#CLAP IF U THINK HE SHOULD SUFFER

[cryobabyy]

Hot take, but Carmy has never been a good leader.

Something that really stuck with me in s3 is Terry's approach to gentle, but strong leadership and Carmy's inability to mimic it. When she asks him "Do you need me to finish that plate for you, Chef?" it's meant to motivate him and gauge if he's ready to handle the pressure of a leadership position. Terry's delivery is genuine because her intentions are genuine, and Carmen doesn't want to disappoint her because he respects her and her authority.

When Carmen says the same to Luca his delivery is so aggressive that it sounds like a threat (because it is). He's saying it to assert his authority over him as opposed to simply telling him he needs to pick up the pace. It's very reminiscent of Donna's "Do we have a problem?". Terry even corrects him when he begins to berate Luca with his little "Let's fucking go" moment. It's unnecessarily abrasive and disrupts the focus and peace of the kitchen. Obviously, Carmy never grows out of it. He leads with fear and aggression as his main motivators.

TLDR; Terry's staff respects and listens to her because she leads with integrity and respect and knows how to run a balanced and energetic kitchen. Terry's a boss who inspires her staff to do better through positive reinforcement and mutual respect. Carmy's staff respects and listens to him because they fear him. The vibe he's cultivating is so mfing toxic, that even his ride or die is about to abandon ship (as she should). He is truly a miserable person to work for.

That negative review better be his come to jesus moment bc his behavior this season was so profoundly foul, vile, unbecoming and ghetto (I love to see it 🤭) I almost turned my TV off and took a walk. He needs to be DEALT with.

[fryknave]

normal well adjusted human beings will be like yea he should lose his sense of self and will to live and be eternally scarred by the actions he did and did not take. thats a given. but what if he was physically scarred forever also☝️

[nogenderbee]

Hello! Do you still take request? If so, can you maybe write your recent post about vbs came to reader's concert but instead with wxs (separately)?

Thank u and have a good day/night bee!!!

Hiii! And of course! Sorry it took some time but I hope you like it!

Tsukasa, Emu, Nene, Rui on reader's concert

TagList: @bleachtheidiot @yulikesminori @kuzui5201314 @alicewinterway18 @indi-has-fallen @m3g-luka

⊱ Tsukasa is the loudest in the crowd and in the room!

⊱ you know that "Tsukasa is banned from Leo/need concerts" theory? That's him right there.

⊱ okey but anyways, he just adores you so much he can't help but be the biggest fan

⊱ music can play so loud you cannot hear your own thoughts and yet, you'll be able to hear this energetic star

⊱ definitely learned small part of your dances if you have or thought of his own so he can cheer even with his actions

⊱ he's not necessarily dressed fully in your merch but he gotta have light sticks

⊱ surprisingly he never joins and sings along, but that's simply because he wants everyone to look at you and hear your charming voice!

⊱ gives a loud applause after and before every song you play

⊱ after show he'll quicky come up to you and hug you tightly as he's telling you how well you did right there and how proud he is from you!

"You were so amazing right there!! And when you had you solo, I thought I'm gonna cry from all the emotions! Let me treat you to some dessert for all the great work you did just now!"

⊱ Emu literally had so much fun there! She was cheering for you, singing and even dancing a bit!

⊱ she wasn't the loudest there but you could still hear her voice in the crowd

⊱ she knows all of your bands songs by heart so she immidietly know what song is playing by the first few notes

⊱ definitely comes with like a hairband or a shirt from your merch to show some additional support

⊱ won't be surprised if she actually has a little dance that doesn't take much space but makes herself more visible to you for additional cheering

⊱ you go for taiyaki after every single show because she treats it as a special reward!

⊱ also wouldn't be surprised if security had to be additionally carefully because of her trying to sneak into backstage before or after show when she still didn't had the official permission

"Y/N! I wanted to give you some water before your show! I don't want you to hurt your voice... oh no! Bear guy is coming again!! See you!"

⊱ tells everyone about her experience and you can hear from your mutual friends that she was jumping from happiness when she was explaining how much she liked your show

⊱ Nene most likely was really nervous before coming there and asked you what she should wear to blend into the crowd as much as she can

⊱ she doesn't want to be in the center of attention which leads to her not wearing any merch during your show

⊱ she also tries to not cheer too loudly and instead just sends you bright, shy smile every now and then

⊱ of course she knows your songs by heart and suffers every time you play hear favorite song and she's trying her best not to hum it

⊱ overalls she's a bit scared to be left alone right there so there's a high possibility of her bringing someone with her to your concerts

⊱ it's also really possible that she refused to go backstage even when she had a pass

⊱ after show tho, she'll tell you all about what she liked and what she didn't to repay her lack of cheering

"It was really great. My favorite part had to be your solo! I think you really made the atmosphere right."

⊱ if you're the type to cheer loudly on her performances, she might just have sudden burst of confidence and cheer a bit louder then usual, like clap her hands or so!

⊱ Rui is the type to wear WAY too much merch on your shows

⊱ literally the only non merch outfit is his pants and shoes just because you didn't sold these

⊱ he's also cheering with light sticks which leads to him dancing a bit, he doesn't go as far as singing tho... he may hum but won't sing along whole songs

⊱ he's also easy to stop in crowd, not only because of how much merch he wears but because of his height and you really don't mind! It only makes noticing his happy expression easier

⊱ before he got the pass, he used to get close to backstage and call for you just to wish you great show and kiss your hand (security had enough of him)

"Hey darling! Good luck on your show! Look for me in the crowd because I promise to give you a wink once in a while~"

⊱ when he got the pass, not much changed except location and him teasing you about how much you wanted him to be there before your every show

⊱ after each show he'll treat you to some cafe date or so to give you a bit if a relaxation time

❉⊱•═��⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

[ticklygiggles]

Miya&Mia's Tickletober Day 5 - Disguise

Elias Ainsworth x Hatori Chise

A/N: Thanks to my sweetest Ginny for giving me the idea for this fic? You are an angel! As always, I hope you all enjoy this!

Chise didn't know much about men's looks. She didn't know what her type was and she certainly didn't know what was considered handsome or not good looking, so she thought she was not the right person for this task in particular.

"Now, what do you think about this, Chise? Do I look better with black hair?" 

"U-Uh…"

"Waaa!" Silky clapped har hands happily, nodding her head in approval. On the other hand, Ruth simply huffed and nuzzled himself closer to Chise's lap. 

When Elias asked her to help him choose a new disguise for a trip he had to do, she immediately said no, but Elias insisted that he'd like to look good for his bride, even if she wasn't going to be there with him.

"You look… good, Elias."

"Chise… I feel like you don't like anything I show you," Elias said and Chise could clearly see the disappointment on his face and... was that a pout? 

"I told you I'm not good at this," Chise said, feeling an uncomfortable feeling in her guts at the thought of disappointing him. Silky quickly read the mood and she was quick to leave to the kitchen.

Ruth looked at Chise and then at Elias. Chise's feelings were settled in his guts as well, but feeling like it was something Elias and Chise had to talk over, he left behind Silky, claiming that he wanted a snack. 

Elias sighed and he made his way towards Chise, sitting beside her. Chise couldn't lie and say she didn't like Elias like that, he looked… well, he looked attractive with black hair, she felt something akin to butterflies at seeing him like that. 

In other words, she didn't hate it compared to the other disguises he had shown them for the past forty minutes. She would even say she liked it. 

"I'm honest," she said, quietly, looking at Elias who looked back at her with very extravagant golden eyes. "You really look good this time. It's my favorite so far."

That made Elias's face light up; if there had been a tail behind him, it would most likely be wagging hard.

He grabbed Chise's hands between his and asked excitedly: "do you mean it, Chise?! Or are you just being kind?" 

Chise smiled fondly, shaking her head. His reaction relieved her. "I'm honest," she said, but her eyes landed on Elias' smile and she frowned. "Though… no matter what disguise you wear, your smile will always be fake." 

Elias gasped, his fingers touching the frozen smile on his face. "It doesn't look real? What about this?" He showed his white teeth to her and she frowned a little more. 

"Fake."

"Huh? Then what should I do to make it look real? I can't smile more than this, it is uncomfortable and it hurts my cheeks and- ack! N-Nohoho! Nohohot thihihis!"

"I think we can only do this."

Elias cringed away from Chise's hands, but she easily followed him, smiling brightly and giggling sweetly as her fingers danced around Elias' ribs, making him cackle, little tears if laughter already at the corner of his eyes. 

Chise felt a little breathless. Elias really looked nice in this disguise, she definitely liked him better than with blond hair. He somehow looked younger and full of life. She liked it. 

"Ahahahaha! Ch-Chihihisehehe! Hahahave mehehehercy!" 

Chise didn't know how, but she was nearly straddling Elias as he laid against the surface of the couch, squirming and laughing vibrantly. His rich, deep laughter filled the house and her heart. 

She giggled softly when she found a very ticklish spot on his highest ribs that had him shrieking with laughter. After tickling him for a few seconds, she finally stopped, sitting properly as Elias tried to control his giggling and get himself back up. 

"Chihise," he said a little out of breath. "You often doho this, do you like to see me suffer so much?"

Chise smiled, shaking her head. "I like your laugh." 

"Well, I also like yours, Chise."

Before she could even think about escaping, Elias had caught her by the waist and was gently tickling her sides, making her giggle brightly. 

"Nahahahat mehehe!" She laughed, trying to free herself from his hold. "Ehehehliahahas!" 

"I think your smile was a little fake, Chise. Let me help you with that just like you did."

"I don't need- ahahahaha! N-Nahahahaha!"

[shiningwonderland]

Masato Hijirikawa (Repeat)

Translator: Boo (Twitter: masatoswife)

Proofreader: Rei (Twitter: wolfe_raine)

Editors: Mae (Twitter: itoshikimaegirl), Terry (Twitter: turtlemudge)

QA: Rei (Twitter: wolfe_raine)

July — Wachsend Shine

It’s July.

The rainy season hasn’t ended yet, but recently there have been more days with nice weather and the sunlight feels very warm.

Otoya Ittoki: Say, this school’s pretty fancy, huh…

Masato Hijirikawa: How so…?

Otoya Ittoki: The whole building is fully air-conditioned, so it’s comfortable all year round. This time last year, I was dripping with sweat during classes.

Masato Hijirikawa: Is that so…? The school I went to was similar to here.

Natsuki Shinomiya: The same goes for me. I’ve never suffered from summers and winters very much.

Otoya Ittoki: For real? It’s like that for everyone in schools these days?

Haruka Nanami: Ah… No, I believe ordinary public middle schools don’t have such things… Summertime was always really hot for me, too…

When I answer him, Ittoki-kun stares at Hijirikawa-sama with spite in his eyes.

Masato Hijirikawa: You can spend your time more comfortably too now, can’t you?

Otoya Ittoki: Well… yeah, but…

Masato Hijirikawa: Then don’t complain… More importantly… Nanami. There is something I want to ask you.

Masato Hijirikawa: Last year, on a snowy day…. Were you outside singi—

Ringo Tsukimiya: Ah, what a relief…! There’s still some kids left.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Tsukimiya-sensei…

Otoya Ittoki: What’s up, Rin-chan?

Masato Hijirikawa: Is something the matter?

Ringo Tsukimiya: Absolutely. You see, there’s something I want help with for a bit….

Haruka Nanami: Um, well… I’ll help with anything.

When I get up and raise my hand, Tsukimiya-sensei is so happy, he claps his hands.

Ringo Tsukimiya: Really?! You’re a lifesaver~. To tell you the truth, I should be cleaning the pool right now.

Ringo Tsukimiya: I said 'I want this clean by today', but Shiny just wouldn't hear it, no matter what I said! I can lend you some swimsuits, so let’s all do it together!

Masato Hijirikawa: I do not mind, but… if we simply return to the dormitory, we can get our school standard swimsuits—

Otoya Ittoki: Can we swim after we’re done cleaning?

Ittoki-kun asks excitedly, interrupting Hijirikawa-sama’s words.

Ringo Tsukimiya: Of course~! Let’s have lots of fun!

Ringo Tsukimiya: Therefore, let’s not talk about boorish things like those school swimsuits.

Tsukimiya-sensei winks in Hijirikawa-sama’s direction.

Then…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Waah, I’m looking forward to it!

As he says this, Shinomiya-san smiles at me.

Natsuki Shinomiya: I’ll choose a swimsuit for you. We might as well get you a cute one.

Haruka Nanami: Uhm…

Select the Phrase!

できるだけ地味なものでお願いします. Please pick one that’s as plain as possible... (+10 Love +0 Music)

Natsuki Shinomiya: Of course, I’ll be choosing one that looks cute.

Haruka Nanami: Not like that…

Natsuki Shinomiya: Hehe. I wonder which one to choose~.

Natsuki Shinomiya: Waah, you look so cute, Nanami!

Haruka Nanami: Y-you think so… ?

Natsuki Shinomiya: Of course I do. So... please raise your face and let me see better.

Haruka Nanami: Mmm…

There’s a big ribbon on the chest, so whether or not it’s cute isn’t really the issue here…

Is the amount of fabric just scarce, or is my skin exposed too much… ?

It’s honestly so, so very embarrassing.

It would work with a style like Tomo-chan’s, but more importantly, I wonder if it’s okay for someone like me to wear a swimsuit like this…

Ringo Tsukimiya: Oh dear, oh dear! Haru-chan, you’re so cute… ! So cute that I want to take you home…

Otoya Ittoki: Sensei, isn’t that statement kinda inappropriate?

Ringo Tsukimiya: Is it? I feel like it’s normal to want something by your side when you think it’s cute, but…

Otoya Ittoki: Well… but… I guess she does look really cute, huh… You should be more confident, Nanami.

Haruka Nanami: U-uhm… thank you…

Then, Hijirikawa-sama, who has finished changing his clothes, comes in.

The moment he looks at me, he suddenly stops moving.

Ah… It doesn’t suit me, after all.

Ringo Tsukimiya: Waaaa~~h! Maa-sama looks super handsome!

Maa… -sama?

Even though up until just a while ago, he still called him Maa-kun…

Moreover… his eyes have somehow become heart-shaped.

Ringo Tsukimiya: I can’t take it~… The line from your collarbones to your chest is perfect! How sexy…

Ringo Tsukimiya: Beau-ti-ful! I’m being captivated~!

Tsukimiya-sensei pokes Hijirikawa-sama’s chest.

But…

Hijirikawa-sama doesn’t move an inch.

Somehow, his eyes seem unfocused, like he’s staring into a void…

Perhaps he’s not feeling well…

Haruka Nanami: U-um… Hijirikawa-sama.

Masato Hijirikawa: Ah! Yes, w-what is it… ?

Hijirikawa-sama… For some reason, he’s really disoriented. Besides… he won’t look me in the eye… What’s wrong?

Haruka Nanami: Um…

Select the Phrase!

どうかしましたか? Did something happen? (+20 Love +0 Music)

Masato Hijirikawa: No... it’s... uhm…

Haruka Nanami: If you’re not feeling well, you should go to the school infirmary… I’ll go with you!

As I say that, I tightly grab Hijirikawa-sama’s hand.

Masato Hijirikawa: ...!!!

Then, Hijirikawa-sama withdraws his hand in surprise.

Masato Hijirikawa: There is no need for that…

Hijirikawa-sama turns away from me and goes to the changing room.

After a while, Hijirikawa-sama returns to the pool. He’s holding a baggy hoodie in his hands.

Haruka Nanami: Ehm... Hijirikawa-sama…

He quietly places the hoodie over my shoulders without looking me in the eye.

Haruka Nanami: Eh...?

Masato Hijirikawa: … Wear it.

Haruka Nanami: … But…

Masato Hijirikawa: … Just do it. Won’t you… ? It’s just… women should not expose their skin like that…

Haruka Nanami: Ah… I see. Thank you…

Ryuya Hyuga: I brought three people to help! … Hm? Seems like Ringo has also found some. With this many it’s going to be a walk in the park.

Ah, it’s Hyuga-sensei. He brought… Ichinose-san, Jinguji-san and Syo-kun from S class.

The three of them are said to be the highest achievers in S class and pretty close to their debut.

Ichinose-san and Ohayaho News’s HAYATO are twin brothers.

Jinguji-san, who had a recording showdown with Hijirikawa-sama before this, is a cool person with a strong presence. Come to think of it, he’s definitely popular with girls.

And last but not least, Syo-kun, whose popularity skyrocketed due to his strength and masculinity despite his small body. There’s even a secret fanclub for him.

Ren Jinguji: Hijirikawa… What’s with that pale body? Your swimsuit doesn’t look good on you at all. You can’t be a summer man like this.

Masato Hijirikawa: And… ? I do not think I want to be such a thing.

Ren Jinguji: Ah, that’s right. You’re always like that. You just won’t make any effort. And yet, it’s extremely easy for you to obtain everything.

Ren Jinguji: Just because you’re the eldest son, you’ll inherit the conglomerate, and you’re needed at home. You have exactly what I can’t have, yet you’re trying to throw it away.

Ren Jinguji: That attitude pisses me off. Just looking at you makes me want to beat you up.

Masato Hijirikawa: That would be unjust resentment.

Ren Jinguji: No sweat, huh, Masato Hijirikawa? Hey, let’s have a match. I’ll break your nose.

Masato Hijirikawa: I don’t know what you intend to have a match for, but I came here to clean the pool. I do not have time to play your games.

At that moment, a huge shark appears inside the pool.

Masato Hijirikawa: I-is that… a great white shark!? Why is it in a place like this… ?

Ren Jinguji: No, you’re wrong… It’s…

Shining Saotome: HA-HA-HAAA~. It’s ME!

The shark’s skin rips apart and the principal appears from within.

The principal is wearing a fundoshi and the mysterious phrase ‘body sushi’ is written on his abdomen.

Shining Saotome: I heard your conversation! Let’s have a maaatch! It will be a three-on-three water polo match!

Shining Saotome: By the way, the losing team will have to crossdreeess!

Ringo Tsukimiya: How lovely~! Doesn’t that seem fun? When it comes to crossdressing, just leave it to me! I’ll teach you lots about it~!

Ryuya Hyuga: Water polo… ? Didn’t we gather students to clean the pool… !?

Shining Saotome: HA-HA-HA~. It’s no proooblem!

Saying this, the principal pulls at one of the shower nozzles next to the pool.

The bottom of the pool opens with a clicking sound, and all the water disappears.

Under it is a huge, robot-like thing…

Saotome Academy is full of mysteries, huh…

Once the bottom of the pool has opened all the way, big brushes—kind of like the ones in a car wash— come out and clean the dirt from the pool walls.

As soon as the walls are squeaky clean again, the floor returns to its original state. The floor looks clean as well.

Meanwhile, only ninety seconds have passed. Saotome Academy’s science and technology are not to be underestimated.

Shining Saotome: On to the final touch! COME ON, big waves!

Water vigorously spurts out from the sides of the pool and fills it in the blink of an eye.

Otoya Ittoki: If there’s all this machinery, you didn’t need us to clean the pool in the first place…

Masato Hijirikawa: … Exactly.

Shining Saotome: Hahahaaa~. The Shining ZR2 is TOOOP SECRET.

Shining Saotome: If you bring it up in conversation to others, it could result in an organization just as secret aiming for your liiife! It’s absolutely confidential!

Ryuya Hyuga: … Then you shouldn’t have shown us in the first place. When did you even make this thing anyway… ? Don’t just selfishly drain money from our budget, geez.

Shining Saotome: Did you say something, Ryuya-san~?

Ryuya Hyuga: Nope, nothing. He really is a self-centered old man. Think of the trouble I go through as the accountant for once…

Otoya Ittoki: Water polo, huh… How about the positions? I can go offense!

Masato Hijirikawa: I’m not that fond of ball games as they can injure my fingers, but…

Haruka Nanami: U-uhm…

Select the Phrase!

わたしが代わりに... I can go instead… (+25 Love +0 Music)

Masato Hijirikawa: You? In my place?

Otoya Ittoki: Well, if Masa doesn’t wanna it can’t be helped.

Masato Hijirikawa: I have not said I’m not doing it.

Otoya Ittoki: But you don’t like it, right?

Masato Hijirikawa: Be that as it may, there is no way I can force this onto a woman as I watch from the sidelines. Not to mention….

Hijirikawa-sama grasps my hands.

Masato Hijirikawa: I cannot afford to expose your hands to danger.

Masato Hijirikawa: Eventually, these hands will bring to life thousands of masterpieces. They are precious hands…

Masato Hijirikawa: On top of that, since you get injured so often… do not involve yourself in dangerous situations. I do not want you to be in pain.

Haruka Nanami: … Okay.

He’s worried about me. … I feel happy.

Natsuki Shinomiya: That’s true… And besides, if you were to move too much in this swimsuit, the string might come undone.

Masato Hijirikawa: The string…

The swimsuit I’m wearing has a top part that is held up with a string, which is tied behind my neck.

So… if it were to come undone…

… It might end up like the rare incident from a long while ago, at a swimming competition full of female idols.

Otoya Ittoki: T-That’s like… Doki Swimming! Topless quali—

Masato Hijirikawa: Ittoki! Don’t say any more…

Hijirikawa-sama hurriedly closes Ittoki-kun’s mouth.

In the end, Ittoki-kun plays offense, Hijirikawa-sama is on defense, and Shinomiya-san will play as the goalie.

The water polo match has begun.

It’s water polo, though there won’t be any formal rules, since we’re only playing in the school’s pool with a small number of people.

There aren’t any goal posts either, so if anything, it feels more like they’re playing portball inside a pool. One person from each team stands on top of a diving board, to substitute for a goal.

We came up with the rule that if the person who plays as the goalie catches the ball, they get points.

It’s quite unusual for water polo, but it seems to work just fine when playing three-on-three.

Otoya Ittoki: Masa! Pass!

Ittoki-kun is quick to catch and throw the ball over to Hijirikawa-sama.

Masato Hijirikawa: Roger…!

The ball draws a beautiful parabola in the sky right in Hijirikawa-sama’s direction, but…

Ren Jinguji: You’re not gonna get it!

Jinguji-san darts in front of him.

He butts in with efficient movements, making it seem like he isn’t underwater at all.

Masato Hijirikawa: Argh…

Hijirikawa-sama also reaches out in an attempt to get the ball, but…

Ren Jinguji: Heh. How unfortunate.

He’s one step too late and Jinguji-san takes the ball.

Ren Jinguji: You can’t beat me if you insist on playing while protecting your fingers! Get real, if you even can!

He sneers at him as he says it and immediately throws the ball towards Syo-kun.

Ren Jinguji: Over here! Catch it, Shorty!

Syo Kurusu: Got it!

Syo-kun takes the ball in a tight catch.

They’ve already scored a point…

Select the Phrase!

頑張ってくださいっ! Do your best! (+25 Love +0 Music)

Ren Jinguji: If you really want to cheer him on, why don’t you take off the hoodie and show him your swimsuit? I’m sure he’ll be delighted.

Haruka Nanami: … I’ll try.

I take off the hoodie Hijirikawa-sama lent me, and, once again…

Haruka Nanami: Do your best!

… call out to him.

Masato Hijirikawa: I will… Ah!? !!!

For some reason, I feel like Hijirikawa-sama’s movements are only getting slower.

Ren Jinguji: Whoo~! You’re the best, Lady! I dedicate this goal to you~.

Jinguji-san’s movements, on the contrary, are only improving.

In the end, A class loses, and they will have to crossdress.

Haruka Nanami: Sorry about the match... but I’m glad your fingers are okay.

Masato Hijirikawa: I apologize… We’ve been defeated. It seems I cannot win against him while protecting my fingers after all…

Masato Hijirikawa: However, in the unlikely event of an injury, I would not have been able to play the piano for a while. If that had happened, you would have mourned over it.

Haruka Nanami: Ah…

He did it… for me?

Haruka Nanami: Thank you…

Masato Hijirikawa: No, it’s not something you should thank me for. It was a battle I should have won…

Masato Hijirikawa: I am ashamed of myself… We lost the match, and now I’ll have to wear these clothes…

Ringo Tsukimiya: Oh dear, it’s not just clothes~. Your make-up must be done as well!

Masato Hijirikawa: Make-up… I presume there is no way we can neglect that part, can we…

Haruka Nanami: Yeah… Without make-up, the clothes may feel out of place.

Masato Hijirikawa: ... Could you assist me? I don’t know a lot about cosmetics, but I do not like to leave things unfinished.

Masato Hijirikawa: Since I’ve ended up like this, I want to go through with it until the very end.

Haruka Nanami: Understood. I’ll do my very best!

I pick up the cosmetics I borrowed from Tsukimiya-sensei and apply them in order.

Since Hijirikawa-sama has beautiful smooth skin, the foundation stays on really well…

Haruka Nanami: Um… Could you close your eyes?

Masato Hijirikawa: Like this… ?

As I approach the final stage of applying the make-up, staring at Hijirikawa-sama’s especially beautiful face makes my heart pound.

Haruka Nanami: Erm, I’m going to apply the lipstick now.

Masato Hijirikawa: Mhn…. It tickles…

I put a red hue on my pinky finger and gently trace it along Hijirikawa-sama’s lips.

Ah… His lips are... soft…

… Pretty… Hijirikawa-sama looks so beautiful when crossdressing that, even as a woman, I can’t help but gaze at him in admiration.

Like this, it’s as if he’s a Japanese doll…

When all three guys from A class finish changing their clothes, they reveal themselves in the classroom.

Masato Hijirikawa: This is… me… ?

Hijirikawa-sama mutters to himself in a dumbfounded manner as he stares at the mirror.

Otoya Ittoki: You have it easy, Masa. At least you look pretty. But me…. Don’t I look too much like a guy still…?

Saying that, Ittoki-kun pinches his skirt in an unfamiliar manner.

Natsuki Shinomiya: That’s not true! You look like a boyish girl.

Shinomiya-san’s height gives him the aura of a beautiful, powerful woman.

Ringo Tsukimiya: Waaah~! Maa-sama, you’re such a beautiful woman!! Even from a professional’s point of view, you look outstanding~. With that, I’ve decided today’s victory goes to Maa-sama!

Ringo Tsukimiya: If you were to debut as a female idol like this, I wouldn’t be able to afford letting my guard down. That’s how beautiful you look…

Tsukimiya-sensei stares at Hijirikawa-sama with an enthralled expression.

Masato Hijirikawa: Victory… ? Of which competition!? Good grief…

Hijirikawa-sama lets out a sigh.

The people in the classroom let out sighs as well, but rather than exasperated, they are sighs of admiration.

Ryuya Hyuga: Well, you certainly do look beautiful. If you keep quiet, I don’t see a man at all.

Otoya Ittoki: Right, right! Masa is like super pretty!

Haruka Nanami: Whoa… Beautiful…

Ren Jinguji: Wha—!? I’ve been defeated in beauty… Tch. Next time it’ll be different. Prepare yourselves.

Even though Jinguji-san won the water polo match, he clicks his tongue in frustration and leaves the classroom for some reason.

Masato Hijirikawa: … Heh. He truly is something…

Haruka Nanami: He really likes competitions, huh…

Masato Hijirikawa: Perhaps that’s it.

Upon seeing Jinguji-san like this, Hijirikawa-sama and I look at each other and start laughing.

Haruka Nanami: Haaah, Hijirikawa-sama was so beautiful… I, on the other hand…

There isn’t anything beautiful about the face reflected in the mirror.

Haruka Nanami: It’s no good… No matter how much I smile, I don’t see anyone but plain, old me! … Comparing was a mistake.

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorryyy!

Tomochika Shibuya: Haruka? Why are you saying sorry to the mirror?

Haruka Nanami: Ah, Tomo-chan… Erm… to tell you the truth…

I tell Tomo-chan what happened today.

Tomochika Shibuya: I see… Masa-yan was that beautiful a woman…

Haruka Nanami: Not just that!! Beautiful is an understatement! I even wondered if his beauty was actually a miracle…

Tomochika Shibuya: THAT beautiful!?

Haruka Nanami: And inversely, I felt that I’m just utterly plain…

Tomochika Shibuya: You think so? I think you’re plenty cute. You’re unusually naive for this day and age. Well, you’re kind of an airhead, but…

Tomochika Shibuya: There’s an earnest, hard worker inside this clumsy girl… Not to mention you’re honest! If I were a guy I’d definitely have my eye on you!

Haruka Nanami: H-have your eye on me…

Tomochika Shibuya: Well, me aside… Since you’re plenty cute, please have more confidence! You have your good qualities, don’t you?

Haruka Nanami: Qualities…? If we’re speaking of things I’m able to do, then...

Select the Phrase!

作曲！Composing! (+0 Love +15 Music)

Haruka Nanami: That’s right! Looks aren’t everything! Thank you, Tomo-chan.

Haruka Nanami: I have to work harder and make a good song.

Then, I start playing the piano.

I’ll do what I can. Because there are definitely things I can help with.

I can’t forget that.

Tomochika Shibuya: That’s not exactly what I meant… but that’s kinda like you, after all…

Either way, I’ll do the best I can! That’s the most important thing, unquestionably!

Mini Game

Ringo Tsukimiya: You’ve already learned enough of the basics by now. From here on, it’ll get more serious!

Ringo Tsukimiya: The arrangement of your assigned song has already been done in composition classes.

Ringo Tsukimiya: I’m thinking I’ll have you actually perform that song today~!

Ringo Tsukimiya: Once you actually perform it, you’ll understand things that you didn’t notice from just the score, and your understanding of the song will deepen.

Ringo Tsukimiya: Oh, before I forget! The performance level of the song will be included in the evaluation, so please do your best~!

Ringo Tsukimiya: Everything’s ready on my part. Please start whenever you’re ready!

S Perfect Rank

Masato Hijirikawa: Those are wonderful results. Your talent is gradually blooming… I feel truly fortunate to be able to witness it right in front of me. Please, I want you to continue to stay by my side.

Haruka Nanami: I will. I’ll stay by your side forever and ever…

Chapter End

[sixlane]

hii the regubartylily anon here u said ur curious about my other rarepairs so here i am to talk about that because well i love my silly rarepairs and i love yapping about them

in no specific order:

sybella, sybill trelawney x bellatrix black. they make me insane. i believe it was @/quillkiller who came up with them and i havent been the same since.

regulily. im a basic bitch i see two cool people kissing i become obsessed. they are exactly who i want to be. im not sure how i imagine lily because theres so many versions of her but every single one fits with reg perfectly

regtunia. im not sure whos post it was but someone made a moodboard and @/foursaints reblogged it and oh my god. oh my fucking god. they leave and sirius and lily are so happy that they are following in their footsteps but they just want a simple quiet life they dont want to rebel. they both feel abandoned and neglected. they are two sides of the same coin.

regubartylily, you and ren are geniuses. i cant decide whether i like the happy ending (regulily & rosekiller) or the bad ending (barty gets murdered) more. there is something compelling about the idea of both reg and lily projecting onto barty and wanting things from him. im not sure if they actually care about him or is he just providing them with attention. idk. it makes me feel kinda bad for him but also thats barty crouch jr. he deserves it. hes also the perfect pure pookiebear that hasnt done a thing wrong in his entire life but like. also he should suffer. you understand.

everything that @/quillkiller comes up with. im a fan. i clap whatever they say. effiebarty. maryjames. alectolily. bartyrosiers. lurthur. bellucius. i cheer

what r ur fav rarepairs??

omg hi!!! this is so interesting thank you for sharing! and i’m so happy to see regubartylily crack your top 5 hehe. i will say you’re absolutely right that jen is a rarepair genius. i too eat up everything she posts.

sybella is so interesting i don’t think i’ve every come across that (i gotta go stalk jen’s blog) but in a similar vein i loveeee sybillily. kara @/sugarsnappeases has talked to me about them extensively and has an amazing fic for them. they’re so interesting. like the girl who’s doomed and the one who doomed her. it gets me!!!!

bartylily is probably my biggest rarepair if they can even be considered rare anymore 🥲. there still aren’t many fics for them but i think they’re kinda taking off on tumblr which so so fun. they’re so special to me and i’ll love them forever.

and then of course we’ve got regubartylily and jartylily. my cursed threesomes. what can i say i love to stick barty in the middle of a preexisting ship and see what happens.

i’ve also talked about evjames a couple times. i don’t ship them at all but i think they’re hilarious when put in a relationship together.

honorable mentions to ludora (lucius and pandora) and pandoraleco (which has been brewing in my mind lately… more later perhaps)

MWAH thank you for coming back to share with me!! feel free to yap at me anytime <3

[ochrophyta]

clap if u think he should suffer

[bookofjudith]

hello! as you might have noticed I orphaned all of my works!

this was entirely an accident. I am still very much active on AO3 and tumblr, and did not mean to dissociate myself from ANY of my ATLA works, if you’re coming from those! All of my ATLA works have been reposted onto my AO3 account and can be found below, as well! This sucks, but there isn’t anything I can do about it, unfortunately! So, I just ask that if you’re reccing any of my works, to double check that you’re sending people to the version that says “aeoleus”, instead of “orphan_account”. Thank you so much, and I’m so sorry for the inconvenience!

A Hundred Golden Suns

Ch 14/14 - COMPLETE

Zuko does not survive that first fateful Agni Kai.

But no matter how much Ozai strives to pretend otherwise, the Old Gods are not dead.

And the Old Gods are angry.

a cardinal hits the window

COMPLETE

The beginning of the end, though Sokka doesn't recognize it at the time, comes in the form of a text message.

Yue 🌙 at 2:41 PM i need u to help me dye my hair

what is that song you sing for the dead?

COMPLETE

(“You know,” Sokka starts. “Your dad told me I should talk to you. I feel like such a fucking asshole. Your dad- he lost your mom, and then he lost you, and he’s still giving me advice on how to deal with it.”

The moon doesn’t respond.)

Or: the beginnings of recovery.

how to disappear completely

COMPLETE

(And Zuko wants to laugh, he does, because he’s twenty-one, and he's the guardian of a five-year-old sister he didn’t even know existed until his mother died in a car crash, and he's legally responsible for his nineteen-year-old sister who’s been admitted for almost a year of her short life, and rent is due, and his temp job doesn’t pay nearly enough, and he wishes he had someone to help, but he has no clue where Uncle is, and no other adult has ever cared enough to help, and he’s tired.

He’s just so, so, tired.)

here, at the end of all things

COMPLETE

There are two options here, Sokka thinks, hanging half off the airship with a broken leg, firebenders surrounding them, Toph slipping through his hands.

To allow Toph to feel what his mother felt in her last moments, or to let his grip slide, and allow her to fall.

In the end, it’s not even a choice.

turn your face towards the sun

COMPLETE

Not for the first time, Suki desperately wished she had Aang’s ability to talk to the past Avatars. What would Kyoshi think of her? Would she see the weariness that settled deep into her bones, the static that crested over her brain, and scoff? Think she was weak, childish?

Or would she understand the guilt that settled like a rock in her stomach and remained there; the way sleeping on a soft mattress, eating a homecooked meal, laughing, feeling safe, felt like betrayal?)

An Ember Island interlude, featuring the beach, a bottle of sake, and three teenagers with the world on their shoulders and terrible decision-making skills.

(some day, I pray,) I’ll be more than my father’s son

COMPLETE

Zuko is seventeen years old when he stares at himself in the mirror and sees his father staring back at him.

Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry

COMPLETE

(“You’re not sleeping,” Mai says softly. “How’d you know?” Zuko asks.

To be honest, he’s kind of gotten to the point where he’s surprised that anyone can perceive him outside of his necessary functions- he exists solely to sit in council meetings and shoulder the blame for genocides and famines and the suffering of one-hundred years. Doesn’t he?)

The war is over, but the fallout is just beginning. And where lightning strikes, thunder is bound to follow.

what did you sing to that lonely child?

COMPLETE

“So, to put this together,” Toph says to Aang in a highly-measured tone that she didn’t know she even had the capacity for. “You were sparring, you had Zuko on the ground, and you held flames close to his, you know, scarred face?”

put the weight on me

COMPLETE

“I think he’s sick.” Bato says flatly. “So unless you want the next meeting to include the Fire Lord puking all over the budget scrolls, maybe see if he's okay?”

Hakoda glances up the hallway, like perhaps Katara will appear and take over dealing with the prickly teenager. Of course, his daughter is off treating injured refugees with the Avatar, and Bato is still staring at him expectantly, arms crossed.

“Fine,” He sighs, and he claps Bato on the cheek before heading into the room.

Or: Zuko falls ill not long after Ozai's defeat. Hakoda sits with him and learns some unpleasant truths about his childhood.

the sins of the father

COMPLETE

Iroh often wonders how a child raised as Zuko was- in pain and rage and cold indifference- could turn out the way he did- kind and gentle and just.

Iroh often discounts himself.

Or: how Zuko came to realize that a father’s love shouldn’t need to be earned.

brave little soldier boy

COMPLETE

“Let the children sleep,” Iroh says softly to Hakoda. “And let us carry the weight of the world for a while.”

Or: the night after Ozai’s defeat

[wondernimbus]

love at first sight — george weasley

pairing: george weasley x female!reader

request: can i request a one of the weasley twins being a SOFTIE 🥺✨ thank u!

a/n: idk if this counts as being a softie but it’s certainly very Sappy 

The final Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin is coming up in four weeks. And while that seems like plenty of time to practice for just about anyone, there is one person in the Gryffindor Quidditch team who thinks otherwise: Oliver Wood.

Having been team captain for three years, Wood has long since proved his ruthlessness and unmatched desire to win when it comes to Quidditch. Fred and George Weasley, who have been under Wood's wing for quite some time now as Beaters, are living testaments to this fact.

So it comes to no surprise to them—nor to the rest of the team—when Wood demands that they practice at least two hours a day after classes out on the Quidditch pitch. While the twin Beaters are most definitely used to Wood's tendencies to overexert his team (and himself), it doesn't mean that they have to like it; something that the twins have made very evident in their numerous complaints, none of which they ever tell Wood because they don't want to die an early death.

Very much against their will, Fred and George hurriedly shovel down dinner before dashing to the grounds. What feels like a moment later, they're trudging out onto the Quidditch pitch bearing their Cleansweeps and identical Beater bats. Oliver Wood is already there, as expected, but the rest of the team is yet to arrive.

"Lovely evening," calls George, raising his broom in greeting as they approach Wood. Wood looks up from where he'd been surveying a sheet of parchment. "Brand new Quidditch strategy, no doubt," mutters George to Fred, sighing.

Wood nods his head in greeting and waves them over. They approach him warily, unsure as to whether or not they want to listen to Wood ramble on about new tactics and flying formations.

"Don't know where everybody's gone—they should've been here five minutes ago," Wood says, frowning as he looks around the Quidditch pitch. There are a few people in the stands, apparently wanting to bear witness to the Gryffindor Quidditch team's suffering under Oliver Wood.

"Probably having dinner and properly replenishing their bodies," says Fred pointedly, clapping Wood on the shoulder.

"People do have to eat, you know," adds George, grimacing. "Mind you, Wood, if we weren't such highly esteemed members of the Quidditch team, we'd be at the Great Hall stuffing ourselves—as we should—but we can't let our captain wait on us too long."

Wood furrows his eyebrows at them, but before he can process the underlying criticism beneath the twins' words, the two redheads are mounting their brooms and zooming up into the sky. "Toss us the Bludger, Oliver!" calls Fred, hovering a few feet above Wood.

George catches the iron ball when Wood throws it up at him, and half a moment later he's swooping around the Quidditch pitch with the ball tucked under his arm. "Ready, Freddy?" calls George to his twin, who has positioned himself on the opposite side of the pitch.

"Hit me!" yells Fred with far too much enthusiasm given his words.

Grinning, George swings his bat and pelts the Bludger straight towards his twin, who retaliates immediately by slamming his bat into the ball with a loud whack! Sooner or later the pair of them are whizzing around the pitch, hitting the Bludger back-and-forth between one another in perfectly practiced synchrony.

And then, for some odd reason, George's focus breaks and he only narrowly misses the nth Bludger that Fred sends hurtling his way.

"Alright there, Georgey?" shouts Fred.

George's gaze is no longer fixed on Fred nor the Bludger, but on the Quidditch stands.

"Hey, watch out!"

He swivels around just in time to dodge the Bludger that had been making a bee-line straight for his head.

"You okay?" Fred calls. "Hey, it's coming back—hit it—George!"

But George is unresponsive; he merely hovers in mid-air, frozen. In a mad rush, Fred zooms over to George's end of the field and smacks the Bludger away mere feet from impact. "You nearly earned yourself a ticket to Pomfrey!" bursts Fred incredulously.

"Freddy," George says, gaze still fixed on the stands. "I think I've found the love of my life."

"What the bloody hell are you on about—" a grunt as Fred slams away the Bludger, which had once more hurtled straight back towards them.

George's mouth is agape. Completely oblivious to his twin's struggle (or just downright refusing to acknowledge it), he stares at her—at the angel that has waltzed into his life in the middle of Quidditch practice and rendered him completely immobile.

She is sitting in the Hufflepuff stands, and her head is thrown back in a laugh that George can't hear but he can see in the joyful sparkle in her eyes and the way her face is lit up in the most breathtaking smile has ever seen—

"Snap out of it!" Fred swings his bat for the fifth time, smacking away the Bludger that would have hit George if he hadn't been there to stop it. "What are you DOING!"

George has never quite believed in love at first sight, nor has he thought too much of it. But whilst reveling in the brightness she radiates from twenty feet away as he's hovering in mid-air on his broom, he decides that this must be how it feels.

"GEORGE!" another grunt as Fred slams his bat into the Bludger and it hurtles back away from them.

The moment George's eyes landed on her, he'd known that he belonged to her completely. And the feeling is only amplified when her eyes meet his from across the Quidditch pitch—and then she smiles at him, and it feels as though the distance between them, along with everything else in the world including his twin and the Bludger and Oliver Wood from down below, melts away.

George is in love—he realizes it at that moment.

"GEORGE!"

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 2

h. jisung x reader | netflix teen rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNINGS: nopee, well ji looking at readers butt?

A/N: are u team Chan or team Han?

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

After your afternoon class with Jisung, he quickly noted that you were absent for the rest of the day.

Sure, you didn’t have any other classes, but normally you would be hunkered down in the library with your nose stuffed in some sort of book, or wandering around campus with Felix at your heels. You were either cramming due to your procrastination or roaming around procrastinating. Jisung also knew you weren’t a fan of staying in your small dorm room since your roommate loved flaunting the fact that she had a boyfriend and how she wasn’t shy about anyone witnessing their ‘acts of love’.

So he really had no idea where you were, and it bugged him a little more than he would like to admit.

But outwardly, he didn’t want to show just how worried he was. You were his best friend’s sister, it wasn’t his job to make a fuss about something so trivial. It would be weird if he went looking for you… but if Minho just so happened to get word of his little sister’s sudden disappearance, Jisung would have to help his dear friend search for you.

It was only common courtesy.

“Minho, I think Y/n was kidnapped.”

“You WHAT?!”

Okay, starting the phone call with that probably wasn’t the best choice, but what other choice did he have. Jisung was an impatient guy.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened.” He replied casually, already able to hear the panic on Minho’s end of the call. “She was here and then she wasn’t.”

Not only was he impatient, he was a(n idiot) songwriter; his words articulate and poetic.

Minho was silent for a second before cutting back for the call.

“I texted Changbin and he said she just ran off.”

Jisung frowned. “Do they know where she went?”

“Apparently to beat some sense into me.”

The two friends knew then where you were and a rush of panic filled their chests all at the same time.

“Fuck—”

“—Chan.”

Jisung nearly dropped his phone in the process of hanging up, immediately taking off towards the familiar apartment.

His worst nightmare was coming true—Chan was an unknown in Jisung’s mind. He was handsome, charismatic, and an older guy, so it was realistic to imagine you falling head-over-heels if you were to ever meet him. Unfortunately, it seemed like fate wasn’t in his favor and he was in deep shit if you were really at the apartment alone with Chan.

Alone with Chan.

He shivered at the thought.

The only brightside to the ordeal was that Minho was also aware of the dangerous situation. Out of everyone, he would be the only one to prevent any feelings from sprouting between you. Jisung counted on Minho every time and he never once failed to preform.

Dear god, he hoped he didn’t decide to stop now.

Arriving at the complex, he almost rammed full speed into Minho, who was also going as fast as his legs could take him. They only shared one glance before trampling over their feet to get up the stairs, no doubt bothering the neighbors along their way.

Minho was the one to swing the door open, his head on a swivel as he walked in. He was ready to break up any inappropriate business with as much force necessary—he didn’t care if Chan’s bicep was twice the size of his head, he had leg power on his side. And if he saw your tongue anywhere near Chan’s, Minho was going to be swinging.

“Chan?”

“Y/n?”

Thud.

There was a crash behind the closed door of the office, and both heads perked up at the sound.

Minho hurried forward, arm outstretched to grab the door, “No. No no no—”

Jisung never wanted in his life to see you involved with someone else. With your pretty eyes hooded and shining with desire, and your chest heaving heavily against the tight fabric of your blouse. It had been difficult enough to watch you fill out and grow into an attractive woman, he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you were old enough to meet other guys and moan their names.

He certainly didn’t want to hear you moan Chan’s name—of all people, why Chan?

“Shit, Chan—”

Jisung felt his face heat up as Minho pushed the door open, ready to pull his friend away to avoid the scene on the other side.

“—get your head away from my ass! The power strip isn’t even near there you prick!”

“Hey,” Chan defended with a laugh. “In my defense, all you said was it was over here somewhere. How do I know that somewhere isn’t next to your ass?”

The position that the two of you were in was compromising—though not in the way that Jisung had originally expected. It caused the two newcomers to freeze, their brains struggling to really understand what was happening.

The two of you were surrounded by thousands of cables and wires, black foam scattered across the floor as well. You were on your hands and knees, the only visible part of you was your bottom half with your head tucked underneath Chan’s mixing table doing who knows what. As for Chan, he was crawling around same as you, on his hands and knees with an extension cord wrapped around his shoulders.

“Uhm…” Minho gaped, eyes unable to focus on one part of the scene.

Jisung had no trouble at all, his eyes locked solidly on your raised ass.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder, eyes locking with Jisung’s and immediately widening. You couldn’t be in a worse situation—fucking hell.

In your haste to get out from under the table, you slammed the top of your head against one of the sturdy table legs and winced as Chan cracked up from your side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class—Jesus, ow…” You asked, your hand moving up to rub the forming bump.

“What’s going on?” Minho asked, his eyebrows brushing his bangs.

“Y/n wanted some help with her stats class and I needed someone to help me upturn this room and make it into a recording room.” Chan snorted at your little dramatic groans, completely unfazed by the growing frustration on Minho’s face.

But before Minho could say anything to Chan’s statement, Jisung stepped in.

His lips twisted sourly, “I thought Seungmin was going to help you with your stats stuff?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I will not subject myself to that kind of torture and I refuse to let anyone convince me otherwise.”

“Well you could’ve asked me.”

Defeated and jealous; Jisung could no longer hide it.

The two older boys could see it clearly in the way he looked at you with big sad eyes, though neither of them said anything. Chan’s brows furrowed in thought, it looked like you had someone else infatuated with you.

You laughed. “Uh-huh, because you’re the resident genius here. Jisung, you dropped two of your classes last semester because both professors were minutes away from giving you an administrative failure.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jisung’s head is full of rocks—” Minho dismissed, unsympathetic towards the scandalized boy next to him. “Why the hell are you turning my storage room into a junkyard?”

Chan finally stood, pulling the cord from his neck and throwing it to the side in favor of helping you up.

“It was already a junkyard, bundle-boy.” You said, voice clipped and annoyed. Who wouldn’t be after smashing their head against a solid piece of metal? “We were renovating.”

“Like hell you were. I thought I said no to the recording room?”

Minho’s rage was just about completely directed towards Chan, but to your surprise, the guy gave minimal to no reaction. His face stayed indifferent, wide shoulders relaxed and eyes set.

You’ll be dammed, the fucker wasn’t scared.

Chan wasn’t afraid of your brother.

There was someone on the planet who didn’t go running when Minho looked at them funny, and he was standing right next to you in his beautiful sleeveless glory. If you weren’t currently suffering from a possible concussion you would be dropping to one knee and popping the question then and there.

“Oh, so what you said earlier was a no?” Chan (very unconvincingly) feigned innocence. “Sorry, the phone connection must’ve been bad.”

“I was yelling to you from the other room.”

“These walls are very thick, Minho. It’s your apartment, you should know that.”

“Do you want to be homeless?”

“Define; home.”

That was it, he was your one true love.

As Minho began to cross his arms over his chest, squaring up to Chan with the glare of a certifiable killer, you slid out of the way to avoid the oncoming fist fight.

Or explosion, whichever route Minho decided to take.

But then the unthinkable happened—Minho sighed, dropping his arms to his sides and turning towards you.

Both you and Jisung stood speechless, because you just witnessed someone give Minho an attitude and not get beat down afterwards. Hyunjin had once attempted the same thing and had been chased around the quad for a good forty minutes until the taller man had gotten tired and your brother had become uninterested.

Felix told you that they were both reemed during dance practice that night for being too tired to execute their choreography.

Minho shook his head, “You and Changbin were probably going to convince me anyway. Might as well save the wasted time and get it done now.”

Either your brother had a fat crush on Chan, or the Lee Minho was afraid of someone.

You knew Chan was older than him, but someone had to have some sort of super power to keep Minho from kicking their shins and shoving a knee in their face.

“What is happening…?” Jisung wondered, eyes wide and mouth open.

Chan smiled, striding over to clap Jisung on the shoulder, making the shorter boy jump in surprise.

“Good news. We’re getting a recording studio.”

And you would like to get married to one Bang Chan please.

You joined Chan’s side.

“Now you can finish that song you were working on.” You said, nudging Jisung’s shoulder.

He was just going to ignore the sudden wave of excitement at the fact that you remembered that he was working on a song.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Jisung laughed tensely. “Looks like I’ll be around more often.”

“Yeah, definitely…”

You nodded absentmindedly, eyes locked on the exposed skin of Chan’s arms. Chan himself didn’t acknowledge your stare, but couldn’t help the smug smile that slid onto his face.

Jisung watched the exchange and groaned, looking over to glare at Minho for failing him the only time it truly would end badly for him. Because of course Minho had to be soft for Chan and of course Chan had to be moving in.

Why couldn’t Chan just be ugly?

“Okay,” Chan sighed, placing all the wires he held into a pile on the floor. Suddenly, he turned to you, “You held up your end of the bargain. Let’s work on some stats, huh?”

Your eyes widened for a second, caught in headlights.

“Oh,” was your smart reply. “But we didn’t get to finish?”

Chan waved it off. “The only reason we tried to get it all done was to make sure Minho couldn’t say no. Now that he’s accepted it, we don’t have to rush.”

As much as it bothered him not to finish a project.

You laughed at the little punch Minho threw at Chan’s shoulder on his way out of the room, mumbling something about “going to bed before Changbin comes home to beg for food”. He also made sure to pinch your cheek before leaving.

After swatting at Minho’s hand, you grinned.

“Okay, well… Let’s figure out how we’re going to do this.”

Chan mimicked your smile with a nod.

No way, Jisung thought as you followed his older friend out into the living room, no fucking way.

You just left him without an acknowledging glance his way, and all of a sudden he had a really terrible feeling about leaving you and Chan alone together. Anything could happen—kissing, fucking, god forbid you talk to him. You could become closer and gain feelings for the guy, which would not be a hard task considering Chan was basically the human embodiment of the sun and every damn person seemed to be pulled into his orbit after the first meeting.

Dammit, it was even difficult for Jisung to be mad at him. The guy was too lovable.

Cursing under his breath, Jisung all but ran into the living room to prevent any and all touching or deep talks, because heaven knew how much Chan talked about deep shit.

Ew, he sounded like Minho.

“You don’t have any notes at all?” Chan asked, eyebrows raised. “What do you even do in there?”

You let out a sigh.

“Stats is where I usually do my biology work.”

“Then what do you do in biology?” He questioned bluntly, his eyes skimming all the lost files on your computer that you had given up on ages ago.

“That’s where I write all my essays. The teacher—”

“—never stands up from his chair.”

With wide eyes, you laughed in surprise. Your mouth formed many words but nothing stumbled out, perhaps for a good reason because what you had in your head wasn’t very coherent on its own.

So you just pointed at the snickering Chan, “You…?”

His head shook and your mood dropped.

“I don’t do work for other classes,” he corrected, the mischievous smile slowly sliding onto his lips giving you a little hope back. “I actually produced a whole song in that class.”

Was Jisung dreaming or were you looking at Chan with those big bewildered eyes? Was that what was happening right in front of him? Could he be seeing things?

For once he really hoped he was going insane.

“I knew I wasn’t the only one that slacked off in that class!” You chirped, bouncing a little in your seat.

“And I still got a one-hundred on my exam.” He told you pointedly before passing on the laptop and leaning back on the couch.

Normally, smugness wouldn’t have been attractive to you but on Chan it was something else. His eyes lit up in a way that was almost pretty.

There was a pull towards him as he just sat there and looked at you. It was something that set you on edge in the same way it put you at ease, he just had such a conflicting presence and you really didn’t know how to process it. So your body pushed you forward on it’s own, and with no complaints from him, you felt your hand come to rest on his knee—

But out of the fucking blue, Jisung was throwing himself between you two, his thinner body fitting snuggly in the unfilled space. You sputtered and Chan nearly yelped, holding his hand to his chest to placate his thudding heart.

“Jisung—what the fuck?”

“Did you just jump over the back of the couch?” Chan frowned looking over his shoulder to really determine the path Jisung took to get there.

Jisung smiled obnoxiously, “I just figured I’d help you guys out. Considering I’m also in that class.” He wiggles a little more to separate the two of you even more. “And three brains are better than two.”

“Not when yours is nonexistent.” You quipped, feeling your lips pull into a pout at the intruder.

“Ah, how I love your humor.”

Jisung poked your nose with a tight lipped smile.

Sending Chan a look of apology, he shrugged, falling back further into the couch.

“Sure, why not?” Was his response, shoulders lifting up and falling back down with a huff. “Let me help you set up some proper notes.”

Jisung brought his hands together once to create a near deafening sound that had you even more irritable. His happy-go-lucky mood wasn’t funny when you were on the receiving end of the annoyance.

One nice thing—you couldn’t have one single nice thing ever.

Between your brother and his dumb best friend (that you may or may not have sorta feelings for) you couldn’t do anything. Your prime years were being wasted on sucky romance movies with Felix and Hyunjin and cat fights with Jisung. You couldn’t afford such bullshit for much longer.

“You know I love you, Y/n.”

“Stuff your love up your ass.”

The rest of the week passed by smoothly with minimal conflict on your end and grades that didn’t have you contemplating slamming your face into a wall. On weekends you usually spent most of your time at Minho’s apartment while Changbin dicked around at the gym and your brother slept for the forty-eight hours that he had to himself. You could watch movies and finish your homework with no distractions.

That was until Chan decided to move in and steal your attention every moment he could. You were even starting to suspect that he was doing it on purpose after the time he walked out of the bathroom in only a bath towel and responded with a “oh, I didn’t notice you there”.

You also concluded that Felix was a snitch and no longer deserved your friendship, because once you shared with him your encounter with Chan, everyone in your group of friends was wired in to everything that concerned you and Chan.

Especially Jisung. Which eventually caused—

“Jisung why the hell are you following me?”

The boy in question didn’t bother to acknowledge you, instead he simply continued to walk at your side, hands stuffed deep in his pockets and hair just a little messier than usual, “What do you mean? This is how I get to my next class.”

You snorted. “Last time I checked, you had dropped your two-thirty class. And even then, it was on the other side of the building.”

Jisung couldn’t help but roll his pretty brown eyes.

“Stalker…”

“Says the guy who’s been up my ass all day.” You chirped, taking pride in the way he glared at you.

Jisung threw his hands up in frustration. He knew what he was doing was out of character, sure. But did he want to be called out on it?

“Can I not hang out with you? God, Y/n. We’ve known each other for years, I’d think you’d get used to me being around.”

You merely shook your head with a laugh, continuing forward.

“You’re really something else.”

He snorted, “So you’re being an adult now?”

“When am I not the adult when I’m with you? There’s no room for stupid energy with you around.” You replied cheekily

“Well I’m sorry for hogging all the ‘stupid energy’, damn…”

The way that Jisung held up the air quotes for “stupid energy” had your cheeks aching from how hard you smiled.

“Well, I’m going to lunch with Felix and Hyunjin right now. So unless you want to be subjected to their combined stupidity, I would suggest you go back to your dorm.” You sent him a small smile over your shoulder, just barely missing the way he tripped over his feet because of it.

Felix had called you in a rush right as you were getting out of your last class of the day and asked you to come eat lunch with him and Hyunjin. It was a one sided conversation that lasted almost ten seconds but you figured you had no other choice but to comply. Whatever reason he had for being in such a hurry was enough for you to listen.

“But you can come if you want, Sungie. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

Sungie.

It had been a while since you last called him that nickname—possibly way back when you were in primary school. It sent chills down his spine to hear you call him that again.

Jisung caught up to you easily, slinging his arm around your shoulders just as he used to when you began calling him Sungie. Over the years it had started to put a strain on him since he found it hard to differentiate what was friendly and what was too friendly. He had a girlfriend after all, and there were only so many things he could do with other girls that was acceptable.

But of course you were just Y/n. The little sister that bothered them all day and called him Sungie.

He didn’t have to feel embarrassed to hug you or tease you or hide his insecurities behind stupid pick up lines. Now matter how much it made his heart pound in his chest, you were still Minho’s baby sister—you were Jisung’s baby sister.

“I’d like that, my dear.” Jisung said, stuffing his free hand into his pocket and pulling you closer.

So close that it almost felt domestic.

Y’know, as domestic as it could get with someone who was like a little sister to him. He had a beautiful girlfriend too, so the domestication was more like a… family comfort and less like how it would feel if you were married and he was allowed to hold you as close as he wanted—

“Ah, you’re warm,” you hummed, making a small fuss of tucking yourself further into his hold. “It always looks like it’s going to be nice outside, but it seems like the weather changes its mind just as much as Hyunjin.”

You didn’t notice but Jisung was completely lost to everything you said after “you’re warm”. He just continued to hum and nod as if his brain wasn’t completely fried.

Jisung was in the midst of a mental breakdown when you somehow managed to lead him to the small restaurant right outside of the university. It was a popular place since it was so close and dolled out cheap food in a matter of seconds, which definitely appealed to its main demographic.

You spotted Felix’s head of purple hair immediately, a bright smile etched onto his face as he spoke animatedly to the waiter standing at the ready. The boy was cute, black hair and pretty dimples that made him appear younger. He also looked friendly with Felix with how he spoke with a wide smile that showed his perfect teeth.

You approached the table, shrugging Jisung’s arm off of you and ignoring his whine in protest.

“I made it,” you announced, gaining the attention of your friends—

And fuck.

You met eyes with Seungmin sitting in the seat beside Felix, and felt your shoulders slump as he flashed you a smirk.

“Glad you could come, Y/n.” Seungmin all but sang at your visible distress.

But Felix had a hold on your arm before you could respond with attitude, tugging you dangerously close to the waiter at your side.

“Y/n, this is Jeongin—” Felix gestured towards the boy who lifted his hand to wave. “He’s a school friend of Hyunjin’s.”

“It’s my last year.” Jeongin added with a shy laugh.

Peeling your eyes away from Seungmin, you got a good look at the boy in front of you. The unexpected cuteness both startled you and made your stomach flip. You really had to withhold from squealing and pinching his cheeks. He was so cute.

You smiled genuinely, “It’s nice to meet you, Jeonginnie.”

A small wave of red covered his ears at the sudden nickname, his long eyelashes fluttering in surprise.

Jisung just about combusted in his spot. He was getting pretty sick and tired of keeping tabs on all the boys you managed to hook around your finger, it was starting to get out of hand. Okay, maybe he was the stalker.

In a bout of frustration, Jisung grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, sliding into the booth beside Hyunjin and tugging you after him. You made a noise of surprise as your ass connected harshly with the cracked red cushion of the booth, sending Jisung a glare.

Though, he kept his eyes on the table, avoiding the amused looks on everyone’s faces, even going as far as swatting away Hyunjin’s poking fingers. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to release your hand from his.

Jisung’s palm was sweaty in your hold, but strangely enough it was something that you didn’t mind.

Jeongin looked between you and Jisung for a moment before quickly coming to some sort of realization that only Felix seemed to understand. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and a small smirk was suddenly on his lips as he asked what drink you would like.

Whatever that was about, you didn’t like it.

“I’ll just have a water.” You answered skeptically, finally managing to pull your fingers free of Jisung’s grip.

“Water for me too.”

Jeongin didn’t bother to write down your orders, instead he just nodded and left with that same goofy smile on his face.

Why did your friends have to corrupt the poor kid?

You sent a glare towards Felix, ready to grill him about what the hell just happened but his eyes were on something else above your head, his lips forming into the same smirk that Jeongin had on. Whatever what’s either above you or behind you was either a stupid compilation video of League of Legend funny moments or your next victim.

“Care for one more?” Came from behind you.

And both your and Jisung’s heads swiveled around at a dangerous speed to see the beautiful image of Chan, and damn was he beautiful. He was dressed for the weather, arms now covered in a long black sweater that hugged every one of his muscles so so nicely, and instead of sweatpants, he was wearing jeans. You could definitely tell the difference between a casual day around the house and one where he was going to be seen out in public—was that makeup?

And Jisung frowned. It had been going so well.

It was his turn to send Felix a glare.

The purple haired boy mouthed something along the lines of “girlfriend”, but Jisung couldn’t (could) really make it out.

“Sit down.” You managed to choke out, motioning toward the table.

“Hey!” Felix greeted, standing up to fully embrace Chan in a hug.

You were floored.

“You know each other?”

Felix’s eyes flickered towards you, “We both grew up in Sydney.”

And you thought your eyes were going to pop out of your skull.

“You’re Australian?” You gaped, watching Chan as if he had sprouted a new head.

He then proceeded to spout off some heavily accented words that you could barely make sense of, and you could feel your heart practically flutter in your chest. After meeting Felix, you never thought you’d ever find an Australian accident sexy as hell—but Chan’s was, in fact, very sexy as hell.

“Wow,” Hyunjin whistled. “What does it take for one to become Australian, because fuck.”

You didn’t think you would ever agree with Hyunjin so much in your life.

Chan snorted. “I think you have to be born in Australia unfortunately.”

“Or you know,” Felix tossed sarcastically. “Live there.”

“Damn. Always the catch.”

You sighed, almost going as far as face-palming yourself and/or slamming your forehead against the table.

Instead you just sent Chan an embarrassed smile. “You can sit down if you aren’t planning on running away.”

“Thanks.” He laughed.

Unfortunately for you, there were already three people in your booth and he wouldn’t be able to fit beside you.

Fortunately for Jisung, there were already three people in your booth and Chan wouldn’t be able to fit beside you.

But when Chan began to slide in the seat next to Felix, Hyunjin suddenly jumped with a yelp, glaring at the suspicious looking Felix in front of him. The two had a very strange conversation with their eyes before Hyunjin was huffing a sigh and maneuvering himself to slip under the booth and (clumsily, you may add) pop out on the other side of Seungmin, ignoring the spectacled boys' complaints as he sends Chan a smile.

Stupid plotting assholes.

“Just wanted to sit next to my… uh—”

“Boyfriend?” You supplied, blinking at him dully.

“Yeah, my boy—hey, fuck you!”

“Sorry, were you waiting to tell people?”

He took the liberty to be the kicker instead of the kickee and sent his foot into your ankle, making you hiss with a glare.

Felix nudged Chan’s hip to direct him into the spot beside you, his mouth open in a wide smile as you are further squished between both Jisung and Chan. With one boy being very broad and the other being very clingy, you barely had any room at all.

“Y/n, you look a little cramped, why don’t you scoot over here a little more—?”

“Jisung, if I get any closer to you, I would be on top of you.”

Hey, he wasn’t completely opposed to that plan.

Jisung certainly would rather have you on his lap than Chan’s. He couldn’t even think about that without grasping for your hand again, though you were too fast and managed to wiggle out of his grip.

“Yeah, Y/n. Why don’t you just scoot over?” Hyunjin sang, his mouth curled up in a coy little smirk that he always had carved onto his face.

“You scheming little—”

But your words were cut off by the clearing of a throat.

Seungmin leaned over the table, and the way his sleeves were rolled to his forearms was suddenly very noticeable. He looked at you with the intention to kill, and had he not been a prudish reincarnation of the devil, you would’ve thought he looked hot as fuck.

“Do you want me to retell the little incident that took place at last year’s Christmas party?”

A collective gasp went around the table, Chan being the only one who was absolutely clueless.

Felix whispered something under his breath about how “that was sworn to secrecy”, and Hyunjin’s wide eyes stuck to the side of Seungmin’s face like glue.

Even Jisung broke out of his jealous stupor to gulp.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

That was the true form of Kim Seungmin. 

“What? Do dinners like this happen all the time?” Chan asked. “Do you ever actually eat?”

As if on queue, Jeongin stepped up to the table, notepad in hand and wide eyes sparkling. “Are you guys ready to order—?”

But Felix was dragging the boy down to his height, whispering something quickly into his ear, causing his eyes to widen. After enlarging, his gaze flickered back and forth between you, Jisung and Chan. 

“I… will give you guys a few more minutes.”

Jeongin scurried off and you wanted to kill everyone at the table. 

“Well, I’m going to answer my own question here and say no. There will be no eating food today.” Chan hummed, tossing his menu onto the table similarly to a petulant child. 

You huffed. What did you ever do to deserve any of this?

With both boys at either side of you, it seemed to create a visual representation of the conflict in your mind. And Seungmin looked like he was ready to pass out with how hard he was trying to hold in his laughter as Felix and Hyunjin simply smiled your way. 

To say that the two boys were completely clueless, would’ve been an understatement—

With Chan too busy thinking about all the food he wouldn’t be eating and Jisung preoccupied trying to grab ahold of your hand, they didn’t once notice the way that the three little devils stared holes into their heads. 

“I literally can’t stand any of you.”

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: medical play, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, multiple orgasms, fingering, dirty talk, bondage, ruined orgasm, unprotected sex, squirting, oral (m receiving), cum eating (not yoongi for once), this was meant to be a light palate cleanser after the intensity of day ten but i got lost in my feelings in the first half and then got horny over doctor jeon in the second half i apologise

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DAY ELEVEN

“I think you should be a little more concerned, PD.”

Sejin flattens the two men - oldest and youngest of the house - an unimpressed look. Jungkook tries not to wilt under his gaze. “And why is that?”

Jin clears his throat, staring right back unabashedly. “Tae’s been involved in a terrible accident and you’re just waiting here. You should be rushing over to the house to save him.”

“A terrible accident?” Sejin questions monotonously, before turning in his chair to angle his monitor so that both boys can see. On the screen is a freeze frame of a very familiar scene - Taehyung crouching on the bottom of the stairs, Jin and Jungkook huddled around him.

Ah, Jungkook realises with sinking disappointment, the cameras. Once the producer clicks play on the recording, Jungkook is faced with the HD version of himself gesture excitedly, patting Taehyung on the back and pointing to the banisters.

Cheeks flushing, the youngest member of the house watches in dread as Sejin plays back the evidence of Taehyung willingly forcing his head through two banisters, ears popping out the other side as he glances up with a beam at Jin.

Having seen enough, Sejin pauses the video, and switches back to the realtime feed. “An accident, was it?” Sejin repeats rhetorically as the Taehyung on the security camera drums his fingers lazily against the wood posts, letting out a lionlike yawn. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Jungkook bites down hard on his tongue. This wasn’t how things were meant to go at all. Behind Sejin’s desk, the majority of the production van is filled with all the mess of a regular office. Stacks of paper, scribbled sticky notes on various surfaces, a large whiteboard with roughly handwritten schedules and a small game of naughts and crosses in the bottom right corner. Jungkook tries not to let his eyes dwell on the whiteboard too long. Don’t raise anymore suspicion.

Beside him, Jin shamelessly shrugs with a smile. “He put his head through the bars on purpose, sure, but he got stuck on accident.” The oldest - though still younger than Sejin himself - emphasises this distinction with a single outstretched finger and an arch of his eyebrows. “So you should go help him.”

Sejin slips his glasses off and lets them clatter to the table, pinching his brow with two fingers. “Am I gonna get there and have Taehyung ask me for the latest issue of Chinese Vogue?”

Jin stiffens, his mask temporarily shattered. “I requested that in confidence.”

The production manager throws his hands in the air in defeat. “How was I supposed to know which of your bogus requests was confidential? Just half an hour ago I got a call from my superior asking why #getjinanXL was trending. You tweeted that you wanted me to buy you extra large condoms because you ‘ran out.’”

“Well, that was obviously a joke,” Jin rebuffs easily. “You know I use Magnum.”

“How would I-?” With a huff of desperation, Sejin shakes his head to clear his mind. “No, okay, back to…”

Zoning out, Jungkook’s eyes are caught by the sight on the screen as another figure walks out into the foyer. Yoongi rushes forward once he sees Taehyung, crouching on the other side of the bars as he delicately prods around Taehyung’s face and neck. The younger man waves him away in frustration, pushing at Yoongi’s chest until he gives up and leaves reluctantly. Jungkook bites his lip and looks away.

Whoops. Staring right at him are the producer and the therapist, each as expectant as the other. “Huh?”

Sejin huffs. “Why would Taehyung intentionally stick his head through the bars of a staircase banister?”

“Tell him, Jungkookie,” Jin adds with a bump of his shoulder.

“Uh…” With a hard swallow, Jungkook’s mind whirls. “He… We were… measuring,” he finishes awkwardly. “Me-measuring Tae’s head.”

“You were measuring Taehyung’s head?” Sejin repeats flatly. “With the stair banister?”

Jungkook shrugs with what he hopes is a ‘what can you do?’ expression, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find a ruler.”

Sejin blinks once. “Then how would you know how wide the gap between posts was? Without a ruler?”

“Oh.” Jungkook stares in barely subdued panic at Jin, who widens his eyes meaningfully, urging him to turn back to the awaiting producer. “We, um, we didn’t think that far. We’ll know for next time?”

“If you want to stay on this show, there will be no next time,” Sejin warns.

Jungkook ducks his head in shame. “Sorry, dad.”

“Y- what?” Jungkook hears Sejin cough lightly, flustered. “Please, Jungkook, that’s not appropriate.”

The youngest gives a little bow. “I apologise, Father.”

Sejin clicks his tongue. “Okay, that’s even worse.”

Jungkook glances up, brows knitting and head tilting in confusion. “...whoopsies, daddy?”

Sejin buries his face in his hands, fingers tugging at the hairline. Jungkook spots several grey strands.

Clearing his throat, Jin steps forward slightly. “Taehyung is still stuck, PD.”

“Okay, fine! Fine,” Sejin announces, pushing his chair away from the desk and standing up. “But if there is a single other incident like this, I’m calling in child protective services and getting them to baby-proof this place. No more funny business. Understood?”

“No more. Promise,” Jungkook assures sweetly, heart soaring as Sejin slips past them, hurrying out of the production van and towards the front door of the villa.

The moment he’s well out of earshot, Jin claps his hands once with a victorious grin. “It was a bit touch-and-go there,” he admits, “but that’s bought us time. Quick; get the whiteboard, I’ll grab some pens.”

Jungkook grins. Like secret agents, hyung and him were. Moving quickly, the two of them manage to sneak out the whiteboard from the van, trundling it noisily across the gravel, around the back of the house.

---

“I’ll be honest,” Jimin drawls, “I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just chatted about this. Is the whiteboard really necessary?”

Taehyung deflates immediately, one hand still rubbing at the red marks on his jaw and ears. “What do you mean? I suffered for this whiteboard, Minnie.”

It’s crowded; five people huddled inside the confessional booth. But apart from the bathrooms and the rec room, this was the only place without live security cameras - purely because the only camera needed was the one for the confessionals themselves - and Jin and Jungkook doubted they’d be able to smuggle a very noisy whiteboard into the rec room when Sejin was directly outside it lubing up Taehyung’s neck with aloe vera gel.

While Producer Shin had been lured away by Jin with the promise of a homecooked meal, the four youngest men in the house were bundled into the garden shed, staring at a whiteboard that had barely fit through the door.

Jimin, still unconvinced, shrugs. From his spot perched delicately on Namjoon’s lap he watches the two younger men take a picture of what’s written on the whiteboard, then rub it all out. The man of the hour, Namjoon had been given the right to sit on the only proper chair in the room, the one the producer would normally sit in. Beside it, the wooden stool sits unoccupied. Jimin told the others that he was sitting on Namjoon’s lap because the stool was too uncomfortable, but Jungkook thinks there’s something deeper in the way he relaxes onto Namjoon’s chest, the academic alert but not tense underneath him.

Or perhaps being on this show has made Jungkook more suspicious.

“The whiteboard was vital, hyung,” he defends adamantly, grabbing one of the pens Jin-hyung had handed him, yanking off the cap with a satisfying click. Immediately the alcoholic smell of ink tingles his nostrils, but he ignores it, turning to the others. “What if Namjoon-hyung was a visual learner?”

From behind Jimin’s back, Namjoon adjusts the bridge of his glasses. “I- actually I learn best through listening.” His hand drops, hovers over the space both him and Jimin share, then rests awkwardly on the armchair. “But I appreciate the thought.”

Namjoon-hyung is so cute. “It’s okay,” Jungkook assures, suppressing the endeared grin that tugs at his lips, “We can brainstorm out loud, and Tae and I will just take notes.”

With Taehyung in his Sunday best (well, a button-up shirt so baggy it looked like he hat batwing sleeves) and Jungkook having dug out his glasses to look extra smart, the two of them were prepared to make this as academic as possible for Namjoon. Even after getting laid for the first time, academics were his comfort zone, and the two youngest were happy to oblige.

“First things first; what was it you had to do? Honeymoon?”

Jimin leans back on Namjoon’s shoulder so the taller man can see past. Namjoon shakes his head lightly, his purple hair in serious need of a touch-up; the natural brunette frames his face now, emphasising his brow. Jungkook wonders if he’d let him dye it a new colour, just for something fresh.

“Just husband and wife,” the academic corrects, “It didn’t specify, uh, anything else.” His voice is still quiet, as if speaking on it is taboo. One day he’ll get used to discussing sex openly, but until then, the others will meet him halfway.

“Okay, so, Y/n is your wife,” Jungkook states with a nod, “do y’all have kids? Is it a newlyweds situation? We need  backstory here.”

The squeaking of a pen catches Jungkook’s attention before he even finishes speaking. To his right, Taehyung writes in sharp strokes across the board.

Y/N PREGNANT

“It’s the nineteen thirties,” Taehyung announces in a smooth voice, eyes finding each member in the room, “war is imminent, and worldwide men are preparing to be conscripted. Every moment spent with their loved ones is precious, and for General Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung pauses to draw a gangly stick figure giving a salute, “him and his wife Y/n-” this time a female stick figure joins the scene, a cartoonishly round stomach off to one side, “-have only one goal. To knock Y/n up before he goes to battle, so that even if he never returns they ha-”

“Wait, wait!” Jimin cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed. “Isn’t this too dark? Too elaborate? They’re fucking, not going for best screenplay at the Oscars.”

Taehyung deflates a second time, the hand holding the pen dropping limply to his side. “You don’t like it?”

Face stricken, Jimin waves his hands frantically. “No, no, I love it! Honestly! I just- I feel like Namjoon probably wants something a little simpler? Perhaps not so bleak?” The blue-haired man swivels around on Namjoon’s lap, his hand resting inconspicuously on the back of his neck, playing with the longer hairs there.

Namjoon swallows. “Uh, yeah, simple is probably good. Honestly, I feel a little unsure about all of this. What if I, I don’t know, drop character or get shy? Won’t it be awkward?”

Taehyung scratches at his chin as he thinks, the beginnings of beard scruff shadowing his jaw. “If we help you brainstorm, you can just memorise a basic script.”

“I guess so,” Namjoon muses, eyes fluttering unconsciously as Jimin continues to trace the nape of his neck with his fingertips. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I know you have your own scenes to worry about.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Two birds with one stone, we can help each other. You know; I suck your dick, you suck mine.”

“That isn’t the quote,” Namjoon protests automatically, “but- I get your point. Anyone have any advice on how I even go about this?”

Taehyung pouts. “You’re the smart one,” he points out, “I did try to help but clearly my services weren’t appreciated.”

“Oh, honey,” Jimin coos, “I always appreciate your services.” The double entendre is clear in the silk of his voice and the arch of his brows, sent with a sweet smile, and Taehyung flushes in response.

Jungkook winces, ignoring the spike of - of something green and ugly in his chest. “Okay, enough from the lovebirds, this is about Namjoon. Joonie-hyung, I would just offer to help out and join with yours but I was gonna do mine this afternoon, and I don’t think a husband would fit very well into it.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon assures, shifting under the weight of the man in his lap. His fingers flex on the arm of the chair behind Jimin’s back, unsure. “Taehyung? Yours might work, I guess.”

Unaware of Namjoon’s indecision, Jimin suddenly stands up off his lap entirely, stalking over to Taehyung with a bemused grin. “You think our well-trained Taehyungie could be the family dog?”

Taehyung, though keening under Jimin’s sudden attention, seems hesitant. “I- I don’t know, Minnie, I haven’t really…” He trails off helplessly, casting Namjoon an apologetic stare.

“It’s okay,” Namjoon rushes out, scooting forward to the edge of the armchair. “You don’t have to, I could just do it by myself.”

It’s strange, watching Jimin so visibly caught in indecision. He hovers in the centre of the small shed, torso towards Taehyung but head twisted back to stare at Namjoon. Wanting to support Namjoon, but wanting to protect Taehyung.

Jungkook feels like an outsider invading in on a precious equilibrium. Namjoon shifts, gaze dropping. Taehyung can’t keep his fingers still as they fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. Jimin’s so still the thin silver threads of his earrings don’t even shift in the air, but his eyes flood with emotion, bottom lip twitching just slightly as he seeks for something to say.

Jimin isn’t as mean as he’d like people to think, Jungkook muses. Saving the uncomfortable decision, Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, diverting the attention of the other three. “We could always practice? Jimin, you’re pretty. Pretend to be Y/n and give Joon-hyung some tips.”

The effect of his words are instantaneous. Jimin perks up, turning on his heel to grin down at his elder, who gasps almost imperceptibly. Taehyung’s eyes dull with something akin to disappointment. At himself or at the situation, Jungkook can’t say, but the sight of him turning to the whiteboard and swirling sullen circles of ink on the glossy surface has Jungkook’s heart breaking.

Leaving the other two to talk - Jimin resting gracefully on one of the arms of the chair, his feet dangling between Namjoon’s - Jungkook hurries forward, wrapping his fingers around Tae’s to catch his attention.

“What’s up?” he asks softly, low enough to give the two some privacy.

Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing.”

Jungkook isn’t deterred by the shortness of his tone, but changes tacts nonetheless. “It’s a bit weird,” he offers up, “it’s like each of us is the wingman to the other guys, but we’re all going for the same girl.”

With Jungkook’s hand still on top, Taehyung begins to swipe the pen across the board again. This time, what looks like a flower with long, pointed petals takes shape in thick black lines. Taehyung himself stays focused for a few moments of silence, until he’s ready to speak.

“But it’s not just that,” he explains in a low timbre, “it’s not just her.”

Jungkook lets his hand be maneuvered by the deft movements of the masseuse. Every part of Taehyung was so elegant, like he’d been sculpted from marble. From those slender fingers, to the slope of his nose. Lashes that brushed against his brow bone as he focused, teeth pressing just slightly into his lip, a dusky pink. “No, it’s not,” Jungkook agrees after a moment.

Taehyung lets his hand fall, Jungkook’s slipping off. With eyes hidden behind dark curls, the elder sneaks a look at Jimin and Namjoon, the two smiling and laughing, Jimin’s fingers playing with the strap of the watch on the other’s wrist lazily.

“I never know who to be jealous of,” Taehyung admits with a weak chuckle, capping the pen. “Anyways; that doesn’t matter. We’re here to help Namjoon.”

Jungkook spares a glance at the lovebirds on the armchair. “I think he’s doing just fine.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung answers shortly, eyes locked on the way Jimin curls onto Namjoon’s shoulder, the two locked onto Namjoon’s phone as he types in notes. “He’ll do fine.” Letting out a deep sigh, Taehyung scrunches his eyes shut and shakes his head, like he’s clearing the funk away. “It doesn’t matter, we’re all in this together.”

Jungkook cocks his head. “But- Well, no, this is still a competition. Technically we should be against each other, not together.”

The air leaves Taehyung’s lungs in a rushed breath. “Fuck, you’re right. I should, like, hate you, right?”

Jungkook hums with a raised brow. “I guess.”

“I should be trying to cockblock you and tell Y/n you have syphilis, yet here I am wanting to suck the dicks of everyone in this room. But also maybe hold the hands of everyone in this room. You can imagine my confusion.”

Jungkook feels his stress slip away at the genuine smile that tugs at Taehyung’s lips. Even if his eyes are still muted with sorrow, he doesn’t seem so despairing over it. The youngest reaches out to grip onto Taehyung’s upper arm reassuringly. “We could have hate sex if it’d make you feel better?” he offers up in a soft voice.

The blue depths in Taehyung’s gaze recede a little more as his smile brightens. “I’d like that.”

The two manage to hold this Hallmark moment for a little longer before Taehyung’s shoulders begin to shake with suppressed laughter. In seconds, the two are dissolving into chuckles and snickers, Jungkook throwing his head back and Taehyung hunching over with the force of it.

Across from them, Namjoon and Jimin pause their excited conversation to stare at them in bewilderment.

“What did we miss?” Namjoon asks, brow knitted but eyes wide.

“Never mind,” Jungkook deflects, heart feeling strangely warm as Taehyung grins under his lashes at him, like the two of them have an inside joke. “We should probably pack up, though, unless we want Producer Shin coming back in the middle of our top secret team meeting.”

Jimin clicks his tongue in agreement and stands up off Namjoon’s lap. Lithe like a cat, his arms come up over his head and his back arches into a stretch, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook knows his eyes aren’t the only pair watching the way his shirt lifts to display a band of pale golden skin.

“Alright,” the porn star lets out with a relaxed sigh, arms dropping and shirt falling again, “let’s head out, then. Joonie’s sorted.”

Namjoon stands up behind him, nodding shyly. “Thank you, guys. I feel a lot better about it now.”

Jungkook and Taehyung share a look. “To be fair,” Jungkook says with a light cough, “I don’t think Tae and I really helped at all.”

Jimin sends the two of them a broad smile, eyes crinkling in good humour. “You did provide the whiteboard,” he points out. “Though I imagine your efforts to steal it without Sejin realising were in vain.”

Taehyung frowns, hand automatically lifting to rub at his jaw. “What do you mean?”

“There aren’t any cameras in here,” Jungkook offers to Jimin, “he wouldn’t have seen it!”

Jimin blinks. “Where do you think Sejin went after helping Tae out of the staircase?”

Jungkook feels the odd pressure of dawning realisation that hasn’t quite materialised. “His office,” he answers slowly, “why?”

Behind Jimin, Namjoon ducks out with a sympathetic smile. “He probably noticed the giant whiteboard missing, Jungkookie.”

The camboy opens his mouth, waits for words to come, and closes it again. “Mm,” he replies eloquently.

“Oh, we’re gonna get in big trouble, huh?” Taehyung mumbles, fiddling with the pen in his hands.

“Wait,” Namjoon offers, “I’ll tell him it was me.”

Jungkook frowns. “How does that help?”

“Sejin won’t get mad at me, he loves me. I’ll just tell him I was getting a head start on my work for next semester.”

“When did he tell you he loved you?” Jungkook asks with a pout. “He never says it back to me.”

“I didn’t- What?” Namjoon frowns. “I was just chatting to him for advice one night and he told me I remind him of his son.”

“He doesn’t have any kids,” Jimin says with a lilt of confusion.

“I think he was talking about his cat,” Namjoon admits with a pained look, “but he loves his cat, so he must love me. Anyways, I’ll tell him I was using it for study and I don’t think he’ll mind. Just clear off the board and one of you can help me wheel it back.”

Jungkook sighs a breath of relief, turning back to the board. Beside it, Taehyung is frozen with his head bent and his mouth dropped open, staring at the pen. Neither Jin nor him thought to bring a duster, so Jungkook balls up his sleeve in his palm and wipes off the-

And wipes off the-

“Why isn’t it coming off?” Jungkook asks frantically, scrubbing over the shiny lines of black. “It’s not even smudging!”

“Um, Jungkookie,” Taehyung utters lowly, curls shifting as he slowly looks up. “This is a permanent marker.”

Jungkook’s hand freezes. He steps back, eyes wide as they stare at the image drawn in thick black.

The blooming form of what looked like a lily on the bottom corner, that was fine, but the giant all-caps Y/N PREGNANT followed by a very evocative drawing of a heavily pregnant woman beside a patriotic Namjoon was going to be harder to explain.

Slowly, Jungkook swivels on his heel, coming face-to-face with Namjoon, whose eyes are almost open wider than his mouth. “Hey, hyung,” the youngest offers up with a tentative smile, “how much d’you reckon Sejin loves that cat?”

--

It’s late afternoon by the time Jungkook has done his penance with the whiteboard and Sejin himself, but luckily it means that Yoongi is definitely in his room when Jungkook goes knocking.

More content with his own company, the second oldest tended to retire to his bedroom early to “entertain” himself. Jungkook had assumed this was a euphemism for masturbating, but Taehyung had informed him that the doctor was making his way through an impressive collection of the Slam Dunk manga these days.

As expected, Yoongi opens the door to Jungkook on his third knock, ushering him in with a look of confusion.

“Hyung,” Jungkook begins in an entreating tone, “you have a first aid kid in your room, don’t you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, back straightening in alarm. “Is someone hurt?”

“No, no, it’s sex reasons,” Jungkook explains quickly, eyes wandering around the room, eying up the open closet in the back of his room. “Do you have a white coat?”

“I- what? No, I don’t have a white coat,” Yoongi stutters out, face scrunched up in confusion. “What is this about?”

Jungkook hums, brushing back hair out of his face absentmindedly as he delves deeper into Yoongi’s room, checking in the drawers of the small nightstand. “I can make do without the white coat,” Jungkook murmurs to himself, before turning on his heel to face the older man again. “Do you have stirrups?”

“Stirrups?” Yoongi asks incredulously. His arms are folded over his chest tightly, though the brown loose-knit sweater loses the intimidation factor. “Why would I bring stirrups? They’re attached to the chair anyway, I can’t just pack them away in my suitcase.”

Dammit. Jungkook collapses onto Yoongi’s bed back-first, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “You need to help me, hyung. I’m determined to win fan favourite this week, so I need to go all out.”

A sigh of realization comes from the other side of the room. “Your prompt,” Yoongi remarks flatly. “What is it; nurse and patient?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open as he sits up. “Doctor and patient,” he declares proudly. “I asked if Sejin could promote me to neurosurgeon but he said it wasn’t relevant.” The thought dampens Jungkook’s spirits a bit. Even just regular surgeon would have been nice. “But anyway,” he continues, “whatever props you have would be greatly appreciated. I already googled a list of medical terms, so I’m feeling pretty good.”

Yoongi sighs again, but he shuffles over to his closet and pulls out a sizeable, bright green first aid kit, laying it on the bed. Jungkook gasps in excitement and makes room for him, but Yoongi just tuts. “First of all,” he explains while unzipping it, “these aren’t props, they’re medical-grade supplies. And you can’t have them all. I don’t trust you with most of the things in here.”

Jungkook frowns, but shrugs off the disappointment. Something is still better than nothing. “Okay, hyung,” he allows in a small voice, “thank you.”

Yoongi fails to hide the quirk of a fond smile as he takes out some of the stuff in the kit. “You owe me,” he says instead.

--

You have to give it to Jungkook; the dedication to his craft is impressive.

After he sent you a vague and rather concerning message about needing to see you in the gym for ‘health reasons’, you were greeted by a hand-written DO NOT DISTURB (unless you’re y/n) sign taped to the door.

Inside, the indoor gym had been transformed. Most of the larger equipment had been shifted to one side, leaving the other half open. In the middle of the open area is a weightlifting bench covered in a white sheet which you’re certain was off his bed. A comically out-of-place office chair is beside a table which Jungkook is using like a desk. The desk is pushed up against the mirror which fills one whole wall of the gym, and you can’t help but laugh at the infographics and charts he’s printed out on A4 sheets of paper and taped to the mirror.

There’s a fuzzy x-ray of some ribs taped next to a heart rate line, frozen mid-pulse like he took a screenshot off a video, which is next to a chart filled with increasingly smaller letters, like one you’d see in an optometrist’s office. Though everything is mismatched, the effort he’s put it really warms your heart.

The desk is where you find Jungkook. He sits with his back to you, typing away obnoxiously loudly at a laptop on the desk. On the screen, gibberish keysmashes fill up an otherwise empty Word document. Rather than a lab coat, Jungkook looks more sharply dressed than you’ve ever seen him in a ironed button-up shirt, pale blue. The back of the fabric is taut against his skin, clearly borrowed from a slightly smaller, or at least less jacked man. But it provides a streamlined view of the muscles in his back and shoulders, tucked into belted black pants to highlight the surprisingly narrow waist.

Kitschy or not, you’re grateful that Jungkook got some kind of cheesy medical roleplay if it meant you finally got to see him in fitted clothing.

Even though he must have heard you open the door and lock it behind you, he remains tapping away at the keys. His head tips slightly to the side, expectant.

“Jungkook,” you call out, disappointed and a little confused when he doesn’t respond. But you quickly realise your mistake. “Oh, uh. Doctor Jeon?”

Like clockwork, he spins around magnanimously on the chair, hands splayed out in a welcoming gesture. “Ah, my favourite patient. Do come in.”

So we already know each other then, you surmise. Remembering all these details was an unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome part of this week’s theme. Developing a backstory, information on the scene, almost felt like constructing a scaffold to continue. There was something equally reassuring and exciting about it. A bolt of arousal shooting between your legs, you step in to the middle of the open area, sitting awkwardly on the covered bench.

“Take a seat,” Jungkook adds redundantly, like he’s following a script. “Let me just bring your file up. Name?”

You pause as he wheels back around to the laptop, pulling up what looks like an Excel spreadsheet. “I thought I was your favourite patient,” you quip with a smirk, but unable to suppress your fondness at how much thought he’s clearly put into it.

Jungkook’s shoulders drop, but he doesn’t falter. “Of course, I’m just going through the motions. I’ve been in the field for so long, you know.” He shrugs demurely. “I was actually a neurosurgeon before this.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles out of your throat before you can catch it. “You went from neurosurgeon to doctor? Isn’t that backwards?”

Jungkook’s eyes waver, biting his lip. “I prefer the simple life,” he offers as an explanation. He shakes himself out of it, and turns back to the computer once more with a warm sigh. “Alrighty then, I’ve got your file here. It’s been a while since your last visit,” he remarks, cursor hovering over a watermarked image of a clock. “I better check your vitals again.”

You watch in bemusement as he readies himself, first sanitising his hands using a small travel-size bottle that’s in the shape of a cartoon shark, then pulls on a pair of latex gloves that had been lying on his desk. Even in the strangely comedic atmosphere, the sound of him snapping the glove against his wrist makes you gasp soundlessly, thighs pressing together in need.

Jungkook notices it, eyes darting down as he rolls his chair over. He unbuttons each cuff off his shirt and rolls them up to expose his forearms. His hair is getting thicker as it grows, and even though it’s pushed back, a few locks slip forward to frame the smirk on his face.

You swallow, neck craning as he gets closer. The bench you’re sat on clearly isn’t intended as an examination table because it’s just as low to the ground as the chair, and there’s something inside you that runs electric when he comes close, looking down at you from it. With spread knees, he places them on either side of yours and pins you there, making you gasp.

The feeling of the cold gloves on your cheekbones, pressing to keep you steady is dizzying, more so when he looks intensely into your eyes, searching with a cool professionalism that you’d never seen from him before. Though it’s new, you recognise the shift in the tension of the room signifying the true start of the scene.

In your peripheral vision, you spot his tongue darting out to wet his lips, but you’re locked onto his gaze. Jungkook smiles softly. “Eyes are healthy,” he remarks, “good to know you’ll be able to see everything properly.”

The gloves catch on your skin, one sliding down to tighten on your chin, tipping your neck back even more. You’re barely breathing, waiting for his move.

“Open up and say ahh,” he instructs huskily, and you’re responding without thought, letting your lips part and your tongue relax. Jungkook frowns. “Wider.” You feel the corners of your mouth pang as you lower your jaw as much as you can in his grasp. “Keep it like that,” he demands sternly, and your heart thuds.

To your surprise, he doesn’t just look inside. You jerk instinctively in his grip as two gloved fingers slide down your tongue, but his rebuking glare has you settling again, trying to breathe through your nose as he delves deeper, smirking at the way you squirm, legs trapped between his and eyes lidded as you feel the length of his fingers heavy on your tongue.

Quicker than you can put your head around, his fingers plunge deeper, far enough down your throat to make you gag, tears springing to his eyes. His fingers leave as you let out a little cough, blinking wetly at him in betrayal.

Jungkook smirks, not bothering to wipe the shine of your saliva off his glove. “Gag reflex intact and responding well,” he notes smugly.

“How is that a vital?” you question, voice slightly hoarse.

“It’s vital for what I’m about to do to you,” he quips with a lecherous grin, and you bite down hard on your tongue to fight the urge to tremble.

“And what is that, Doctor?” you ask instead, blinking owlishly up at him.

His lip quirks. “Don’t play coy, now,  Y/n, I’ve seen the way you look at me during our appointments. Tell me; why is it that you came here today?”

You swallow, eyes heavy on him. “I’ve been suffering a strange sensation, Doctor,” you make out, your voice quieter than you intended. “Can you make me feel better?”

Jungkook exhales harshly, hands dropping to rest on your knees. “And where does it hurt, hm? Here?”

You suck in a breath as his legs spread further, coming close enough that your knees press against his crotch, the hardness undeniable. A single hand shifts up to lay against your forehead, questioning, and you shake your head. His hand skims lower, pressing firmly against your sternum where you feel your heart race against it.

“Here?” he questions, and continues on when he receives a negative. Next he veers off to the side, cupping a breast and brushing a thumb over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Does it ache here?”

You whimper, arching into his hand. “A little bit,” you offer up weakly, glad you opted out of wearing a bra in anticipation of the scene.

The answer seems to amuse Jungkook, and you shiver when you feel his other hand playing with the hem of your shirt, the gloves tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach. “I better check it out then, hm?”

You feel so exposed, the air conditioner chilling the air and the mirror reflecting Jungkook’s back as he leans in close, breath tickling your bare shoulder as his hands cup your breasts.

Without further preamble, he begins to roll your nipples simultaneously between his fingers, enough pressure to make you shiver as he studies your reactions closely. The feeling of being touched so intimately with the barrier of latex gloves feels both taboo and exciting, and without even realising you find your hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt, gripping at his biceps as they flex with every movement.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” Jungkook asks lowly, humming in response when you shake your head. “What about this?” Suddenly, he’s tugging, pinching them harshly enough to make your back arch to ease the pressure.

You squeal, fingers digging in deeper to the corded muscle of his forearms. “Yeah,” you gasp out shakily, “h-hurts.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. “But you like it, don’t you?” he accuses as he continues his rough treatment. “Coming into my office, begging me to touch you like this. Fucking filthy.”

A moan slips out as you rock your hips against the bench, seeking friction for the heat between your legs. “Please, Ju- Doctor Jeon, it hurts,” you cry out, gaze imploring as you blink up at him.

All of a sudden, he pulls back entirely, hands falling back onto his own knees as he watches you. “Show me,” he instructs, eyes hazy.

You shiver, the cool air shifting over your naked torso as his stare burns molten hot. “Show you what?”

Carding a hand through his hair to push it back, Jungkook wets his lips. “Show me where it aches the most,” he explains, voice like crushed velvet.

This was a side of him you’d never seen before; neither the competitive dom nor the obedient sub. His sexual versatility never fails to surprise you, and you find yourself hopelessly lost in the calm dominant air he exudes. Shakily, you part your legs.

He scoffs lightly. “That isn’t much help if I can’t see it. Undress.”

A rushed exhale leaves you at his shortness, but you stand up and push off your leggings and panties, kicking them to the side. It’s far harder to bare yourself to him this time, and as you sit, you can’t help but hesitate.

Jungkook raises a brow at your pause, leaning back like he’s disappointed. “I’m a very busy man, Y/n,” he chastises, “these appointment slots aren’t long and if you don’t want the next patient coming in while you’re choking on my cock, I suggest you do as I say, when I say it.”

Your legs fly apart the moment his voice lowers into a growl, clenching automatically at the open air at your most vulnerable place. “Please help me, Doctor,” you plead lowly.

Jungkook curses under his breath and comes forward again, placing a single gloved hand over your core. You jerk instinctively but keep your legs open at his warning glare. Even through the gloves, he has to feel how wet you are, slicking up the latex without him moving it. “It hurts here, hm? Lie down on your back and I’ll take a look.”

Your breath picks up as you turn and lower yourself onto the white sheet, legs dangling over the end. To your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t come around but returns to the desk, rolling his chair away and rifling through what looks like a first aid kit. You crane your head to watch him, narrowing your eyes in confusion as he returns with what looks like two rolled up lengths of gauze bandage.

“This isn’t the usual gyno office,” he explains, unravelling one slowly, “so we don’t have stirrups. But don’t worry; I’ll make sure to keep you nice and open for me.”

Like he’s done this a million times before - though the rational part of your brain knows he’s probably making this up as he goes along - he begins using the bandage material to bind your ankles to the legs of the bench, wide enough that you have to shuffle right to the edge, spread wide. He doesn’t say a thing when he ties them, mumbling to himself like he’s recalling instructions, and slips in his fingers to test how tight they are.

He’s kneeled between your open legs now, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as he runs his fingertips over your sopping folds, eyes lidded with arousal. “Does it hurt here, Y/n?”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to scoot even closer. “Inside,” you explain, sighing in relief when two fingers plunge inside your walls, scissoring to stretch you out.

Jungkook has one hand on your thigh to hold you steady as he rocks his fingers back and forth like he’s seeking something, and the feeling of the latex, so slick with your juices, has you trembling immediately. “It’s important in this line of work,” Jungkook breathes out as his fingers widen even more inside you, “to be thorough, so just relax for me, let me in.”

The moment you try and unclench, his fingers curl and press up against your g-spot, and it’s like a line of electricity connecting all your nerves together lights up. Your legs instinctively flex in an attempt to close around his hand, but the taut bonds keep them spread, and you sob at the reminder, arms giving out so that you end up flat on your back again.

Jungkook chuckles. “Looks like we found the problem,” he remarks cheerily. His fingers continue their assault, targeted now as you writhe beneath him, and the wet sounds of the latex as he increases to three digits echo obscenely in the large room. “That’s it.”

The joints of your fingers ache as you cling onto the edges of the table for dear life, unable to stop the rising wave of pleasure that threatens to crash. It’s so close you feel it in your teeth, eyes rolling back and babbling nonsense to try and get him to go faster, harder.

Faintly, you hear the sound of him humming in amusement, and your mind conjures the mental image of him, sleeves rolled up and gloves dripping with your arousal, hair falling in his eyes and teeth glinting as he grins and brings you to orgasm. It’s that thought that finally begins to tip you over the edge, and just before the wave crests, you feel his fingers slip out.

“Looks like it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he remarks cheekily.

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” you blabber mindlessly, but it’s too late, and your orgasm washes through you as he sits back and watches the unsatisfying roll of pleasure take your body.

Irrationally, you feel tears prick at your eyes with the cruelness of his actions. “It sti- It still hurts, Doctor,” you sob, reaching a hand down to cup yourself, wanting more even as you hiss with the sensitivity.

Jungkook tuts in fake sympathy. “My fingers can’t reach any further, Y/n, if I couldn’t reach where it hurts, I don’t know how I can help you.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you blink your eyes open again, struggling to focus on him. “Use your cock, Doctor, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Is that so?” You could just about cry in relief when you hear a belt buckle jingling, and Jungkook kneeling over you, lining himself up. You can feel the tip pressed against your entrance, just enough pressure to tease you. “Too impatient for me to even put a condom on, naughty girl.”

“Fuck, I don’t care, just fuck me, Doctor,” you whine, your sentence punctuated by a strangled cry as Jungkook snaps his hips forward, bottoming out in a single thrust.

Somehow you’d forgotten just how long Jungkook was - while he wasn’t the thickest or overall largest, and even the thought of mentally cataloguing the guys’ dicks was strange - there was a graceful rising curve to his length that felt like it pierced right through you, and as he starts a punishing rhythm, you feel the air punched right out of your lungs.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jungkook growls. “Acting innocent when you just wanted my cock to fuck you stupid, hm?”

With every thrust, your body is rocked back and forth on the bench, and you feel the bandages that bind your ankles to the legs of the table loosen, a little bit at first and then enough that they slip off completely. It feels odd to no longer be tied down, and Jungkook notices how your body is suddenly shifting far more than it was before.

His pace slows down and you feel a gloved hand wrap around one of your ankles. “Do you want them back on? I don’t think I tied them so well,” Jungkook notes hesitantly, and if you weren’t wildly chasing your orgasm, you might have cooed at his character dropping away to reveal the Jungkook you’re more used to.

As it is, your mind can only care about one thing. “I don’ need them, just fuck me!” you plead, and Jungkook exhales sharply, lifting your ankle until it rests on his shoulder, holding down your hips to fuck into you once more.

With the new angle, you can just about feel him in your guts, and your mouth drops open soundlessly, the only noises escaping your lips are gasped breaths as you feel a deeper orgasm begin to build.

“Oh fuck, I’m close,” you manage to slur out, a raw scream bouncing off the walls as he lowers a hand to rub at your clit, the slippery glove only making him thumb it faster. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking-ah!”

Your sentence is cut off violently as an orgasm rips through you as suddenly and overwhelmingly as an electric shock. If you’re making any noise, you can’t hear it, your mind like white static as you sit there and let it take you. Every inch of you is singing, down to your toes, and as Jungkook continues to fuck you into oversensitivity, you feel another release, one that makes you shudder and Jungkook swear violently, spilling inside you as he grips at the flesh of your hip.

It takes a while for the blur in your mind to clear, vision swirling in hazy technicolour and whole body trembling. Jungkook must have taken the gloves off at some point, because you feel the softness of his hands as they seek out yours, gently squeezing to rouse you more.

“Y/n,” you hear him say, voice still distant. The fog dissipates more with the calling of your name, and you feel yourself tune in again, once more becoming aware of the cool breeze of the aircon on your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Y/n. Have you ever done that before?”

You knit your brows in confusion. “Huh?”

Jungkook lets out a light chuckle, sitting back. He’s still inside you, barely softening, and you groan at the sensitivity of him shifting. “Look,” he guides, and you glance down to see your stomach and thighs, shiny with wetness, too thin to be cum. The liquid soaks his shirt, too, leaving dark patches. “That was fucking hot,” Jungkook gushes, his doctor persona well and truly evaporated by now.

You laugh weakly, an exhausted smile stretching at your lips. “I don’t think so? Fuck, that was a lot.”

“You were amazing,” Jungkook praises, squeezing your hands one last time before letting them go. He begins to pull out, then, and you shudder at the emptiness, remnants of his cum dripping out of you as he lowers your leg to the ground again. You sit up carefully, still lightheaded, and watch as he quickly rushes over to the desk, returning with a gauze pad damp with water from a bottle.

He uses it to clean you up in comfortable silence, though you can’t help but bite your lip when you notice he’s still hard. Just as he finishes wiping away the last of the wetness from your thighs and begins to wipe himself off, you reach out a hand to halt him.

“Doctor,” you coo teasingly, “won’t you let me clean you up? I wanna repay you for making the ache go away.”

His chest heaves as he shudders out a breath. “Really?”

You blink up at him as he stands in front of you, his cock right in front of you, glossy with your combined cum. “Don’t you wanna test my vitals one more time, doctor? Just to make sure?”

He gulps as you lean closer and lick a single stripe up the underside of his cock. It’s only slightly bitter, and well worth it for the look on his face and the feeling of his hands carding through your hair.

“I’ve got some filing to do,” Jungkook offers up, chest puffing as he slips back into his role, “if you’re going to clean me up like a good little girl, you can do it while I get back to work. I’m a busy man.”

You bite your lip as he cups the back of your neck and urges you to stand, leading you towards the desk. It’s just tall enough that you can sit on your knees below it, mouthing at his cock as he sits back in the office chair.

Giving a guy head isn’t your favourite hobby, but there’s something weirdly erotic about licking your own cum off of him as he types away, all but ignoring you. As you clean him up dutifully, you realise it’s a challenge, of sorts, to suck him off so well that he breaks concentration.

His jaunty clicks of the mouse and punching of keys continues away as he sighs lowly, feeling your lips wrap around his tip. You tongue the slit, keeping yourself steady by gripping the meat of his inner thighs and let your eyes slip shut so that you can fully focus on the minute sounds he lets out.

As you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth, testing your limits, you begin to learn the rhythm of his typing, recognising what makes it falter. His tip is sensitive, particularly where it meets the shaft, but it’s when you lap at the skin below his base and suck his balls into your mouth, tonguing at them languidly, that makes him break concentration fully.

“Hngh, fuck,” you hear him make out in a strangled voice, a hand coming down to stroke at his own length.

You bat it away immediately. “I thought you needed to work, Doctor,” you tease, “just let me take care of it.”

Jungkook groans but doesn’t protest when you wrap a hand around him and jerk him off, fingers tight around him as you suck at his perineum, making him moan prettily, the tapping of keys sparse and uncoordinated.

“Fuck, gonna- gonna cum again,” he warns, thighs tensing with the urge to thrust up into your grip.

You switch positions to suck his length into your mouth, rolling his balls in your hand and bobbing your head. Jungkook’s falling apart so beautifully, gasping out little ah, ah, ahs with every breath.

The moment you feel him stiffen up even more, you suck in a breath through your nose and swallow him down to the back of your throat, tearing up as your gag reflex kicks in.

He cums with a cry, shooting ropes of cum down your throat, and you wring out every last drop until he’s hissing and pulling away.

Jungkook helps you up from under the table with shaky hands and tucks himself away, panting. “Holy shit,” he says with a exhausted laugh, “I should have gone to medical school.”

--

The two of you spend the late afternoon showering and then returning the gym to its former glory. It’s not until even dinner has passed before you recall the rule of the Bangasm Bomb - a different bed every night.

You’d slept in Jungkook’s bed on the Monday night, and so you’d have to seek shelter elsewhere.

After getting into pajamas, you step out into the second-floor hallway, glancing around to see if anyone’s door is open. Jin’s is open - he’s still downstairs having a beer with Yoongi - but you’ve used his bed before. The only other one that’s ajar is the bunkroom.

Inside, Namjoon has his nose inside a book by a Japanese author you’ve vaguely heard of, and Hoseok folds a pile of laundry on his bed.

“Room for one?” you call out hopefully. The two of them have each chosen a separate bunk so they can see each other, but while Namjoon has a bottom bunk, Hoseok’s hair just about brushes the ceiling on the third and highest bed. The two of them glance up in unison, matching grins as they wave you inside.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Hoseok chimes out cheerfully.

“I was wondering if I could stay in a bed here tonight. I can’t room with Jungkook again.”

Hoseok’s eyes warm in recollection of the scene the three of you shared on Monday. “Well, we’ve got plenty of space. Pick a bed; any bed.”

It makes the most sense to choose the third stack of beds, on the far wall from the door. With only two beds instead of three, it’s easy enough to choose the top one, a perfect halfway point between Namjoon and Hoseok. “It’s not so bad in here,” you remark, tugging up the sheets so you can slip under.

“As far as punishments go, it does seem pretty tame,” Namjoon notes, adjusting a pair of thick reading glasses that balance precariously on his nose. “Though I do feel like it’s the equivalent of a naughty corner. Even if it’s comfortable, it’s the social factor that makes it undesirable.”

“It’s basically a sleepover for losers,” Hoseok surmises.

Namjoon pauses and nods. “Well said.”

You chuckle. “You two seem to be getting along well. Doing a lot of bonding in here, are we?”

“Not a whole lot else to do,” Hoseok points out. “We’ve been chatting away the boredom. Did you know Namjoon thought he could speak to crabs when he was a kid?”

Namjoon lets out a wounded noise, carefully marking his page with a bookmark before tossing the novel to the side. “I never said that! I said I thought they were trying to speak to me, okay?” The academic pokes his head out to look up at you. “Hobi-hyung is scared of Big Bird from Sesame Street!”

Instead of defending himself, Hoseok nods with an indignant pout. “Yeah, I fuckin’ am.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Wow, you’ve only been in here three nights and you’re already sharing childhood trauma? Jin’s gonna be devastated he missed it.”

“Jin had the chance to come join me and he chose not to,” Hoseok declares. “As far as I’m concerned, Namjoon is the only man in this house I respect.”

Namjoon beams, eyes crinkling behind thick frames. “Thanks, hyung. I respect you, too.”

Hoseok’s chest puffs up in pride. “You better after all the things I’ve taught you.”

Namjoon’s blush is telling. You lean forward in interest, glancing back and forth between the two. “Wait; what did you teach him?”

“Well, we’re not gonna tell you,” the dom responds petulantly, turning his nose up, “it’s a surprise for your scene together.”

You pout, leaning back onto the pillow on your bed. “That’s no fun.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun when you get to experience it firsthand, trust me.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh at Hoseok’s teasing, slipping his glasses off and placing them on the nightstand beside the bunks. “Don’t hype it up too much, hyung, I’m not that good yet.”

“You’ll get there, young grasshopper.”

You frown at the uncertain look on Namjoon’s face. “I can go ask one of the others to room with them if you wanna, uh, practice some more.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No, it’s okay. This can be my rest day.”

Hoseok sighs sweetly, rubbing his eyes. “Actually, rest does sound pretty nice. We can pick it up tomorrow. Night, Joonie. Night, Y/n.”

You and Namjoon chime out a simultaneous reply as Hoseok climbs down the stairs to deposit his pile of folded laundry on the empty bed below, returns to the top bunk, and tucks himself in.

Namjoon seems equally relieved to be able to go to bed early, curling up with a pillow cuddled to his chest. “Sweet dreams,” his low timbre calls out.

You smile fondly at your two boys, snuggled up with peaceful faces as they drift away. “Sleep well,” you offer up, before getting comfortable and letting your own eyes slip closed.

[visforvengeance]

Luther Hargreeves // Test me

S M U T

Notes: requested by @canonbiwonderwoman and others! sorry it took me so long :( being a senior is hard. the is for pre-monkey accident luthor and he is still a virgin. after this i think i have more requests for diego, and then ben and allison. i wrote this on a whim bc i love this song!! hope you like it!!

Warnings: rough sex (like rough blowjob), cursing, bad ending perhaps. i think thats it

Song

Third person”s POV

Y/n”s nerves were getting the best of her. She’d done this hundreds of times before, but she felt the same before every performance. She peaked through the curtains to see a floor full of people who came just for her. The announcer had gotten on stage to introduce her and she took a deep breath. She looked down at the skintight, glittery gown and smoothed it of its wrinkles. She stepped up to the microphone and waited for the curtains to open.

When they saw her face, clapping and shouting erupted in the speakeasy. She smiled and winked at a few of the guys upfront. She pretended not to notice the dirty looks she received from their girlfriends and wives. The music began and she swayed her hips to the rhythm. She looked around the crowd and couldn’t help but notice a pair of blue eyes on her. The man they belonged to eyed her figure as he drank his whiskey.

When he noticed that she was staring back at him, he’d nearly choked on his drink. She smirked at his reaction and began singing her song,

“Hey God, I'll be the jester

Entertain ya to the best of my ability

When I suffer more, fragility when I answer

Pay me for a reason, oh-oh

So stop complaining, we all have our seasons, oh-oh

It's not just a joke or a lesson to live through

Every which way and second, there's a breakthrough”

He stopped mid-drink at the sound of her voice. God, he’d never heard something so beautiful. She was so sexy, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She stared straight into his eyes like she was singing to him. Little did he know that she was. She continued swaying her hips while she felt up the microphone stand. He stood up, taking his chair with him, he moved closer to the stage. She did not fail to notice how big and tall he was. She wondered if he’d want to come back to her dressing room when she was finished.

“I'm not to bе forgotten

Drop your books when I walk in

Magic talks without talking

I'll make thе most before the coffin

Born to be desired, oh-oh

Gotta learn, yeah, eyes are always on the next score

But space isn't there to always be filled up

It's the quiet, the downtime to breathe in my lungs”

When she sang the first two lines, she’d hoped that he knew she was aware of how much power she had over him. He felt that in his soul. He thought his rapid heartbeat was overpowering the music and her voice. The guy next to him leaned over and said something. “She’s a dime, ain’t she?” Luther looked over at him, speechless and nodded. 

She ran a hand up her smooth thigh and Luther’s eyes followed. The more she threw hints, the more he got turned on. 

“Cause I'm mortal, oh-oh-oh

(Give me an A+ if I'm doing this thing right)

Defected by this form, oh-oh-oh

And I'd rather be tested by goddesses

Resting their heads upon pillows of all they have learned”

She wrapped up her song. And once again, the speakeasy was flooded with a wave of applause. She smiled and thanked everyone. She looked over at Luther and motioned for him to follow her. He didn’t hesitate to catch up with her. Neither of them spoke as he stared at her figure with such intimacy. 

They reached the room and Luther rushed to open the door for her. She looked up at him and smirked. He answered with a shy smile. What was going to happen now? Why am I here? Luther was confused. He didn’t know what she wanted but a small part of him hoped that it was something he wanted too. 

“I haven’t seen you here before. I think I’d recognize a pretty face like that.” She said as she offered him a drink. He took it and mumbled a thank you. “I usually sit very far in the back. It’d probably be too dark for you to see me,” He said softly. She nodded and took a seat facing him. She crossed one leg over the over, not bothering to fix the slit of her dress back in place. 

Luther gulped at the exposed skin and tried his hardest not to stare. She giggled at his cuteness. “Did you enjoy the show?” She questioned even though she knew the answer. “Y-yes. Your performance was..uh. It was beautiful. Very talented,” he stuttered. She put out the cigarette she lit and sat her drink on the vanity. She walked over to the couch that Luther sat on and took his drink from his hands, doing the same thing she’d done to hers earlier.

She sat in his lap and played with the buttons on his shirt. “I couldn’t help but notice the connection between us. Did I get the right idea?” She pouted at him. He nodded furiously.  She placed her lips on his and laid her hands flat on his chest. He kissed her back instantly and placed his hands on her waist. 

Eventually they laid down on the couch. Y/n straddled Luther’s waist as his hand explored her body in a feverish manner. He broke the kiss, shame written all over his face. “Is something wrong, love?” Y/n asked, worriedly. “I-uh. Before we get any further, there’s something you should know.” Y/n waited for him to continue. “I’m a virgin. And also like super strong. Like inhumanly strong. I could probably lift this couch with 25 people on it and not break a sweat.” He waited for her to tell him to get out but she never did. Instead, she just smiled and pecked his lips. “You know, I can deal with those things. It’s not a problem.” She laughed and he joined in. 

They continued their kissing and Y/n started to remove her clothing. Luther just watched in awe. He’d never seen a woman this close to him and naked before. The bulge in his pants gave him away. He wanted so badly to soothe the feeling of his throbbing cock, but he was shy. She returned to her place in his lap. The hardness of his cock pushed up against her aching cunt and it caused her to moan. Luther thought it was even more beautiful than her singing. 

She placed his hands on her tits, forcing him to give them a squeeze. ‘They’re so soft,’ he thought. They were the softest things he’d ever felt. She moved to take off his clothing. When she got to his pants, she unbuttoned them and his cock sprung free. It stood proudly against his abdomen. She looked at it hungrily. It was bigger than she was used to and she pondered on how she’d take it. 

Luther started to blush. He looked at her nervously. Was he too big? They both thought simultaneously. Y/n didn’t care. She licked one soft strip up against the underside of his cock. Luther screwed his eyes shut at the sensation. She kissed and sucked on his tip. Luther had never felt anything like this. His hand certainly did not compare. 

She began taking what she could of him into her mouth. Soon the dressing room was filled with his moans. She bopped her head up and down, saliva dripping down his balls. The feeling of her hot and wet mouth was too much for him. He began to fuck her face. Feeling too much euphoria to worry about how rough he was being. The tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat made her gag, but she wasn’t bothered by it. 

He forced her head all the way down until her nose touched his skin. He came in her mouth, keeping his hands on the back of her head. She had no choice but to swallow. When he was finished and he realized what he was doing, he released her from his grip. He began apologizing profusely. But she just kissed him. 

She climbed on top of him without breaking the kiss. Her lips tasted of his cum, Luther didn’t mind the taste. It just turned him on more. She guided his cock into her pussy and began grinding her hips. Luther twitched and moaned. His hands gripped at her ass, moving her back and forth. Y/n felt the butterflies in her belly the more she grew closer to her orgasm. 

Her nails gripped at his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indentations on his skin. The pain added onto the pleasure for Luther. He trailed kisses from her lips to her jaw and then to her neck. She wrapped her small hands around his throat, careful not to choke him. But she squeezed a little, forcing him to take a deep breath. 

Their orgasms ripped through them and their moans filled the room. Luther kissed her shoulder and she laid her head in the crook of his neck. “How’s that for a first time?” She joked. She felt Luther’s chest vibrate. Smiling at herself for making him laugh. “I’ll probably remember that for the rest of my life.”

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Can u do 20 pls and thank you

20. “I’ll protect you no matter what... even if it kills me.” [Anyone | Nana & Toshinori]

“Ground rules,” says Nana, immediately stopping Toshinori at the inner-office door.

As a fourteen-going-on-fifteen year old, Yagi Toshinori has been suffering random growth spurts for the past few months. Her dandelion is more like a sunflower; he’s nearly at her height now, and Nana is taller than most.

Her successor’s gear includes a dashing red cape, a dark blue undersuit, a utility belt and boots, a chestplate--and no gloves.

Of all the influences to ignore…

They’re about to patrol together for the very first time. Nana had not the necessary cruelty to reject Toshinori’s application to her and Sorahiko’s agency, even though it would have been the extremely logical decision to make, seeing as the agency had just shifted to the Commission’s purview.

She blames her successor’s puppy eyes. And the fact that he had deliberately sent his only application to Sky High Agency.

He had blinked so innocently.

Did she teach him that? Maybe he’d picked up some of Sorahiko’s tricks to wheedle her into buying him snacks on the job.

“Yes, oshishou?”

“If I tell you to stay out of a fight, do not jump into the fight.”

Immediately, Toshinori’s face scrunches up. Nana refrains from ruffling her successor’s hair, because it’s time to be a responsible adult, and not someone who passionately believes in a teenager’s ambition to be a self-proclaimed Pillar of Society.

She waits for an acknowledgment, and begrudgingly, Toshinori nods.

“If I’m in trouble, you’ll get Gran Torino.”

“What if he’s too busy?” the kid argues. “I should be able to help, oshishou!”

“And if I’ve told you to stay out of it? What’ll you do?” 

Toshinori’s belligerent frown and straightening spine says everything. It will boil down to his judgment. Rules are guidelines, and guidelines are gently-worded suggestions. Granted, this is definitely not what Toshinori’s supposed to be learning in U.A. High, but Toshinori has always been possessed of a ‘I know best!’ spirit.

It should be infuriating.

Sorahiko certainly finds it so, but that’s because he has a similar mindset (and refuses to admit it). Over the years, Nana has learned to argue with Sorahiko. She does not think a similar tactic will work with Toshinori.

“I’m your intern,” says Toshinori, like that is the safety net here.

“You’re my successor, too.”

He brightens. “What if,” he posits, “I get drawn into the fight anyway? Because the villain sees me as an easy target--which I’m not. I’m definitely not. Because I have a chestplate, oshishou.”

Nana eyes him, her dandelion-haired kid with a heart big enough to love the whole country.

“Not that I would purposely involve myself--”

“Toshinori,” she interrupts. He falls abruptly silent, but his expression remains attentive. Picking her words requires care not to be too patronizing. If Nana has considered Toshinori to be old enough to hold One for All, then it follows that she must have faith in his survival on the field.

And yet.

She takes a deep breath and claps her hands onto Toshinori’s shoulders, holding him in place. Her exhale comes out as a sigh, in part resignation, in part relief. Nana lucked out with Toshinori. He’s such a good kid.

“Whether I like it or not, you’re going to find trouble,” says Nana wistfully. “And you’re going to get into trouble, no matter what rules I put in place. So… you should know this. Whatever happens? I’ll protect you no matter what.”

“Oh,” whispers Toshinori.

“Even if it kills me,” she finishes.

“Oshishou!”

Then the door opens. Gran Torino, holding a carrier of three coffees (two hot, one iced and topped with whip cream), pauses at the threshold upon seeing his best friend looking uncharacteristically dead-serious and their intern looking on the verge of tears.

“Uh,” says Gran Torino.

“Oh good, you’re here,” says Nana, releasing Toshinori and making grabby hands at the cardboard carrier. She retrieves her drink and adds, “Give Toshinori your talk now, I’m going to enjoy my coffee before we head out.”

“Ah,” says Sorahiko, brightening imperceptibly.

“I already took the bad cop.”

“What?! We agreed--”

Toshinori pipes up, “Torino-sensei’s the good cop in this scenario?”

“Play nice,” she sings, and swans out the door to wait by their agency’s front-desk.

[soulwillower]

buttercup • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: Would you mind writing a Richie Tozier X reader soulmate AU where Richie is VERY self conscious and he finds out that the reader is his soulmate and the reader is well known and very pretty, so he’s just like djjdjfgjjcbvnfnf but once they actually meet she really likes him? :0 thanks if you consider!

warning: swearing, angst, richie being edgy and also a bit unstable (king shit), neuroatypical richie!!!, fluff, soulmate au!! <33 also sorry this may be rough, i havent edited it at all

[reader + losers are in college]

lmk what u guys think of this one,... idk LOL

4.1k words

♡

richie was about to be sick. yes, he really, really was going to vomit in approximately ten seconds and he didn’t know what he was going to do. the room, full of barely-adults chugging jungle juice was sweaty and bustling and the walls were closing in on him quick. those people who weren't in the main rooms were doing sniff in the bathrooms and blocking his pathway to heaven (the toilet) so he quickly stumbles towards the sliding-glass door.

he passes a guy who claps his shoulder and says in a deep voice, "you good, bro?"

no, no. he's not good, bro. thanks for asking, though.

as he finally breaks free of the plastic, out of the crusty balloon that was holding his body hostage, he takes a deep breath and sprawls himself on the back deck, staring up at the clouds in the nighttime sky. maybe he should go home and mull this over, before he crams it down his own throat and chokes to death, alone and broken on the back deck of a 22 year old business major's rental house.

he laughs to himself - an image which he's sure would be a full on maniacal scene to an onlooker - as he lights a cigarette with very shaky fingers. even if he chooses to give this situation some thought, he will end up being forced regardless because this is, quite literally, richard tozier's destiny.

y/n y/l/n is richie's destiny, and it makes him feel like complete shit.

you see - his whole life, richie knew about the fucking soulmate tattoos. of course he did, everybody did - it was, like, one of the first things you learn, ever. he knows that there's basically a soulmate for every person and often times the soulmate marks were different, the ways of finding your soulmate were wide and far.

for most of richie's life - actually, almost all of it up until the last month - he'd had a big, fat 0 tattooed on his arm and below it a humiliating phrase that was quite the epitome of richie himself.

yet it never changed, which led him, his friends, and his parents to determine that he'd gotten a time-counter soulmate mark, which he likes to pride himself on believing he did not give a single fuck about.

the number is supposed to count the amount of time that you've spent with your soulmate, and there's usually a sentence or phrase that's associated with your soulmate's first thoughts of you below it. and yeah, of course the first thing the lucky guy or gal thought of richie is 'wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.' pretty fucking on-brand, if richie says so himself.

so yeah, he never really paid attention to his soulmate mark - partly because the thought of emotionally opening up to someone enough for them to know his whole and true self was repulsive and terrifying enough to make him physically ill, enough for him to develop a crazy sense of humor as a less-than proficient coping mechanism for the insecurity and fear that lives in his mind rent-free, 24/7 365. but mostly he didn't pay attention to the mark because, you know, he thought it was lame.

that is, until it changed from the 0.

it happened on the first day of classes fall semester of this, his freshman year of college.

which, honestly, was a huge fucking bummer, because he literally came into contact with almost 800 new people that first day through classes, dorms, walking around campus, and the dining hall. and yet, as he got back to his dorm and smoked a bowl with bill, he'd noticed that his arm had said 00:51:26.

bill had been so excited he'd almost lifted richie through the roof, because 'holy sh-shit, rich, y-you did it!'

it was hard to believe someone was out there for him, though. and yeah, he didn't give a fuck about it, but he also kind of did.

richie, now thinking back on that day, groans a bit. if he'd just known, if he had just fucking looked at the thigh of the girl in front of him with the soft-looking grin and the alluring scent of orange creamsicle shampoo, who'd smiled a bit when he borrowed a pen - if he'd just known then that y/n was meant to spend the rest of her life with him, he could've... well, he's not really sure what he could have done.

he thinks to that moment in time, as he was blowing smoke out the dorm window with bill and giggling as he ate an entire bag of cheez-its, and how much he wanted to know who it was back then.

but tonight, it had become a nightmare when the information practically fell into his lap. he's at this house party in late september, and about five minutes ago it was just boring enough to warrant sitting on the rug in the living room and just fun enough to actually stay.

“-yeah, she said the first time you guys met was in microeconomics, right?” ben says, and richie huffs in agreement as he picks at the skin on his nails. ben was talking about her again, and richie's heart was beating stupidly hard. y/n, one of his closest friends that he'd made outside of the losers, never failed to make his heart run a goddamn marathon.

“-she told me the first thing she noticed was that you were wearing socks with sandals. and she thought that your socks were really ugly.” he finishes with a laugh and richie’s head snaps up at that. he feels chills spill over back as if he’d been doused with ice water and he gapes at ben. “wait, what?” richie shudders, the words escaping his lips quietly enough that his friends mistake it for a forceful exhale brought on by offense at the word 'ugly.'

“well she was right to think that.” stan says from behind his solo cup, carefree, as if richie’s life wasn’t crashing to an alarming and unbelievable halt. eddie giggles faintly somewhere from the floor where the losers are sitting, but richie’s mind is reeling too much for him to react to or even comprehend anything.

“rich, i th-thought i got you to st-stop wearing socks and sandals so long ago.” bill adds, laughing into his hand. but richie’s barely registering any other fucking information because he’s staring at ben, who is finally noticing his friend’s perplexed face. “you good, rich?” ben asks carefully.

“wh-er, wait. what exactly did she say?” richie asks, really not wanting to know the answer and yet wanting to know more than life itself. it can't be her. he’s getting odd looks from everyone now, but he's starting to breathe quickly and he thinks he might vomit. he kind of regrets never showing anybody but big bill his soulmate mark, because he's suffocating right now in embarrassment and bill is a little too drunk to assume what richie's assuming right now.

“wait, y/n y/l/n, right? from my dorm. she’s here tonight, she told me- oh, y/n!” stan calls, looking directly over richie’s shoulder. it happens so fast. y/n, in the flesh, walks past at just that moment, breaking out into a breath-taking, world-halting smile. richie's chest hurts worse than it ever has before as she waves and bustles over to plop herself next to richie. and holy shit, she's wearing shorts because even though it's cold out, the house is warm and richie can see dark ink on her thigh. a soulmate tattoo. he can't draw his eyes away even though his brain is screaming to knock it off because there's going to be something there he doesn't want to accept, but he then does it anyways.

he almost hyperventilates as he reads the words emblazoned on her thigh,

27:36:08 and right below it: "holy hell her hair smells like orange creamsicle"

he almost sobs right then and there as she greets him with a soft hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of their fate and richie has to stand up abruptly because he can literally feel the numbers changing on his arm as the seconds go by with y/n at his side.

and now, mere minutes later he's out here, laying in self pity as anxiety claws at every inch of his body and fear tingles on him like the slight presence of snowflakes falling on his skin - briefly he wonders if, as an older man, he'll wonder how he never got cold wearing nothing, vulnerable as he welcomes in that falling snow.

he would be totally daft not to wonder how he ended up with a soulmate like her, someone not only so fucking attractive but so kind and undeserving of a monstrosity of a human like him. she is, in every place he isn't, a complete and utter success of a person; he's a hurricane where she's whitecaps in the sea, he's loud and abrupt while she is kind and outgoing. maybe they do work well together, hell - they spend enough time on study dates outside of class for him to know that he does really like her. but richie also knows his standoffish, happy-go-lucky and untamed personality paired with his unwillingness to make himself appear vulnerable to most people will probably have a very large impact on... whatever it is that happens with y/n.

because that's really the point, isn't it?

she is stuck with him. bucky beaver, the trashmouth, mr. i-can't-keep-my-trap-shut-for-three-seconds. y/n, the most incredible person in this world, is the kind of person that was designed for richie to admire from afar, as he is so willing to suffer through. because as much as it hurts to watch her and to love her without loving her, it is a thousand times safer for both of them than the inevitable look of disappointment that will befall y/n’s angelic features when she discovers who her burden of a soulmate is.

the thought makes richie choke out a weak sob, sitting up and digging the heel of his palms into his sockets, trying to scrub out the image of himself from his brain. awful, awful, bad.

he takes a long drag from his cigarette and for a brief moment he wonders if, just maybe, she’ll love him back eventually. the thought makes him feel like crying all over again.

huge nose, big teeth, awkwardly skinny and too tall. maybe he's got nice hair, but he sometimes wakes up too late and can only brush his teeth and swipe on deodorant before he's sprinting out his dorm with his pickle socks and stan's old sandals, trudging to class and getting in the way of y/n's future.

but he is her future, after all - how can that be right?

he doesn't have enough time to take another drag from his cig as he hears the glass door open, the noise from the party bursting through the gap in the foundation of the house and sending him back to five minutes, ago, inside. he cranes his neck and can't bring himself to be surprised when he sees her, backlit from the party inside and figure in his mind standing like the only being in the world.

she thinks he looks devastatingly beautiful tonight. she loves the awkwardness in his bones, the way he carries himself with confidence although she's not sure he always really has it. he's wearing some dumb socks again as usual, though they're mostly covered by his black pants and red high-tops this time. it makes her smile softly.

she wants to know him, really know him, as more than just a classmate, a crush, a boy who's friends with stan uris from the floor above her own room. she wants to feel his large hands on her in more than just fleeting greetings, knucks to the shoulder or jaw. she wants the sharp taste of nicotine and mint from those life savers he was always sucking on in her own mouth as he holds her tightly against him, she wants to know everything about him and be with him, even if they aren't somehow destined to be forever. which, she thinks with an array of wild animals tumbling around her chest, they might be.

after all, someone at this party is her soulmate, and she's almost 99.8% sure it's richie. it gives her the most beautiful butterflies she's ever had, even when he stares at her from the deck with glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"what’s up, buttercup?” is all she says, in her mind because he's stunned her to near-silence once again by just existing, and in his mind because she is the most perfect being.

he doesn't respond despite being completely charmed by her, because he's breathing in the nicotine and its making his fingers twitch and even though he's sober by now, he thinks he may be tweaking a bit, mostly from the overwhelming set of information that just smacked into his face when y/n walked over into that room.

he watches as suddenly she's dropping herself so she's sat next to him, her legs swinging off the edge of the deck. she eyes his cigarette. "that's so unhealthy, rich." she says softly, teasing but with a lacing of truth behind it that really makes richie itch to never smoke ever again in his life. but he's a stubborn ass, so he instead takes a deeper drag, maintaining eye contact. he can feel one tear slip from his eye and he feels so fucking melodramatic as he does so, but he's at the lowest he's been in a while, so he gives himself a bit of credit.

she reaches out and pulls the cigarette directly from between his lips, sending him a pointed look as she presses it out on the finished wood of the deck. he wipes the tear away when she's not looking. and as she turns back he smirks, unsure what else to do, as he blows the smoke out of his mouth towards her face.

"hi, toots." he says in what he hopes is a normal tone, despite his blotchy and tear-trailed face. she blinks her eyes owlishly at him but just shrugs, "you left a little prematurely back there. what, do i smell that bad?" she jokes. no, he thinks, you smell like orange creamsicles.

it's bittersweet, the irony in her statement. because he knows that she probably knows what she smells like every day, as it's literally tattooed right on the meat of her leg, on display for her and whoever else lucky enough to find themselves being acquainted with the skin of her upper thigh. the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

maybe if he were feeling a little less in-the-dumps, a little less like a complete and utter disappointment and failure that ruined this sweet girl's life, he would have ribbed her back a bit. you know, grind her gears in typical tozier fashion.

but he's exhausted and so distraught that he can't bring himself to even look at her. "i'm not in the mood" he grumbles, his heart pounding. she frowns, tilting her head.

"okay, what's wrong, richie?" she asks, and it's in that caring voice that she uses that isn't pitying but simply solicitous in nature. her calming force on him is obvious and immediate and his teeth stop rattling around in his head

he wants to scream because she's burning warm and perfect while he's frigid cold inside his body; a wasteland full of broken slinkies and half-formulated 'your mom' jokes that are melded to the crust of him with the tar that's been sucked straight from those damn ciggies. for crying out loud, if he were to so much as touch her, she'd get corrupted.

she notices as he scoots a bit away from her, and her heart hurts. he's so upset, clearly, and yet it hurts her that he can't trust himself or her enough to open up; no fault of his own surely, but heartbreaking all the same. "i care about you, and i really want to be here for you." she says it like there's going to be more, but the words kind of die in her throat as she realizes the extend of her words.

holy shit, she thinks, i'd go to the ends of the earth for him. if richie asked me to, i think i'd probably kill the queen.

"i stubbed my toe, and it really hurts." he says then, and the absurdity of his excuse makes her laugh out loud, head tilting back towards the moon as the bubbly giggles tumble from her lips. she looks at him after and his face is a twisted mix of affection and utter pain, a combination that hurts her to her core but lights a fuel in her that makes her want to help him.

"it's true." he mutters, motioning to his shoe limply, and she looks at his foot, the tip of his converse scribbled in sharpie with the word 'half-brain' and then a bunch of hearts.

"i like your socks." she says absentmindedly, grinning at him as she says it, voice teasing. but the reaction she was hoping for was nowhere to be seen as richie suddenly heaves a hiccup-sob, one so upsetting and quiet that she thinks she misheard it.

but he's keeling over and clutching his face with his hands, shaking his head, and her heart breaks. "richie, honey please tell me what's going on. or i can just sit here, if you'd rather-"

her sentence is cut off with richies own rushed words, expelled from his mouth so quickly that it's almost as if they were trying to escape while his lips tried to hold them in.

"-you're going to have to spend the rest of your life trying to force yourself to love me, and that terrifies me.”

as he says it, his stomach twists itself inwards at his admission and he thinks he's going to be sick. he doesn't deserve you, you're going to resent him for it. she's silent for a few moments, and he doesn't dare look anywhere near her as tears trail down his solemn cheekbones and drop onto the black corduroy that wraps around his jittering legs.

"richie, please, what are you trying to say?" she says quietly, sounding scared, nervous, upset... richie did that. it's his fault. he tilts his head back, his brain buzzing in guilt. "fuck," he says, and it comes out broken, "you... i- you're my soulmate." he says, looking down to where his chest rises and falls almost unnaturally, a consequence of muscle memory being tampered with by the lethally college combination of nicotine, alcohol and marijuana on an empty stomach.

earlier he was afraid that if he opened his mouth too wide he would lose control of his tongue and then the words would come out without him wanting them to, but he knows he's basically sober by now, as sober as y/n is next to him - he's just neurotic, but he doesn't want her to know that, because oh god, what if she hated him for it?

she wouldn't, right? isn't she supposed to find a way to love him?

this was a really stupid idea, but in his mind it was one that had to be done. shutting his eyes, he tugs the sleeve of his left arm upwards, taking a shaky breath. again, it's silent as she reads the words written there. wow, those are the ugliest socks ever.

she stares at the words, and the number above it, then she looks at her own thigh, where the exact same number counts on in time with his.

he wastes no time, though: "-don't worry, doll. i've got it figured out, we can just- maybe we can get yours covered and you don't have to think about it anymore. fi-find someone better, like, oh, bill - he'd treat you nice i think. just- we don't have to think about it, i'm sorry." he says in one breath, not looking at her at all.

"richie, how can i be yours if you're not mine?" she says thickly because she's fighting off tears wondering how someone so incredible and full of life could feel so undeserving.

"you can't want me, you can't." he insists, not looking at her as she gapes at him because if he were to look at her expression he may lose it. it's quiet again in their own little world here, the air silent and numbing as y/n takes a breath.

"oh my god, wait richie how are we this stupid?" she asks, perking up and lightly slapping his arm. he looks at her in shock as she begins to laugh, "we've been alone together so many times. how did we not notice?" she asks, and he chuckles a bit, shrugging.

"maybe we're not the sharpest crayons in the drawer, toots. all i'm sayin' is that i figured it out first." he says cheekily, and secretly both of them are shocked to see how quickly they fell together, as if the knowledge that they were made for each other made all their insecurities fall away.

her face softens again. "you know, i saw my timer counting tonight and i was hoping more than anything that you'd be here. that we'd be-" she adds softly, a hand landing lightly on richie's thigh, sending licks of flames up his body. she takes a breath and restarts. "do you know how fucking bad i wanted it to be you?"

and just like that, y/n unintentionally provides a luscious mix of words and tricks that fill him with barely enough confidence to let him bet when he knows he should fold.

what's life without a little risk?

he meets her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and hers are large and hopeful as they wait patiently for him to give her something. but he still can't speak without running his mouth, so instead he cups her cheeks. her lips part slowly and he stares in awe at her raw beauty, unable to hold it in longer.

he presses his lips to her quickly and to her it feels like he is trying to prove something. it makes her heart soar as he comes alive against her, pressing as enthusiastically as she is into him. he tastes, as she'd guessed, like nicotine but mostly like a mint and it makes her grin as he pulls back.

"is this okay?" he's asking then, his thumb soothing over her cheek sweetly and giving her the same butterflies she gets when he smiles; the very same butterflies that release when he says anything to her, when he comes to her dorm for a study date with two red bulls in his hand, and when she realized their tattoos beat the same.

"yeah, of course." she whispers against his lips, the feeling of his teasing lightly making her sniffle. she presses their lips together again, this time warmer, more comfortably and his hands move to her hips and tug her closer, her hands winding to his neck as his own hands explore her body, caressing her sides gently. he pulls back and holds her softly.

"your hair smells nice." he says sheepishly, and she grins so widely she thinks she may split in two. her heart flutters as she looks into his eyes, finding nothing but love. "orange creamsicle, huh?" she asks with pink cheeks, and he laughs lightly, nodding his head. "best smell ever, babe."

"you make me happy." she says it onto his lips again, and the shiver that runs down his spine is a feeling he wouldn't mind feeling forever. his heart soars because he believes her, he trusts her. she wouldn't lie to him.

"we're so dramatic, aren't we?" richie jokes, his walls sliding back up a bit, but as y/n cuddles into his chest, head against his beating heart as she presses kisses to his neck, he realizes she accepts him.

"yeah, well. we're made for each other, aren't we rich?" she asks gently as his hand falls to brush over her thigh, right over the words. "that's right, toots." he says softly, looking down at her hairline softly, still in disbelief that it worked out for him. she turns to look at him, cheeks dusted a bit as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier​ @simplesammyx​ @dickology64​ @clownsloveyou​ @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby​ @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro​ @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @finnskindofwoman​  @kait-tozier​ @upamongthestarss​ @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs 

[stellarune]

OK SO !! my friend, logan (soybean-foster) wrote keefex angst and asked me to post it  here ! full credit to him, hes amazing, and this h u r ts !!

tw : the ability circlet, the council bein shit as always

Keefe’s terrified, you know.

He asked for this himself, he asked for an ability restrictor like Sophie’s, didn’t he?

So why does he feel so terrified of the circlet in Councillor Alina’s hands?

The councillors apparently had a separate Technopath, someone who wasn’t Dex but kept a mystery identity, because this is /not/ one of Dex’s projects - Keefe can tell simply by looking at it.

It’s a coppery shade, the circlet, and he knows that Dex hates and has a weird vendetta against copper. Something about he hates how it looks. He’ll use anything else he can get his hands on, no matter whether he’s been told to use the specific metal or not.

He /also/ wouldn’t embellish a project with pointless decorations, because “that takes time that we don’t have”.

And the final thing? Dex was obviously asked to stand in to make sure nothing went wrong, and although claiming it’s his circlet, he won’t look at it with anything other than a withering glare.Councillor Alina gives Keefe a sickeningly sweet smile. “This’ll be over in a minute, I assure you. Dexter?”

Dex gives her a careful glance before taking the restrictor, turning it around to examine it and perhaps giving another clue that it’s not his project.

He steps in front of where Keefe’s sitting on one of the Healing Center cots. “Now, Mr. Sencen, I’m sure you’re aware that our clasp can only be opened by our Technopath. It’s a unique design, preventing any of your... /friends/,” Alina sneers, “from opening it.”

“Yeah.”

He’s been determined to not give more than one word answers until he’s finally wearing the circlet, until he knows he can’t hurt anyone with his abilities anymore.

Alina smiles again. “Good. Dexter, if you would do the honours?”Dex swallows, turning back to face Keefe and letting his hands drop slightly. “I have no idea what this is going to do, Keefe,” he whispers. “I don’t know if it’s going to hurt you or if it’s going to permanently damage your abilities or anything like that, they wouldn’t let me see it before now.”

“I know.”

“Come on, you can still refuse! Say you don’t want it, this was your original choice and they can’t force you to do anythi-“

“Actually, we can. So you’d best hurry up, we haven’t got all day.”

Dex ignores her. “Keefe, you-“

“I’ll be okay. I promise,” he mumbles, the longest thing he’s said so far today.Dex sighs, gently brushing Keefe’s hair back from his forehead and pausing before he closes the circlet clasp.

“Are you sure? I can’t do anything else for you after this.”

“I’m sure.”

A metallic /clack/ echoes through the room, and Dex steps away, his hand moving to fiddle with the bracelet on his wrist - the one that Keefe had given him. Alina claps her hands, walking forwards. “Alright then! We simply need to press this lovely jewel here, and...”

As soon as her finger touches it, Keefe’s whole world seems to set itself alight with a brand new strength and kind of /pain/.As in, the world literally set itself alight - there’s fire, metaphorical fire, covering every inch of his body and making his eyes burn with tears that he tries to hold, tears that only succeed in trailing white-hot streaks down his cheeks.

And it’s simultaneously underwater - he can’t see or hear or feel or breathe or do /anything/ he should be able to do.

He bites his lip hard to stop himself crying or shouting out - he’ll stay here if it kills him, it’ll eventually go away.

He deserves this. He deserves the pain that soaks him, he deserves everything he feels because it’s his fault in the first place. He shouldn’t still be in the Lost Cities, but he is and he should’ve left - he did leave, and he can’t remember why he even came back.Why did he..?

Oh. Dex.

Dex should be here. Is Dex still there? Keefe can’t tell, he barely remembers if Dex was actually there in the first place, it might as easily have been a hallucination.

Someone touches his arm and the contact burns brighter. A scream rips from his throat before he can stop it and he lets go of the frozen way he’s been sitting, kicking out at whoever it was that’s standing in front of him.

He doesn’t know who, he only knows that they’re shouting something at him and he’s shouting out for Dex, because /where did he go/?! He should be here, he should’ve been somewhere in the room but he’s not answering.

Maybe he left.

Oh, God, maybe he /left/.Maybe he’s stopped denying it - maybe he’s seen that Keefe’s always been the one in the wrong and maybe he’s seen that Keefe is right, that he doesn’t deserve anyone’s love, much less someone like Dex’s.

He screams again as this time someone pins his knees down, sending fresh pain over his legs, and shouts something that he can’t hear. He’s not strong enough to push them off.

What’s his first instinct while in extreme pain, pinned by someone and unable to move?

He thinks they’ve come to kill him.

That would’ve been really welcome at that moment, if it weren’t for his firm belief that he deserved to suffer for as long as possible.

He reached to hit at them blindly and they catch both his wrists in one hand, twisting his arm in the process and only earning another agonised shriek.The static buzzing gets louder and the fire glows ever brighter and then...

There’s silence.

Well, relative silence. He stills as the world comes crashing back into focus, leaving him with only the sound of heavy breathing and otherwise darkness. He glances up, finding Dex standing next to him with lightly flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and...

A copper circlet in his hands.

“Oh, thank the stars,” Dex whispers, setting the restrictor aside and sinking down next to him on the mattress.

The world spins and Keefe’s lost the energy to keep himself upright anymore - his head falls against Dex’s shoulder, and he’s quickly pulled into an embrace that he physically can’t return.

“/Fuck/...” Dex whispers, running a hand through Keefe’s hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”Keefe chokes a sob and attempts to grab the back of Dex’s cape, his hands shaking and too weak to keep his grip.

“Hurt...” he mumbles. Dex’s arms tighten around him.

“I know. It’s stopped now, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Dex throws every Councillor in the room a glare, and oh, if looks could kill! “Why the /hell/ did you think that was a good idea?! You could have seriously hurt him - I can’t even count on two hands how many issues you have with that... /thing/!” he spits, pointing at the circlet glinting in the afternoon sunlight. “There’s so much faulty tech, it’s ridiculous! Whoever built that was not anything close to a Technopath.”

Alina folds her arms. “Dexter, as I’m sure you’re aware, you’ve interfered with a /Council/ matter.”

“I don’t care, to be honest.”Alina blinks as, presumably for effect, Dex leans over to snap the circlet and tear part of the wiring inside.

“I’ll make you another one, I’ll make you as many ability restrictors as you like - I’ll make ones that /don’t hurt people/.”

Alina scowls at him before turning sharply on her heel. “Fine! Zarina, would you tell our lovely Technopath that his invention was ruined, please?”

Zarina nods, following the Councillors as they file out of the room. Bronte and Oralie glance apologetically back to the boys before letting the door click shut.

Keefe takes a shuddering breath and Dex leans back to look at him.

“You’re okay, aren’t you? You’re not hurt?”

“No...”

He frowns. “No, you’re not okay, or no you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m not hurt. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says, kissing the crown of Keefe’s head. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t think it was going to do that, there wasn’t anything obvious in the tech that should’ve caused that amount of pain...”

“Maybe it’s my mom’s freaky experiments again. Maybe you can’t restrict my abilities.”

“If you want me to, I’ll find a way that won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Keefe sighs, relaxing slightly as Dex runs a hand down his back. “Yeah. Please.”

[cosmosrival]

Rico besides Kama what do you think about the other indian servants?????

AHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS GOING TO GET SOOOO LONG!!!! i have a different view of the indo fam as a whole. i call them the indo fam but i mean the found family trope!!!! theyre like a group of college students sharing a dorm if that makes sense, since their servant selves are obviously different from their initial myths/human vessels!!!

OK SO. RECENTLY, i have an oomf that found books about arjuna that summarize his exploits in the mahabharata(I DONT HAVE THE STRENGTH TO READ IT ALL IM SO SORRY) and also talk about him in a more philosphical manner such as his states of mind during each event etc and i’ve been meaning to read said book because im genuinely interested in arjuna now!!! and i’d like to know more about this indo prince because from what i’ve seen, he is portrayed in a rather bad light(?) in FGO which i find extremely !!!!!!!!!!! and incrdibley !!!!!!! strange !!!!!!! the mahabharata’s conflicts can be put in a mostly grey area where there’s no good nor bad, its not black and white. so seeing arjuna get bashed because of the way his conflict with karna was written is... hm. let’s say that im REALLY starting to understand arjuna fans that dislike seeing him get mischaracterized so much. OTHER THAN THAT, his design is adorable, his travel outfit is my favourite because he deserves to relax and have some fun!!! fgo making him a chuuni is cute and his VAs little moans are cute cute cute!!!!!!!!!!! (mash grabs my shoulder and forces me to sit down) i think that arjuna deserves better and im really happy to see him have fun in his travel costume voicelines. i think we should take arjun on a date!!! he’s a great lover, we’d have the best time!! OH ALSO, kama seeing him as the student council president in their interlude makes me SOOOOOOO HAPPY its unreal, i think it fits him very very well, the seitokaichou who was elected because of everyone’s hopes and recommended by teachers because he’s suuuch a good student but because of that, the pressure to be good is constantly towering over his head and everytime he looks out the window he wishes he could ditch class and skip a day just because he felt like going to the arcade and be a bad student.......just this once........i think hes very very cute...... i want him to cook for me. HAVE YO U READ HIS BOND 4 VOICELINE ?mmmmmggg i want him to get embarrassed everytime i praise him for having such a muscular waistline. AUG

ANEWAYS i also have quite the thoughts about karna, his characterization in the game is linked to arjuna’s and thats fine but i think that forgetting how much of a little sassy bastard he can get was a mistake! did you know that in apocrypha’s german dub on netflix, when jeanne calls his name like “You’re Karna, aren’t you ? The son of the Indian Sun God !” HES LIKE “So ?” AND THAT WAS SOOOO BITCHY OF HIM, i think that karna is a good boy in fgo but the fact that he was such a fighty old man in the mahabharata shouldnt be forgotten and is a charm trait. I MEAN ???? HE THREW HANDS WITH AN 18 YEAR OLD(ARJUN) WHILE BEIN LIKE... THIRTY TWO. WHATS WITH THIS ANNOYING OLD MAN !!!!! knowing these little facts about him made me like him so much more actually !! i think karna being so nice is adorable!! but the little bitchy energy u can find in his voicelines is also very charming!! i think karna looking at me emotionless as i ask him to lend me his notes for the nth time that week and then saying “...Mn.” when i thank him is cute!!! his voiceline towards things he dislikes is interesting to me. karna seeming aloof and mean bc he doesnt know how to communicate but is actually nice underneath...... hey... thats a little delinquentcore........ i wouldnt say yankii but hes like... hes like... u know hes the handsome quiet one of the group of yankiis... u know the one...? hey where are you going

ganesha is also a character im deeply interested in but i havent played CCC so i dont know that many details about jinako herself !! my brain goes HMMMMMM it seems lord ganesha is trans in fgo ! (since kama used to be a male god originally as well!!) ganesha uses all pronouns!!! and ganesha is also special to me because they share similar traits with kama when it comes to their characterization AND mischaracterizations. ganesha isnt JUST jinako. theres a part of a god in the servant mix!!! and jinako HERSELF is actually a pretty sad character imo. the whole otaku/neet thing is obviously a facade and her true wish being that she wants to redo her whole life is also proof of how much she hates what shes become, yet at the same time, she doesnt know what else she could do. but anyways, i prefer looking at servants from a lore POV so i think that ganesha should still be considered a god and be adressed as such!! i like seeing people portray ganesha as jinako but i prefer it when a certain lavish more godly side of them is put forward. a side of jinako that managed to move on a little bit if that makes sense ? that got more serious. and became someone else entierly despite sharing similarities. needless to say their bond with karna makes me happy since he shows them respect as you should towards a god!! its a bit different from their bond in CCC... like they matured somewhat!! anyway ganesha is the one who taught everyone else in the indo fam about video games and technology and i will NEVER shut up.

ashwatthama..... MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM %_’(’ç_”’è_ç(è_’”545656455456545453£¨¨µ¨µMµ¨++°=)=)°+ goodness. jesus christ on earth. my love story with him makes me so embarrassed. when he got revealed i instantly fell in love with him despite knowing JACK SHIT ABOUT HIM but since i was the only one in my friend group who was hardcore into fgo at the time, i kept my love for him to myself and just... (looks away)(i drop my wallet full of picturses of him) quietly adored his everything in silence. WELL, ree having an intense crush on yankii type characters isnt new, its been my favourite trope for ages (gyarus go in hand with them!!) and im still very attached to it so thats what made me love him in the first place!!!! BUT THEN. I GOT INTO HIS MAHABHARATAN LORE. And OHHHHHHHHH BABY.......... (im twirling my hair) so theres this 7ft tall war criminal..........<3<33<3(mash leans in and informs me that the convention of geneva didnt exist at the time) SO THERES THIS 7 FTTALL IMMORTALMAN.......<233 gOD he makes me absolutely CRAZY9909840385%£%%£%%µ%µ%µ the love i have for this character is immense and whenever im sad i remember that pako exists and has a tablet and can draw and i suddenly feel so much better. ok im gonna stop horny posting a little bit. but hes my wife. AND WHAT I LOVE ABOUT HIS PORTRAYAL IN FGO IS THAT, they actually made him a good boy despite his initial roughness and misdeeds ???!!! HELLO?? ashwatthama wishing for a redemption ark is my favourite thing and his righteousness that was born because of his regrets is a very interesting drivepoint to me !!! hes a gorgeous character and im buying a ticket plane as we speak right now so i can go find him in northern india. i’ll find him. GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME !!!!!GET OFF ME !!!

miss lakshimi makes me very sad! because every female servant in the indo fam is an already known face. (... would sita count.) and lakshi being a jeanneface is a waste. well, she’s still very pretty and her lore is also quite interesting!! i havent looked into it fully yet but i think she should be kissed on the mouth. her bad luck makes me slip on a banana peel whenevr i get close to her to kiss her and i hit my head on the pavement and pass away- 

parvati is on a tough spot for me atm. i genuinely love thinking of her as the way the indian goddess herself is portrayed because thats where the fun lies for me in her character. especially when shes involved with other indian servants, thats a given!! i would like to see parvati grow, suffer and heal. because branding her as an “all-knowing mom” is easy, but every single parent makes mistakes if you follow that logic. also, since shes the sakura servant “thats closest to her initial personality”, she’s got some of the most Repulsive fans ive Ever witnessed in fandom spaces and lets say that im trying to work my way out of this hellhole and find things to like about parvati without the fandom’s influence. needless to say, im going to keep looking into her mythos and her lore by myself at my own pace and keep doing my own thing in my little corner. 

rama shouldve been a jock. THE RAMAYANA IS OLDER THAN THE MAHABHARATA, WHY IS.....Hrm well him being summoned as his baby version gives me hope for a future rama alt perhaps??? but i think that he shouldve been a total jock and he shouldve been huge with a huge red lion-like mane for his hair and a teethy grin and big biceps and intense love for his wife. SPEAKING OF SITA, her charm point is her purity but i wish.... that their artist still hadnt drawn them like That, im not a fan of lily servants and i think purity = being young is a bit of an annoying excuse!!! rama and sita looking similar is because of their shared history which is fine but... rolls my eyes............. rama shouldve been 6ft tall and sita shouldve been a milf to match...... anyways i doubt ravana would be added as a servant but i’d love to have a ramayana centric event!! where all indo servants have their own lore centric role to play!!! oh thatd be a dream.... but i have learned to not expect much from a fanservice game so im jus gonna draw my own stuff! (strikes a pose!) (mashu claps!)