head slightly, just still finding it funny. The whole scene is just utterly ridiculous and disgusting.

“You think they’ll notice us missing and coming back all sweaty and disgusting?”

He laughs again slightly and his body shakes in amusement. The thought of them both coming back to camp in this state is a funny thought to him. The two of you are covered in your own sweat and fluids, it’s not exactly a pretty sight of the two of you. So much so, that people will notice at first glance.

“Let’s wash up a little by the lake.”

He nods his head. He doesn’t even really feel that sore right now. You really were covered in so much sweat and fluids. The thought of even being around other people makes him feel awkward. Your suggestion is good though, a good old rinse-off is just what you both need right now. He pulls you off of him and sat up.

“Pull up your pants, Castellan,” I commented, looking down at him as I sat up straight, brushing off the debris on my clothes.

He is still lying at your feet. He shakes his head and he nods you off of him. He stands up slowly and he laughs at your comment. His pants actually fell down further and they are hanging around his ankles. He pulls them up and zips them up.

You were being direct, and it cracked him up a little. He is completely covered in yours and now his own juices.

“I feel sticky.”

“You think you feel sticky?” He laughs again and shakes his head. He grabs your hand and he pulls you up off of the floor and holds you close to him. He takes a quick glance around at the surroundings before looking right back at you.

“Let’s find a place where we can wash off.” He says with a smirk on his face. His body is a hot mess and he can feel every bit of it. He didn’t even believe they could get this dirty, but they did. So you need to get cleaned up now, especially before any of the other campers notice the two of you. That would be absolutely horrific.

“Nobody can find out.”

He chuckles again and he nods his head. You were absolutely right about that. Nobody can find out about this, it would be so embarrassing. You both would go down in history as a complete disgrace if anyone found out.

“God, we’re so nasty.” He muttered, leading the way towards the lake.

[mischievousmoony]

hi i saw your request were open, and i really love you’re work and i was wondering if you could do something with james where the reader talks very quickly and quietly and often is told that she needs to speak up. and james always knows what she says and its kinda just fluffy? no worries if you don’t want to write!! have an amazing night/day

- 🪷

is this my first emoji anon? 🤭 thank u love, i had a lot of fun with this request

𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚞𝚙

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: not bully per say but other students are rude, fluff

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Miss. Y/L/N, have you found a group to work with?" Professor McGonagall asks as students around you huddle in groups of four whilst you stand alone at your desk, packing your things.

You mumble a response as you stuff your books into your bag, attempting to flee the scene as fast as possible. It wasn't anything to do with Professor McGonagall, but rather the fact that you always felt a little scrutinized when talking to anyone in a position of authority.

McGonagall squints as she tries to decipher your words. She finds herself having to make a guess.

"If not, I am more than happy to assist in finding–"

"She's with us, Professor!" James jogs over, returning from enlisting members for your group. As you straighten out your leafs of parchment, James starts packing away your ink and quill for you.

"And 'us' entails?" Professor McGonagall questions.

With a casual flick of his thumb over his shoulder, James gestures to a pair of Ravenclaws standing by the door.

"Very well," McGonagall hums in approval before walking off to ensure any other stragglers have found a group before they depart.

James would prefer to have Sirius and Remus as the other half of your group, but McGonagall has permanently banned James and Sirius from working together ever since they turned a simple demonstration into their own personal stand up comedy gig, resulting in some arguably intentional mishaps in their spellwork.

You've just latched your bag closed when James takes it from you and slings it over his shoulder without giving it much thought. He’s always absentmindedly doing you little favors, like it's his second nature.

"So, Cody has nothing better to do on a Friday night, why am I not surprised?" James says teasingly. "He’s insisting we hit the library and get a head start on the project. You free right now?"

"I'm free," you confirm, looking over James' shoulder at your group mates.

You hate group projects for a multitude of reasons. At least with most Ravenclaws— especially the two you're partnered with, Cody and Isla— you don't have to worry about them not carrying their weight.

This makes your main concern having to work with people you don't know that well. All you did know about them is that they're the kind of Ravenclaws that other Ravenclaws say give them a bad rap. They have a raging superiority complex, and you’d be surprised that James is okay to work with them if you didn't know him. That boy thinks he can make a friend out of anyone, save for some rivals he has in Slytherin.

So, you’re mostly surprised that they want to work with the two of you, but that probably has something to do with James being at the top of the class. Otherwise, they wouldn't normally branch out to students outside of their house.

You suddenly feel uneasy, realizing that for this project, you’ll be the student that the others are weary of not pulling their weight. You feel your hands get clammy over the potential judgement running through Cody and Isla's heads as James leads you over to them.

"Are we going or what?" Cody asks rather unmannerly.

James opens the door for everyone, "Lead the way."

You filter out into the hallway. Soon, the four of you fall in step with each other as James throws an arm around your shoulders.

"How long are we planning to spend on this today?" Isla asks.

"Well, if we dedicate the afternoon to it, we could get all of the research out of the way in one go." Cody responds.

James meets your eye with a sideways glance, and an entire conversation is shared through a couple facial expressions.

His lips curl into a knowing half-smile, See? No plans.

Your eyes twitch with amusement before they shift toward the pair. A microscopic scrunch of your nose conveys, I don't want to spend the whole day with these people.

His face contorts, Me neither, and he shakes his head, we can't anyway.

Your head tilts curiously.

"We have plans later," James verbalizes.

"We do?"

“Sirius got his record player repaired.” James smirks, “And I may have some butterbeer and a certain record waiting for us back at my dorm.”

Your eyes widen with excitement, “James, you didn’t!”

“Oh, but I did.” James says proudly.

“Sorry,” Cody interrupts, “you can’t work on the project tonight because you have to go listen to music?” Cody asks, and the rhetoric nature and judgmental tone are lost on you.

You dive into an explanation on how it’s not just any music, but your favorite band’s brand new album. And not just that, but the limited edition record complete with bonus tracks not available anywhere else.

The record was wildly out of your budget and although record stores far and wide all received copies, they didn’t receive very many. You had accepted that you would likely never get your hands on a copy, but you hadn’t accounted for James’ readiness to move mountains at your whim.

You excitedly speak about your favorite band and everything you know about the new record, and it’s like you can’t get the words out fast enough. James listens intently, grinning widely and nodding along with your every word, interjecting occasionally with commentary of his own. You're too busy raving to notice the shared look between Cody and Isla.

"Is this supposed to be a private conversation or are we expected to understand you?" Isla sneers as the four of you reach the library doors.

James' grin falters as watches your excitement fade. You mumble out an apology, which James found completely unnecessary.

His tone flattens out from amused to deadpanned as he addresses Cody's earlier question, both to alleviate some attention from you and to deliberately ignore Isla, "We'll stay for an hour, maybe two. But after that, yeah, we're going to go listen to music with our friends."

Ever the gentleman, even when annoyed, he holds the library's door open for everyone. He eyes the back of Isla's head with offense as she passes, but his eyes soften when you walk through next.

The four of you quickly find a table, as not many are occupied to begin with.

James musters up a semblance of professionalism as he forces himself to stop glaring at Isla as she and Cody begin to discuss a plan for the project. Cody takes it upon himself to divide up areas of research without consulting the rest of the table.

"Hold on," James' brows furrow at his audacity, "What if I don't want to be in charge of researching the wand mechanics? And Y/N has an exceptional understanding of magical theory, she should be in charge of the magical formulas."

Cody and Isla's eyes fall on you and this time you don't miss their criticism.

"You have an exceptional understanding of magical theory?" Isla's face contorts into that familiar sneer.

James doesn't try to hide the way he rolls his eyes. He nudges you, "What was it you were saying earlier? The idea you had for the project?"

You gulp before you dive into an explanation. It feels like Cody and Isla were burning holes through you with their stares, so you try to distract yourself by gazing down at your hands as you them wring together.

In the middle of your explanation—

"Couldn't you at least look up so that I might have a chance at reading your lips?" Cody grumbles.

If looks could kill, James Potter would be a wanted man.

"S- sorry," you practically squeak. You do look up, but the glare on Cody's face intimidates you into mumbling even more. Even the most skilled lip reader wouldn't have a clue as to what you are saying.

"Merlin, could you just speak up?" Cody snaps his fingers in your face and your words die in your throat.

James suddenly wishes he had a beater's bat handy.

"Oi! Get your hand outta her face!" He raises his voice to levels that would surely attract Madam Pince's shushing any minute.

Cody retracts his hand but stands by his actions, "We'll hardly get anything done today if she can't even speak clearly. How do you expect me to deal with this?"

"Alright then, new plan," James says through gritted teeth. He stands abruptly, and his chair scrapes loudly across the floor as it shoved back by his sudden ascent. "The two of us will research the wand mechanics and magical formulas on our own, you two can have the rest. I'll let you know where we'll go from there next class."

James' hand finds yours in a grip that is surprisingly gentle considering the way he is currently conducting himself. He tugs on your hand, prompting you to rise from your own seat.

"You're just going to leave?" Isla asks.

At the same time, Cody protests the plan, "There's no way that I'm accepting that."

"Well, Cody, if you wanted to be in charge, then I guess you shouldn't have been such a cun–"

"James!" This time you're loud enough to speak over James' biting words.

"See you in class" are James' parting words to the very stunned Cody as he pulls you away from the scene.

Once in the hall, James can't help himself from raging over Cody's behavior.

"What a slimy git! Who does he think he is?"

You squeeze the hand that James still has wrapped around yours as he tugs you through the halls.

"James," you call gently.

"Don't know why I said yes to working with them. They basically cornered me, I'll have you know! I should've ran the other way when I saw them–"

"James," you try again, more firmly.

"Maybe if we talk to Minnie on Monday we can get our group switched. You don't suppose we can work with Sirius and Remus considering these extenuating circumstances?"

You dig your feet into the floor, "James!" you call out one last time, finally earning his attention.

James spins to face you, his hold on your hand not letting up.

"Yeah?"

"Calm down, would you?" You're voice comes out tinged with laughter.

James' troubles melt away at the sound of your laughter. His eyes search your face for any sign that it's false.

"You're not upset?" he asks, knowing you've been sensitive in the past to people's commentary on the way you talk.

"No, the look on Cody's face when we stormed away was healing enough."

This earned a laugh from James, "It was pretty satisfying."

James gives your hand another tug so that you fall into step with each other again. He only drops his hold on you to sling his arm over your shoulders.

"Dunno why people become such dunces around you." A playful smirk dances on James' lips, "Distracted by that pretty face, maybe, whereas I know how to multitask."

You shake your head at his antics, but your lips can't be stopped from curling into a grin.

"I can't deny the fact that you're the only one who seems to always hear me."

In the past, you've considered the possibility that James can always tell what you're saying because you feel more comfortable around him than anyone else, prompting you to speak more clearly. In actuality, James doesn't even need your words to know what you're thinking. He's known you for a long time, and he's spent every minute of it learning everything there is to know about you. By now, he might know you better than he knows himself.

"I guess I just might be the luckiest guy around, then, that I don't have to miss a second of your charm."

You sigh at his teasing and knock your shoulder into his, completely missing the genuine adoration in his eyes as he studies the way you smile at his words.

He can't wait to see how your smile looks when you find out that record he got you is signed.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[takes1]

final part. one night stand aftermath with needy!tsukishima

sorry for the wait :0 this is a looong one. last installment! thanks for supporting ya'll. if you want more tsukki, just let me know

warnings. nsfw. minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / counter sex / porn with plot / flirting / one night stand aftermath / trust issues!reader / needy!tsukki / timeskip!tsukki / apartment setting / communication / a deal being made / 3.1k words

links. my masterlist. [part one, part two.] more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN.

Your breath grew shallow under the weight of his hand on your upper thigh.

It was funny, your confident, split-second choice not to wear anything under your skirt this evening suddenly all you could think about.

Tiny glances. To and from the glint of his glasses in the sunset, the dashes on the road zipping by as he took you back to his place, the tendons working on the top of his hand as he squeezed your supple flesh, hungry- though his eyes gave no indication.

His car was not impressive, but it was exceptionally clean and maintained well. It helped more than anything else, more than any of his mannerisms in particular, to put you at ease.

The first and last words you had exchanged was about the music about six minutes ago. It was kept at a low enough volume to talk over, but no such conversation got off the ground. So, it was quiet and you sat alert, tummy in knots (some good, some bad) with clammy palms and a racing heart.

This state of uncertainty didn't get much better as you made your way upstairs into his apartment.

Where was the kind-of-sweet guy working part-time at the museum? Every time you met him again, it was like his personality had done a complete 180 and you needed to relearn how to talk to him.

You both stood a moment in the doorway, slipping off your shoes. He grew about four inches taller and immeasurably more imposing. You caught a tiny smirk on his jaw.

"Why wear heels?" He asked, toneless.

You squinted across the entryway, careful to not be accusatory nor provide any reference of height to boost his ego, "Because they're cute."

When you decided he was attractive that Friday night, his height was secondary.

Tsukishima lingered for a moment, a faint smile on his mouth, all wrapped up in something you said or how you said it. He shook his head and walked towards the kitchen without inviting you.

Yeah, his height was trivial compared to the complexity behind his eyes.

Again, you were left wondering what to do- you followed, of course. But it was out of hesitant assumption and not because he made it easy.

His head turned away when you entered.

You didn't have time to guess if he was waiting or not before he asked, "Would you like anything?"

It was vague, but since this was the kitchen, you settled on water.

The way he sank and slid, slow and tedious from his spot to grab you a glass made you hold yourself in doubt. But, he was smiling.

"What's so funny?" You had to ask.

Worry was apparent on your brow. He couldn't see it turned around.

"You still don't trust me, do you?"

You couldn't clean up the shock on your face before he saw it. It was exactly what he was looking for, apparently. He still thought that was funny.

You struggled to craft a response that was both articulate and true, "I guess I don't. I don't know you."

It lingered in the air for a few seconds. In fact, those seconds felt so long that you began to question your choice to come here. You thought to exactly where you put your shoes.

He looked contemplative. He crossed his arms, but not to close himself off. "But we still fucked."

You laughed at him, at the absurdity.

"I know."

You repeated, shaking your head, "I- I know. What, are you trying to guilt trip me over leaving? I know I hurt your feelings, but I don't owe you anything."

The island separating you felt bigger.

He blew a breath, brow raised. You regretted saying it that way. He just made you nervous.

But he laughed again, "Jesus, uh..." He picked up your glass and closed the distance, arm up as a little surrender to your words, "I guess you're not wrong."

He settled next to you, side flush against you when he handed you the glass.

You stared at it, tapping, and considered your options. You opened your mouth and took a breath to apologize.

"Don't say sorry," He stated. He met your eyes for a moment, then shook his head with a little smile, "I like that."

Heat crawled up your neck and inspired you to down all the water in your hands. You set the empty glass aside and wiped your mouth with your forearm. He thought it was cute, but kept it to himself.

The facts were as out there as they were going to get for you; he didn't do one night stands, he was convinced he had met a 'nice girl' and took you home, got his feelings hurt when you left, he probably thought it was fate that you met at the museum, but... now, what did he want?

"I don't trust you either," He admitted, moving slow to pin you between his arms, against the counter.

His eyes gave you no indication of what he meant by that. He looked mean. Like he could really hurt you, or your feelings at a minimum.

A flash of apprehension spread across your face. You looked to the left and right, then back at him, who found your little panic charming.

His indescribable intensity was why, when he closed the distance to kiss you, you paused.

He sighed against you for a second, then slowly straightened out. It took you a second because you were dumbfounded by how out of place his sudden affection felt, but thought it preferable to his ominous and vague nature.

At least when he was kissing you, you didn't have to guess.

Before he could take your hesitation to heart, you stretched up, hands clasped on his shoulders, in his hair, to return it tenfold.

His tongue was familiar and his lips were comforting. He leaned into you, trapping you against the counter, but it steadied you both.

God, why didn't he start out with this?

A soft moan shared between your lips sent him spiralling- his hand clutched your waist, under your flimsy little shirt, and his thumb rubbed against your tummy, rendering you a little weak in the knees.

His body felt perfect against yours. No room for second guessing.

He parted for a moment, and you caught the strangest look in his eyes. An intensity that making out shouldn't have warranted- a pain that was beyond an overdue erection.

"I...ah, I can't-," You gasped between his extra kisses, "Figure you out-!" Your hand flew to support yourself when he lifted you off of your feet from your hips.

You locked your legs around his waist, and nearly missed when you grabbed for his shoulders. It didn't matter much, but it startled you. In your panicked searching, you couldn't even find the brown in his eyes.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at the feeling of you through his pants. That little no-underwear detail didn't go ignored earlier.

"Mmnyou don't have to," He muttered dismissively.

There was no chance to question further before he took your lips hostage once more, his hand firm against the back of your head.

Though logically, his evasiveness was concerning, it did nothing short of send an addictive current straight down your spine. Thinking grew tough, quickly.

His tongue was easier to deal with than your doubts. After all, you were always just a hook-up, anyway.

A squeak caught in your throat at the way he pushed you into the cold counter, the way he loomed over and blocked out the overhead light except for the tips of his golden hair, the way he made sure you didn't bump your head on the way down.

It was difficult returning his rough kisses. For the most part, you focused on just taking them instead, but that became nearly impossible when he started to roll his hips into yours.

Perfect, warm waves crashed over you and kept your legs heavy and weak. It was all you could do to keep up with him.

"F-uck," A choked sigh against the shell of your ear made you twitch, "I'm not gonna last for shit."

You giggled at his soft, disappointed admission. He put his face in the curve of your neck and wrapped his other arm around you. It was tight. Secure, as you rolled your hips over the outline of his cock.

"We'll go a few rounds tonight, yeah?" Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to sound.

A long inhale, taken from in your hair you couldn't help but notice, and he gave an approving hum against your neck in a long, tingly kiss.

He freed an arm to hold your wrists above your head, the other tracing up your shirt to tease your chest.

That little pout you gave him earned you a quick, rough kiss into more possessive ones all along the side of your neck- it paired well with the cruel pinching under your shirt and his heavy burden between your legs.

Soon, you were panting, dizzy and sweaty with just one thought in your head.

"You're-- ah-h, optimistic," He was just short of asking.

His little moan made your hips automatically buck- you couldn't wait around to take him again. His grip, once you expressed the desire to free yourself, was laughably light.

The metallic sounds of his belt coming undone and his zipper lowering percussed your sultry, sarcastic tone well, "Stop trying to figure me out."

Shuddery breath caught in his throat as you pulled him out. It hadn't been too long since the last time, objectively speaking, but the feeling of his warm cock in your hands was one you desperately missed.

It slowly started to feel more right after that.

You didn't have a grasp on who he was, what he wanted, what he was thinking- but when he pulls back to at least press a slow, longing kiss to your soaked pussy under your skirt, it feels right.

It feels simple. Something you were more comfortable with, more used to. Certainly an easier feeling to navigate than this serpentine man, holding you with devoted fingers, but staring you down like you had wronged him.

He got carried away, mouth sticky and hot around your aching clit, big hands shoved up your shirt to scour every inch of you he hadn't remembered well enough the first time. Now he'd never forget it.

"Mm-! Ok-ay, okay, please--," Your whine, your squirming, was tended to immediately.

His hand slid and covered so much of your neck, jaw- the whole side of your face, in fact, that you felt your skin burning underneath it. He smothered you in a wet, sloppy kiss.

When he pushed into you, you couldn't help but think of the first time.

"Oh-h," You seethed at his size, only finding that it made him grip you harder, like he was holding you together, scared you might break apart.

Your squeak at the sensation was higher, your eyes wider, as you found his gaze low and almost plaintive.

It was different from that night. You were both a little drunk, but still. He was excited, confident, more twitchy. Faster, in a lot of ways. It came across as rushed to you and it helped justify leaving when you did. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy the passion, or the absurdness of being carried up the stairs like that, but you figured he was a one-trick pony. Like most guys.

Now you felt like you were the one rushing things. He held you still by the fat of your hips when you tried to get some friction.

His kisses were softer. Deliberate and savored. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

He was perfect, beating slow and smooth between your thighs, your bodies intertwined like you wanted, but it left something to be desired. You wanted his expression to be that of lust, not whatever this was.

"What's- ah-h--, what's'wrong?" You whispered against his lips.

He pulled away to look at you, glancing around your features with that same pitiful look. Where was the passion? His charming, kinda mean, -but impressive, nonetheless- one liners?

"Do you want me?" Was a whisper right back, the mix of warmth and minty coolness in his breath a tingly shock across your face.

He didn't look in your eyes for very long once he realized the answer was not quite ready for him.

Scanning your body instead, he found many worthy things to distract himself with. Chief among them was in the form of making you take even longer to give him a response.

A gentle, slippery prodding around your clit made you gasp.

"Mm-! God," You whined, eyes rolled back as you fought to understand what he meant by that, "I want- ah-!..."

He was biting the inside of his lip with a quiet chuckle, memorizing your pretty frame twisting, writhing underneath him as you struggled to take him and get played with at the same time. Like a tired old art critic, waiting to understand the meaning of a masterpiece.

"I want you-," You sighed, luring his attention to your face again, "I- I want you to- tell me-,"

He finally laid off for a second, his hands instead grabbing at your hips to bring you further down on his cock. Your neck looked a little too plain, now that he was thinking about it. If you left, he wanted you to leave with something of his. He started working deep marks on your throat.

Your low, approving moan encouraged him.

You sighed, honest and plain, letting your nails scratch through his fluffy hair, "Tell me- you won't hurt me."

"I couldn't hurt'you," He quickly muttered against your bruising skin.

You were almost, not quite but almost, as fast. "Make me a deal, then."

He liked the sound of that. It was more practical than a promise. More real, something you could both risk for a perceived reward each. You didn't know it yet, but you really knew how to appeal to him.

His long fingers stretched over your thighs, lifting them to tease you a little from a different angle. Part of him wished he had waited to take you upstairs. You couldn't do much on the counter.

"I- ah, won't leave," You seethed as he stretched you out like that, brow furrowed at the addictive intensity, "As long as you don't hurt me."

The way he held your words in his head before he responded was unexpectedly attractive. Contemplative, he traded one of your thighs for your needy clit again and grinned at how you tightened around him.

"Deal," He leaned up to kiss you, like a handshake, of sorts.

If he kept this up, you wouldn't be able to last very long. You loved how he took care of you himself, and didn't leave you to figure out your own pleasure.

He clearly wanted to tick every box, make sure you noticed it, too, so that you could be grateful to him.

You were both smiling more after your little agreement.

Before you could get too lost in it, there was some low thudding just above you.

Everything stopped for a scary moment.

You instantly looked at him when you didn't understand the sound right away, for some sort of reassurance it was just the apartment settling, or a cat upstairs. His brow was still furrowed, concerned as he looked up, his eyes tracking the sound in the ceiling.

"What the hell is that?" You whispered, a little harsh, but justified.

His face fell seconds after your question was left hanging, unanswered. He looked defeated.

"My-," He sighed, grimacing as you adjusted under him, "My roommate, I... forgot he was here."

It seemed so stupid for a guy you pegged as so intelligent. The raw reaction in his eyes made it clear that fucking you right here wasn't deliberate.

Your body relaxed again. You were wholeheartedly glad it wasn't a criminal or a ghost. It made way for confusion as he started to explain that his roommate doesn't usually come out of his room at this time, but that you should both probably head upstairs anyway.

Though it pissed you off on the surface, it doubled down and validated the realization that he didn't have everything so figured out. Taking you on the counter wasn't something he sketched out and made a reality- he just wanted you that badly.

He tried to pull out, but you locked your legs around him so he couldn't move. His jaw worked, his eyes searching yours, his brows upturned. God, he looked like he'd fall apart like that.

Your chest tightened with shock and the raw, tingly pride that came with feeling special.

Your fingers laced around his neck; he didn't offer up any resistance as you pulled him in close.

Warm breath spilled across the side of his face. He couldn't help but lean into it.

"Well, don'tstop now," Egged him on; echoed in smaller, more desperate pleas the closer he fucked you to completion. When he was just beginning to think he could get any more obsessed with you.

His lids lowered at your words, his eyes rolling back in the sockets as he put the weight of his head in the nook of your collarbone.

Though he seemed to soften in the face, his thrusts got stronger. It felt like he was filling you up more and more, leaving you gasping and clawing at his wide shoulders.

"Mm-n-Ah! Fuck-!" You whined, with no regard for his roommate, while he shoved you off the edge.

Your orgasm was well-deserved- the delay, the conversation, made it that much more intense. You felt like you could actually start to trust this guy, so you let him have the best of you.

When he came, warm and sticky all over your tummy, you didn't even think about how your shirt and skirt were still half-on, meaning he had effectively ruined all the clothes you brought with you. Normally you'd be pissed off.

But you just wanted to watch him cum, too.

His little whiny noises he thought he had covered up were loud, his gasps and little curses flattering, leaving your head buzzing.

His body became heavier for a minute, now that he was tired, before he stood back up and pulled you with him.

Everything was quiet again, as you both looked to the ceiling, then at each other, and waited. No sound.

"Sorry," He mumbled, clumsy, reaching for his glasses so he could see how bad he ruined your outfit.

Now you took the time to notice the difference in how his glasses made him look; a little nerdier, a little cuter.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and put your forehead to his chin.

"I'll just steal some of your clothes, if that's okay with you."

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[prettyboykatsuki]

brocon | a. oliver

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader, unrequited love (from reader but not to oliver), presence of honorfics (nii-san mostly), incest (incestual roleplay and one sided incestual affection lol), oliver is not the older brother but he wishes he was, Too Casual About Incest in this one, oral (m!recieving), mentions of cervix fucking + deepthroating, cream pies, casual sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 2.5k

✮ a/n ; im reading too many doujinshis. everyday i become a little more insane. i miss you all. i also hate this guy.

c. consider this like a prelude by the way. im definitely going to expand on this universe rip.

also im dead fucking tired so tenses are all over the place. im gonna skip class tomorrow i think lol

✮ synopsis ; oliver is not put off by your brother complex. he probably should be.

Oliver isn’t very meddlesome.  

He’s a captain, but that’s as far as he’s ever willing to extend himself when it comes to getting deeply involved with other people. He loves soccer, loves strikers, etc. Annoying shit is tolerable if it’s for the love of the game.  

So in terms of his willingness to interfere, it starts and stops at soccer.  

The same is not true for relationships. Never has been really. He isn’t sure if he’s always been like that. He got his heart broken in high school, before his career took off and get much time to think about what he wanted after.  

He’ll never claim to be paragon of morality. Whether or not he’s pre-disposed for it, he’s been around the block and doesn’t take anything too seriously. A lot of what he’s down for just depends on where he’s at and he stands to gain. 

But, he’s always been straightforward about it so whatever.  

 From experience, he prefers dating women with a lot to lose - career driven types. Long term, they’re the easiest to break up with because they rarely chase after him and have little desire for the spotlight. He likes cute, innocent types too, for different reasons - but it can get messy easily so he has to be off season  to fuck them or date. His type in men depends on what he’s feeling. He likes getting topped by quiet, stoic men and likes topping slutty pretty boys. 

Case and point, Olivers type is whoever wants to fuck him and he wants to fuck too. It’s not complicated and isn’t defined by any particular thing. When it comes to appearance and personality - well he’s fine with whatever. He’s not really interested in being exclusive. He likes to have fun and like freely, or something like that.  

His only real criteria for sex and partnership are: discreet, sane, want to fuck him.  

You fit one of those parameters for sure.  You’re very discreet.  

But while you and Oliver are sleeping together, it’s not him you actually want.  

Oliver  met you a few months back. You were by yourself in the bar of a nice motel and dressed to the nines, crying alone over a drink. The game plan was simple. He would chat you up, console you, and bring you to bed. You both get to feel good, and you get to forget for a while.  

An attempted act of kindness and sincerity.  

He did just that too. Slid up next to you easy, bought you a drink. You were mostly sober - told him you had to drive early the next day. Alcohol was just to soothe your broken heart. You broke down after that. Red-rimmed watery eyes, barely keeping it together - it didn’t take much effort for Oliver to get you to open up. Apparently someone you loved had just got married. You even gave a speech for the wedding. Sobbed a little about how you’re happy he’s happy but you’re devastated.  

Oliver offered you a shoulder to cry on. Whispered in your ear real sweet about licking each others wounds for the night. How he’d be happy to help you forget. You went back to your hotel with little fuss. And he’s a half decent bastard after all, so he didn’t go too hard on you during the sex. Gave you boyfriend treatment as a consolation prize for your efforts. Foreheads pressed together, arms around his shoulders, lots of kissing and making eye contact.  

That kind of sex is fun sometimes, at least when it’s not very serious.  

You had great compatibility in bed. Some post coital pillow talk also revealed that your mutual interests meshed pretty well  - so you decided to see each other again for the purposes of fucking. Oliver needs a reliable partner who won’t try to ruin his career and you need a shoulder to lean on and forget about your true love.  

It was working out well for him really. And like he said, he’s not really the type to pry into other peoples affairs.  

For better or for worse though, having frequent sex with someone usually gets you acquainted with random aspects of their life. The friends parts of friends with benefits usually means you’re seeing some part of them you didn’t sign up for.  

It took three months of sleeping with you, around the 8th time you met up for sex, for him to realize who your unrequited love actually was.  

He thought it might’ve been someone off limits from the way you spoke about it. Though you tended to avoid the subject altogether.  

Had he known he was going to get involved with a girl that has the worst brother complex he’s ever seen, he would’ve reconsidered seeing you again.  

Maybe. Or maybe not.  

Truthfully, Oliver is less bothered by brocon thing than he thought he’d be. He hadn’t realized because of anything you told him. Just that once, you were laying on his chest when you got a call in the middle of the night from your older brother. 

You’re not the sweet type, to put it bluntly. Oliver would categorize you as the working professional sort with a lot to lose - high spec and calculating. Aside from the night he met you, he’d never seen you act in a way he would consider needy or childish - even after sex. Or ever, really - even when something happens that might garner that response.  

Seeing the way your eyes lit up, the way your whole demeanor changed as you spoke with him on the phone. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. He didn’t have plans to confront you about it at the time. It wasn’t really his business, or at least that’s what he told himself. 

At a certain point though, he felt like he couldn’t dance around it.  

He brought it up on a whim one night. Regretted it because he liked your current relationship and didn’t want it to end, but he felt it had to be done.  

He doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting, if anything at all. He thought you’d cuss him out or something. Tell him to fuck off and mind his business. Tell him to not be gross, maybe.  

But he didn’t expect tears, nor did he expect the childish sadness that came along with the mere mention of you beloved nii-san.  

That had made him wanna pry.  

It wasn’t hard to get you to open up about it. Frankly, he didn’t actually give a shit about the incest part, so you felt safe enough to tell him when he asked. Your older brother was basically your whole life. You’re half siblings, abandoned by the same parent. You had a rough upbringing but your older brother took care of you and sacrificed a lot. You realized you were in love with him in middle school and kept it in since. He’s about four years older than you and his wife is a very gentle person.  

Oliver isn’t concerned about the details. He’s nosy - so he asks but he wouldn’t’ve forced you if you didn’t want to talk about it. But it seems like you really did, since you were happy to tell him anything on your mind.  

You were…different after that. After he knew, you relaxed considerably. He didn’t think of you as guarded until you stopped being that way and started acting more… docile.  

Oliver doesn’t mind that change either, which is shocking for him. Usually you’re far off but after you cum, you soften up and act kind of… cute.  

 You’re a little clingier, and generally speaking - sweeter to him when you’re guard is down. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose. You never ask Oliver to treat you any softer or get demanding with him. And there’s never an instance where he has to worry about if that’ll change because as nice as you are to him, it’s clear as day that no one in the world will ever surpass your affection for your older brother.  

(Once, after sex,  Oliver asks you what you like about about your older brother. The question comes as a shock to you both, but mostly to him because he isn’t sure why he thinks to ask. You’re happy enough to answer it though. According to you, he’s perfect.  

He’s kind and thoughtful, gentle and doting, tall, strong and handsome. You’ve got little hearts in your eyes when you say all this. You add towards the end that part of the reason you sleep with Oliver is because they’re so different you can forget all about it.  

He laughs at that, but he isn’t sure how sincere it is.) 

As time goes by, Oliver never gets  totally used to the change. As soon as you get a call or text from your beloved nii-san, you perk up like all the life has been breathed back into you. He hears you talk sometimes and it’s clear that your brother also probably has a bit of a sister complex.  

 You’re more open around Oliver sure - but it pales in comparison to when you get a call from him. How could a person be so different? He assumes the answer is love, but he can’t wrap his head around it having that much impact on your character.  

Oliver tries not to think about it.  

You’ve continued sleeping together out of habit and as time went  by  - you started to hang out for no real reason. It’s remained casual. You never want anything from him except dick and sometimes attention, but its clear that it isn’t from the one sided hope of becoming his girlfriend. And he knows almost too well that you don’t care for him in a special way because he knows what that looks like on you - and every kindness you’ve shown him is just who you are.  

It’s not like Oliver isn’t keenly aware of all of that.  

But it doesn’t stick until he offers up roleplaying with you on a whim.  

He suggests it to fuck with you really. And maybe because he’s a little irritated by it. He wants to upset you a little, petty as it is. See how you react. He was expecting you to get pissed off, maybe even cuss him out a little over being a jerk.  

That is not the reaction he receives. Instead you flush all over. Your hands fist on your knees and you get shy over just the prospect. He’s had you bent in every position known to man but he’s never seen you more embarrassed then the very idea of uttering the name nii-san in relation to sex.  

You do have a moment of sobriety after the fact, hit him with your pillow and tell him not to be a dick.  

But then, he can’t let it go. So he grabs you by the wrist and says it’s fine. It’s what he’s here for isn’t he? Always has been.  

Only seeing it does it start to really click.  

It’s the most intense sex you’ve ever had , and it doesn’t feel  profoundly fucked up until you take his dick  into your mouth. Hearts in your eyes while he strokes your hair, swallowing his cock - nuzzling it, kissing, it and being so devoted he doesn’t know if he’s the most unlucky man alive or the least.  

You’re always a sight for sore eyes when you’re hoping to please him somehow. You’re a little haughty in bed in a way he’s into— 

But fuck, it’s different when you’re doing it for your big brother. He’s never seen you so horny in his life. Touching yourself so desperately while you’re deepthroating his length, eyes rolling back into your skull as you swallow him all the down to the base. Moaning into it even as you gag and hiccup and spit.. Drool clinging to your lips, stretched all the way to the corners  - wetness sliding down the curve of your neck and chest. Your face flush, damp tears clinging to your lashes while he strokes his thumb against your cheek and tells you the same few words over and over.  

Nii-san’s so proud of you. You’re being so good for your me. Over and over, reinforcing it again and again. Hearing the words and just thinking of it seem to be enough for you.  

It’s about the same when he does finally fucks you. Oliver gets into it at the end. Puts you in a full nelson and fucks you stupid, the head of his cock battering into you and demanding to be let in. You feel good split apart on his dick - pussy stretched so tight it barely fits him.  

You always do your best to take him, but he sees what the affection does to you. You get so horny that you spread your legs without being fucked open on his fingers first. Your body is responsive to it. He almost feels bad for your brother, not getting to know what it feels like. Oliver is only playing pretending but your cunt squeezes his dick so tight, holds onto him like  it doesn’t want to let go. It’s not even the real thing yet your body is keen on milking him. Built and bred like it was made for your older brother to fuck.  

He’ll never get the chance too. Oliver relishes in it more than he can be honest about.  

Once he’s inside, you tell Oliver in a lust drunk haze that nii-san can have whatever he wants. That’s when he knows you’re running on nothing but lust. And by then, he is too. You whimper when he moves - say yes when he hisses that he’s gonna fuck you deep enough to flood your cervix. Nod desperately when he offers to fuck your cervix open too.  

It’s nothing but filthy bullshit but the words come out easier as his cock keeps slipping out of you from how wet you are over the thought alone.  

It finally settles in when when you’ve nearly fucked yourself unconscious. Riding his cock with your tshirt pulled up over your tits, eyes closed and legs wobbling - saying it over and over. Begging for your brother who you love so dearly while you  fuck on him with all the strength in your hips.  

Seeing that makes him realize that he’s not a stand-in.  

Only because it’s an impossible outcome in the first place.  

It’s the first time he cums inside of you, and the first time you cry after sex. Oliver holds you afterwards. You whisper a thank you so sincere to him afterwards he loses his fucking mind, all soft and watery and needy. Don’t protest when he pulls you into a bath or holds you.  

You stay with him through the night and he realizes right about then that he’s completely and utterly fucked. 

It’s his karma, he assumes. Wanting a girl who has a severe brother complex is Oliver’s own special hell - hand crafted to make him feel as fucked up as possible.  

But damn does he want you bad anyway.  

[arcanarix]

made suguru a dull boy…

synopsis. with more and more responsibilities stacked like a tower of pancakes on geto’s plate, you and the twins feel like suguru’s forgotten how to have real fun! so you take him on a trip back down memory lane… (hopefully in a more positive light)

tw. implied kidnapping, yandere geto, the twins are the only thing keeping you sane, established dynamic captor/captive, reader is a non sorcerer, cult leader!geto, piv sex, oral (f! and m! receiving), reader has kind of mellowed out since you’ve been captive for more than a year or two by now. geto is actually kind of nicer to you.

WC: 3.1K

“Do you really think this is going to work?” you ask Nanako in a hushed tone, glancing at the stacks of metal bins containing a lot of Geto’s collectibles that he’d forgotten since he took on this new role. They’re all just sitting here collecting dust rather than being displayed and admired by a once bright eyed, unassuming, impressionistic fanboy. It’s hard to think about the fact that at one point, Geto was just a normal teenager who grew into whatever he was now.

Does he remember anything about having a bright childhood or has it been all doom and gloom from the start for someone like him? You can’t help but spiral into the possibilities. Does he remember playing ball and wondering how high up he can throw it and catch it? Does he remember his first balloon animal at someone’s birthday party? Does he remember the first video game he’s ever fallen in love with, or his first board or card game? 

Does he even have fond memories to look back on? Why does he work so hard to erase what he was before?

You still don’t have an appropriate label for someone like him, someone so otherworldly. ‘Monster’ is too on the nose and doesn’t capture all of those nuances about the guy. 

But does he even deserve to be deemed complex? Or should you just call him some guy? Some guy who has plucked you off the streets because you had some curse he was after. Some guy who has decided to keep you around because he has some kind of lust or obsession with you. 

That’s definitely a discussion for another time… 

“It might help him remember he’s a person too,” Nanako suggests with a shrug. “You know, smoke and mirrors aside, he’s just a person. Even if that ego of his doesn’t like to admit it…” 

“So what’s in all of these?” you prod as you pluck one of the tins from the top of one stack, waving off the dust that gathers around your face and blowing more of it off of the cool surface. You squint your eyes. So much of the paint has chipped off but you recognize the font of a popular franchise. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” you nearly scoff but try to refrain unless you want your head chopped clean off. “Are these fucking Yugioh cards?” 

The shock in your tone even catches Mimiko and Nanako off guard for a few moments, but they bounce back quickly. Nanako glances at Mimiko, and the older twin doesn’t know how to approach the topic at first but seems to come up with an explanation out of thin air like she always does.

“That Satoru Gojo guy Mr. Geto keeps talking about liked Digimon,” Mimiko explains, as her eyes scan the rows upon rows of countless trinkets and gizmos Geto claims he’d much rather leave behind, forgotten. “And Geto always rambled on about how much cooler Yugioh was from all those stories he’d tell us. They were best friends or something, but they got into a huge fight and that’s why they still aren’t talking now.” 

“You know they can still be friends if they just talked things out,” Nanako remarks, curiosity in her tone. “I mean, clearly Gojo still cares enough about Mr. Geto if he hasn’t killed him yet, right?” 

Mimiko nods. “Yeah.”

You ignore their conversation because you don’t really care to know much about that stuff, since it’s out of your realm of understanding anyway. Sorcerer politics that shouldn’t concern a non sorcerer monkey like you.

“Wow, I can’t relate,” you admit, finding yourself chuckling in spite of yourself. It’s not from amusement, still just disbelief that Geto was a person before all of this. Before what he is now. You almost are curious to know a little more, just to see if it’s worth peeling back all of those layers. “I was always a Pokemon girl.” 

“So is Mr. Geto!” Nanako chirps, beaming to where you can see her eyes twinkle in spite of the low ambient lightning of the attic. “Maybe you can like him more if you bond with him like this.” 

“It’s a thoughtful idea, but he’d probably say anything made by monkeys are only for monkeys.” With you being his sole exception or something of the kind, just a pretty appendage for a ruthless cult leader and scam artist. Something to tell his new world order that beneath all of that male bravado is a blatant hypocrite. “Isn’t that why he’s forgone his old personality?” 

“We just want Mr. Geto to have room to be a person, not just a dad or a leader, so can you please do this for us?” Nanako asks with a little pout. You fret as you assess the situation, glancing at the box in your hands, and then at the numerous stacks before you. 

How can you even say no to that face? Even if she’s completely complacent in all of this, you can’t completely fault these two girls for clinging onto the man who saved them from certain death for dear life. 

You have learned more about Geto than you have ever cared to in these few moments alone.

“Fine,” you decide, with a sigh in defeat as you toss some of your hair away from your face. You have taken countless losses here, so what’s another? “I’ll try to get your dad to lighten up, if it’ll make you both happy.”

“Thank you!” Nanako and Mimiko reply in unison with wide grins, before exchanging a look with each other. 

The stroll back to the second floor of the temple is a silent one as your mind is still muddled with thoughts about Geto’s not terribly distant past. From what you remember the twins telling you, Geto found them when he was no older than 16 or 17 and then he takes over this organization without so much as breaking a sweat. Given his status as some big shot sorcerer who doesn’t agree with the conservative ways of their society, you suppose that’s not entirely farfetched but you also aren’t aware of just what any of this means for someone like him or them. 

It’s just very hard to believe that beyond all of this, is a boy whose youth had been stripped from him. And misery loves company, so that’s why he decides to take you in maybe. You still don’t know his reason behind why he chose you or why he kept you—all you can do is infer. And perhaps every single possibility you have ever come up with is entirely off the mark but you don’t really care either way.

It doesn’t matter anymore. This is your life and you have to accept it. No one is going to save you, and no one can save you from forces they cannot see or fight.

You slip into the bedroom, eyes flitting to Geto who is seated like an emperor on your shared bed, one leg extended and one tucked in to support a book he’s reading in his lap. He’s let his hair fall down his back and frame the sharp features of his face. He doesn’t seem too reactive as he glances up from the page he’s about to flip through and actually smiles these days upon seeing your face. He has become soft with you, as far as softness goes for someone like him. He sets his book aside and strides toward you, looming over you like the giant he is compared to you and really compared to most people.

“Where have you been off to for so long?” Geto greets you with a light kiss on the crown of your head. He gestures to the box in your hand, and as a chain reaction you grip tighter onto it. “And what’s this?” 

Time to play up that act. Like you’re completely complacent, completely submissive to him and that you’re totally alright with anything that happens from here.

Because you have no power anymore, right? You may as well wear your mask well. And you seem to, these days. You seem to please Geto more and more with each passing month you’ve been here. At some point, you don’t even bother keeping track of how long it’s been since you’ve been in his care. Has it been a decade at this point or just a few months? It’s all a blur now.

None of it matters, anyway.

“Forgive me, the twins dragged me through one of their little adventures,” you reply with a small smile as you hand him the metal tin box. “This belonged to you. We—I thought you might want it.” 

Furrowing his brows at that, he slides off the lid, violet eyes widening upon the stacks of collectible cards. You catch something amiss in his stare. Something flashing in his eyes. 

Nostalgia? 

“I thought I burned these,” he mutters, more to himself, picking up one of the cards. You do recognize that one from your childhood. The Dark Magician. And is that another smile on his face? Another real, genuine smile? Are you dreaming? You must be! “Did they take you to the attic?” 

You feel your heart drop. Like old times. You nod. “They wanted to play hide and seek, but we found these instead.” 

He inspects the card with a quizzical expression. 

“Is there a purpose for this?” he prods with a hum.

“W-we just thought it’d be nice if you relaxed every once in a while,” you squeak, averting your gaze from his eyes to your feet. His expression contorts into something close to shock or impressed. 

But he just laughs.

“How do you mean?” he replies. He seems amused rather than angry or defensive and you aren’t sure if you’re terrified or not. “I’m plenty relaxed.” 

“We mean you just don’t have room to be you. You’re not just a leader,” you tell him. Rather bold words out of you that under past circumstances, you might have been punished for challenging him at all. But that’s not what you’re doing here. “You are your own person beyond those titles. We just—well I—!” 

“—shush, my dear. It’s endearing, truly,” he replies, placing the card back into the box and setting it onto the foot of the bed. “But I haven’t forgotten anything about who I once was. It’s my primary driving force in doing what I do.” 

“Then why throw yourself into all of these things? It just seems like… you’re fighting for your life all the time, and it doesn’t always have to be like that,” Who are we really talking about here? Him or you? “You need time to be with family too. You need to be, well, yourself too and—!” 

—you’re interrupted with his lips plunging onto yours. But it isn’t hungry or demanding. Rather longing, gentle, coaxing. He pulls away for a moment so you can catch your breath as his intense violet gaze meets yours. 

In moments like these he’s like a majestic dragon. Mighty. Domineering. Ethereal. 

Hypnotic. Entrancing. 

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even in spite of everything, in spite of all of these horrors he’s put you through that feel so small and trivial in these fleeting moments where you can almost believe he feels something for you as beyond a pretty pet. 

A slender finger traces the edge of your cheek and you find yourself leaning into his touch. 

“Since when has this concerned you so much?” he purrs, his hands snaking down to the dip of your waist, securing you in place. Your eyes glimmer, with an edge of fear but more wonder of what’s spiraling in a mind like his. Dark, ruthless. Calculating. 

“Because…” you swallow thickly, the palms of your hands resting on his pecs, drawing your lips closer to his as your eyes begin to flutter shut. “Because you deserve to breathe, Geto. To have fun. To live a life, an actual life. Like anyone else.” 

Even if you are excluded from this equation. He has taken you from your life. But you can make the most of what you have here, perhaps. 

“Let me assure you, my dear, I can still have plenty of fun,” he growls seductively into your ear as he grabs you by your bottom and rests you on your back on the mattress, planting heated, open mouthed kisses on your neck. You don’t have a reason to argue or protest, as he slips your silk robe off of your body, revealing your bare body as you’ve forgone wearing undergarments in this temple. At any point he may want access to you and you have accepted that part of your life just as you have everything else about this arrangement.

But that doesn’t mean you’re completely content with it. No, it just means you know when it is best to surrender.

A breathy gasp escapes your lips when his mouth lands on your folds, tongue rolling between them and circling your clit until it stiffens. 

You can distract yourself in these moments because now you have new thoughts that haunt your mind—does he remember the first time he’s ever had a candy he loved? What about going to carnivals and trying a funnel cake? What has made his eyes light up in childlike wonder in his youth before his role in the world stripped that away from him until there was nothing left behind than the evil possessing him? 

He calls your name and commands you to watch.

And you do, no more hesitations like before, when you would cower at the idea of even so much as glancing in his general direction. You boldly find his face, half of it lightly coated in your juices, some of it sliding off of his sharp chin as his dragon-like gaze bores into yours. 

“You taste divine as always,” he purrs as he closes his mouth over your hole, sucking hard. Not much longer until he coaxes the first orgasm of the night out of you, but he never stops at just one. Whether he admits it to himself or not, he does enjoy thoroughly spoiling you but not without something in return. “There’s nothing else I’d rather feast on, except, perhaps…”

His tongue laves your perineum before rimming your back hole, making your hands fly up to clamp your mouth shut in a poor effort to muffle your pitiful moan. 

“Such a dirty girl,” he teases with an audible kiss to your anus. “You like this hole being teased more, don’t you?” 

He snakes the tip of his tongue around the rim of your back hole again, before dipping it inside. You gasp again, arching your back off of the feathery bed. 

“This is the most exciting part of my day,” he continues to ramble on as he feasts on your asshole while two fingers rub your folds and clit to work another orgasm out of you. “Watching you come undone beneath me. This is what I find fun. Learning what can make you scream for me.”

He slurps against your back hole, fucking his tongue into the tight ring of muscle and he chuckles as you try to find some grounding. 

“This relaxes me,” he goes on, “Making you feel like this.”

Once he coaxes another orgasm out of you, he pulls back, allowing you to catch your breath as you come down from that mind numbing high. But then you glance at him and he’s inching toward you, guiding your head toward the tip of his cock, hard, veiny and leaking. 

He pats your cheek, beckoning you. 

“Open up,” he demands in a singsong tone and you obey, wordlessly, jaw hanging open as he pushes his tip past your lips and teeth. He growls at the sensation, the flat of your tongue gliding along his shaft as he inches just enough of his size. He tosses his head back, eyes rolling back into his skull as he bucks himself into your mouth, fucking your throat and thankfully you have trained yourself and don’t gag anymore when taking his size like you once did. His size doesn’t intimidate you like it once did.

Many things about Geto don’t intimidate you like they once did, the more you think about it. In a way, it is actually reassuring to know that he’s still just some person and you can still find power over that somewhere. 

Maybe you can’t figure out what to do with this information now… 

But it does remind you that you can still be a person beyond whatever Geto’s made you into for him too. 

You want to remember the girl you were. The girl whose eyes lit up at the sight of cute animals in videos or on the street. The girl who’s had her own hopes and dreams that still can be reached if she just fought hard enough.  The girl who had likes and dislikes and an identity. 

All outside whatever this is. 

He can’t take that away. He may have taken many things, but you have realized you have something to hold onto that he chose to throw away about himself.

You nearly choke a bit as Geto forces you to take his entire length as stringy shots of cum flood the back of your throat. He slips his cock out, still hard and needing to be inside you and your position shifts. He has you seated on his lap as he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance and pushes inside while a hand wraps around your neck. 

“Swallow,” he demands in a harsh whisper, more from arousal and you listen, you obey, because you haven’t a choice in this case. You still grimace from the zingy salty taste of him and it’s something you likely aren’t ever going to get used to, but you have come to be able to accommodate his size when he fucks you like this now. Long, deep, harsh. Each jerk of his hips shakes the bed. Now your body is in a coat of sweat and sometimes he likes to observe himself disappear into you while he murmurs into your ear about how well you take him. 

“You’re so perfect,” he praises, nipping your ear. “So good for me. Fuck, you feel like the perfect sleeve for my cock. You’re made for it.”

His other hand moves to fondle your breasts as he fucks into you, biting down on your shoulder as he comes inside, pumping you so full of his seed that some of it trickles out of your hole while he’s still inside of you, warming himself up. 

“This is plenty fun for me,” he assures you with a kiss to the shoulder he just bit. “Trust me, love, I haven’t grown dull.”

[trustmypoison]

Liquid Courage

Wonwoo x Classmate!Reader

Requested? Yes!

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint, college au, unrequited love and perhaps a painful amount of pining

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption and being drunk

Jeon Wonwoo would like to think he’s a normal college student. He’s picked a major that he can tolerate. He goes to class, bleary eyed after all-nighters working on assignments, chugging a seemingly endless stream of coffee. He joins a few clubs to avoid his family’s nagging that he’ll rot in front of the computer playing video games in his free time, though he does enjoy the rot time. He goes out with his roommate and friends regularly for dinner and drinks and parties. But he has a secret, and it’s the totally not normal, totally suffocating, totally obsessive, massive, enormous crush on you, one of his classmates. 

He hit him like a truck the moment he met you in the first day of freshman year, or rather the first day he saw you. He’d like to think he’s not shallow and doesn’t get hung up on looks. A pretty appearance doesn’t always equate to a pretty personality, after all. But he was totally enamored by how pretty you were on the first day to the point that he didn’t hear much of anything the calculus instructor said. He beats his head against his desk in his dorm later that day as he looks at the syllabus. He’s got to get it together because that’s not why he’s here. 

He thinks he’s starting to get a handle on this (not so) little crush when he remembers that the class he shares with you is a General Education class and it’s very likely that you’ll pick a different major than him. His first day of sophomore year, he realizes he was wrong because there you are, sitting in the front row of his Intro to Database Systems class, unmistakably as a student of the engineering department. It’s in this class that he realizes how screwed he really is.

The first time you meet him in the library for a peer programming project, his heart stops beating when you greet him with a wide smile. He had the same reaction when you were assigned to work together the day before and traded numbers. He gives a small smile, because it’s all he can really manage without giving everything away and gets to work. Later that night, he beats his head against this desk again in his dorm room, because you’re so, so smart on top of everything else. Don’t get me wrong, he didn’t think you were dumb by any means, far from it. But he wasn’t prepared to be corrected gently about a complex concept during your meeting earlier that day and he thinks the crush might just consume him. 

When his roommate, Mingyu, asks if he’s good, he just excuses it as being a little stressed by the work he has to get done. Never mind that the project with you is no longer on his list because it was done in a single sitting. He picks up another assignment, kind of regretting that he didn’t drag it out a little longer, even if his heart might not be able to take it. 

~

It’s the first day of the spring semester in his Sophomore year and he arrives early to his Matrix Algebra course. He didn’t know you’d be in this one with him, but he’s not totally surprised to see you here since you share a major and seem to be on the same track. But he is surprised to see you here, next to him. You greet him with a big smile and ask if the seat next to him is taken. “Oh, no. Go ahead, but don’t you want to sit up front?” 

You give him a confused smile as you slide into the seat. “What makes you say that?”

“You always sit in the front row,” he says simply, before realizing how it sounds. It sounds an awful lot like he pays a lot of attention to you. 

You don’t acknowledge his words or the way he flushes a little, but you do chuckle as you pull out your laptop. “Oh, yeah. I was way overdue for an optometrist appointment, so I couldn’t really see the board or screen. Just got a new prescription and new contacts last week, so I can sit back here with you!” 

“Oh,” he says lamely. “Okay, then.” 

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, face suddenly a little cautious. “That is, unless you’d like me to sit somewhere else?”

“No! I mean,” Wonwoo clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, you can sit here. I don’t mind.”

You smile, though there’s still a tinge of caution to it. “Thanks, Wonwoo.” He can’t really respond because the instructor is sweeping into the room and getting started right away. He’s not quite sure what he’d say anyway. 

~

He’s absolutely beside himself the whole semester. Not only do you keep sitting next to him, but you seem to go out of your way to talk to him. It’s mostly about classes, but it’s still the highlight of his day, three times a week. He’s embarrassingly excited to go to his 8am class with you and it’s starting to get the attention of his roommate. 

Mingyu peers over his comforter as Wonwoo gets ready for class. He watches his roommate get dressed in more than sweats and a hoodie and fix his hair. The final straw is when he puts on cologne. “What class do you have again?”

“Matrix Algebra," Wonwoo says simply. 

“Uh huh. And you need cologne for that?” 

“I wear cologne everyday. What’s the big deal?” Wonwoo asks, though he doesn't sound like he cares about what the big deal actually is.

“You don’t. I’ve lived with you for a while. This is the first semester you’ve hopped out of bed for an 8am, and you’ve been doing it early every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesday and Thursday, you have a 10am that you roll out of bed for and go to in sweats. Without cologne.” Mingyu adopts a smug expression. “So who is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mingyu,” Wonwoo says evenly. “I gotta go. I’m going to be late. Don’t wait up, I have a project to work on tonight.”

Mingyu glances at the clock when the dorm room door closes behind his roommate. It’s not even 7:40am yet and it's a five minute walk to class. Interesting.

~

Wonwoo feels like he's getting somewhere. It sounds silly, but he’s kind of getting his hopes up that this little crush isn’t totally unrequited. You always choose him for your partner in class and he enjoys meeting you to work on these projects together. You’ve even started branching out, talking about things other than the shared classes you both have. It’s late and you’re in the library with him, talking about a new book series you’re reading and he doesn’t think he could like you anymore than he does now. He’s asking what you like about it without spoilers when a guy approaches you, putting his hand on your back. You beam up at him and Wonwoo’s heart kind of plummets. 

“Hi baby, I was wondering where you got off to. I stopped by your dorm but you weren’t there,” the guy says. 

“Oh, I should have told you I had a project to work on,” you say apologetically. “You weren’t worried about me, were you?” 

“No, never,” the guy says lightly, glancing to Wonwoo. 

You perk up. “Oh, this is Wonwoo. He’s my partner for one of my major courses. Wonwoo, this is my boyfriend, Minghao.”

Wonwoo does his best to be polite, but he’s feeling some type of way about hearing the word ‘boyfriend' come out of your mouth. He didn’t know you were dating anyone, not that it's a crazy thought. He doesn’t see you a lot around campus outside of class because you run in different circles socially. 

Minghao is friendly, making it difficult to hate him. “Oh, good. Maybe you both can help me me with my math homework. I’m an arts major, I’m not cut out for these gen ed courses. Can I join?”

He considers leaving but it feels rude, so he stays, even helping Minghao here and there. It occurs to him that he’s torturing himself by staying. You and Minghao seem like a good match, the epitome of opposites attract really. You’re an engineering major and he’s an arts major. You’re bubbly and outgoing, and he’s a little shy and reserved. But you both are smart and well-read and have a gentle approach to social interactions. Not to mention you both look totally love sick for each other. It makes Wonwoo love sick in a totally different way.

He trudges back to his dorm late, going straight to bed. He skips class the next day, sending you a short text that he doesn’t feel well. He doesn’t respond when you send him a message back, hoping that he feels better and that you’ll send him your notes.

~

It’s the middle of the fall semester, Junior year, and you and Wonwoo are knee deep in major courses now, most of which you share with each other. Whatever hopes he might have had last semester to avoid you seem totally unreasonable, and he's resigned himself to the unrequited aspect of his friendship with you. And it really does seem like a friendship now. He sees you a lot more now, mostly because you spend hours together every single weekday, both in and between classes. So, he notices something is off when you show up late to your shared Networking class, sneaking in with an apologetic bow to the instructor. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers automatically, concerned. You give him a passing glance, nodding, but he spots it for the lie that it is, because your eyes are red and you’re wearing your glasses today, instead of contacts. His first thought is allergies, but he’s known you for a while and you’ve never seemed to suffer from it much before. He watches you set your phone on Do Not Disturb, but not before he spots dozens of unread messages and calls. 

He lets you be for the duration of the class and leads you to the cafe on campus as usual afterwards. It’s a habit this semester because neither of you usually have time to get coffee before your shared 8am. He gestures for you to have a seat while he orders. Another little habit, you both take turns paying on these little trips. When he places your order in front of you, he simply asks if you want to talk about it. 

He does not expect you to tear up and panic bubbles inside of him fast. “I’m sorry, I’m being a cry baby about it. It’s not that serious.”

“Unlikely. What’s not that serious?” 

You sigh. “Minghao and I have been fighting a lot lately.”

“About what?” Wonwoo asks, though it feels like a gut punch to even talk about him. He usually tries to forget he exists. You stare at him and he purses his lips. “We’re friends, right?” You nod automatically and he ignores the way your lack of hesitation simultaneously elates and stings him. “Then tell me about it. At least venting might help, even if I can’t help you fix it.”

You don’t look at him for a while and finally say, “He’s got a bit of a jealous streak. I feel like he doesn’t trust me. We fought last night and it was bad.”

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely “I’m sure you haven’t given him any reason not to trust you. Maybe he’s just insecure.” Wonwoo says ‘maybe’ but he’s positive that’s the case. He might be too if he was in Minghao’s shoes, but he’d never make it your problem. He waves away the thought because he’s not likely to ever be in Minghao’s shoes.

“Maybe… Maybe I should just end it,” you say. He’s conflicted, because there’s screaming in his head about the idea of you being single, yet you sound so upset about it. 

So he says, “If you feel like that’s the right thing to do. I’m here if you need me.” He lets you go about the day, acting a little bit like a zombie. He guides you between classes, shares his notes with you as usual, and guides you to your dorm building when classes are over. 

~

He certainly does not expect you to actually reach out to him later that night. You call at nearly 10pm and both Wonwoo and Mingyu jump at the sound. Wonwoo’s already pulling on a jacket and shoes when he hears you sniffle, asking if he’s up for a walk. He ignores Mingyu’s raised eyebrow on the way out. 

You’re sitting on a bench outside of his dorm building when he comes outside. “You good?” He asks, even though he kind of knows the answer already. 

“Yeah, just needed some air. You weren’t busy, were you?” You ask, standing up. Your nose is bright red and he wonders if it’s from crying or the cold, or both.

“No, just lying around.” He follows your lead, though he can tell you’re walking aimlessly. “Want to talk about it?” You shake your head and he lets you be. He doesn’t hear anything about Minghao after that. 

~

It’s senior year and there are only a few things that have changed. The first is that neither of you live in the dorms anymore. Wonwoo and Mingyu got an apartment just off campus, and when Wonwoo mentioned that there were other units open in the building, you jumped at the opportunity, citing how totally over communal spaces you were. You move in with one of your friends down the hall. He likes Jeonghan. He seems like a good friend to you, which is the most important thing, really. But selfishly, he likes Jeonghan because the two of you resemble siblings more than anything else and he’s comforted by the seemingly platonic nature of your relationship. 

The second change is that because of this new proximity and lack of rules around guests, you both are in and out of each other’s apartments constantly. Those late nights at the library are replaced by late nights at each other’s kitchen table with laptops and textbooks spread across it. There are also movie nights and video game nights and reading nights and really everything in between. 

The third change is precisely because of this new proximity. His friends are absolutely onto his little secret. Mingyu smirks and raises an eyebrow every time Wonwoo bails on plans and says he’s busy. “Busy with who?” Mingyu will ask tauntingly. Wonwoo does his best to brush this off, but his friends see right through it, like they do tonight. 

You’re sitting across from him at the kitchen table, working on an assignment together, when a lot of noise at his front door makes him groan. You look at him questioningly, and that look only grows when he says he’s sorry for what’s about to happen. He’s done everything he can to avoid this moment, but it seems he can’t escape it anymore. Mingyu’s met you because you’re here all the time, but the others haven’t and they’re about to. 

Mingyu barrels into the room with Seungcheol and Vernon on his heels. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you guys were working on anything.” Mingyu’s apology is a total lie because that was the entire reason that Wonwoo bailed on plans with them, but he won’t call him out on it in front of you. 

“You must be Y/N, we’ve heard a lot about you,” Seungcheol says, introducing himself and Vernon. You glance questioningly still at Wonwoo, but you’re friendly about greeting them back. 

“We’ll be quiet,” Mingyu promises, leading the others to the living room with a smug look. They aren’t quiet in the least, but it doesn’t matter because the project is done within an hour. You pack up your things and leave, telling him you’ll see him tomorrow. He knows he has to face the music at some point, so he decides to get it over with, joining his friends in the living room. 

“So, that’s Y/N, huh? She’s cute,” Seungcheol teases.

“Told you. He’s down bad,” Mingyu laughs. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just friends. We’ve had a lot of classes together over the years,” Wonwoo says evenly. 

“Is she not single?” Vernon asks. While Seungcheol and Mingyu are teasing, Vernon doesn’t seem to mean anything by it. Still, Wonwoo would like to pretend that he doesn’t feel the way he does and doesn’t want the questions. 

“No, I’m pretty sure she is, but it doesn’t matter. We’re just friends.” Okayyyys and Whatever You Says echo behind him as he excuses himself to bed, because he’s decided he actually isn’t ready for this conversation. He’d like to keep living in denial. 

~

If it was even possible, you integrate even more into his life. It turns out that Jeonghan shares classes with Seungcheol, so now those little ventures with his friends include you and your roommate too. Over time, he sees it for what it is. His friends seem to like yours and Jeonghan’s company, sure, but they actually just like to watch him squirm around you. 

But he’d never dream of turning down time with you, so he finds himself out at the bar. This one is special because it’s actually half arcade. He’s been eyeing it since he heard that it opened and no one objects to making it the outing on Saturday night. Everyone grabs a drink upon arrival and starts making their way around each machine. He sticks with you most of the night and doesn’t even notice how many coins the two of you have gone through or that your friends have long abandoned this side of the building, opting for the actual bar. They even leave you two after a while to go to another bar down the street. 

When Mingyu comes home and finds Wonwoo on the couch, he groans. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be out with Y/N! We had a whole plan!” 

Wonwoo blinks at his roommate. “What do you mean? You guys abandoned us and when we were done with the games we came home.”

“We abandoned you so you could make a move!” Mingyu cries. 

Again, Wonwoo blinks. “I won’t be doing that.” 

“Why not?!” Mingyu’s cries are getting louder and perhaps a little more like literal cries. 

“Because she doesn’t like me like that,” Wonwoo says, but he’s realizes his mistake as soon as it’s out. Mingyu’s already smirking, wails forgotten.

“Oh? But you do?” 

“Good night, Mingyu,” Wonwoo dismisses, standing up. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll work on it for you,” his roommate promises and it sounds vaguely like a threat. 

“We?” Wonwoo asked, then he remembers how your shared friends abandoned both of you earlier tonight. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. Good night, Mingyu,” He says, meaning it this time.

~

It’s Valentine’s Day, but Wonwoo treats it as business as usual. He has classes that are kicking his ass this semester, namely his senior design project, and he hardly thinks about the significance of the day and how he’s painfully single with an unrequited crush. You’ve been swamped too for the same reasons and you agree to meet him at his apartment for dinner and to work on your projects together. 

It’s late when you leave and he packs up his things after seeing you out. When he goes to his room to settle in for bed, he’s surprised to see a little heart-shaped box on his desk. There’s a little card with his name in your hand writing on it and it makes him stall out. First of all, how did you sneak this in here? Yes, you use his ensuite bathroom while you’re here, but he didn’t even see you sneak anything out of your bag. Secondly, why did you get him anything? 

Heart racing a little, he opens the card. It’s simple and actually gives no indication of why you did this - just a simple Happy Valentine’s Day, accompanied by a little image of a cat and your name written underneath it. Inside the box is a small selection of chocolates. He feels lame when he sends you a message thanking you for the chocolates, and even lamer when you simply send back, ‘You’re welcome!’ He doesn’t know how to interpret the meaning of this gesture and is sort of afraid to ask, so he leaves it alone. 

~

It’s his friends that plant the seed. “It’s almost White Day,” Seungcheol says over lunch. He has a feeling that it’s directed at him, but he stays silent. This is their not-so-subtle way of telling him to do something about your little Valentine’s Day gift last month. He didn’t mention it to any of them, but he probably doesn’t have to because they probably already know since they keep conspiring to get him to make a move. Wonwoo’s caught Jeonghan in on it occasionally too, which might be how they know about your little gift. 

“I didn’t get anything this year,” Vernon says, though he doesn’t sound too put out by it. “Did you guys?”

Seungcheol and Mingyu both shake their head. “What about you, Wonwoo? Did you get anything?” Mingyu asks slyly. 

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, chewing his food. “I did,” he admits shortly.

“Oh? And are you going to return the gift?” Vernon asks, sounding hopefully.

“Maybe.” Another short answer.

“I think you should. I think she’d like it,” Seungcheol says, sounding just as hopeful as Vernon. Wonwoo doesn't ask who ‘she’ is, because it feels a little too much like admitting how he feels. So he just shrugs. 

~

White Day is on a Friday. Wonwoo goes through the day per usual, attending classes and hanging out with you in between. You seem to be in a good mood today, which isn’t unusual, but you’re a little twitchy. He gives you a look as you wiggle in your seat for the thousandth time since sitting down at the cafe in the afternoon. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you excuse. “Maybe a little too much caffeine today.” 

He doesn’t call you out what he thinks might be a lie because as far as he knows you’ve only had two cups today, one this morning and the one you’re drinking now. “Maybe you should cut back,” he teases. 

You give him an entertained look. “You first, then we’ll talk.” 

That night, he finds himself at a single’s mixer with you and your shared friends. One of Seungcheol’s frat friends extended the invitation and he didn’t have a good reason to turn it down. He loses you in the crowd quickly and wishes he hadn’t. He knows the whole point of this thing is to find someone to date or hook up with, but he has such little interest in the idea that he does his best to dodge any woman that approaches him. 

He finds you at the kitchen counter, total chaos around you, but you look totally dejected and unaware of it. He pats your back, getting your attention. That’s when he realizes that you aren’t just dejected, but you’re drunk. “Doing okay?” 

You nod, eyes a little unfocused. “Are you having fun?”

He shrugs. “Not particularly. Do you want to dip?” You nod and he realizes just how far gone you are when you stand up, wobbling from side to side. He steadies you, leading you out of the house. “Okay to walk?” You nod again, clinging to his side drunkenly as you two begin walking back. “You don’t normally drink this much, do you?” He asks carefully. 

“No,” you admit. “Just felt like it tonight.” 

“Okay,” he soothes. “Let’s get you to bed. You look like you’ll pass out anytime.” You don’t fight him when he leads you into his apartment instead. He knows your apartment is right down the hall, but he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you unattended when you’re like this. He hands you some clothes to change into and excuses himself. When he comes back with some water and medicine, you’re tugging the t-shirt into place. He beats back the thought of seeing you in his clothes because now is just not the time. Or rather never. 

“Take this first,” he commands, handing you the medicine and the water. When you’re done, he holds the comforter up for you to slide under. 

“Are you staying?” You ask sleepily, setting in immediately.

Wonwoo chuckles. “Well, I live here, so… I’ll be on the couch though, if you need me.”

You glare, though there’s absolutely nothing threatening about it. “No, just stay here.” You clumsily scoot over, peeling the covers back. 

He should say no, but he’s totally weak for you and can’t think to say no, so he sighs. “Let me change. I’ll be back.” When he comes back, he thinks you’re asleep. He’s almost dozed off when you speak up again. 

“Sorry you have to take care of me. I didn’t mean to overdo it,” you mumble. 

“It’s fine. Why did you overdo it though? I wasn’t under the impression that you really liked drinking all that much,” Wonwoo questions. He doesn’t actually expect to get a coherent answer, but it’s worth a try. He didn’t like seeing you so dejected earlier tonight. It reminds him of how you were when things with Minghao ended a couple years ago.

“It’s silly,” you mumble. You really sound like you’re barely hanging on to consciousness and he tries to ignore how cute it is. 

“Doubt it. Try me,” he dares. 

You huff, eyebrows furrowing. “You didn’t get me anything for White Day.” Wonwoo’s jaw drops, but you’re still rambling sleepily, eyes still closed. “I got you the chocolates for Valentine’s Day to tell you that I like you, but you didn’t get anything for me for White Day, so you must not return my feelings.” You huff again. “It’s okay.”

“I did though,” he blurts. Your eyes shoot open. You don’t look totally present, but you certainly don’t look so tired anymore. “I do.”

“You did? You do?” Your hopeful tone threatens crush him right where he lies. 

“Of course… I just wasn’t sure how to give it to you. You’re a lot braver than I am, it seems,” he chuckles, feeling a little embarrassed. He sits up, opening his bedside drawer, pulling out a little heart-shaped box with a little card on top of it. Your eyes light up at the sight and you clumsily sit up. 

“You like me back?” You’re doing your best to focus on the conversation and the way you add the word ‘back’ makes his heart beat out of his chest.

“Yeah, for an embarrassingly long time,” Wonwoo admits. You reach for the box and he stops you. “Maybe don’t eat it tonight. I don’t want you to get sick. It’ll be here tomorrow though.” You pout, but agree, letting him sit the box to the side. “Come on, go to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning. If you remember, that is.”

You follow his command, but he’s surprised that you don’t lie back down on your pillow, but rather his chest. He’s sure you can hear his heart race, but he would never dream of pushing you away. “I’ll remember,” you insist stubbornly, but then you’re snoring softly the very next second and Wonwoo’s on cloud nine. 

~

Wonwoo wakes up to the sound of crinkling in the morning. He cracks his eyes open, blindly reaching for his glasses. When they’re in place, he scoffs at you. You’re sitting up in bed next to him, picking at the chocolates. “That’s not breakfast, Y/N.”

You grin. “But you got them for me!” You look surprisingly alert, like you didn’t get absolutely wasted the night before. 

Wonwoo nods, acquiescent. “I did. So you remember our conversation last night?”

You hum, grinning wider still. “I do. How long is ‘embarrassingly long’ exactly?”

“A while,” Wonwoo says evasively. “Any plans today?” You shake your head. “Go on a date with me?”

“Okay,” you grin. You pick up a chocolate, handing it to him. “One for you, one for me.” 

He thinks you’re so cute that he can’t even be mad that your shared breakfast is chocolate. He actually wouldn’t want it any other way. 

[funkyplantguy]

grian gets saved by hotguy and then pines over him <3

so this "au" (if you can even call it that when it exists exclusively in my brain and now in this ask) is mostly crack and comes from me joking around a couple days ago with some friends so...don't take it too seriously. that being said...

-

you have (3) new comments! view now?

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areeongreenday: hey! so this is insane.

click.

h0tguysnumber0n3fan: i guess i kind of understand where you're coming from with this - scar goodman and hotguy do share a similar sense of humor, and i sort of see what you're saying at 47:03 when you compared their voices (more specifically, the inflection they use on specific words) but...i guess i'm having a hard time imagining scar as a superhero. don't get me wrong - he's plenty cool, but...didn't he say that he's a full-time content creator now? i don't know that he'd really have the time to record, edit, and post videos on top of saving the city on a near-daily basis. interesting theory, though! admire the dedication.

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scargoodman: ;)

and there it was, taunting him - that damn winky face, yet again, commented nearly instantaneously each time grian uploaded a new video about the man itself. scar goodman - known to many as the man who had risen to sudden fame in the video essayist community with his charming good looks and boisterous personality. scar goodman, whom grian suspected was secretly none other than the city's beloved superhero. after all, they'd both made their debuts within a week of each other and shared not only a similar path of success but a similar sense of humor, a similar speaking style, a similar body type, a similar laugh...sure, there were things that didn't quite line up, but...for the most part, they appeared to be the exact same person.

okay - maybe grian was a little obsessed. but what was he supposed to do, not point out the obvious?

what made matters worse was that nobody seemed to believe him. no matter how many videos he posted, no matter how much proof he gave...nobody was willing to hear him out.

nobody except scar goodman himself, who seemed intent to drive him absolutely insane.

grian grumbled something to himself, pocketing his phone and continuing down the long, narrow sidewalk to his apartment complex. he'd lost track of time at work yet again, and as a result, the sun had long set. this wasn't unusual for him - he often opted to remain late in the office to "finish up a few things" (ie take advantage of the functional wifi his workplace offered instead of trying to upload videos on his crummy home network), so he was...fairly comfortable tracing the path back to his apartment in the dark of night. the street lights in this part of town didn't work exceptionally well, but with the familiarity of it all and the dull light of the moon, grian typically fared well enough.

tonight, however...well, call him paranoid, but...something felt...off. something about the way all the buildings around him were dark, indicating that their inhabitants were either asleep or out (and entirely unreachable if grian were to call for help). something about the absence of the various stray cats that he often crossed paths with. something about how the complete and utter silence made his ears ring.

"aw, what's this? a cute guy? well, pretty boy, you've just entered the wrong part of town at the wrong time. unfortunately, loose lips sink ships, or...uh...however the saying goes, so...sorry, i can't let you leave this visit alive."

before grian could even register the words being spoken (where were they even coming from?? above him? below him? behind him? everywhere, all at once?), he felt hands gripping the back of his shirt. in another moment, he was on the ground, his breath clawing its way out of his chest. above him stood a figure, shrouded in darkness and the billowing, starry cape draped across their shoulders. in their hands was something glinting, something sharp, something deadly -- something that grian's frazzled, spinning mind was unable to put a name to. or maybe it refused to - refused to name the tool that would be his doom. maybe it was better that way, he mused idly, as the figure raised it high above their head. maybe it was best to not know.

"hey! there you are - what did i say about running off?"

and just as quickly as he'd accepted his death, the threat of it was gone, vanquished by the appearance of the tall, costumed man on the rooftop adjacent. grian felt his breath return to his chest in one fell swoop, filling his lungs and sending a wave of sensitivity to his throat. he coughed, hard, tears welling helplessly in his eyes, and the newcomer's attention snapped to him in an instant.

"oh - and you've made a friend! how nice. unfortunately, there are no plus ones in prison."

"hotguy," grian's would-be murderer snarled. "i thought i'd lost you."

"nah. i may have gotten lost, sure. but you didn't lose me. there's a difference."

"you'll wish that i'd lost you when i'm through with you."

"oh, that was lame!" the man cried, hopping over the low rooftop wall and landing neatly on the ground below (how he did it, even grian wasn't sure. by all intents and purposes, his legs shouldn't have that level of shock absorption, even if he had been fed some chemical cocktail by a mad scientist at a young age as he boasted). "listen - we've got to get you a better catchphrase."

hotguy strode forward, his eyes glinting behind his tinted visor. he glanced to grian out of the corner of his eye, then back to the villain - then back to grian again, his mouth going slack in surprise. grian met his gaze - took in his appearance - and let out a bark of laughter, one not missed by either scar goodman or the cloaked figure in front of him. scar returned his laughter, throwing his head back and planting his hands firmly on his hips.

"well, what a coincidence," he giggled, after a moment. "my new catchphrase just so happens to be "subscribe to my youtube channel."

"what?" their third demanded, glancing between the two. "what are you talking about?"

"oh my god. there's no way. there's no way. how - how am i the only one who knows? how am i the only one who suspects?? it's obvious - it's so obvious."

"what's obvious?"

"i know, right? i make it as obvious as possible, and still...still, nobody puts two and two together. well...nobody except for you, apparently. i guess that you're just...special."

"why don't you just come out and say it?" grian mused, propping himself up on his elbows and ignoring the sputtering from their newly acquired third wheel. "i feel like if you said it - either as scar goodman or hotguy - people would have to believe it, no?"

a strange look came over hotguy's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

"ah...i don't think that would change anything. plus, i have this thing with this cute guy where he tries to tell everyone my identity and i egg him on to get him to make more silly videos. i would hate to give that up."

he winked, and grian felt warmth climb his cheeks. gone was the fear, gone was the panic, gone was the darkness and the creeping, crawling sense of unease - instead, there was only curiosity, burning brightly in his chest. he wanted to talk to scar - hotguy - for hours, wanted to pull the object of his obsession apart to see what made him tick, then put him back together again, just to see what would happen. he wanted to get to know who hotguy was underneath the suit - and who scar goodman was with the suit. he'd wanted (he'd wanted for so long) and it felt like maybe...just maybe...he'd get to have.

"hey! what the hell is going on?"

"oh, right," hotguy chuckled, turning his attention to the third member of their party. "sorry - didn't mean to ignore you. here - sit tight, for real this time. the police will be here soon."

"dude, i'm just going to leave again. do you really not have handcuffs or something?"

"who needs handcuffs when you have a cub to design fancy gadgets for you?"

"a...a what?" the figure asked, then yelped, startled, as something exploded out of the cuff on hotguy's wrist. a net, affixing itself neatly to their body, wrapping them up in a cocoon of their own folly. grian stared at it, humming in approval.

"nice."

"thank you! it's new."

"i know."

"i bet you do," scar responded, and grian flushed further at the teasing edge his tone took on. "i bet you know almost everything about me, at this point. obsessed, much?"

"i could say the same," grian huffed back, pulling himself to his feet and brushing off his jeans (there was a rip in one leg, now, he noticed with a frown). "you recognized me, like, immediately. it's pretty dark out, too - sounds like you're the one obsessed."

"what can i say - you're pretty and smart. i happen to like my men pretty and smart."

grian sputtered incoherently in response, all confidence gone out the window. oh god - he was even more charismatic in person, even in costume. and god, was the costume more attractive in person, as well - baggy cargo pants and a tight, fitted top that exposed his tanned midriff. not the most tactical, sure - but damn was it hot.

"you can't say that," he moaned, covering his reddened cheeks with his hands. "oh my god. i hate you. i've known you for five minutes and i already hate you."

"sure you do," scar responded, grinning. "i - oh, hold on."

he raised his hand and tapped the earpiece affixed to the side of his head, concentrating. after a moment, he sighed - and for just a second, grian thought that his shoulders drooped in exhaustion. as quickly as they sagged, however, scar was straightening, turning back to grian with an easy smile.

"sorry, handsome, duty calls. are you alright to get back home on your own? i doubt this guy will be giving you any more trouble. those nets are pretty sturdy."

"wait!" grian sputtered, his heart hammering painfully in his chest (no, no, he couldn't let scar slip through his fingers, not now, not when he was finally so close). "don't go - i...can i see you again?"

scar's smile wobbled around the edges, and any panic grian felt was replaced with guilty - heavy and suffocating (though he wasn't sure why)

"ah...isn't it more fun, this way? don't you like the chase? isn't that exhilaration enough for your pretty little head?"

"i mean...it's a fun hobby, yeah, but -,"

"then we'll stick to the status quo. after all, i'd hate to rob you of your favorite hobby. goodnight, grian. can't wait for your next video."

and with a wink, he was gone, disappearing back into the shadows so quickly grian could have sworn he was made of them. and grian...well. he had an apartment to get home to, a cat to feed...and a chase to continue. and maybe, someday, if he was fast enough...he'd catch up.

[olderthannetfic]

A short while ago you mentioned fic on AO3 that was written in the “AO3 style”, or something to that effect. I was wondering if you could elaborate on what that means/is?

--

Oh god. This topic comes around every 6 months or so. Others should feel free to help me out here, but basically...

A lot of fanfic sounds like the other fanfic and other stuff that the same communities consume. In a given era and sector of fandom, that leads to a samey style. It often has a lot of overlap with a specific sector and era of genre fiction with a heavy dose of watches-tv-does-not-read-books elements on top.

AO3 House Style is relatively similar to the height of LJ Western slash fandom. Other fanfic styles are often similar but start showing other influences the more distant you get.

There are some major strains, not always in the same works:

Transparent genre fiction prose that doesn't call too much attention to itself. It's there to convey plot, not make you notice the language qua language. You'll see something similar in, say, a Mercedes Lackey novel (along with the terrible editing and protagonist centered morality that are also common in fic, haha).

YA boom era YA vibes.

Kind of forced "snark" and samevoice from many characters in a way that tells you the author spent a little too much time watching Buffy.

World building and complex thriller/mystery/etc. plots that actually work typically take a back seat to pining, angst with a happy ending, and other more ship-focused, character interaction-focused, and emotions-focused things. The general idea of a mystery, vampire AU, etc. is often present, but it's more of a backdrop. (Depends on the part of fandom though!)

Huge focus on the internal psychological and emotional state of characters.

Lots of hurt/comfort, both physical and emotional.

Lots of serialized work that shows the traces of being written that way (dangling plot threads, inflated word count, returning to similar plot points in a way that wouldn't happen if the thing were completely written, revised, and then only posted serially).

Certain cliched phrases like "He smelled of __ and __ and something uniquely him", carding fingers through hair (thanks, commenters for researching this one a year or two ago and proving it's way more common in fic!), "Oh. Oh.", etc.

If the fic is more self-consciously literary, it's full of sentences that trail off to the point where you're almost not sure what actually happened.

Often lots of very short paragraphs and lots of scenes that are almost all dialogue

Frequently third person limited present tense. Some third person limited past tense. Less of other stuff unless you're looking at a fandom where canon is first person or you're looking at readerfic (which is on AO3 but is not really "AO3 House Style").

Honestly, some people would just say "sounds like fanfic", but if you go read primarily on SpaceBattles or something, you're going to find a lot of stories that don't sound quite the same as your prototypical AO3 fic.