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yamalegacy · 4 years ago

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prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water.

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind.

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

#mirko x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha smut #🐇 usagiyama rumi ( mirko )#⚠️ mdni ⚠️#🍌 drabbles & oneshots #i need to cleanse my soul and wash off my sins #at least i didn't write mommy!mirko #which is nothing short of a miracle tbh

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oreo166 · 3 years ago

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Avatar Hot Take #2

Time for another topic that might fuel some backlash and more controversy.

The amount of negative flak given to Aang for kissing Katara when he shouldn’t have in the EIP (Ember Island Players) episode -- compared to how much given to Korra when she first kissed Mako in the SoC (Spirit of Competition) episode -- is ridiculous:

Now let me give y’all a disclaimer right now: I am NOT saying that kissing Katara was the right thing for Aang to do at the time. In fact, I agree that it wasn’t.

With that said, however, nor was kissing Mako the right thing for Korra to do.

Yet why do I see many people calling Aang “selfish”, “entitled”, and even “ab*sive” for his error in the EIP episode? Heck, I’ve seen comments go far enough to imply that Aang should’ve been punched in the face! So would anyone mind telling me exactly where the frick all those kinds of comments are for Korra?

And no, what Aang and Korra did in the EIP and the SoC episodes respectively were not different. They were anything but different. Let’s examine the context of the specific scenario of each of the two episodes, shall we?:

EIP Scenario:

Aang asked Katara if she really meant what she said about seeing him as a “little brother” even though that’s what her actress said. Even after she replied that she herself never said so and only her actress did - implying that she did NOT see him like a brother - Aang still replied, “But it’s true, isn’t it?” Plus, he didn’t even say it with an angry or explosive tone; rather he said it with a clearly saddened yet calm one. This implies that if Katara had bluntly said that she had no romantic interest in him, Aang would’ve ultimately been fine with that.

Aang mentions to Katara the time when they previously and mutually kissed during the Invasion (and yes, it was mutual since Katara kissed back). He also told her that he thought they’d start dating each other by then. However, he acknowledges that they still weren’t together regardless. And Aang was still obviously broken-hearted yet calm when saying all of this. And to be honest, many hints were shown of Katara having at least some romantic interest in Aang such as Katara’s previous cheek kisses she’d only ever given to Aang; her suggesting the idea of kissing in the Cave of Two Lovers; and etc. So Aang really wasn’t wrong to believe that she wanted to be with him.

Afterwards, Katara solemnly says, “Aang, I don’t know.” Aang then asks, “Why don’t you know?” Katara explains, “’Cause we’re in the middle of a war, and we have other things to worry about. This isn’t the right time.” “Well, when is the right time?” Aang asked. “Aang, I’m sorry, but right now, I’m just a little confused,” Katara said as an ultimatum. So right here, Katara doesn’t say that she doesn’t want to date Aang at all. Rather, she doesn’t whether she actually will be able to or not since they were fighting in the war, and Aang still had yet to face the firelord. And at the time, neither Katara nor Aang knew how much longer the war would last, nor did either of them know if they’d still end up alive by the end of it. Aang, however, didn’t understand that. Rather, he started growing impatient, for he wanted to get a clear and direct confirmation from Katara herself if wanted to be with him or not -- which wasn’t exactly what she gave him.

And as we all know, Aang non-consensually tries to kiss Katara afterwards; she immediately pulls herself away from the attempted kiss, shouted at him for it, and stormed off. This part doesn’t need any explanations.

SoC:

Korra told Mako, “Save your breath. You’ve already made it clear how you feel about me.” “No, I haven’t. What I’m trying to say is as much as you drive me crazy, I also think you’re pretty amazing,” Mako replied. So right here, it’s blatantly made clear that Mako likes Korra back.

“So you do like me?” Korra asked. “Yes,” Mako sighed with uncertainty, “but I like Asami too. I don’t know. Things are complicated. I’m feeling really confused, and -- .” Then, as most of us know, Korra interrupted Mako with a non-consensual kiss, yet Mako kissed back regardless. Bolin, seeing it all, broken-heartedly runs off bawling. Mako and Korra blow up into an short argument about it, and Mako storms off as a result. So basically, what made Mako confused was that he romantically liked his girlfriend at the time, Asami, and Korra; he didn’t know he should’ve decided what to do about that.

So in both scenarios, Katara and Mako, at the very least, reciprocated Aang’s and Korra’s interests in them repsectively (even if it possibly was to a lesser extent). And yes, Katara DID develop romantic feelings for Aang. Hints proving so existed, as subtle as they may have been. However, Katara and Mako also explicitly said that they were confused, yet Aang and Korra still kissed them regardless. So really, there’s nothing that suggests that Korra kissing Mako in the SoC episode was more okay than Aang kissing Katara in the EIP episode.

Heck, I’d even argue that Korra’s kiss was actually even worse than Aang’s. Like I said before, Mako was already dating Asami at the time -- and Korra knew that herself! And while albeit Korra really was seeing mostly as a platonic hangout, she was technically dating Bolin as well; therefore, she ended up ripping Bolin’s heart when he saw her kiss his brother. It doesn’t matter if Mako kissed Korra back unlike Katara with Aang. You don’t kiss someone who already has a significant other. So if any of you anti-kataangers really want to preach about consent, then you ought to be talking about Korra more.

Now let me get one more disclaimer out of the way: I’m NOT saying all of this to bash on Korra or her relationship with Mako! Just like Aang — who angrily called himself an idiot after realizing his mistake of kissing Katara at an inappropriate time — Korra realized her mistake very soon after. In fact, we even get to see Korra apologize to Bolin for breaking his heart. For me to bash on Korra and her relationship with Mako, I’d have to end up bashing on Aang and his relationship with Katara — and that’s DEFINITELY NOT the purpose of this post.

TL;DR: Cut the double standards! Either bash on both Aang and Korra for their inappropriately-timed kisses or don’t bash either of them at all!

#avatar the last airbender #atla #aang #katara #kataang #aang defense squad #the legend of korra #tlok #korra #mako #makorra #again NOTHING AGAINST EITHER KORRA OR MAKORRA!#avatar fandom #avatar fandom discourse #avatar fandom crit

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lumosinlove · 4 years ago

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Coast To Coast

part vii

Harvard University, 2014

There must have been a greater power taunting him.

“Sexy!” Anderson—forward, number 77, alternate captain—had said in the locker room. “That is this year’s Halloween theme, boys. Bring your girls, bring your booze, bring your minimal clothing, bring your A-game.”

Sexy. That was definitely just what Logan needed for his first OKN house halloween party. His new teammates. In minimal clothing.

He rolled onto his back on his dorm bed with a sigh, continuing to scroll through his phone while he waited for Finn to get out of their shared bathroom.

Finn O’Hara. Harzy, the boys called him. Right wing but didn’t always play that way, number 17, a sophomore. Originally from New York City. Logan’s new roommate.

“It’s how it works, rookie,” Anderson had said. “Baby OKs share. You’ll get your own room eventually.”

Logan was fine having a roommate. He had had one at prep school. He didn’t even care if they were messy, he was sure he was twice as bad. But Finn O’Hara. Red hair, six foot even, brown eyes—bambi, the boys called him. A little on the thinner side, but Logan could tell he could bulk up if he wanted to. Finn O’Hara.

There must have been some greater power taunting him.

“Fuck,” Finn’s voice came from within the bathroom. The door was open, but not enough for Logan to see anything. “My balls are going to hate me.”

Logan snorted. “We wear spandex every other day of the year.”

“Yeah, breathable sports spandex, not this plastic shit. Jesus fuck,” there was a groan. “At least I look alright.”

“Stop staring at yourself and let me get in there.”

“Okay, okay,” Finn said, and Logan watched the door move as he pushed it open.

The universe hated him.

Finn was some sort of gladiator, Logan thought, with nothing on but a red cape that clasped around his neck and shoulders, and a pair of tight, gold underwear that left nothing to Logan’s imagination. They had a fake, foam sword clipped at the hip. He had gold paint on beneath his eyes, streaked like a football player, and a gold laurel crown sitting in his red hair. His pale skin was creamy against the gold and the frame of the dark red cape. He had cheap looking sandals on that went all the way up his strong calves, biting into the muscle a little.

Finn spread his arms, turning in a slow circle. “Look at these fucking things. Who makes these and why?”

Logan swallowed, looking at the gold underwear. “For frat parties, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah,” Finn laughed and then bent over his bed to fold his discarded clothes up. His cape slipped away from his back and Logan sat up abruptly.

“Merde, Harzy, those things are barely holding onto you.”

“I told you, my dick is gonna hate me,” Finn said loudly.

Logan smiled and swiped his party city bag from his dresser. “Souhaite moi bonne chance.”

“Swat bon,” Finn rolled his eyes.

Logan laughed and slipped into the bathroom. He could hear Finn putting some music on as he undressed, singing along softly under his breath. Logan gave himself a moment to close his eyes and breathe, fingering his necklace. He’d known Finn for a little over two months. That was it. And already he liked him in the morning. He liked him drunk off his ass. He liked him on the rare lazy day, still under his covers reading a book and wearing his glasses. His glasses. Dark tortoise shell things that turned amber in the sunlight, like his eyes, and just—fuck. He liked Finn on the ice and like it when they were on the same line, something that was happening more and more frequently. He liked Finn, and Finn seemed to like him well enough, and Coach liked them together. The found each other on the ice every time. Logan had never had that before.

Logan rubbed his hands over his face and then reached into the plastic bag for his costume—if he could call it that. A black cape, clasped by the yellow and black Batman symbol, the iconic mask that covered his eyes, and what could only be called underwear. They were black and shiny, with the bat symbol on the ass.

“Merde,” Logan breathed once he squeezed his thighs into the shorts. It was—obscene. He wasn’t hung like some of the guys he’d seen but this certainly made it look like he was. His cock pressed against the fabric as insistently as his ass did. He turned around and looked at the yellow symbol there and was glad that the cape would be covering at least some of it.

“Ready?” Finn said when thumping music started up downstairs meaning people were starting to arrive.

Logan looked out the small bathroom window and towards the dark driveway. Cars were lining up. People were getting out in bikinis and corsets, speedos and stockings.

“Uh, yeah,” Logan said. “One second.”

He looked at himself in the mirror and laughed a little before spinning the bat mask once, and placing it over his head. His hair curled out from under it, and the black frame made his eyes look a little startling.

He looked—not bad. If he was looking to pick up tonight—which he hadn’t done yet at Harvard—he probably could. He turned and looked at his abs, defined from the rigorous pre-season training. He looked good. He pushed away the wish that Finn would notice.

“I’m ready,” Logan said and stepped into the weird plush boots that had come with the costume. He pushed his way out of the bathroom. “Sounds like people are here.”

Finn looked up from his phone, legs spread in a way that was doing Logan zero favors. “Yeah, I—”

Finn’s stare was one Logan had felt before. Spotting him in the weight room, checking each other during drills. Two months of that look that Logan refused to think about. But that was a hard thing, when he had nothing to do but look right into it.

Finn stood abruptly, taller, gold paint reflecting into his eyes and making them light like syrup.

“What’s your,” Finn swallowed. “Tattoo. Necklace. I’ve never asked.”

“Oh,” Logan looked down at his hip. “It’s a fleur-de-lis. Sort of a family thing. Me and my sisters have them in different places.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Three. They’re older than I am.”

“Fleur-de-lis,” Finn repeated softly, eyes on the tattoo. He swallowed again and then looked away. “Sick. Should we go?”

“Yeah,” Logan said. “Yeah, I need a drink if I gotta wear this thing all night.”

Finn laughed. “Uh-huh. Me, too.”

Logan lasted about an hour before he couldn’t stand his mask anymore. He left it on a table somewhere, pushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead and wishing for a hat. He’d have to settle for something cool to drink instead.

OKN house had the back door open into the chilly yard and porch. The living room had a drinks table set up, one of those plastic fold out ones that they used at rush and club fairs, beside the great oak dining table that no one actually used except, well, Finn. Finn who planned his essays at this table until it was way too late and he snuck up to the room, trying to be quiet for Logan. Logan, who stayed up just to see him go about his routine and fall into bed. Logan, pretending he was a part of that routine.

Logan might have had a Finn problem. A two-month long Finn problem. A Finn-in-glasses problem. A Finn-dressed-as-a-gladiator problem. A Finn-in-his-red-Harvard-jersey problem with his rough skating and sharp shots.

A Finn over in the corner problem, talking to a girl. Problem.

Logan turned to the drink table and desperately looked for the rum.

Logan was allowed to have a Finn problem. Logan just couldn’t have a Finn…anything else. Finn-wet-dreams, in which he woke up with a gasp, sweating against his sheets and only needing to shove his hand into his pajama pants where he was red and swollen in his own hand, barely touching himself before he was shooting into his fist, eyes resolutely away from the bed across from him. Finn-bringing-him-breakfast, not that he could make more than burnt toast, before he drove them to the rink. Finn-laughing-with-him, like a best friend that Logan had never actually had. There were teammates, and then there were friends.

Finn was a friend. Logan could have a Finn problem, a Finn secret, and a friend.

He just couldn’t have Finn.

The rum was no where to be seen. A shoulder bumped his.

“Hey, rookie,” Finn smiled. “What you looking for?”

Finn’s crown was lopsided, like some sort of halo in an old painting. Like someone had been messing with it. Logan looked for the girl, but she was gone.

“Rum,” Logan said.

Finn did a quick survey of the table and found the bottle easily, unstoppering it and reaching over to pour a healthy amount into Logan’s waiting cup.

“Coke, right?”

Logan nodded.

A Finn-knowing-his-drink-problem.

Finn made himself one, too, and held his cup out for a cheers with a smile. Logan smiled back, clicking their plastic cups together.

“Lost your mask somewhere, Batman. Now the whole world knows your secret.”

Logan laughed tightly and raised his cup to his mouth. “I can’t have that.”

Finn tilted his head, chewing a little on the rim of his cup before taking a drink. He cleared his throat. “You been to the roof yet?”

“Non,” Logan shook his head.

“Wanna? It’s a kinda cool view of campus.”

Logan tried to smile over the hammering in his blood. “That girl didn’t wanna join you?”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He pushed off the table and was disappearing into the crowd quickly. Logan squeezed through bodies to follow.

“I found the picture,” Finn shouted. “Nut—fuck, is he still at the store?”

“Oui,” Logan said, filling up a glass of water from the sink. “Did you really find it? Let me see.”

Logan padded over to where Finn was sprawled on the couch and set his glass down before crouching near Finn’s head to see his phone.

“Oh God,” Logan laughed, ducking against Finn’s shoulder.

“Are you kidding? Lo, you look incredible. Fuck me, look at your legs. And you’re bigger now, like Jesus Christ… Ugh.”

Finn swiped his thumb lightly over where Logan’s tattoo was shown on his hip, just above the ridiculous yellow belt.

“This thing used to drive me crazy,” he said softly. “I mean, it still does, but…fuck.”

Finn used to have fantasies, while wishing for Logan, all of which had been very carefully kept faceless. Until this tattoo would make an appearance and ruin it all—and make him come immediately. It was ingrained in his subconscious as a Logan thing, one moment he would be touching himself in the shower, letting his mind wander quietly towards a hard chest against his, a large hand around his dick instead of his own. Faceless. He’d take the boy and press him against the wall of the shower maybe, do whatever he wanted him to do, kiss his neck, rut their cocks together, maybe he would moan Finn’s name—

Logan’s voice. The hip he had his fingers wrapped around was darkly inked, and tanned.

“Mon rouge,” Logan’s voice—really his voice—came through. Finn looked up at the touch of fingers through his hair. “Where did you go?”

Finn looked at Logan and took a slow breath. He was so familiar. He had been right there for so long, but it was only now that he was close.

“That was…” Finn swallowed. “Kind of a hard night.”

Logan’s brows drew together, and he nodded minutely after a moment. “We’ve had a few hard nights, non?”

Finn looked back at his phone, and then Logan was taking it out of his hand, clicking it off, and setting it on the coffee table. Finn sat up a little as Logan climbed into his lap, knees pressed to his hips. Finn ran his hands over his shoulders, then up beneath his sweatshirt to his broad back. He was bigger now. Stronger.

Logan pressed his fingers through Finn’s hair again and then a kiss to his jaw, one side, and then the other, his cheeks, and then his mouth.

“They lead us here,” Logan said softly. “The hard nights.”

Finn’s throat felt tight. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck. I know. I know they did.”

“Let me show you it’s easier now,” Logan said. “D’accord? Harzy, let me.”

“Lo,” Finn rasped out. He ran his thumb over where he knew the tattoo was, had memorized it quickly, would kiss it endlessly.

“You work hard for everyone,” Logan said the words into another kiss. “You worked hard trying to make me not be afraid, even when I was horrible and terrified.” He kissed down Finn’s throat and Finn’s mouth dropped open. “Even when you were terrified, even when I hurt you. Let me. Finn…”

Finn let out a breath, eyes opening to the ceiling, then to Logan’s when he brought their mouths back together.

"Let me.”

“I took you to the roof,” Finn gasped as Logan pressed against him, warm and real. “I don’t know what I was expecting, I…fuck, we barely knew each other.”

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted you,” Logan said. “Lean up for a sec.”

Finn let Logan pull his t-shirt off of him, let him press wet kisses to his neck and shoulders. It felt good, but part of him itched to flip them, to make Logan feel good. Kiss down his chest, kiss that tattoo.

“Relax,” Logan laughed softly, easing Finn back against the cushions. “You have to let me love you. I need it, Finn. I need to.”

Finn’s cock began to fatten up at that. He let his head fall back. “Lo…”

Logan reached behind him to yank his sweatshirt off and—and there he was. Real.

Finn pressed his palms against his chest, his stomach, feeling the hard curves of his muscles. Logan pressed his hands over Finn’s, bringing them to touch his neck, his pecs. “Let me take care of you for once. Rest and let me.”

Logan leaned down for another, soft kiss and then was swinging off of the couch. His cock was a soft outline in his sweatpants. “Allez.”

Logan pulled Finn up and Finn couldn’t help but back him against the nearest wall, just for a moment, thumb back against the fleur-de-lis, lips harsh against his jaw, just the way he knew Logan liked.

Logan let out a laugh that cut off in a moan. “Non, non—”

Finn pulled back and Logan’s smile made him smile. Logan was flushed and his neck was red from Finn’s mouth. Finn sucked a bruise on top of the blush on the side of his throat, and Logan’s short nails pressed into Finn’s back. Finn reached down and cupped Logan’s cock within his sweatpants, feeling the heat of it through the fabric.

“Non, non, non, allez,” Logan was still half laughing, walking Finn backwards towards his bedroom. “Je prends soin de toi. I’m taking care of you.”

“But I like making you come,” Finn grinned, only just managing to give Logan’s ass a squeeze before Logan pushed him back onto the bed. He bounced a little, pushing himself against the pillows before tapping his thighs. “C’mere, baby.”

Logan shucked his sweatpants off, followed by his socks, and then it was just him, bare and standing there in front of Finn. Finn swore softly and reached down to palm himself.

“Non,” Logan shook his head and knelt on the bed, cock standing out and wet. The sight only made Finn give himself another squeeze. Logan was straddling his hips then, snatching his hands and moving them to his waist. Finn wrapped his arms all the way around Logan, bringing their bare chests together.

He kissed him hard. “Gonna take my pants off, too? Can’t do much like this.”

Logan scoffed and hit the side of Finn’s head lightly, making Finn laugh. But he obliged, coaxing Finn to lift his hips so he could pull his sweatpants away. He leant to kiss the newly exposed skin, mouth soft against Finn’s hips and stomach, hand wrapping around his cock. Finn let out a slow breath and tangled his fingers in Logan’s hair.

He wasn’t expecting it when Logan sucked the head of his cock into his mouth. Logan hadn’t done that yet. He made Finn sit up, abs tightening.

“Tremz,” he panted out a breath. “Oh fuck.”

Leo had been wanting and loving about going down on Finn. It had practically broken Finn’s brain, seeing him there, blue eyes open with his mouth full of his cock. They’d laughed and kissed sending those videos to Logan. It was unbearably hot, thinking of Logan, seeing them, wanting them.

This was entirely different. It was different with both of them. With everything.

Leo and Finn liked to read together, swapping favorite passages. Logan didn’t read much, but he liked to be read to. Finn had always known that, had done it a million times back at Harvard. But now he knew that Logan liked to lay on Finn’s chest while he read, aloud or to himself, and fall straight asleep. He’d always fallen asleep to Finn’s voice. But now he was a weight on top of Finn, breathing softly against his neck and Finn just…

Logan’s mouth was soft, too, tongue pressing against the head of his cock.

Finn loved him.

“Lo, Lo, Lo…” Finn panted. “Fuck, baby.”

Logan just hummed and sucked down further for a moment before popping off and smiling a sweet smile. “Did it with Leo.”

Finn huffed out a laugh, throbbing at the image. “I should be no fucking problem, then.”

Logan laughed, too. “I hope he comes home soon.”

“Me, too,” Finn said. He wanted him with them.

“I guess I know a way to pass the time until he comes back.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Logan smiled and rolled onto his back, producing lube from Finn didn’t know where. He spread his thighs. “Love it when Knutty does this, the fucking splits.”

Finn leaned forward, running his hands down Logan’s smooth skin. “Yeah. I didn’t even think about how goalies do that until him.”

Finn watched Logan’s face as he slipped two fingers into himself.

“Baby,” Finn said softly. “Let me.”

“Non, you watch.”

Finn sat up further, hand going to his cock—

“Don’t,” Logan panted, head against the bedspread as he worked himself. “Watch.”

Finn sighed and took Logan’s thighs back in his hands and kissed the inside of his knee. There was a little scar there from a night that happened a long time ago. Finn remembered.

Logan laughed breathlessly. “You can’t help yourself.”

“I love you so much.”

Logan’s breathing hitched, green eyes hazy. “Finn…”

Finn kissed it again, and then the other one, and then his thighs. He sucked kisses into the skin, bringing purple to the surface. Logan was marked by the time he sat up.

He was quiet as he pressed Finn back against the pillows. He wet his lips.

“Lo, what—”

“Why do you have your socks on, you weirdo,” Logan said as he swung a leg over Finn’s thighs. Finn’s cock nudged his entrance, and Logan gasped, cutting himself off.

He leaned down and captured Finn’s mouth in a needy kiss and reached behind himself to line Finn up. It was only then that Finn realized—Logan was going to—

Logan’s thighs were firm beneath Finn’s hands as he sunk down on him. Finn’s mouth dropped open at the feeling, of Logan in complete control. It wasn’t like fucking him at all, it was Logan, above him, head tilted back with the feeling of Finn filling him up.

“Finn,” Logan’s voice was more whine than anything else. “Finn, Finn, Finn—“

And he was seated, their hips together, Logan’s cock drooling between them.

“Holy shit,” Finn could barely breathe in. “Holy fucking shit, Lo.”

Logan got his knees under him and pushed himself up before sinking down again. Finn clutched Logan’s hips as all the breath seemed to punch out of Logan’s lungs. He did it again, and again, landing hard with each thrust, completely gone with fucking himself on Finn’s cock. Finn was mesmerized with the wide expanse of tan skin he had to kiss, Logan’s collarbones and shoulders, tongue running over his nipples as Logan’s thighs worked around him.

Logan shifted his hips and pitched forward into Finn’s chest with a curse, burrowing his face in Finn’s neck as he rolled his hips forward in small, sharp motions, hitting that spot inside him again and again.

“There you go, baby,” Finn said, wrapping his arms under Logan’s and around his broad shoulders. He pushed up in time with Logan, making Logan practically shout. “Be as loud as you want, there you go.”

“Finn,” Logan just kept saying, slipping a few times and saying Leo’s name instead. It made Finn all the hotter to think that Logan was imagining Leo there with them, sitting beside them on the bed, maybe working Logan’s cock into his mouth.

Logan’s breathing hitched up and he tightened his arms around Finn’s neck, fingers gripping his hair to pull Finn back for a sloppy kiss as he started to raise his hips again, skin slapping down against Finn’s. He worked until Finn was sure his thighs had to be burning, no matter how toned they were. Finn was going to lose his fucking mind.

“What,” a voice came from the doorway.

Finn looked up to the side to see Leo standing there, keys in his hand.

“Leo,” Logan gasped, and reached a hand out while rocking himself down on Finn’s dick.

Leo walked forward slowly towards the bed and took Logan’s hand like he was in a daze, staring at their naked bodies, slick with sweat by now. Logan yanked him forward and started undoing his belt.

“Hi, Peanut,” Finn panted, head falling back again as Logan rocked against him harder. “Store was—good?”

“I…” Leo was staring at where Logan was wrapping an arm around his waist now, leaning forward to press sloppy kisses over where Leo’s cock was quickly filling in his underwear.

“Knutty,” Logan said, before getting his fingers under the band of Leo’s boxers and pulling down so that Leo’s cock fell out. Leo laced his fingers into Logan’s hair, a laugh startling out of him.

“Logan, oh my god, I’m still holding my keys and wallet. I have my shoes on.”

“Allez.”

Leo just shook his head, raking his fingers through Logan’s sweaty hair. He dropped his things onto the night stand and then tugged his t-shirt off in one go, pushing off his shoes next. Logan let him undress, turning back to Finn and pressing his hands to Finn’s shoulders.

“Don’t touch him,” Leo said as he kicked his boxers aside. He fell down on the bed beside Finn and wrapped a large palm around himself, stroking his shaft. “Come on Finn’s cock, Tremz.”

“Non. Finn.”

Finn watched Logan and Leo share a look that he didn’t quite understand.

“I found the Batman picture,” Finn offered as a hopeful way to get into whatever silent communication Leo and Logan were having. “Sort of—” Finn hissed as Logan tightened around him. “Stirred up some memories if you couldn’t tell, fuck.”

Leo raised an eyebrow, shifting to sit on his heels. “Oh yeah?” He ran a hand down Logan’s back and Logan slowed until he was rocking gently, leaning a little into Leo. Leo looked at Finn. “How’d he look, Harzy?”

“He looked—” Finn began, and then cut off. The sudden well of emotion that had cut through him earlier seized around his heart again. He looked at Leo, all kind eyes, running his hand through Finn’s hair. And Logan, connected to Finn in every possible way right then. Finn opened and closed his mouth, swallowed over a dry throat, and looked at Logan. “He looked…”

The October air was a relief on Finn’s face when he pushed open the old window to the roof of OKN house. He turned back to look at Logan. They had thrown sweatpants and sweatshirts on, Finn had swiped a bottle of rum from the kitchen. The only real remnants of their outfits was Logan’s mussed hair and the gold on Finn’s cheeks.

Finn still felt like he was wearing a costume.

“This is semi-secret,” Finn said as he climbed out onto the tiles, vans catching on the rough material. “And by that I mean I really think no one likes it out here but me.”

He heard Logan laugh from behind him and smiled, pleased.

Fuck.

“You, the roof, and the dining room table,” Logan said.

The rum sloshed gently as Finn settled himself in the curve of the tiles, putting his hood up for some warmth and cushion. Logan did the same, and they settled shoulder to shoulder.

“Might have to steel your spot,” Logan said. “You can keep the table, though.”

“We already share a room and a starting line,” Finn handed him the bottle. “Wouldn’t be so bad.”

Logan’s smile was bright in the moonlight. “Well, good.”

They were quiet for a few moments, passing the rum back and forth to keep warm.

“Do you think you’re gonna make it? To play, I mean.” Logan asked him suddenly.

Finn knew Logan didn’t know just how loaded of a question he was asking. Was Finn going to make it? Hopefully. Was Finn going to survive it? If there was another teammate who became what Logan was quickly becoming, if Finn slipped up…

Hopefully.

He couldn’t read Logan. He couldn’t risk misreading Logan. He shouldn’t even try.

“Yeah,” Finn nodded. “I do, actually. I…you know, there’s all those statistics and shit but I also…feel it? If that doesn’t sound completely stupid? You?”

“I…” Logan hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

“Come on, have you seen you play?”

One corner of Logan’s mouth raised, but he looked different beneath the moon. He was looking intently at Finn, bottle clutched to his chest.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I feel…”

Finn waited for him to continue, but when Logan merely shrugged, he pressed on.

“Hey, I’d take you. Any day.”

It didn’t have the intended effect. The look that crossed Logan’s face looked almost—pained.

“I mean,” Finn tried to decide how to backtrack. “Maybe one day, eh? Anything could happen.”

Logan turned to look out over campus. He nodded mutely and took another drink. Finn felt concern draw around his heart.

“Lo, are you okay?”

Logan’s eyes snapped back to him. “Quoi?”

“What? Oh. Oh. Oh, no, I…” Finn laughed, a little awkwardly. “I didn’t really mean to…that’s been, like—it’s just been bouncing around my head for a while and I guess it slipped out.”

“That’s okay,” Logan said slowly. “I’m okay.”

“It’s okay if you aren’t. I mean… freshman year, Harvard hockey…it’s a lot of pressure. Believe me, I know.”

Another surprising thing. Logan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Non.”

Finn blinked. “What do you mean?”

Logan shook his head. “Nothing, I just…I’m probably a little drunk, I don’t even know.”

Finn let Logan hand the bottle of rum back to him, clutching it to his chest just to hold onto something. He didn’t know what to make of Logan’s no. No Finn didn’t know what it was like? That wasn’t true. If anything, Logan didn’t know what he was going through. Logan didn’t think about kissing Finn.

Logan stole the bottle back. “If you’re not gonna drink.”

He had a smile on his face again, one of his small secret ones. Finn, despite the uncertainty, smiled back. He couldn’t help it around Logan. Logan, who he now knew was the youngest with three sisters. Logan, who drank rum and coke. Logan, who hated doing his homework, but liked listening to Finn do his. Logan, who fought boys twice his size.

Before Finn could say anything, a rumble of thunder sounded off in the distance. It made them both look up and across campus.

“Halloween storm,” Finn said. “I guess that’s fitting.”

“My weather app said something about it,” Logan said after a moment.

Finn smiled. Logan, who checked a weather app.

Logan saw his smile and gave him a small shove. “Let’s go before it starts to rain and—and lightning and shit.”

“Don’t like storms?”

Logan was already pulling his hood more firmly on his head and maneuvering himself into a crouch. “Not really.”

“Well,” Finn started following him back to the window. “I don’t know about Canada, but we get some pretty crazy ones out here.”

Logan huffed, pushing the window up. “Well, super.”

Finn frowned. “Do you really not like—”

“Merde,” Logan hissed and stumbled the rest of the way through the frame. “Fuck.”

Finn pulled himself through a second later, eyes falling to the rip in Logan’s sweatpants by his knee, the red bleeding into the thick material.

“Shit, Tremz,” Finn said. “Is it bad?”

“It’s fine,” Logan said, looking at it carefully. “I’m fine.”

“Let me see, sit down.”

“I’m—”

“Let me see, speaking as your alternate captain now.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at him pulling that card, but sat on a ratty window seat. Finn grinned at him and crouched between his legs. He steadied himself on Logan’s knee, and then pushed Logan’s sweatpants up carefully, revealing his leg—a leg that Finn had been trying very hard not to stare at in skin-tight Batman underwear all evening. His skin was warm.

Finn would have liked a longer excuse to touch Logan, but the cut was small if not a little deep—thankfully not too bad. It was already beginning to stop bleeding.

“You should be good. Wasn’t anything rusty, just the wood edge. There’s some stuff in our bathroom from when I cut my cheek open last year.”

“Okay,” Logan said quietly. It was only then that Finn realized how still he was holding himself in Finn’s hands. It made Finn back up immediately, neck going hot. Who knew what Logan thought. Finn was so careful. So careful.

“Okay,” Finn said, then cleared his throat. “Okay, cool.” He looked around and then picked up the rum bottle from the floor. “Yeah.”

Logan pushed his sweatpants back into place and stood. “I’ll go check it out. Thanks, Harzy. See you in the room.”

“Yeah,” Finn managed faintly. He watched Logan send him a raw looking smile before jogging down the narrow staircase with a tight heart.

“Always taking care of me,” Logan was kissing his neck. “Remember the storm that night?”

Finn found Leo’s eyes before Leo was kissing his chest, teeth scraping over his nipple. Logan was grinding down on him in slow circles, making Finn choke out a moan. Their mouths on him ripped him right out of the memory.

Sometimes happiness made sadness’s edge sharper.

Finn blinked heat away from his eyes, but then Leo was there again, cock against his thigh, mouth brushing his own. Leo. Finn held one hand against Logan’s hip, the fleur-de-lis, and the other circled Leo’s back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him in for a kiss. He loved kissing Leo.

“You deserve it, too, remember? Like we said.” Leo said.

Logan mouth was softer now, against his jaw. “Maybe it’s time we show you.”

Finn could only sit there and take it, the two of them, warming him through and through.

Leo leaned into Finn’s touch. “Like you told me.”

Finn woke up with Leo pressed along his front for the first time the morning before they left for Florida. It was to a six AM alarm, Finn was exhausted, but it was one of the best mornings. Finding out Logan was coming to Gryffindor. Waking up wrapped around Leo. Tied for best mornings. After a few kisses, they had to get up, even if it felt like they were a world away from anything normal. Finn actually smiled to himself in the shower the entire time. He was giddy as hell, and Leo was in the kitchen making coffee and eggs and he could kiss Leo while he did that now. He could kiss Leo while he was reading on the couch, he could kiss Leo goodnight and crawl into bed next to him. And and and.

Leo looked up when Finn entered the kitchen, hunched over his coffee cup with two steaming plates in front of him. “Hi.”

Finn just walked forward and turned Leo away from the counter and towards him. “Leo.”

Leo took a lock of his hair, the red darkened from the shower, and curled it around his finger. “You look a little too serious for my liking.”

“You’re okay with all of this, right?” Finn said, and then the words rushed out. “You’re okay with me, and with Logan—hopefully—and you feel good and not pressured, and I just want to make sure because, Leo, I’m not that much older than you but I am older than you. And I need you to know that I want this with everything I fucking have but not if you’re in any way not happy, or, like, nervous, or…I just want,” Finn felt Leo press his hand to his cheek. “I just want to make sure. And I’m gonna keep making sure.”

“Harz…” Leo’s smile was small, almost disbelieving. “I’m so happy. I’m so happy.”

“Well…good,” Finn let out a breathless laugh, relieved. “Because you deserve to be.” Finn pressed his hands to either side of Leo’s face and kissed him once, twice, and then Leo held him there with a hand on the back of his head, licking into his mouth and making Finn sway into the cradle of his thighs. “I really, really like you, Peanut.”

“I like you, too. Even though you’re going to make us late.”

Finn just smiled into their next kiss. “I’ll get the dishes, okay? You go take a shower.”

Logan was already under his covers by the time Finn came into the room. The halloween storm was getting sharper. It was raining now, lightning flashing against the sky. Logan had his headphones in, and his eyes were dark as they followed Finn around the room as he undressed. Finn could hear his music from all the way in the bathroom.

Finn found the Batman mask by the sink and laughed, heart pulling when he thought about Logan’s green eyes in it, staring a little self consciously out at him earlier that night. He brushed his teeth and then put it on.

Logan raised an eyebrow when Finn came out, but he laughed and pushed his headphones away from one ear, making his hair stick up.

“Forgot your secret identity,” Finn grinned.

“Too late now.”

Finn bit his lip as he crossed the room to his own bed, putting the mask down. Logan was certainly his secret. Logan had grown quickly into Finn’s mind, so fast that Finn hadn’t really realized it. One morning, he just woke up thinking about kissing Logan square on the mouth.

Logan took a shaky breath from the other side of the room and set his headphones on his nightstand with a glance outside. Lightning cracked across the sky, lighting up the room. Logan’s fists squeezed around his blanket.

Finn slumped down against his pillows with a sigh, taking the book he was reading from his bedside. He could hear people leaving downstairs, screaming and laughing in the wind and rain.

“I don’t like storms,” Logan said quietly. He wasn’t looking at Finn, and he was messing with his fingers agitatedly, covers pulled high on his chest. “I don’t really know why, I just…I don’t like them.”

“I don’t like seaweed,” Finn shrugged, but warmed when Logan actually laughed. “I don’t know, man, it’s just slimy. Thunder’s loud as fuck, I mean, it doesn’t not make sense to not like it.” He took a breath. “You want the light on? It won’t bother me at all.”

Logan looked at him for a long moment, before nodding. “Oui. Thanks, Harzy.”

“Harzy,” Logan said against his mouth, and Finn felt his back arch as Logan drew them closer together.

Finn couldn’t get any words out, though, not with Logan hot around him, with Leo sucking intently at his neck, rutting against his thigh. He let out a harsh breath and tightened his fingers in Leo’s hair. They were both hard and dripping onto his chest and stomach and Finn wanted to do something for them. He was aching inside Logan, breathless from his own memories.

“Please,” he said, and he wasn’t even sure what he was asking. He tried to sit up, to reach for them. He wanted to surround them, to pull them against him harder.

Leo shushed him gently, pulling him into a kiss and easing him back against the pillows.

“You were gonna go all the way and get me the stars,” Leo whispered, a light laugh following. “Fuck, Finn…”

“I just—” Finn flexed his hips up into Logan and Logan’s brows scrunched together, hands keeping him upright against Finn’s chest.

“I’m gonna come,” Logan panted, his hips fucking down on Finn. “Fuck, I can’t—”

Logan’s hips stilled and he gasped, cock still red and hard. He fucked once, twice, as if he couldn’t help it, but Finn groaned in protest as Logan gingerly pulled off. Finn watched his own cock bobbing an angry red against his stomach, shiny with come and lube. Logan collapsed into Finn’s side, sweaty and running his hand down Finn’s chest to his balls, cupping them gently.

“Always taking care of us,” Logan breathed. “Fuck, Harz, I love you, but you have to let us take care of you.”

They’d only fucked a handful of times—and Finn was looking forward to many, many more handfuls—but he guessed it was true.

“I like it,” He said. And that was true too. He loved it. His breathing hitched as Leo licked a stripe from Logan’s fingers to the tip of Finn’s cock. “Fuck, Leo.”

Leo just smiled, cheeks a deep red and swung a leg over Finn’s hips. Finn’s hand shot out to grip Leo’s thighs.

“Baby, did you even—”

Leo nodded. “You were a little preoccupied.”

“I could of done it.”

Logan laughed, pressing a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “That’s not the point of right now.”

Leo’s cock hung heavily, balls swollen and tip wet. Finn itched to touch him, but instead Leo cupped his cock against his abs, giving Finn a perfect view of him sinking down over Finn’s.

“We’re all here together,” Logan said softly, accent thick as Finn’s eyes closed at the feeling of Logan’s hand and Leo’s body. “We’re all here for each other, mon rouge. Let us.”

Leo’s head was tilted back, hips rocking in slow circles. Finn cursed, gripping Leo’s pale thighs, longer and leaner than Logan’s.

“Peanut,” Finn gasped. “Jesus, did you two practice this on each other, too?”

Leo’s smile was hazy and blissful. “Maybe.”

Finn groaned, head dropping back into the pillows. Finn loved the two of them together. His two.

Leo’s breathing turned heavy and then he pressed up and sunk down again, punching a sound out of himself. “Fuck.”

“There you go, pinotte,” Logan said from beside Finn. His palm was warm around Finn’s balls still, the sensation making Finn feel like he was about to be right on the edge. Leo was still holding his own cock, but not stroking it, just sinking down around Finn again and again. His blond hair darkened against his forehead.

“I’m close,” Finn said. “Jesus, fuck, I’m so close.”

The urgency had come out of nowhere, but he ached with it. Logan’s hand squeezed again around his balls, and then Leo was pulling off, too. Finn’s abs jumped and the loss. He fisted the sheets.

“Boys, this is not what I call appreciation,” Finn’s knees drew up on their own, trying to seek out any type of friction. His cock beaded precome across his stomach.

“Non?” Logan said, and then he was gone from against Finn’s side. Finn felt aflame, like he could feel every touch, and every absence.

Leo smoothed a hand down his stomach, through the mess, and then his mouth was back on Finn’s cock—and so was Logan’s.

“Huh—“ Finn wasn’t sure if he was breathing properly as his hands shot out to tangle in their hair, brunette and blonde. They lapped at him, mouths meeting occasionally around his wet, swollen tip. They’re—

“Fucking gorgeous, what the hell,” Finn managed, and he did sit up this time, legs splayed, pressing against their chests, palms rubbing over their spines. He had to close his eyes for a minute when Logan’s mouth found his balls and sucked at them, at the sensitive skin at his root, all while Leo’s mouth was sinking down, down. Finn felt it like a bruise, like a hurt that was so good it shattered, he shattered, looking at them.

Finn tried to keep his hips still as he came in Leo’s mouth with a low sound, bowed with his forehead pressed to Leo’s shoulder.

They kissed him, and then kissed each other, and then Logan was crawling across Finn and into Leo’s waiting arms. They smiled at each other, and Finn thought that was better than any of the sex. Leo’s hands were shaky as he pushed into Logan. Logan sunk down on Leo’s cock twice before he was shouting, come hot and white against Leo’s skin. Finn pressed himself all along Logan’s back and held him as Leo fucked into him a handful of times and came, too, face buried in Finn’s neck.

They were breathing hard, like a fine current surrounded the three of them, placing their breaths in sync. Finn was—

Leo closed the door to the balcony of Finn’s Florida hotel room and paced back to the bed, sitting beside him. Finn rubbed a hand up and down his back, thumb bumping along his spine.

“He’s hurting,” Leo said, eyes down. “He’s hurting, and he won’t let us tell him that we…”

“Lo’s always needed to do things in his own time. Always. We’ll get to him, we’ll talk to him.”

“I…” Leo cut off with a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face. Then he turned into Finn and Finn wrapped him up close.

“We’ll sort it out. Believe me, I’ve been waiting a long fucking time for this,” Finn pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek. “For you, too, even if I didn’t know it.”

Leo smiled, even if his eyes were still a little sad.

“You’re right,” he said, and then paused. “Maybe we’ll just kidnap him at the buffet.”

Finn snorted. “Maybe.”

Leo took Finn’s hand in his lap and kissed it. “I think we’ll be together soon.”

It was too good. It was all his. Finn ran one hand over Logan’s abs slowly before pressing his palm over his pounding heart. With his other on Leo’s back, he could feel Leo’s heartbeat, too. They were louder to him than his own. Logan’s head was tilted back against his shoulder, his eyes closed, and Finn leant down and kissed his cheek.

“Knutty, c’mere,” he breathed. “C’mere.”

Leo’s cheeks were red like his mouth and he knelt his way over to Finn’s chest, leaning his chin up for a kiss. He pressed his hand to Finn’s cheek, swiping his thumb over his jaw.

“Stubble,” he mumbled with a smile, and dragged his lips over it happily.

Finn laughed softly. “I’ve been playing good, I gotta keep it.”

Logan looked up and all but smacked Finn in the face to feel. “Fucking loved that in college.”

“He had it the first day I met him,” Leo smiled, nuzzling against Finn’s slightly rough jaw and the dark red hair there.

“The fuck’s on your face, O’Hara,” was Logan’s greeting during preseason camp Finn’s senior year.

They’d seen each other a few weeks prior when Logan was still in the city staying with Finn’s family. He’d spent the last weeks of July with his own family, and how here they were, back at Harvard, sticky with sweat from ground training. Seeing Logan again after weeks, even just after a night’s sleep, was always a bit of a punch to the gut for Finn. He was tanned from the summer sun, sinfully so, and Finn wanted to—

“What?” Finn laughed, lifting his shirt up to wipe his face—including the week old beard he’d been experimenting with. “I don’t know about it, what do you think?”

He was thankful he was already sweating, because his face heated with the question. He needed to know what Logan thought, always.

Logan, green eyes were made light by his black snapback, walked forward. He took Finn’s chin between his fingers, turning his head this way and that before rubbing his palm over his cheek. Finn swallowed.

“Nice face,” Logan said.

Finn laughed. “You made fun of me.”

Leo snorted. “Well, neither of us could very well say fuck, what a hottie.”

“Nut, please go around calling Finn a hottie from now on,” Logan laughed, and then let out a breath. “Fuck, that was so hot.”

“I still haven’t seen the picture,” Leo said, and then, more quietly. “What activated our Finn plan, Tremz?”

Finn blinked. “Finn plan?” Logan looked up at Finn with a smile and Finn raised an eyebrow, tweaking his nipple and making him swear and laugh Finn’s favorite laugh. “What the hell is a Finn plan?”

“Just…” Logan looked over his face, and then to Leo, reaching out and petting a hand through Leo’s hair. “We wanted to show you that we want you just as much. That we want to take care of you as much as you always tell us you want to take care of us.”

Finn looked between them. “You…”

“We were talking about it,” Leo began.

“And making out,” Logan added.

“And making dinner one night,” Leo laughed. “And, I don’t know, we just sort of…when we felt the time was good, decided we’d make sure you knew.”

Logan nodded, hair tickling Finn’s throat. “You looked pretty sad there for a second, mon rouge, looking at that picture.”

“And when you were telling me about your rookie year, remember?” Leo said. “In Florida, after we got together?”

“I’m just saying,” Finn shrugged. They were laying down facing each other on Finn’s bed. Timmy was out with Kuny and Nado and, when that happened, he didn’t come back for a good while. Finn didn’t want to do anything too risky, but kissing Leo until he was soft and smiling seemed like a good plan. Logan wasn’t picking up his phone. He wasn’t in his and Leo’s room.

Kissing had soon turned into worrying.

“I’m just saying, I’m really glad you didn’t have to do the rookie season hotel shit. I’m so glad you’re with me. When I did it, it just,” Finn watched where his thumb was stroking over Leo’s knuckles. “I mean, Logan wasn’t really talking to me. I was trying to give him space, but I—missed him. Sorry,” Finn laughed a little, clearing his throat around the hot tears forming there.

“Don’t be,” Leo said. “Harzy, you love him. Of course you missed him.”

“I just waited for him to call forever,” Finn said in a rush. “And I’d wait forever again, you know, but I…I would just stare at my—phone,” Finn’s voice hitched. “And then I finally called him and it was horrible, I could barely talk.”

Leo’s eyes were sad and he pressed closer to Finn.

“I’m just happy you wanted to talk,” Finn whispered into the small space between them. “I’m so fucking glad we talked and now look, I can kiss you, Leo. Even though I’m crying,” Finn smiled a little, and Leo kissed him.

“You’re allowed to cry over him. Fuck, you think I haven’t cried over both of you?”

Finn laughed and rubbed his eyes. “Hope you don’t cry over me anymore.”

Leo grinned, swinging a leg over Finn’s hips. “I think they call you Heartthrob-O’Hara for a reason.”

“I remember,” Finn said softly. He couldn’t think about that phone call, though. Not yet. With time. “I didn’t know you remembered, Nut.”

Leo nodded. “I think we all remember.”

Logan let out a shaky breath against Finn’s chest and Finn rested his lips against the crown of Logan’s head. Maybe Logan couldn’t think about it either. Logan, who had tried to be so bright for him, even when he could tell Finn was crying.

Leo smiled. “Got a couple of star crossed lovers on my hands.��

Finn felt Logan’s laugh this time. “Care to join the party?”

“Yes, please.”

Finn groaned at the soft syllables in Leo’s voice, the drawn out ones in Logan’s. “You both get accent-y after sex."

“Tired,” Logan said.

“Fucked,” Leo sighed.

Logan laughed loudly, eyes squeezing shut, and he nudged Leo with his hand before wrapping his fingers around his arm and pulling him close for a kiss.

Finn didn’t think they were star crossed anymore. They had orbited around that somehow and ended up here, pulled by Leo’s gravity, into a tangle of light.

“In the middle,” Leo laughed, and bent briefly to press a lingering kiss to the dark ink on Logan’s hip before returning to his mouth. “Just how you like it.”

Finn smiled. Finn was just where he liked it, too. Feeling the weight of both of them in his arms, not moving, not going anywhere, their voices soft in a room the was safe and warm.

“What do you like, Nut?” Finn said. “Tell me.”

Leo bit his lip. “Looking at you two. I never even thought I’d have one person. And if I did, I thought they’d get tired of secrets. Scared away.” Leo let Finn pull him closer. “Secrets made you two stronger. And you’re not gonna leave me because you have to keep me a secret, either.” Leo’s gaze flickered. “I like looking at you two and knowing that.”

“Knutty, Knutty, Knutter, Nut, Nutter butter baby,” Finn sing-songed as he shuffled into the kitchen, voice sleepy and hair a mess. He felt awake after last night, his boys, on him, with him, working their way so deep into his bones and heart that he bled and bruised and breathed them. It felt good.

He rested his cheek against Leo’s back as he wrapped his arms around him from behind while eggs sizzled on the stove.

“Morning, Harz,” Leo said.

“Sup,” Finn sighed.

Leo snorted, then took a strip of bacon he had cooling from a plate. “Here.”

Finn made an appreciative sound and took it between his teeth.

“Do you wish we could cook?” Finn asked as he chewed.

Leo wavered his head back and forth. “No,” he decided. “I think you can do more than you think you can, but I like cooking for you. You guys clean up. It’s like being on a cooking show. All the fun, none of the work.”

Finn laughed, pressing a kiss to Leo’s shoulder through his t-shirt. “Cute.”

“Is he awake yet?”

“No,” Finn said, pulling three coffee mugs down from the cupboard. Logan, easily awoken, hard to wake up. “Somehow we managed to sneak out. Lightest sleeper ever. You know, I used to have to pee on roadies or when we were roommates—I mean I still pee, but you get the idea. And he would jump up like there was a fucking burglar.”

Leo dumped the eggs onto the waiting plates and flicked the hot pan off. He came up behind Finn this time, hands on his hips while the smell of brewing coffee rose in the air. Finn leaned back against his chest.

“I thought about doing this so many times while you made breakfast,” Finn said softly.

Leo glanced at his face, nose brushing his cheek. His eyes were closed, eyelashes turned shadows in the warm sunlight pooling on the floor. He was completely relaxed into Leo, and Leo held him there. This was what Leo liked. Finn, knowing that they weren’t going anywhere, no matter what he did.

“Me too,” Leo said, kissing Finn’s jaw. Finn smiled, and turned his head into the kiss.

“Leo,” Finn said.

“Yeah?”

“I think we should ask him.”

Leo only had the chance to smile and kiss Finn again, deeper, before there was a weight falling against both of them, Logan’s dark head of hair burrowing against Leo’s chest. Leo laughed and stumbled, just a little.

“You gain ten pounds when you’re sleepy, I swear.”

Logan just hummed. Leo and Finn looked at each other over his head, and then Finn sandwiched Logan in from the other side.

“Hey, Lo,” he whispered.

“Quoi,” Logan mumbled sleepily, his eyes closed and cheek against Leo’s t-shirt.

Finn smiled at Leo, and Leo ducked down.

“Will you move in with us?” Leo whispered.

Logan looked up so fast he butted Finn in the nose with the back of his head.

“Fuck me,” Finn startled back and Logan swore, turning in their arms and pressing his hands to Finn’s rough cheeks.

“Harz,” Logan began, and then Finn realized that both him and Leo were laughing too hard to speak.

“Ouch.”

Logan sagged against him, gasping for breath—

And then Finn realized he was half crying. And nodding. And nodding and nodding.

Finn abandoned his aching nose and looked at Leo, whose expression had softened. Logan’s breathing stuttered and he gasped out a laugh, wiping his face.

“Fuck, I just woke up.”

“Is that a yes?” Finn laughed. “Head butt me then burst into tears, I guess that’s a pretty regular morning for us all.”

Leo kissed Logan’s neck softly. “Say yes.”

“Get out of Dumo’s basement,” Finn said.

Logan punched him in the chest, making him groan, and the pulled him back in, leaning into Leo’s arms.

“Yes,” Logan said. “Yes.”

Over coffee, Finn held his phone out to Leo.

“Slutty Batman.”

Leo blinked at the photo. “Holy fuck.”

#coast to coast #lumosinlove #sweater weather #sweater weather spin off #coast to coast lumosinlove #lumosinlove coast to coast #o'knutzy #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara #lumosinlove ocs #lumosinlove oc #finn x logan x leo

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tsuumu · 4 years ago

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saw that requests were open and😳😳 how ab fluffy best to lovers with iwaizumi or suga? like they are best friends and seem to always be touching each other in some way like hand on waist or knees touching etc. and confession happens and maybe... just maybe... kiss... if this doesnt fickle your pickle or you feel uncomfortable then feel free to ignore! your writing is great thank you for considering🥺🥺

hi anon, thank you so much for requesting! i’ve been doing requests when i feel like them (apparently 4:28am is the perfect time to start drafting this in my mind) so i apologise for how late it is!

i’ve also decided to split this into two parts, the first being sugawara and the second iwaizumi! i love rambling about cute conventional plotlines like this so there was no way both wouldn’t be excessively long put together.

part two will be linked here when i get round to it!

enjoy!

y’know, people actually do wonder if the two of you are somehow joined to one another in some bizarre manner. it’s practically impossible to see either of you away from the other for an extended period of time. and it’s not creepy, or weird. it’s ridiculously wholesome. they only enquire because both you and koushi take that classic ‘best friend’ trope to a whole other level.

it’s sweet. sickeningly so.

we’re talking after-school dates at the prettiest little cafe just off the side of the main road. it’s barely a ten minute walk, not that you’d notice seeing as the time is filled with consistent, care-free conversations between the two of you. koushi practically begs you to come with him whenever you’re free. you’ve both dubbed it your super secret spot, since other students don’t come so often or probably even know it’s there. his teammates ask him from time to time, where exactly the two of you go. it’s usually because you’re chortling amongst yourselves about some passage of prior conversation, or beaming unanimously over the sheer deliciousness of the pastries there, made fresh.

but koushi never tells. oh no. he wants it to be ‘our spot’ as he likes to call it. you think he’s just being funny and poke his arm whenever he mentions it, agreeing jokingly that he’s not allowed to take anybody else there but you.

you needn’t worry, he wouldn’t dream of it.

he’s always early when you do go, waiting for you by the school gates. and it’s crazy, the wave of comfort that washes over you the second you lay your eyes on the boy, it’s something you can’t experience with just anybody.

you have had your fears when it comes to finishing your third year, since your sights are set on finding employment deep in the heart of tokyo, koushi on the other hand, prefers the domesticity of the urban life. he’s perfectly at home where he stands. and you love that for him, you want him to be happy, truly, but the thought of having to bid the boy farewell seems incomprehensible. like you’ve offended yourself for even contemplating the prospect.

no, you’ve never actually brought up the subject with him. it’s a little early and all too much to say out loud. plus, what if you do and he’s completely nonchalant about it? you’re practically dreading the months as they pass, wondering if sheer luck will allow your friendship to continue with such potency whilst he’s totally oblivious and dismissive when you do get round to it! oh, god. you hate it. you hate that you’re overthinking the entire thing.

you know you’re short circuiting over something so pointless, trains exist, you’ll have the funds and means of transportation... but is it? losing someone who fills your day up is like losing part of yourself. you can already imagine what it’d be like alone, going to other bistros and constantly comparing them to that one. and how lonely you’ll be. how desperate to tell him everything that happens to you. how work goes, if you’re feeling homesick. you know he’ll call you often because he cares too much not to, which you’re thankful for, but it’s not the same. he won’t be here, he won’t be there to touch you like he does now, to keep you safe.

a gulp later and you’re totally fixated on the warmth koushi emits. you’d be grieving without it.

“lost?” a light brush of your forehead rids you of your thoughts.

“hm?”

he’s lightly plucking at the strands of hair hovering above you, focusing briefly. there’s a small speck of dust that’s been caught. after a few unsuccessful attempts, he manages to get it out.

well he mutters that he’s unsuccessful, but really, he’s finding inconspicuous excuses to feel how soft your hair is against the back of his palm.

“lost you for a second there.” he replies, before shifting back, blowing the dust from his fingertip. “everything okay?”

you feel so regretful daydreaming about him in front of his face, and it’s not even that, it’s the fact you’re with him right now, right this moment. you know that time is slipping and yet you’re wasting it mulling over pessimistic thoughts of the future.

“mm. i’m alright, sorry. thank you, by the way.”

“don’t thank me.” he picks up the dainty little cup and you study the floral patterns carefully, you recognize this one. well, you’re familiar with most of them now. if one would ever end up breaking, you’d probably know, since they’re so unique in their respective decorations and there’s only a few. koushi is extra careful with it, free hand slotted under the base of the cup. it’s elegant. he’s pretty when he drinks.

actually, you were thinking about all of that because he’d brought up graduation, his match with against shiratorizawa had gone down splendidly, no doubt even he was shocked they’d made it to nationals. koushi had often lamented to you about being karasuno’s substitute setter, though he admires kageyama plenty and knows what was best for the team. he’s awfully good at putting others first, even if he really wants to play. that’s what you’d concluded. soon after nationals, comes the end of the academic year. too soon, way too soon.

that awful feeling rises up again.

his hands stretch across the table, gently engulfing yours, and it’s lovely, really, how comfortable you are with one another. how instantly calming he is.

“you’ll come to watch us play, right?”

“i always come, silly. i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you’ve never seen him so happy.

the evening he rushed to you straight out of the coach, breathless, telling you they’d won. it was like he was able to shine even brighter than he already did. and for a moment, you looked at him—really looked— and you wished you could’ve captured that moment, in all its glory, forever.

koushi. too good to be real, aren’t you?

you are listening, you swear to god you are. everything he says processes but realisation is eating you alive. you don’t think you can live without him. oh, you sound so flimsy, so pitiful and maybe you are. destably so. you’re too selfish for your own good.

but he’s still holding onto you, still careful with his grasp, but with the way his thumb skirts ever so gently across the ridge of your hand, he has no intentions of letting go just yet. you don’t want him to. you’d like to stay like this a while longer.

but it’s late and he’s exhausted from practice, especially now he’s doing twice the amount for nationals. he insists that even if he isn’t on the main roster, he’ll be needed. a team needs absolutely everybody to function properly.

so when he pays for you yet again, chair scraping slightly on the wooden planks of flooring to leave, your heart is caught in your throat, drenched in feeling like it’s the last time you’ll ever see him.

of course you follow him out, politely thanking the old lady who runs the cafe on your way. his feet are planted just steps away from the entrance, gaze to the sky, a flurry of darkness and escaping slithers of light. of course he’s smiling.

part of you wants to hit his arm, ask him how he could possibly be relaxed, stretching his arms lime that when you’re on the verge of losing it. but he hasn’t looked at you yet. when he does, he’ll know.

it doesn’t vanish, that affability that accompanies his grin, even when a look of concern is etched all over his face. it’s still so radiant. koushi doesn’t know how to be unkind. but he knows how to blind you.

“why are you crying?”

there he is again, thumb smearing at the tears that’ve barely slipped. you’re crying without realising. you were fine moments ago but now you’re sobbing so hard it’s difficult to breathe out. there’s nothing empty about it, they’re infuriatingly real, like you’ve already lost him. like he’s walked down the road, waved to you one last time and died.

suddenly there’s a million things you want to say to him, and another three years won’t be near enough to get them all out.

it’ll be too hard to explain over text, or call, too late too.

“ko-oushi..” you tremble out, and he knows you won’t be able to explain. he’s okay with that. just forgive yourself for now and he’ll walk you home. you don’t like to cry. you cry a lot but it never gets easier. he doesn’t mind, though. he likes how big your heart is, even if you insist it’s awful. what does worry him, though, is that someday someone might mistake it for weakness. you don’t deserve to know what true heartbreak feels like.

so, his hand’s in yours, consoling you like one would a child, always dabbing at those tears and telling you things will be alright. koushi knows that you’ll tell him when you’re ready, especially if it’s something that’s upset you this much.

“i don’t want to graduate.” is all you think to come up with, which is a blatant lie. you do want to. all you do is talk about how much you do, but you don’t want to graduate from him.

his response is a little tentative at first.

“why?”

“because.. i’ll go away. i’ll go far away and i’ll miss you.”

he’s deathly quiet, it’s terrifying.

“and if i miss you i’ll keep missing you until i can’t stand it anymore, koushi.” you ramble on, utterly humiliated that you’re confessing just how deep your dependency on him is. but you can’t stop. you don’t have time to. “i hate life. i hate that i can’t see a future without you. i don’t want to drag you back or control you in any way but god, i think i need you.”

you’re not quite sure what this is. is this.. a heated tangent, a sob-fest to a confidante, a guilt-ridden confession from an obsessive maniac? you hadn’t actually thought about what you wanted or would gain from telling him all this. perhaps it’d been bottled too long, longer than you were conscious of and this was the only resort left to release it. he’ll probably end up hating you by the time you’re done strangling out the last few words, deem you insane and ask you to seek some sort of professional help, knowing him, he’d help you find it.

it doesn’t matter. you’re talking and talking and talking, tripping unattractively over phrases and you have no intentions of stopping. not even to breathe, not like you have been anyway. you can’t even look at him whilst you parade yourself like this.

that’s alright with him. he really loves the sound of your voice.

he’s listening. he swears to god he is, but all he can think about is how happy you’ve made him. how he’d never leave you lonely.

but how could he ever convince you? unlike you, koushi isn’t the best with words. he’ll nod for hours and hours as you pour your heart out over something, and still come up empty. really, he doesn’t know what he wants either. he has ideas of the next few years, but he hasn’t even addressed the fact you’d be absent in all of it. you don’t know it, but he’s so used to you he’s practically filled you into his future automatically.

still, you’re talking, not too sure what you’re even saying anymore. and neither does he if he’s completely honest, but he’s too fond of you to mention it.

but he does it. he places his hand on the nape of your neck and kisses you.

he promises it’s not to be rude, or because he’s not interested in whatever it is you’re trying to say. but because he’s wanted to do this for ages. would it be overly dramatic to say the first time he lay his eyes on you? maybe. it wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

oh, god. he’s really kissing you.

he’s sweet tasting and nothing like you could’ve ever imagined. and believe you, you’d thought about it quite a bit. the way he’d feel against you. you’d never admit to anybody that you’d fantasied about this, feeling his tongue flutter over the seam of your mouth, hands dipping gently into the flesh of you as he tightens his hold on your waist.

why couldn’t you have accepted earlier you were fucking head over heels for him?

and of course he likes you back! he calls you his! he takes you on dates and touches you and has eyes for only you. how thick were you?

it’s alright.

at least you’ve gotten there eventually.

though a few months too late, you’re kissing him in the middle of your hometown, and he’s whispering against your lips that you won’t be losing him anytime soon.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #hq #sugawara fic #sugawara x reader #sugawara headcanons #sugawara hcs #sugawara fluff

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effymaybe · 4 years ago

Text

Even when the seasons change (I don’t)

Jenlisa AU -

Jennie doesn’t like nightclubs. She goes, anyway. Maybe there’s something there for her.

Electropop music is blasting against her eardrums, vibrant neon lights are blinding her narrowed stare, her feet are hurting due to the high heels she chose -much to Jisoo’s amusement- to go to the club she was going to have oh so much fun at, and Jennie is wondering for the fifth time in the night what the hell she was thinking about.

She enjoys going out with her friends, truly, but sweaty people sliding against her body in an attempt to keep up with their friends – and sometimes with not so innocent purposes – is not exactly her favorite scenario. She prefers slightly expensive bars, with dark wooden furniture and elaborated drinks she can actually take her time choosing. And definitely places that are not so overpopulated that it’s hard to find your way to the exit and then a taxi to go back home when your best friend meets the love of her life. Which is kind of her situation right now. She doesn’t actually know if the angelical-looking blonde Jisoo spotted leaning over the bar asking for a drink is the brunette’s soulmate, but judging for the expression of astonishment her friend wore for ten long minutes before growing the guts to approach the girl, Jennie guesses it might as well be the case. Leave it to Jisoo to find love in a club.

Jennie sighs as she stares down to the orange-y substance in her plastic glass. She sips it carefully, not as disgusted by the cheap drink as she thought she would be, and her mood almost lifts up a bit until she catches the sight of a guy that might as well double her age staring at her with a lascivious expression. She’s about to turn around and actually kind of run, but somebody grasps her arm tightly, making Jennie gasp.

“Don’t go. Meet Chaeyoung!”, Jisoo half-screams over the music.

Jennie doesn’t even think about it. She’d rather be a third wheel than a disgusting man’s next pray.

She doesn’t have much choice, anyway, because her friend is already dragging her to where the beautiful blonde is sitting, a pinkish drink in her hand.

The girl has the grace to smile at Jennie actually, without seeming annoyed at all, and the brunette has the flash thought that if Jisoo were to actually date this girl, she would approve without major questioning.

“Chae”, Jisoo begins, her mouth curling upwards in a whipped smile, “this is Jennie, my best friend. Jennie, this is Chae”.

“I don’t have any titles”, the blonde comments humorously, gifting Jennie a grin as she holds her hand for the brunette to shake, “for now, at least”.

Jennie smiles back, turning to see her friend blushing deeply with sparkly hope shinning in her coffee eyes.

“You better not be going for the ‘best friend’ one because that’d be awkward…probably for all of us”.

Chaeyoung laughs openly now, and she stops only to smirk at Jisoo.

“Yeah… not the title I had in mind”.

“That’s a relief”, the shortest brunette flirts back, and Jennie is torn between having a bit of fun at expenses of Jisoo’s blush or leaving the girls at their thing so she can fight for a taxi and wrap herself in favorite blankets.

When Jisoo and her not-best-friend-to-be stare at each other suggestively for a long, tense moment, Jennie makes her decision.

“Hey, I’m gonna leave you to-”

“No!”, her friend interrupts, snapping out of her spell, “Chaeyoung is not alone”.

Jennie looks at her friend with an eyebrow dangerously raised.

“What?”

“She means that I came with my friend, Lisa”.

The tallest brunette parts her lips in mid-surprise before shaking her head.

Come on, there is no way…

“I think it’s Lisa, Lisa, you know?”

“What? There is no way”.

“Lisa, my best friend Lisa, went to Kyungnam”.

“Our high school”, Jisoo states proudly.

“There were, like, at least other fifty Lisas at our school”.

“Yeah? How many were ridiculously tall, had Barbie eyes and an annoying laugh?”

Jennie frowns unconsciously at the vague insult and crosses her arms with the hint of a stubborn pout drawing on her lips.

“Also, she has mentioned you”, Chaeyoung comments, her voice careless, but her eyes boring into Jennie’s.

“What?”

“I mean; she has mentioned a Jennie… a few times. Maybe more. The way she described you was… extravagant to me, but now that I see you I definitely get it”.

Jisoo is full smirking right now, her eyes singing a loud ‘Itoldyou’ tune that Jennie despises, but she’s too busy trying to keep her thoughts at bay to search for a creative insult.

“Look, I just don’t think… It’s much of a casua-”

“Jennie?”

Jennie shuts her mouth as her eyes widen in sincere surprise. Her spine tenses and it actually takes her a few moments to get over her skepticism because it can’t be.

She turns around hesitatingly, slowly, taking the time to compose herself before facing the girl that broke her heart seven years ago.

And there she is.

Lisa. High school beauty, Barbie-eyes, model-tall Lisa, looking as young as ever, now with her chocolate hair caressing past her mid-back. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a crop top that allows her to show off her still prominent abs, framed in a leather jacket that makes her look just the right amount of dangerous.

She looks so alluring, so Lisa, that Jennie can almost hear her whispering sweet things in a bathroom stall. Sweet lies. All that time ago.

“Lisa?”, Jennie tries, as if she doesn’t know, but the tallest girl does not answer for a moment, her mouth still open, her eyes running up and down staring at her figure as if desperately trying to look for something.

So she waits until Lisa’s eyes meet hers, and the girl seems to finally snap out of her stupor.

“I- wow, Jennie, you are… here”.

The brunette smiles softly, finding Lisa’s amazement a bit puzzling.

“Yeah… not my scenario, I guess?”

The tallest girl denies with her head quickly as she takes a step forward.

“No, no, I mean, you look amazing, perfectly here, but”, she stumbles with her words, “I’m surprised. It’s been many years”, she finishes, and Jennie shifts in her place.

“Yeah, you are right. I’m quite surprised as well”.

Lisa doesn’t say anything else, just stares at her with burning gaze that looked as if it wanted to tell a whole story by itself. They just stay like that for a moment before the sound of fake coughs make her turn around, slowly enough to catch the tallest girl’s face transform from amazement, to annoyance, to renewed surprise.

“What? Chae?”, Lisa asks, her eyes falling into her best friend’s figure and then moving to look at Jisoo, both sitting at the bar with twin amused expressions.

Jennie doesn’t fail to notice the way Chaeyoung’s hand caresses Jisoo’s thigh absentmindedly.

“Jisoo and I just met”, the pinkish-blonde explains, “and she happens to be Jennie’s best friend”.

“Yeah… I remember”, Lisa murmurs, her brain clearly still trying to catch up with all the information.

“It’s all kind of crazy, right?”, Jisoo adds now, a smirk adorning her expression.

“Destiny”, Chaeyoung agrees, and her hand inches closer to Jisoo’s upper thigh, now less casually and more purposefully.

The shortest brunette coughs, bushing deeply, but Lisa and Jennie are too occupied taking into each other to realize.

The tallest blonde stands up from her booth suddenly, taking Jisoo’s hand and prompting her to follow her.

“We are going to the bathroom”, she announces, and the other two girls stare at them with surprise.

“Really, the bathroom?”, Lisa asks, her head tilted to look at her best friend with slight disapproval.

Chaeyoung merely shrugs, smiling almost predatory, “You do what you have to do”.

Jisoo is still blushing, probably more prominently than before, but she’s visibly excited as she follows the blonde in a rush to the bathroom stalls.

Jennie and Lisa are left alone, surrounded by a sea of people, hyperaware of their situation.

“Uh, so-”

“Want a drink?”, Lisa asks suddenly.

Jennie stares at her with hesitance plain in her face.

“I mean I can buy you a drink and we can talk – catch up… If you want”.

The brunette finds herself nodding. She really hopes her chat with Lisa will be worth the five hours she spent choosing for her outfit.

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you are having is fine”, she answers, and offers a grateful smile, putting her now empty cup on top of the bar.

Lisa smiles back, clearly relieved, the tension of her shoulders almost gone completely.

Jennie is left then, with some minutes to think.

She kind of feels that she should leave.

Her thing with Lisa didn’t las for that long, really, and it happened many years ago. It shouldn’t have been an irreplaceable, unforgettable event of her life.

But it was.

It was because she loved. She loved truly for the first time, with passion, and dizziness, and heart clenches, and tears, and whispered words. She loved deeply, from the bottom of her heart to the extension of her body. She opened herself, body, mind, and soul, wrapped herself up in the prettiest smiles she could muster and handed herself to Lisa, to her deep voice, to her delicate hands.

And she was hurt just as strongly as she loved.

“Jen?”

“Oh, sorry, thanks”.

The brunette takes the glass the tallest girl is offering and sips on the red liquid inside of the cup. It tastes good, and Jennie grins slightly.

Lisa seems extremely pleased with her reaction, a big smile extending on her face.

“You haven’t changed much. Just managed to get even prettier”, the youngest states, and Jennie tries not to think about the compliment too much.

“You look the same as well. Maybe even taller”.

Lisa laughs openly, and Jennie smiles into her glass.

“It’s the heels. So, how is it going for you?”

“Well. I’m an interior designer”.

“One of the best in the city, I’ve been told”.

Jennie raises her eyebrows in sincere surprise.

“You’ve been asking?”

Lisa swallows.

“Everywhere”.

Jennie takes a deep breath and a big sip of her drink.

Come on, she must be doing… her thing.

“I’m sure they are exaggerating. How about you? How are you doing?”

“I opened my own dance studio like two months ago”.

The brunette is struck with sincere happiness, her face breaking out in an excited smile.

“Really? Lisa, that’s great! I thought you were studying to become a lawyer, though”.

“I was”, Lisa explains, her eyes softening in a way Jennie is surprised to realize she has never seen before, “but I decided to follow my heart”.

“I so happy for you, then”.

“I am happy too… It’s something I should have been done a lot of time ago.”

“Choosing dancing?” Jennie asks.

“Following my heart”.

Lisa’s coffee eyes burn on Jennie’s, her expression tinted with longing. The brunette becomes a bit restless, but she tries to shake off the warmth that threatens with filling her chest.

It’s not like that.

“Well, I’m glad you did. My humble opinion is; you were born to dance”.

Lisa chuckles a bit, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“You’ve always been supportive. Thank you for that. You should pass by some day! Your own dancing skills are impressive as well”.

“Ah, you are just saying it”, the brunette teases, “I haven’t danced since high school”.

“What? Seriously?”

Lisa looks genuinely surprised, and Jennie can’t help but to duck her head a bit to hide a slight blush.

“Well, it’s not like I had a lot of time to do so… also, where I am supposed to dance?”

“I don’t know… it would be great if you’d known someone who… you know… owns a dance studio”.

The brunette chuckles airily and takes a sip of her drink.

“You would have to work very hard with me”.

Lisa gasps.

“That’s totally not true! You are a great dancer!”

The brunette raises her eyebrows playfully.

“Really”.

“Yeah! Besides, you would immediately be my favorite student”.

“And what’s the benefit of being your favorite?”.

Lisa pauses for a second.

“Uh…golden star stickers?”

Jennie laughs again, this time more freely, and Lisa can’t help but to join in, the feeling of achievement spreading through her body. She drinks a bit of the content of her plastic glass but immediately ditches it. She wants to be fully aware of the moment.

“I guess I have to start polishing apples, then”.

The brunette is almost startled when she looks at Lisa, the tallest girl’s eyes exuding a warmth that she can almost feel wrapping up her soul. The softness of her features reflect a fondness that can’t be there, just can’t be there.

“Just bring yourself”.

Jennie stares at the tallest girl as her eyes drift to her side briefly, a somewhat somber expression making itself apparent in her doe eyes, only to set her gaze in the brunette once again.

She shifts, trying to anchor herself, looking for any topic to deflect her mind from the feeling that is blooming in her chest.

“So… how-”

“I miss you, Jennie”.

Jennie stares back at Lisa, her eyes wide.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt again. I just wanted you to know. It was driving me crazy”.

And Jennie sees with astonishment the way the other girl’s eyes begin to become watery.

“Lisa…”

The girl stares at her side once again, somewhat annoyed, but turns to Jennie once again.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for years. I just want you to know, Jen”, she moves closer, their faces just some inches apart, “you are the best thing that ever happened to me and I miss you. I miss you so much”.

“Lisa, I… don’t know what to say”.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know I fucked up in ways… Oh, just-”.

And Lisa leaves her like that, rushing past her, her heartbeat hammering against her chest, a blush spreading from her cheeks to her neck, and Jennie has no idea what could possibly had made the tallest girl disappear from her personal space in such a touching moment, so she turns her head to follow the brunette’s figure. She sees Lisa’s back facing her, the girl talking to a mildly-good-looking guy that reminds Jennie of the jocks Lisa dated in high school - the jocks she chose to cheat on her with in high school – and feels tears rushing to her eyes.

Again.

Fucking again.

Jock guy smiles at Lisa crookedly, leans in, and Jennie can’t see it anymore. She runs out of the bar, sliding through heated bodies, her cheeks wet with hot tears as her body burns with shame and regret.

She makes it out of the place quite quickly, but doesn’t stop until she reaches a half-illuminated alley, not fond of the idea of tons of people watching her cry for her high school girlfriend. Once again.

She covers her face with her hands as she thinks how could she have been so stupid, so naïve to think that the girl who had broken her heart so many times would even think about-

“Jennie, please!”

The brunette hugs herself as Lisa’s voice reaches her ears.

“Jen, where are you? Please, talk to me”, the tallest girl’s voice sounds completely shattered, but Jennie remains quiet.

Steps sound closer, and the dark brunette knows that Lisa is about to find her.

“Jen- oh, you are here”.

Lisa rushes to her as if she just found something invaluable that she had lost many years ago.

“Leave”.

“Jennie, let me explain”.

“What do you have to explain? That you were telling me oh how much you missed me, but decided to ditch me for some half-decent-looking guy?”

“No! I…”

“I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid, honestly, it’s clear that you don’t care”.

“Jennie, it’s not like that!”

“But you never did, did you? I knew this, I know this and yet you manage to-”

“He wasn’t trying to get me; he was trying to get you!”

The wind blows between the girls as a beat of silence makes itself present.

“What?”

“He was staring at you, and then… gesturing, and then he called his friends and I was trying to tell you everything I never told you, and he was there being a fucking prick. And I felt this rush… this need to protect you like I never did, and take you home, and cuddle watching all those Disney movies you love, and attempt to cook all the waffles you can eat, and just do anything on my hands and beyond to show you that I love you so fucking much. I’ve been in love with you for so many years and I never could… I never had the damn guts to show you how much whipped for you I am, how easily you can destroy my heart. Fuck! Fuck that fucking guy. I love you so much”.

Lisa is painting now, each of the words she uttered echoing in Jennie’s mind almost as if foreign.

When the tallest girl beings to cry - to sob loudly between her hands – shattered in a way that nobody has witnessed before, Jennie snaps out of it. She takes a step closer and lets her right hand press against a wet cheek.

Lisa doesn’t hesitate to put her own hand over Jennie’s, desperately trying to anchor herself.

“It has always been you, Jen. I know I fucked up many times, and I understand if you can’t forgive me, but”, Lisa’s voice breaks, “I want you to know. All those boys meant nothing. I cried every time I kissed somebody that wasn’t you. Back when we were together… and also after we broke up. I just wanted you. And they weren’t you.”.

Jennie feels her own tears running down her cheeks.

“Then why, Lisa?”

“Because of my parents. I wanted to make them proud, keep the whole ‘Manoban’ name squeaky clean and all. And they wanted me to get straight As, to be popular, to marry a rich man, to become a lawyer…fuck, they even thought about what kind of dog I should have… a damn poodle”.

Jennie lets out a watery snort.

“I don’t think that you look like the poodle type”.

Lisa smiles brokenly, and Jennie’s heart aches.

Back to the time when they were together, Lisa always wanted her parents to be proud. It is true. Jennie saw her spending days and days studying for tests, late at night, early in the morning, the dark spots under her eyes becoming darker and darker each passing day. She saw her befriending all that trashy people not even Lisa herself could stand for more than ten minutes. She saw her giving up dancing. She saw her losing the stars in her eyes, losing her bright smile, losing her cheerful aura. She saw her crying, sobbing, breaking herself again and again just to earn a pat on her back.

“What do you want, Lisa?”

Jennie caresses the tallest girl’s cheek softly.

“I want the two things I’ve ever loved. Dancing…and you”.

The shortest brunette stares at Lisa for a moment.

“It’s fine if I can’t have you. I know what I did is not worth forgiving. I just… want you in my life. As a friend. Or anything you’d like. I just want to know if you could…at least tolerate me”.

“Lisa, you broke my heart, almost beyond repair”.

Trusting is hard.

The tallest girl lets her head hang low in shame.

“I know”.

Jennie takes a step closer, now both girls’ bodies almost touching.

“So you better do a great job fixing it”.

But I can do it again… just one more time.

Lisa’s head snaps quickly, her eyes widening as she reaches out with her hand to grasp Jennie’s arms gently.

“Jen?”

“I love you back, Lis. I… this is not rational. I’m terrified, but I don’t know what else to do. I just can’t help it. I love you back. So much, I think we can move on. I think we can work it out”.

Lisa gasps, and lets her arms wrap themselves around Jennie’s waist, unsure about the shortest girl’s reaction. When she simply smiles and puts her hands on her shoulders, Lisa launches her body forward to hug her lover tightly.

“I’ll make it worth it, Jen. I promise. I love you so, so much. Thank you. Thank you”.

Jennie simply hums in content against the girl’s collarbone, her thoughts a bit dizzy due half to the contact and half to the sweet memories triggered by Lisa’s perfume.

When Lisa pulls slightly away, their faces are left some inches away.

“We would have to… get to know each other again”, Jennie whispers, and the tallest girl is shedding tears once again, staring at her with the heat of absolute devotion.

“Go on a date with me?”, she blurts unsure, and the vulnerable look in her eyes almost makes Jennie melt.

“Mmh… I don’t know”, the shortest girl plays.

“We can do anything you want”.

Jennie laughs.

“I want you to have fun as well”.

“We’ve always had fun together. I’m sure now won’t be different”.

“You know how to charm a girl. It’s a deal”.

Lisa smiles beamingly and squeezes Jennie’s waist a bit.

“Thank you”.

“Thank you? So I don’t get a kiss?”

The tallest girl looks surprised, but not less excited.

“You want one?”

“A few, actually.”.

Lisa inches closer, not keen on losing an opportunity as such.

“To make up for the time lost?”, she asks.

“Yes. And to take profit from the time we have now”.

And Lisa lets her lips melt against Jennie. They dance in a way they’ve learnt out of practice, they’ve always gotten out of pure chemistry. Both girls feel their breaths leaving their lungs as their minds try to catch up with the feeling of finally, finally being where they wanted to be. When Lisa tilts her head a bit to find another blissful angle, Jennie lets out a soft mewl, and the tallest girl has the faint thought that she would do absolutely anything for her lover’s happiness.

No more fear.

“I’ve been looking for you for years. Everywhere. I searched for you at the better spots to watch the sunsets. I visited all the dog cafés with dark wooden furniture in town. I went out every hill around the city to see if I could find you gazing at the stars”.

Lisa’s confession is murmured against Jennie’s lips.

“Out of all the places possible, I didn’t expect to find you here”.

Jennie pulls slightly away to stare at Lisa’s eyes, her own hands entangling in long, chocolate hair.

“And yet, you found me”.

“I found you”.

Lisa lets her lips press against Jennie’s mouth, the bridge of her nose, her forehead, her left cheek.

“And I’m not letting you go. Never”, a pause, “unless you want me to”.

Jennie smiles as she hugs Lisa again, entertaining again her thought of going home and wrapping herself in her softest blankets.

This time, with somebody just by her side.

She does not want Lisa to let her go.

#blackpink #blackpink scenarios #blackpink imagines #jenlisa #jenlisa scenarios

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somecunttookmyurl · 4 years ago

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I'm very curious about the research you mentioned concerning CYP2D6 metabolism. Could you post or DM the name of the study? Is your plan to inhibit CYP2D6 by taking CBD or an anti-histamine to increase the effectiveness of the anphetamine based ADHD meds you're taking? Seems like an interesting (and well researched) plan - I hope it works for you if that's what you're doing!

YOU ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD. I’m gonna put this under a readmore so as to not bore the other 3,066 of you with weirdly specific pharmacology and pharmacogenetics talk Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, or a pharmacist, or any sort of medical professional at all. I have absolutely zero qualifications in pharmacology I’m just a nerd with half a psychology degree, a talent for study design, and shitty fucking doctors.

So I first learned about CYP26D metabolism (and the broader P450 cytochrome) in like 2017 from a friend doing a PhD in things much smarter than me. I’ve always been a Feral Drug Goblin (resistant if not immune to a lot of drugs) and she seemed to think that’s what was happening. Which tracks because like. 90% of the stuff that doesn’t work on me is a CYP2D6 substrate (the rest are CYP3A4 so I might have more than one defect, but if there’s something funky going on on 3A4 the effect is less pronounced)

Later discovered I have hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS) and like... many if not most EDS sufferers have *at least* one P450 defect . Around 80% or so of people with chronic pain more generally have at least one P450 defect. It’s not something I’ve been tested for because a) even though CYP2D6 metabolism and its effect on drug treatment has been studied for like 30 years, the NHS only started introducing genomic testing for it in 2019 and b) getting a referral would require finding a doctor who knows what it is which, like, lmao. Honestly though we can be about 99% certain I’m an ultrarapid metaboliser, all things considered. Mostly I want a genomic test to see if any of the others are broken.

Now, I don’t know why it took me four years to think of it but over the weekend at 2:30am (I’m not allowed to have a thought during daylight hours actually) that like... logically speaking... if you gave a potent CYP2D6 inhibitor to an ultrarapid metaboliser it would normalise (or at least improve, depending on how many functional copies of the gene I’m dealing with like people have been found with thirteen copies) the metabolic function. Absolute galaxy brain moment.

Of course combining a CYP2D6 substrate and a CYP2D6 inhibitor generally carries a “moderately severe” interaction warning because if you’re alrealy, like, normal that could be dangerous. So I had a dig around to see if anybody had studied that specific thing and whether it was actually safe.

It took me... a pretty long time because this concept is massively understudied. I mean there’s 1001 studies on “does being an ultrarapid metaboliser of CYP2D6 affect [x substrate drug]” to the extent it’s like... yeah dude. The answer is yes. It’s always yes. I think we’ve proved this concept. Don’t think you need to do it for every single drug. We get it. There are a couple though. Both of the studies were only 5 participants, and were done 20 years ago (2000 and 2001) but in both cases all participants showed... honestly pretty amazingly positive responses and no ill effects. Which is why I’m so baffled that seemingly nobody has studied it since. Like “well, this went fantastically well! We shall never speak of it again” The first study gave the participants debrisoquine hydroxylation, which is the substance they use to test the function of CYP2D6 when they do the genomic test. So they weren’t on a CYP2D6 substrate already they were given it specifically for the study. Then they were given quinidine (an anti-arrhythmic which has sadly been disconintues) as an inhibitor. Without quinidine, the metabolic ratio of debrisoquine in the participants after 6 hours was 0.01 - 0.07. Which is, like, fuck all. With quinidine that amount was 12.6, 10.1, 9.2, 2.4, and 2.2. Participants had 3, 3, 4, 13, and 13 copies of the gene respectively so the more copies you have the less improvement you see, but < 0.1 to 2.2 is still huge https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2014903/ The second study in 2001, also 5 participants, administered nortriptyline as the substrate and then used paroxetine (an SSRI) as the inhibitor. After taking nortriptyline for a week, all participants had very low subtherapeutic levels of the drug in their systems. Following 2 weeks of treatment with paroxetine, 4/5 participants had normally-expected therapeutic levels of noritryptiline. The other participant withdrew after 1 week of paroxetine treatment after getting side effects from it but still had an increase in noritryptiline levels in that time so it was working he just didn’t tolerate paroxetine very well. https://sci-hub.se/https://ascpt.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1016/S0009-9236(01)78384-1

Those are, to my knowledge, the only studies done specifically to test whether you can normalise liver function using an inhibitor. There is a case study from 2006 of a 6 year old boy with ADHD who didn’t respond to drugs and was confirmed to be an ultrarapid metaboliser. The authors recommend usage of an inhibitor in such cases

https://sci-hub.se/https://journals.lww.com/psychopharmacology/Citation/2006/08000/An_ADHD_6_year_old_Child_Ultrarapid_Metabolizer.25.aspx

I can’t have paroxetine or fluoxetine because I have a bipolar-spectrum disorder and historically me and SSRIs are not friends. However buproprion (wellbutrin) is an inhibitor which I was prescribed before to counteract a side effect from atomoxetine and like I was definitely more functional at the time? But that was way before I had this genius plan, or knew it was an inhibitor, so. There’s been a supply issue here for it since July. So yeah. I’m going to be taking CBD. Amphetamines do absolutely fuck all by themselves so like literally my plan is “taking weed pills to try and make my liver talk to meth properly” which sounds absolutely ridiculous. Gonna be hilarious if it fuckin’ works. I’m going to be doing a proper study and writing it all up and everything. Emailed the researchers involved in the 3 studies to see if they’re interested in my data like 20 years later lmao but if you wanna read the study outline it’s here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1TOnToHMH7UhYMFM9qtv-4ZWmaV7Pr6IQeYv6QDAGVrQ/edit?usp=sharing Just gonna keep going unti it either works, or the amount of CBD required becomes too expensive (which would be like 9 weeks max bc I can’t afford to be taking more than 60mg CBD every day forever).

#thepropervillain #bet you regret asking now huh

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thepartyresponsible · 5 years ago

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this fill is for shevni, who asked for clint barton/steve rogers with the prompt: “can I have one last kiss?”

i’ve never actually written these two together before, but i always figured they’d be sweet and competitive and absolutely ridiculous. so here’s maybe the silliest, fluffiest thing i’ve written in a long time.

---

It’s predawn, not even within shooting distance of sunup, and Steve Rogers is sneaking out of Clint’s apartment. He’s quiet about it, but he’s not international super spy levels of quiet about it, and Clint’s been tracking his movements since the second Steve disentangled himself from all four of Clint’s limbs.

He should’ve expected this. He did expect this. He watches, feigning sleep, while Steve picks his way around the room, gathering clothes off the floor.

He waits until Steve’s patting at his pockets, double-checking his phone and keys, before he shoves himself up on his elbows, shakes the sleep out of his eyes. “Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?” he asks. “Just, you know. One last one?”

Steve blinks at him. His mouth presses flat and then quirks to the side. A guilty look crosses his face. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Clint says. “So, how about it, Steve? Can I have one last kiss?”

Steve puts his hands on his hips. It only serves to bracket the truly unbelievable cut of his abs, and Clint has to force his eyes back up to his face. “Is that what we’re gonna do this morning?” Steve says. “We’re gonna be dramatic?”

“Well,” Clint says, “at least I’ll have the memories.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re just shorts, Clint. They are running shorts. It said so on the tags.”

“They’re women’s,” Clint argues. “Those are women’s shorts that Tony tricked you into buying, and you’re too stubborn to admit you were hoodwinked, and now you’re gonna cause a stampede, and I’m never gonna see you again.”

“They’re shorts,” Steve says.

They most certainly are.

Clint groans and tries not to get preoccupied by the truly revolutionary amount of thigh that Steve’s casually put on display. He’s seen Steve naked. He sees him naked fairly regularly, actually. There’s no reason for the cut of the stupid shorts to be this incredibly distracting.

“You remember World War Z, Steve?” Clint asks.

Steve frowns. “I’m still not sure that title is entirely respectful.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Clint says, waving the old argument aside. “28 Days Later is fine too. Fast zombies, Steve. That’s what’s gonna happen if you go out like that. Fast zombies, running you down, swarming you. A bloodbath. It’s not even dawn. How am I gonna rescue you before I’ve even had coffee? Will you think about what you’re doing, Steve? Actions have consequences.”

Steve appears unmoved by his entreaties. Which is categorically unfair, because, just by standing there in his SHIELD-issued t-shirt and empathetically not SHIELD-issued running shorts, he’s moving Clint quite a bit.

“I think I can outrun a few civilian joggers, Clint,” he says.

“Yeah, but the problem with the zombie isn’t their speed, Steve. It’s the relentless, inevitable, slow march of doom. Which is what’s going to happen if you go out there with your ass damn near hanging out of your shorts. You’re going to unmake society. You need to come back to bed. It’s a matter of natural security.”

“My ass is not a threat to national security,” Steve says, with remarkable primness for a man who’s going to be flirting with a public indecency charge the second he bends over to tie his shoes.

“It is,” Clint says. “It has been. It’s in my SHIELD file, under potential liabilities.”

There’s a blush settling across the blades of Steve’s cheekbones, faint but visible. “You’re being ridiculous. Just stay here, and I’ll be back an hour. I’ll bring coffee.”

“I’ll never see you again,” Clint says. “You have to kiss me goodbye.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Steve asks, stepping closer. “I’ve been told my ass is a threat to national security.”

“Worth it,” Clint says. “Your ass is my nation. I mean, I’m not saying it’s a full-blown conspiracy or anything, but you’ll notice that ‘I pledge allegiance to the flag’ and ‘I pledge allegiance to Steve’s ass’ are actually the same number of syllables, and--”

“Stop, Clint,” Steve says, that flush filling in nicely as he knee-walks across the bed and kisses Clint like he’ll never see him again.

Clint tips backwards and drags Steve with him, one hand clinging to Steve’s shirt while the other palms at the back of Steve’s thigh. “So much skin,” he says, mumbling it into Steve’s mouth. “Steve, you’re gonna stop traffic.”

“It’s New York, Clint,” Steve says. “They’ve seen worse.”

“Worse,” Clint says, offended. He slides his hand up, grabs Steve’s ass. “They’ve never seen better, Steve. That’s the problem.”

“You know,” Steve says, sprawled out on top of him, bare skin against so much bare skin, a warm invitation forming in his eyes, “if you’re so worried about my virtue, you could just come with me.”

“I want to come with you,” Clint says, pulling Steve in by the hips. “I’d love to. Great idea. Let’s do it right now.”

Steve huffs and pulls back, evidentially unimpressed. “You know what I meant. We can do that later. After we run.”

Clint stares up at him, at his beautiful blue eyes and chiseled jaw and soft inviting smile. He thinks about spending the next hour of his life getting outrun again, huffing doggedly along on an empty stomach with no coffee to bolster him and no mercy from a super soldier who could outrun Olympians on his worst day.

He thinks, also, of the view he’ll get, chasing after Steve in those stupid, unholy, incredible shorts.

“Oh,” Clint says, “I get it. I understand what happened. Tony thinks he played you, but you’ve been playing me this whole time. You just want me to do more cardio.”

“Well,” Steve says, with that aw shucks earnestness he trots out whenever he’s about to be a real asshole, “more stamina would be useful. In the field.”

“Oh my God,” Clint says, and hip-checks Steve out of bed. He follows him, laughing, and grabs his running shorts out of the laundry bin where Steve must’ve put them this morning. “Fine. Fine. I’ll go.”

Steve watches him with a smug grin that promptly drops into an ‘o’ of incredulous objection when Clint starts toward the door. “You spend all morning talking about my shorts and then you’re going with no shirt? My ass has nothing on your abs, Clint.”

Clint, who is very well-aware of the effect his abs and arms have on Steve, smiles benignly and flexes his way through some very aesthetically-oriented stretches. “It’s summer, Steve. I don’t want to get overheated. Heat stroke is very dangerous.”

Steve stands by the doorway, staring directly at Clint’s chest. “Maybe I’m worried about me getting overheated.”

Clint grabs his keys off the hook. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you dragged us out of bed this morning.”

“We’re going to end up in the Internet again,” Steve says, sounding exactly like somebody’s grandpa.

“We’re gonna break the Internet again,” Clint replies. He leans over, lands a peck on Steve’s still pinkish cheek, and then slaps him on the ass for good measure. “Let’s move, Cap. I was promised coffee.”

Steve huffs and reels him in by the elastic of his shorts, kisses him sweet and a little filthy as they fumble their way through the door. “Maybe,” Steve says, licking his lips while Clint bullies the lock into compliance. “Maybe we just run for half an hour.”

Clint stares at the shape of Steve’s mouth. “Maybe we just go around the block,” he counteroffers.

Steve looks at him. There’s a beat, and then another.

“Maybe we just--” Steve says.

“Go back inside,” Clint says, immediately shoving the key into the lock again. “Back inside, yep, that’s great. That’s perfect. We’ll just--”

The door springs open, and Steve crowds him through it, and, a few seconds after that, they are back in bed again.

Someday, Clint thinks, considerably later, someday we’re really, actually, no-shit gonna make it out of here for a morning run.

#writing #fic #fill

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watchingspnagain · 3 years ago

Text

Meet Mace

Hi, I'm Mace, and this is my Intro Post. Ab Spectando Condito and all that. (I sometimes channel Livy when I'm nervous, don't be alarmed.) And I'm nervous because my memory is absolute crap so I can't actually remember all the details here, even though this all started only, like, two years ago. It's also hard to wrap my head around the idea of trying to describe this thing that Lor and I have started (created?) and how and why it has become so important. So, well, bear with me.

Okay, here goes: For years friends had been telling me that I *needed* to watch Supernatural; it was right up my street, they'd say. But I kept putting their recommendations aside, thinking that, sure, Dean from Gilmore Girls is in it and he's adorable, but that other guy looks like a frat boy cliché, and overall the show seemed like it was probably Buffy but with Dudes (and I LOVE Buffy and will brook no substitutions or messings-with The Buffy). Eventually I decided to give it a try anyway, a decision wholly based on how hilarious the memes were. Maybe the non-Dean guy (His name is Dean? *His* name is Dean? Wait, no, that's not...but why tho?) isn't so bad? The first attempt didn't go well: my husband, who is so very not interested in SPN, was away on a business trip and I waited until my then-10yo son was in bed, crawled into bed myself, and started the first episode. At night. Alone. I made it 10 minutes before actually saying out loud, "NOPE" and turning it off. Cripes, that first episode (and most of the first season, really) is actual, full-on scary! I mean, what. Why have Handsome Boys making Hilarious Quips on a show that I can't watch because I'm too scared?! Sort of rude, to be honest.

And that was it for, I think?, a couple of months or so. Then - and this is one of the places where my memory gets foggy (I tried three times to type that correctly and the first two came out as "goofy" and honestly yes that too) - the watching of SPN was mentioned on another site I spend much amounts of time on. I suspect Lor remembers the details much better than I do, but somehow we starting talking about how we both had been thinking about watching SPN for a long time, but hadn't actually done so because past attempts on both sides had resulted in fright and flight.

Now, Lor and I have been friends on that other site for several years, but never before really corresponded much outside of that site's chat-like forum section. I pretty much admired her from afar, as it were, and held her as a Fantasy BFF in my daydreams - she was (and still is to this very day) cool and *so* clever and smart and had (and still does to this very day) such a brilliant knack for turning a phrase and I admired (and still do to this very day) her wit and snark and general amazingness, but, again, mostly from afar. So when we somehow decided to try again with Supernatural, but this time together, I was ridiculously excited. I had no idea, though, just how life-changing that decision would be. We bonded, it seemed, almost instantly over our love (second time is the charming one, I guess?) of the show and over discovering how much we have in common with each other. It's comical, almost, just how alike we are in all kinds of areas: similar childhood experiences, nearly identical (like, eerily so sometimes) tastes and opinions on all manner of things, and we're essentially twins in our list of Things That Make Our Anxieties Spike.

We started off watching the episodes separately (I think I was a little ahead of her for a bit? Gah - stupid faulty memory) and then typing up our comments and emailing them to each other, then responding with comments on our comments. And it quickly became one of the highlights of my days, getting those emails, reading through her clever and hilarious remarks, feeling pure glee when we had almost exactly the same thoughts - sometimes even typing the exact same phrases, word for word. This, then, at some point, evolved into watching the episodes at the same time and live-texting each other, which means that now we very often are typing exactly the same reactions, word for word, and then geeking out at how SAME we are in real time. Of course we have differences, too, but even those seem to complement each other: she's the Hufflepuff to my Slytherin; she's a Dean girl and I'm a Sam girl (well, and also a Crowley girl - Sam girl in the streets and Crowley girl in the sheets?); she likes Wuthering Heights, which slightly baffles me but, okay, because we both agree that MacFadyen is the best Darcy.

We had big plans to have a meet-up to watch the series finale together. See, we've never actually met in person. We became friends online, then became closer friends through this mutual SPN watch, but that's also online. And so I've never been face-to-face with my best friend. Because the meet-up for the finale didn't happen, of course. Because Covid, of course. For both of us, anxiety added a special sauce of NOPE to leaving the house this last year and we've both, I think, been pretty much isolated, staying home and not having much interaction with others outside the other members of our households. Which means that our SPN watching and our growing friendship took on an even greater meaning and importance for me. I'm honestly not sure that I could have handled the massive stress and anxiety of this last year without Lor's friendship. It just feels...natural, at this point, that I spend my days texting her back and forth about all sorts of things, the small and mundane to the big and important. Lor has become a huge part of my life and if a full day were to pass by without talking to her, I'd feel that loss fairly keenly. On some level it seems pretty bizarre that I owe such a debt of gratitude for this amazing friendship to a TV show, but here we are. This show, its characters, and the actors and writers who have made them so outstanding and special? Well, I owe them all incalculable amounts of thanks.

Anyway. So.

We're now on our second go-round with our SPN watching (because I think neither of us can now even begin to fathom a life in which we're *not* watching this show together), and Lor, (hello - did I mention she's brilliant and amazing?) low-key drops the idea that we should be blogging our live-text conversations. We've talked before about really wanting to have a record of *waves hands around* all this, and a blog seems like a great way to do that, regardless of whether anyone else ever reads it. I'm content for it to be an open and ongoing love letter to Supernatural and to our friendship, even if it remains a largely unread one.

And finally, here are a few Thing You Should Maybe Know About Me:

I'm a farmer's daughter with a PhD in Classics, a one-time professor, turned stay-at-home mom, turned part-time librarian, turned Classics prof. again, living in the Midwest with my husband, 12-going-on-80yo son, and a goofball of a golden retriever.

I love reading as much as I hate housecleaning, and I'll read pretty much anything unless the dog dies or the child gets hurt.

I also really like knitting and sewing and one of my very favorite things is to make ridiculously-tailored Halloween costumes for my son (thank the gods he's totally into it, too). I missed my calling to be a cosplay designer. Maybe in retirement...

I fall in love easily and fast and hard for fictional characters, especially the ones that are 1) evil and/or generally villainous, 2) tormented, 3) super smart and/or skilled, 4) filthy rich, 5) completely unattainable, and if they're all of the above, Holy. Damn.

#watchingspnagain #watchingspnagain intro #watchingspnagain mace speaks

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thejolexgroupchat · 4 years ago

Note

One multi-fic, following these prompts: #26. “I’ll sleep under the sheets, you sleep on top of them.” to #27. “Trust me, I have no interest in sleeping with you.” to #28. “This is a one time thing.” to #29. “Okay, so maybe it’s a two time thing.” onto #30. “This needs to stop.” - (I know these prompts are usually used to one-shots but I cannot help but see all them working together in one fic!

Did we go overboard writing this? Maybe.

Is it still a kickass piece? Of course.

I have to say I really love how we all came together for this one! This takes place right after Bailey’s wedding, when Alex and Jo crash in that random hotel room.

This piece was written by @iamtrebleclefstories @choosingmywife and @doc-pickles Enjoy! ~ NP

the one with the midnight pizza

"Do you think he's gonna come back?" A heavily inebriated Jo asked with wide eyes.

"Nah," replied an equally drunk Alex.

"But all his stuff is in here," Jo pointed out. "He's gotta come back for his stuff."

"Oh crap," Alex began laughing. "We need to get out of here."

"We can't drive. We're drunk," Jo shook her head, a laugh escaping as she fell back onto the bed. “Oh shit, what are we gonna do?”

“Grab some bottles from the mini bar and then we’ll find a cab back to my place,” Alex looked up at Jo, whose face was twisted into a disgusted expression. “Don’t get any ideas, I have no interest in sleeping with you Hobo Jo. I just don’t want you to go home alone and choke on your own vomit or something.”

Jo gathered the bottles and stuffed them into an empty pillowcase (like a hobo, just needs a stick). She searched around for her purse and shoes, only to see Alex holding them up, "You looking for these?"

"Thanks," she grinned as she caught them. "Don't forget your tie! It's hanging on the bathroom door."

Jo and Alex giggled quietly as they opened the door and looked around to ensure that the coast was clear. They ran down the hallway, boarding the elevator as they collapsed in a fit of even more giggles. It took him a second, but Alex was finally able to calm his laughter enough to call for a cab. When they exited the elevator, Jo and Alex ran past the front desk quickly, hoping to avoid anyone that might’ve seen them earlier.

“You’re gonna get us into trouble if you keep laughing like that,” Alex pointed his finger accusingly at Jo, laughter still bubbling from his own mouth. “And I’m not gonna fake cry my way outta this one.”

Jo took a deep calming breath and attempted to act natural as they walked through the lobby and out the doors into the cold December air. They waited outside, shivering in the cold for the cab that was on its way. Jo was trembling in her strapless dress and wished she would’ve brought the robe with her. Alex may have the reputation of being a jackass, but part of him felt bad for the intern standing next to him. She was actually a lot of fun to hang around, so for that reason, he decided to be nice. He removed his suit jacket and placed it on her shoulders.

Jo raised her eyebrows in surprise. Alex rolled his eyes, “Don’t make it a thing.”

Jo shrugged and relished in the warmth of his jacket. She thought about the events that led up to that moment and couldn’t help herself when she began to chuckle again. The situation was absolutely ridiculous. She had spent the night drinking with her boss, getting drunk off her ass, teaching him how to fake cry, hijacked a stranger’s hotel room, and now was on her way back to his house because she was way too drunk to get back home on her own. It sounded like the start of a bad rom-com and Jo’s inebriated brain conjured many images that caused her laugh harder.

Hearing Jo laugh was not an easy thing. Jo’s laughter was contagious. And maybe part of it was due to the fact that he was drunk, but Alex was sure that even sober, he wouldn’t be able to resist joining her. It had been ages since he had laughed so hard he cried and Alex knew instantly that the woman standing next to him was someone he’d definitely like to keep around.

The cab finally arrived and Alex helped Jo into the backseat as he gave the driver his address. The drive was full of jokes and unintelligible speech that Alex was positive had the driver on the verge of throwing them out the car. When the driver pulled up to the house, Alex had sobered up enough to think to give the cab driver a nice tip for putting up with their craziness.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in like… decades,” a string of giggles left Jo again as she leaned against the side of the house, waiting for Alex to unlock the front door. “I think I did a full 20 minute ab workout routine.”

“Lucky for you no one else is home to hear your absurdly loud laughter,” Alex pushed the door open and ushered Jo through, his hand gently resting on her lower back. “Come on Princess, let’s go upstairs.”

“You’re just trying to get me into bed aren’t you,” Jo narrowed her eyes at Alex, who rolled his eyes. “It’s not gonna wo- Oh!”

Before she’d had a chance to protest, Alex had thrown Jo over his shoulder and began to walk up the staircase towards his bedroom. Jo let a squeal out, voicing her displeasure with her situation, “This doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with you!”

“Then get your hand off my ass,” Alex retorted, fingers squeezing Jo’s thigh as he swung her back over his shoulder and settled her onto his bed. “I’ll grab you a change of clothes, I’m sure when you inevitably puke you won’t want it on your nice dress.”

Jo bit her lip as she watched him search his dresser for some clothes for her to change into. For the first time, she actually understood the obsession that all of the girls in her class seemed to have with Karev. He was smooth, funny as hell, and actually kind of charming if he tried. Jo averted her eyes when he turned back to look at her in hopes that he wouldn’t catch her admiring him.

“Were you staring at my ass?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“What? No,” Jo scoffed. “I was not staring at your ass.”

“Yes you were,” Alex’s face donned a shit eating grin. “First you grab my ass, now you’re staring. For someone who claims that they don’t want to sleep with me, you’re doing a very bad job at making me believe it.”

“I wasn’t staring… I’m drunk and I zoned out. That’s all,” Jo attempted to make up a plausible excuse.

“Sure, whatever you say princess,” Alex shook his head and tossed Jo an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers. “Put these on. I’ll be in the bathroom, try not to break anything while I’m gone.”

She stood in his bedroom for about three minutes attempting to get her dress off, when she finally gave up. Jo walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “I need help.”

Alex poked his head out the bathroom, “What? Why are you still dressed?”

“I can’t get the zipper down,” Jo frowned.

Alex huffed a laugh as he opened the door all the way, “Turn around.”

Jo did as she was told and tried desperately not to think about the fact that he was standing behind her only in a pair of boxers as his fingers grazed her back. The breath hitched in her throat and she willed her heart to slow down as she felt him open the zipper slowly.

As soon as she stepped out of her dress she realized that heart flutter was actually bile climbing up her esophagus. Clad only in her panties, she shoved Alex out of the way and sprinted to the toilet barely making it before all the most recent contents of her stomach reappear. She jumped when she felt a hand on her back as Alex gathered her hair to keep it out of the line of fire. Once he’s braided it and twisted it into a knot to stay up, he grabbed a wet washcloth and draped it on her neck while delicately rubbing up and down her spine.

Though mortified, Jo felt exponentially better and the heavy fog from her brain lifted just enough to savor Alex’s gentle touch. While waiting to determine if a second wave of nausea is en route she slows her breathing, head and arms draped on the toilet seat.

“This is embarrassing,” Jo groaned. “I just vomited all over my boss’ bathroom in my underwear.”

“Dude, don’t worry about it Wilson. This isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve had happen with a girl in my bathroom,” Alex rubbed her back.

“Why am I not surprised,” Jo muttered. “Were you their boss though??” She counters and then added, “and now that you’ve seen me puke, probably best to just call me Jo.”

“Stop thinking of me as your boss then,” Alex offered. “Just think of me as Alex. Trust me it’s easier. I used to live with Shepherd and the amount of times he and I found ourselves in awkward situations was insane. Outside the hospital, he was Derek, not my boss. Same goes here.”

He left her side again only to return with the t-shirt he had given her earlier and some water. “Arms up!”

“Alex, I’m not a toddler, I can dress myself!”

“Jo, you couldn’t even undress yourself. Now put your arms up and let’s rinse out that puky mouth of yours.”

Grumbling, Jo raised her hands in surrender while Alex pulled the shirt on while his fingers skimmed her torso. She immediately got goosebumps but didn’t have time to dwell on the tingly feeling. As soon as the oversized Iowa wrestling shirt had covered her mostly naked self, he wrapped his arms under her armpits to lift her up from the cool tile bathroom floor. Steadily they made it to the sink where he had a cap of mouthwash waiting for her. Alex started brushing his own teeth, never breaking eye contact with Jo in the mirror, worried she’s about to collapse or vomit again. Once she swished for the recommended 30 seconds, she spat and blew minty breath into his face. For reasons Jo can’t gather, he didn’t seem to be that amused but whatever this night can’t get any weirder. She picked up the water glass from the floor and made her wobbly way over to his bed.

The date with the porcelain throne left Jo significantly more awake and coherent, or so she thought. Gathering herself and her water she stood up from his bed to go downstairs to pass out on what she hopes is a very comfortable couch in his den. Though she’s not sure she saw any furniture when they made their way upstairs earlier… Guess she’ll find out soon. She made it three steps towards the door before a wave of dizziness smacked her in the face. Frustrated, she mused that maybe sleeping here was the wisest decision. She was just being practical, not wanting to hurt herself or anyone else by falling down the stairs. Also, he said to call him Alex. If this were any other guy friend she wouldn’t think twice about it. Resolute in her choice she clambered over to the other side of Alex’s bed, lifted the comforter, and slid all the way under as the overhead light was suddenly way too bright.

Alex walked back in and seeing her braided bun peeking out from the blanket he started mumbling and grabbing his pillow and Advil from his nightstand.

Hearing the commotion, Jo flips back the duvet and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Getting my crap to sleep since you claimed the bed, Princess,” he said rolling his eyes at the obvious and handing her three pills.

“Don’t be a weirdo,” she scoffed, “your bed is so huge we can both sleep in it without ever coming close to touching.”

Considering the argument for a moment and the fact that the only other option is the floor, Alex drops his pillows and sighs, “Fine. I’ll sleep under the sheets, you sleep on top of them.”

“Already there, Mister. You think I want to rub up against whatever you have lurking in your bed linens?”

“Yeah yeah, just take one Advil now and put the other two on your nightstand for the morning. If you need more, it’s on my side, just try not to puke on me if you grab it in the middle of the night. I’ve got some pedialyte in the fridge if you need it, just don’t drink it all”

“You’re a regular Prince Charming, Dr. Karev.” Jo said, swallowing all three pills and shimmying back under the covers. “Mm your bed is comfy, I might stay here awhile.”

“Don’t even think about it, I enjoy sleeping alone and sprawling out,” Alex looked over his shoulder, eyeing Jo as she nestled herself further into the blankets. For some strange reason, seeing her lying down next to him wasn’t strange. It felt natural, as though they’d slept beside each other for years. He tried to ignore the feeling and turned so that his back was facing her.

After some time, Alex could feel her breathing even out, signaling that she was asleep. Finally, he allowed himself to relax. Ever since he’d lied down, his mind began racing with countless scenarios of what life would be like if he got to go to sleep and wake up with the woman beside him every morning. The thoughts almost made him want to join Jo in puking. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t soft or hopeful. He didn’t daydream about a life with someone who made him laugh until he cried. No, he needed to get over whatever the hell this was. He thought about those things for a bit longer before drifting off to sleep.

A few hours later, Alex felt someone poke him in the side. He swat the offending hand away as he turned in his sleep. The prodding got more insistent, and he groaned as his brain began to register that someone was trying to get his attention.

“Psst,” the poking continued. “Hey, Alex.”

“What?” Alex finally opened his eyes to see Jo staring back at him. “Leave me alone. I’m sleeping here.”

“I just need your address. I’m ordering pizza and I need to tell the guy where to deliver it,” Jo explained.

Alex turned over to look at the clock on his nightstand, “Jo, it is one in the morning.”

“And?” Jo raised her eyebrows. “I’m hungry. We were so busy getting drunk at the wedding that we didn’t really eat anything.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Alex grumbled. “Give me the phone.”

He listed off his address to the delivery person in the other line and was told that it would arrive in ten minutes. Alex sighed and rubbed the sleep out of his face, “How are you awake right now? You were completely wasted.”

“I think the Advil and puking helped,” Jo confessed.

“You’re a mess,” Alex shook his head.

“You think this is bad? Should’ve seen me in med school,” Jo wriggled her eyebrows.

“Yes of course. Hobo Jo who is still learning how to be civilized,” Alex teased.

“You’re one to talk,” Jo stuck her tongue out at him. “Might I remind you that you were the one who suggested the hotel room idea. Also, you’re like what, seven years older than me? Shouldn’t you be past this stuff?”

“That’s... a fair point,” Alex flopped back onto his pillow, closing his eyes as he attempted to fall back asleep. “How good do you think a pizza place is that's open 24/7? That can’t be that great…”

“Are you kidding? Those are the best ones. They are greasy and great for hangovers. Late night taco places are really great too,” Jo grinned.

“As long as you’re paying, I’ll eat whatever.”

Minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jo searched around for her purse only to sway when she tried to get up and walk to the hallway. Realizing that she would probably hurt herself trying to make her way down the stairs, Alex sighed, “Sit down. I’ll go get the pizza. Just give me your wallet.”

Part of Jo wanted to protest, but realistically, she knew that there was no way she’d be able to make it down the steps and back up again without falling. Although she was not nearly as drunk as she had been when they first arrived, Jo was still tipsy enough to be off balance. She handed her wallet over to Alex and sat back down on his bed, waiting for him to bring the pizza up.

“You know, this actually smells pretty good. Not gonna lie.What kind did you order? ” Alex commented as she walked back in the room with the pizza in hand. He opened the box and nodded his head in approval. “Ooh, stuffed crust meat lovers. Good choice.”

He sat down on the bed and Jo reached over to grab a slice. Biting into the pizza, Jo moaned, “Wow this is incredible. Best decision I’ve ever made while drunk.”

Alex wasn’t sure if it was the leftover alcohol in his system, but something about seeing Jo getting pizza crumbs all over his bed sheets made his heart skip a few beats. He stared at her for a while, taking in her form. It was like he was seeing her in a new light. She was no longer the intern who had a crappy childhood just like him. She was Jo. He was finally seeing her for who she was and she intrigued him. She was beautiful; messy hair and pizza hanging out of her mouth.

“What?”

Jo’s voice startled Alex out of his daze, eyes blinking as he tried to focus on anything that wasn’t the woman sitting in his bed. He grabbed a piece of pizza and took a bite, shaking his head in Jo’s direction as he spoke through his full mouth, “Nothing.”

“Ugh close your mouth,” Jo groaned as she finished off the piece in her hand.

They ate the entire pizza and discarded the box on the floor. The food had helped absorb some of the alcohol still in their stomachs and by the time they were done eating, they both felt significantly less drunk. So, there was really no way they could blame the following events on alcohol.

“Well now I’m much less drunk than earlier and I am absolutely wide awake,” Jo fell dramatically back into the pillows, turning her eyes to him. Her eyelashes batted against her cheeks and Alex could feel his heart constricting oddly in his chest. “What is with that look? You keep staring at me like you’re going to do something stupid.”

“What if I did? Do something stupid I mean,” Alex could hear the change in his voice as he speaks, his heart hammering in his chest as he locked eyes with Jo.

“Like what? How stupid are we talking here,” Jo’s own heart was beating erratically as she watched Alex with curiosity. His eyes were darker and she couldn’t help but focus on the way his lips pressed together.

“Like this,” Alex’s lips were on Jo’s in a flash, her fingers instantly came up to run through his hair as she gasped in shock. They stood like this for a minute more before Jo pulled back and met Alex’s intense gaze.

“You and me… we work so good as friends and I don’t wanna screw that up but… God I want you right now, so badly,” Jo’s tongue darted out to wet her lips and it was all Alex could do not to press his lips back against hers. “I’ve wanted you all damn night but this… this is a one time thing. Can’t happen again, got it?”

“Got it,” Alex affirmed and bent back down to kiss her again.

Jo had no idea how much time had passed, but no matter how much her lungs were screaming for air, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Eventually, their kisses became more heated and Alex began to trail his lips down her neck. Jo gasped as he found a spot that she hadn’t even known existed. In those few moments just kissing him, Jo felt more pleasure than ever before. She knew she wouldn’t last long if he kept going like this.

Jo pushed Alex onto his back and straddled his waist, leaning back down to kiss him again. She felt his hands grip her hips tightly, encouraging her to grind against him. Suddenly, Alex sat up, allowing Jo to wrap her legs around him. She felt his hands wander up her—his—shirt and fiddle with her bra straps. Jo reached down and removed the shirt, leaving her in the fancy bra and panties she’d worn under her evening gown. In that moment, Jo was extremely glad she had chosen to wear a nice set. Alex let his eyes wander and felt himself grow consumed by desire. He bent his head forward and began to press kisses all over Jo’s chest. His lips traced the straps of her bra and he reached behind to unclasp it.

Letting the bra fall, Jo suddenly began to feel self-conscious. This was Alex Karev. He was known for having been with countless women. Gorgeous women. Although she’d long since gotten over the majority of her physical insecurities, there was still a small part of her that was worried that she wouldn’t be enough. That her body wouldn’t compare to the rest of the women who’d found themselves in this same exact position.

She was about to cover her breasts with her arms when she heard Alex take a sharp inhale. He gently took them into his hands and began to press light kisses all over them, leaving her panting and breathless. It was insane just how aroused she felt. It was as though every nerve in her body was on fire. Jo’s hands found their way to Alex’s hair and pressed him closer to her.

“I’m not going to last much longer with the way you’re using your hands,” Jo’s voice grew breathy, to the point she could barely recognize it as she let her eyes close in pleasure.

“It’s okay, I’m planning on keeping you here for awhile,” Alex’s lips trailed up and sucked right below her ear, eliciting a low moan from her. “Especially if this is the only time I get to have you in my bed.”

It’s not even a week later that Jo found herself pinned against the wall of an on call room with Alex’s lips on hers again, his hands doing wondrous things to her as she bit back moan after moan. They’d had a long day, they’d lost one too many patients, they’d been yelled at by angry relatives… those were the excuses that Jo was conjuring up in her head to explain the reason she found herself in this position again, despite insisting that what had happened after Bailey’s wedding was a one time thing.

“Two times.” Alex’s head lifted up from her neck, brows furrowed as he looked into her eyes, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Maybe, it’s a two time thing,” Jo answered breathlessly, trying to distract herself from Alex’s hand that was still lingering on her chest. “After this… no more.”

Alex nodded in understanding, his lips crashing back onto hers as his hands desperately pulled her scrub top away from her body. For how much she said she didn’t want this, Jo couldn’t deny that Alex made her feel more alive than anyone else she’d been with.

“Oh! Right there,” Jo bit her lip as Alex’s lips trailed down her body. She could feel the smirk he wore pressed against her hot skin. “Don’t get cocky about it.”

“I don’t have to get cocky. I’m that good,” Alex’s smirk grew as he pushed Jo onto a bed. He helped take her pants off and slid her to the edge as he fell to his knees. He looked up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You might want to hold onto something, Princess.”

Two months and seventeen hookups later—not that she’s been counting—Jo figured that her resolve was shot. She couldn’t explain how or why but her heart picked up its pace every time that Alex was near her now. She’d found herself sitting at Joe’s with Steph and Shane that night, minding her own business when she had felt his eyes on her. Even across the room, her heart began to beat faster with just the knowledge that he was so close. She’d hastily made an excuse to her friends and bolted out the door of the bar before anyone could protest.

That had been 20 minutes ago, she was now pressed into Alex’s mattress with both of their shirts strewn across the staircase, abandoned in their hurry to get upstairs and into bed together. Jo was trying to distract herself from the thoughts swirling in her head, but it was useless. She couldn’t keep doing this because it was going to ruin her from the inside out. Everytime Alex’s lips met her skin or their eyes met or their bodies moved in sync she had to stop herself from crying out her feelings, crying out how much she loved the man she’d fallen into this routine with.

“Stop,” Jo tried to get the word out, but it came out breathy and quiet. Louder this time, she moved her palms to push against Alex’s shoulders. “Stop, stop! I can’t!”

Alex pulled back quickly, eyes following Jo as she pushed him away and leapt out of his bed. He ran a hand through his hair and took a steadying breath before speaking, “What? Did I do something wrong? You usually like when I—”

“No no, this needs to stop! We can’t keep doing this, Alex. I can’t keep doing this,” Jo paced back and forth across the room.

“Jo calm down. Why are you freaking out all of a sudden?” Alex stood and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to stop pacing. “Look at me. What’s going on here? Because I thought we were good.”

“We aren’t good,” Jo shook her head and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I let this happen. I’m so stupid. I became another one of the stupid naked girls in your bed. This needs to stop because I don’t think I can handle it when this ends.”

“Why is this ending?” Alex asked, as if she hadn’t heard him the first time he asked.

“Because I have feelings!” Jo shouted, glassy eyes taking in Alex’s shocked face. “I have feelings! Way too many feelings. Dangerous feelings that just might destroy everything I’ve tried to build for myself here. I know to you, I’m just another one of the girls dumb enough to jump into bed with you, but I got attached. I have to end this, because eventually, you’ll get bored and find someone better. One day, you’ll find someone so much better than me and then it’ll be too late for me to pick up the pieces.”

Alex stood there stunned for a few moments. His jaw had dropped and his eyes were wide. He had no idea that Jo felt this way. For months, he’d been trying to deny the fact that he had fallen in love with her because he didn’t want to lose this. He must’ve taken too long thinking about all the words he could say to her because she ripped herself from his grasp.

“God, I’m an idiot. I knew I would mess it up. I mess everything good in my life up. We work really well as friends, and I had to go and ruin it,” Jo let out a defeated sigh, tears in her eyes. “I’m just gonna go. I’m sorry.”

Jo was already halfway out the door, when she heard Alex call behind her, “Jo! Wait!”

She cringed as she turned around to face him, “Don't do this. Don’t say that we can still be friends and we can forget about this, because I can’t forget. I won’t forget.”

“That’s not what I was gonna say,” Alex shook his head. He took a deep breath and grabbed Jo’s hand, pulling her back into the room. He closed the door and looked deeply into her eyes. “You didn’t mess it up. You could never mess it up. You said you have feelings and so do I. You might be too afraid to say them out loud, but I’m... saying them.”

Alex opened and closed his mouth dumbly. Jo stared at him with wide eyes, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Shut up,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“Okay but...”

Alex narrowed his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“Fine,” Jo conceded.

“I love you,” Alex stated. “I’ve loved you ever since that first night when you woke me up because you were hungry, so we ordered pizza and you got the crumbs all over my bed sheets.”

Jo felt like the wind had been knocked out of her chest, “You—what? You love me? You love me?”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded. He sighed and put his hands on either side of her face. “I love you, Jo.”

“Woah,” Jo croaked, eyes looking at him in disbelief.

Alex’s face twitched into his signature crooked grin, “Yeah.”

Jo’s eyes flicked between his eyes and lips and before she knew it, she was being pulled into a breathtaking kiss. Her heart pounded as she allowed herself to get lost in the sensation. They’d kissed countless times before, Alex’s lips on her was not a new sensation, but this kiss was different. Jo could feel the emotion behind it, could feel the truth behind Alex’s words as they kissed each other with a hunger that hadn’t been there before.

Jo pulled back from Alex, eyes taking in his face and the look in his eyes. She’d seen it before, when he’d meet her gaze while they laid in bed together. She hadn’t been able to tell before, but the look was full of love, that same pesky emotion she’d been trying to push away all day, “I love you too, for the record.”

Alex smirked, hands sliding up Jo’s still bare chest as he pressed a kiss to her neck, “Does that mean we can get back to what we were doing now?”

A string of laughter escaped Jo as she dragged Alex back to bed, chastising him for his one track mind as they fell into the routine they’d become so accustomed to.

#alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #greys anatomy fanfic #greys anatomy #jolex fanfic #jo x alex #jolex #grey's fanfic

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krokonoko · 4 years ago

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the heart wants what it wants. and as much as I love my angst, sometimes I need me some freaky shit like,,, Lacho AUs in which the cartel is not a factor and Lalo and Nacho are just. REGULAR ASS BOYFRIENDS.

LOTS of assorted headcanons under the cut!

shield thine eyes, there’s some heavy ass fluff incoming.

Lalo has his own little restaurant. No one knows how it stays afloat with the erratic way Lalo’s leading it, but it seems his family’s somehow just absolutely loaded, so he can afford it. Honestly sometimes it feels like he just uses it to fuck around with new recipes. Like there’s no real rhyme or reason to what he’s doing, but everyone loves his food, he’s really good with the patrons and if he parties the whole night through then it doesn’t matter cuz the next morning the kitchen still looks spick and span and Lalo’s awake and chipper, ready for the next day! How does he do it? No one knows, especially not his staff. But when someone asks, he just laughs it off and changes the subject and oh my god he’s so charming how could anyone resist him? -

Lalo’s still on the antisocial spectrum and manic af in this AU, so his approach to relationships and emotions is a bit different than your neurotypical one. He seems to have a penchant for breaking rules, can be manipulative at times, and certain things don’t affect him the way you’d expect. But most of the time you wouldn’t even know, cuz generally he’s a really affable guy who’s a lot of fun to be around. He’s genuinely trying not to step on anyone’s toes. That being said, you don’t like him then yeah, he don’t give two shits. -

Nacho used to be part of some gang, but got out in time. He now studies business or something like that. He’s super ambitious and keeps badgering his papá about investing into technical improvements that would make his shop more effective and streamlined. Manuel gets heart burn every time Nacho runs the numbers by him. He’s been running the shop for longer than Nacho is alive, he’s not gonna contract new debts after it took him so long to pay everything off...! And Nacho insists that’s how business WORKS, it’s all about investment and growth. Manuel says with a smile that when the shop is Nacho’s, he can stuff it with all the novelty apparatuses that he wants, but he’ll have to wait until Manuel is no more, and Nacho is like papá don’t be so overdramatic...!! And Manuel laughs and pats Nacho’s back because actually he’s really proud of his son and the fact that he’s so concerned with the shop and they’re HAPPY GODDAMMIT -

For some reason this AU doubles as a modern AU as well. Which means smartphones exist. Nacho spends. SO much time on Instagram. Photos of his car. Photos of Nacho leaning against his car. Gym selfies. All over the damn place. And Lalo doesn’t understand insta cuz he’s a tech averse king, but he still secretly checks out Nacho’s blog all the time cuz yummy! Sometimes he comments on Nacho’s posts with a bunch of. really weird emojis, half of which don’t mean what Lalo thinks they mean, and Nacho thinks it’s cringe af. -

They’ve been having this thing going on for about a year and they’re both suuuper casual about it, like, SO casual, especially Nacho, wow he is so incredibly low key about this, like he is not too all over this or anything, just the right amount of relaxed, laid back, so cool, yeah. -

Just that Lalo is actually incredibly flirty all the time and courts the hell out of Nacho, he’s almost a bit gentleman-like about it, almost a bit old-school, and Nacho thinks that’s kinda dope and the way Lalo treats him like he’s the sexiest thing on earth sometimes comes across as a little condescending but there’s something about it, too, that makes Nacho sometimes lie awake at night thinking about it, brushing his thumb over his lower lip and thinking about the way Lalo pulls him in for kisses. -

When Lalo picks Nacho up from the gym, Nacho smiles when he sees him. When Lalo cracks a crude joke about making people swallow condoms, Nacho chuckles. When Lalo makes him food, Nacho enjoys it. When they walk along the sidewalk in the evening, Nacho casually bumps into Lalo and Lalo puts an arm around Nacho. When Lalo is close, Nacho feels comfortable, and warm, and drawn to him. -

Nacho has had a couple of girl- and boyfriends, but he’s only ever introduced Manuel to his girlfriends. Manuel’s known that Nacho’s into boys ever since he came home early to teenage Nacho and Domingo sitting on the living room couch 6 ft apart with their shirts rumpled and their faces red as beet. But Nacho didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so Manuel respected that. He’s a bit concerned cuz he’s afraid Nacho feels like he can’t talk to him, but he wouldn’t wanna push him. -

So all of Lalo’s attempts to meet papá Varga have been met by Nacho with stone-walling and general avoidance. -

But Lalo’s a very family oriented person so he just decides to make it a surprise dinner! At first Manuel is a bit wary cuz alright, what’s going on, who is this guy? But then Lalo turns up the charm and he’s just one of these guys who are absolutely stellar at wooing older ppl. So he keeps charming circles around Manuel with food and jokes, and Manuel kinda starting to like this guy, and when Manuel wants to get himself some more beer- nonono you stay put Sr. Varga, I’m gonna take care of this for you - and then they get to the part of the evening where Manuel tells childhood stories about Nacho like how he cried when he lost his first tooth and Lalo is just ab-so-lute-ly ENTHRALLED by it all and before you know it he and Manuel are BFF. -

all the while Nacho just. SEETHES in his corner. -

Manuel leaves and Lalo and Nacho start cleaning up the kitchen, and they’re very quiet until Nacho just goes “are you going to tell me what the hell all that was about?” and Lalo’s like “???” and Nacho’s just. “That little sing-and-dance you just did there? Like. What’s your end-game here. If this was some kind of attempt to get to me through my, dad, to, idk, somehow get emotional leverage over me, istg...!” And Lalo’s gets honestly serious and looks and Nacho all earnest-like... “man... is it really that hard to believe that it’s important to me that your dad likes me...?” and then he goes “you know what, Ignacio, you seem upset. Why don’t you just go home and leave the kitchen to me, yeah?” and so Nacho does, and he’s really angry at Lalo, and he doesn’t really get what just happened there. -

a couple days later his dad calls him and Nacho is kinda concerned but Manuel doesn’t pick up on it, he’s just like “Mijo, I just. Wanted to say how important that was to me, to meet your boyfriend, he’s a really nice y-...nice man.” (Nacho notices the gap where the “young” should have been lmao) and actually Manuel is trying to be like “Mijo, I am supportive of you please notice that I am trying to tell you that I think this is super okay!” but Nacho is so busy being confused cuz he’s never referred to Lalo as his boyfriend in his head even though they’ve been at this for over a year. So Nacho’s kinda monosyllabic and like “so. he didn’t upset you or anything?” and Manuel’s like “noo, he was really friendly. You didn’t give him a hard time, did you, Ignacio...??” Manuel gets all stern and fatherly...!! “Let me tell you one thing. Not a single one of your girlfriends has ever been this polite or interested in me. This man, he’s being serious about you. Maybe it’s time to stop being cautious.” -

and that’s when it starts to dawn on Nacho that that’s. Honestly all there is to it. Lalo wasn’t trying to manipulate him or whatever. He honestly just noticed that Manuel is an important part of Nacho’s life, and wanted to connect with that. And that is- actually. really sweet of him, what the fuck?!? -

Nacho lays awake again that night and notices that there’s something going on in his chest, like something big and warm blooming there and oh my fucking god you can’t be SERIOUS this is RIDICULOUS he’s way too old for this shit, AND way too worldly-wise and all that! -

So Nacho drives by Lalo’s place the other day and asks him whether he wants to go for a drink and so they go to a bar and sit there in silence for a moment until Nacho goes “my dad asked about you” and Lalo chuckles and is like “yeah? at least someone who misses me!” and Nacho rolls his eyes but he’s kinda got it coming now. Anyway, so, Nacho starts explaining that his dad is the most important person in his life, and he is soft and sweet and precious and a national treasure that must be protected at all costs and if someone was to hurt him and all that jazz. And Lalo’s like, yeah, no, I get it. Family is everything. And your dad is a really cool guy. The problem is that for Nacho, it’s just been him and Manuel against the world for so long, he’s gotten kinda prickly about letting anyone else get close to his dad. But maybe this is good, and maybe, oh god he doesn’t really wanna think about it in that much detail, but like, Lalo gets it, and they leave the bar together and Lalo immediately gets out his phone and calls Manuel like “Sr. Varga, I’ve been wondering how you’ve been doing! What, Nachito? He’s doing fine. No, nooo, he’s not been mean at all. Couldn’t if he tried. Well, I hope you have a great evening. Yeah, talk to you soon!” and Lalo’s just absolutely obnoxious about this, winking at Nacho and everything and Nacho sighs and accepts his punishment. (Later Lalo’s gonna be like “of course you were right, I did have ulterior motives. I was just trying to butter you up for the dinner I have planned with my uncle Hector!” and Lalo keeps talking about how much he loves his tio and how he’s basically a father figure to him and such a great guy. But then they meet him and Lalo only introduces Nacho as “a friend”, and Hector is this grumpy old guy who hates absolutely everyone and everything, can’t go two sentences without being racist, sexist or homophobic. And Nacho’s like aaalright, guess I gotta deal with THIS now. But they don’t meet him that often so it’s alright.) -

OH but Manuel is still a BIT conservative about SOME things?? Like, he’s fine with Nacho having a boyfriend, but does he have to be so. you know. old...? Like. He’s not your sugar daddy, right Ignacio...? You’re not expecting him to keep you, right Ignacio...??? And Nacho is kinda pissy because UHM?? the implications?? He would never?? He’s nobody’s trophy boyfriend. He does like getting paraded around like one every now and then but he’s not. He buys his own damn stuff. But yeah sorry Nacho, that’s just how parents are sometimes lmao -

ANYWAY the point is, they. They care. Nacho cares Lalo. And seeks out his company on his own accord without any outside influences forcing him to. And Lalo cares Nacho. And they kinda start to accept that this is. a thing. And Nacho learns to accept that he can let himself feel save and comfortable around Lalo. And they’re just regular ass boyfriends. Who go on vacation together. Who have just fantastic sex without any coercion or backstabbing involved. Who fall asleep on the couch watching movies together. Who celebrate each other’s birthdays. All that freaky shit!!! 😭😭😭

#Lacho #Lalo Salamanca #Nacho Varga #Better Call Saul #BrBa BCS #regular ass boyfriends AU #fluffy Lacho hours!!

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navyhyuck · 4 years ago

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here it goes a little rant:

i love resonance with my whole heart, really. but i cant help but feeling lowkey pissed with nct dynamics, like, its painfully clear that sm plays favourites here :// i know that all boys work hard and im not ignoring that, but mark and taeyong always have that center light that the others dont and that is unfair to everyone else

if you watch regular's choreo (127 ver) its easy to notice that while winwin has absolutely no lines and center time(and he never gets to dance in the front, always in the backlines, which puts hik literally as a backup dancer), mark and taeyong are always at the center or in extrategic positions so they'll shine (not even counting here the fact that they always have the center at chorus and ending/opening)

90's love was ???? i really liked the song, but they completely ignored winwin again and yangyang was really robbed from his lines too. mark had center again at a break dance(which it was great, but, i thought it could easily be given to winwin, who suprisingly is a lead dancer)

lucas and ten are in a strange position for me, like, when they are in wayv, they are pushed to center a lot of times (still, more balanced than 127), and they cover their parts well, but when it comes to superm, they get thrown to the sidelines really quick :// its like sm its just throwing them in superm to fill the spots lol. in 90's love i was really happy to see ten and haechan to have those chorus and high notes, since it gives them oportunity to shine

im still salty about johnny. like, the man spent 7 years training to sm treat him like breathes: that's enough lines from you johnny. mark, please come here again and to use him in stages just for his abs and fanservice. i really liked that he got to show his rap skills in misfit and faded in my last song, but im still pissed that they made him perform shirtless when it was freezing outside, like, sm, wtf.

idk how to feel about 7dream anymore. like, i really love mark and dreamies with my whole heart, but i always felt that 6dream had more balance than the other units in terms of center time and line distribution. if you take boom and reload era, youll see that every member got their chances to shine in vocals or performance, while they slightly pushed jaemin and jeno to fill the center part, but they never had only two members dancing the chorus in the middle(like, it always changed between jaemin, jeno, jisung and sometimes haechan). while we go up was incredible, i lowkey fear that 7dream is going to be mark-centered again, like in the early eras, and then, its going to be hell for mark considering that he already has to practice for superm, u and 127(which makes at least 2 to 3 groups which he has to double the work, considering he has a lot of center parts)

first of all, anon, i just wanna say SORRY this took me so long to respond to!! i was wondering whether i should split this up into two but decided it’s fine, so if anyone’s dash is flooded because of this, i apologize :’)

i 100% agree with you on this. i don’t know if anyone’s been following on my posts since september when nct 2020 was announced but i’ve always mentioned that it’s just not it. everyone was looking forward to a project like this, commenting on every live and making all these discussion posts and when it actually happens? members are mistreated.

i’m not going to say that markyong don’t deserve what they’re getting, but the amount of exposure that the other members get in comparison to them is basically nothing. nct 2020 was a direct reflection of sm’s favoritism towards certain members and yeah, i saw it coming.

i do think that sicheng, johnny, and yukhei get the least in sm, period. in their own subunits, in nct 2020, and for yukhei, in superm. they deserve way more than they get and johnny’s somewhat center positioning in work it reflected his talent! though i don’t think that’s nearly enough. sm generally uses both yukhei and johnny for their bodies (um, turing tbt era, i’m pretty sure yukhei mentioned showing up at the set and being told to take off his clothes??), and sicheng.

in short, sm doesn’t deserve sicheng. they don’t deserve him. they don’t get to chase after this man for years and then shun him as if he has no talent. are you kidding me??? rainbow v was a direct reflection of sicheng’s (and ten’s, but i’ll get there) talent, but that’s all we got???? i really don’t even know at this point, if i was sicheng, i would leave sm on day one for taking his talent for granted. it really pisses me off because he can’t.

yukhei and ten in superm is a joke. to be honest, superm itself is absolutely unnecessary other than the fact that sm wants to profit off the western market. yeah, we get interactions, sure, yeah we get some good music and performances, but really? it’s like they threw yukhei into superm for NO REASON, i remember watching jopping and being like ???? where is he??? because sm doesn’t want to give them equal distribution, they just want to make money. like you said, it’s like sm threw yukhei in there to fill spots. on top of this, it overworks all the members in the group, nct included.

90’s love was disappointing, no like extremely disappointing, i remember watching it and being like :/ the entire time. you know when the whole unit hyped up sicheng and said he was the leader? i really thought for once they’d give him a decent amount of screen time and an equal amount of lines but yeah! disappointed. and with yangyang too. make a wish distribution was okay, not the best but in my opinion, but i expected so much more from 90’s love. like so much more. seriously, yangyang’s lack of lines made me so mad, it’s actually ridiculous.

and with 7dream...to be honest, it’s true. dream did have really good line distribution in we boom (um, and i’m pretty sure boom is almost equal for every member) and reload, each member had really good exposure compared to earlier albums. i think we go up was okay, but generally, yeah, sm favors mark. i know people don’t like to hear it out just like that but it’s so obvious. but at the same time, the dreamies are happy to have mark back and i am too. dream isn’t really the same without mark, and i’ve never got used to seeing them without him. i just hope that dream stays equal with distribution and to be honest, i actually have some faith that they will. jaemin did get exposure in make a wish (lol...when i talk about his lack of lines too...but the ones he got are iconic) and work it, and jeno’s lines in 90’s love are there. JISUNG??? YEAH SM DOESN’T DESERVE JISUNG EITHER.

i could yell about this all day but jisung was the most hyped about nct 2020 and he shared all of his excitement with nctzens even though he’s injured and he got basically nothing in both albums. and once again, jeno? people seem to want to erase jeno’s influence in dream and nct in general because??? i don’t know, jeno didn’t get much from 90’s love either, but he did get something. i’m not impressed with sm.

okay, this was long but in general: nct leave sm rn. like NOW.

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falseroar · 4 years ago

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Is This Your Card? Part 10: Something in the Air

((Determined to prove his innocence, Abe takes the District Attorney into the victim’s room to look for clues. It’s a chance to learn more about a possible motive--and to learn a little more about each other, although the smell of Mark’s awful cologne hanging around the room isn’t making it easy.

Link to the masterlist for the series.))

It took longer than Abe liked to come up with an answer to that. He also didn’t like how he couldn’t blame the attorney for suspecting him, even if his first reaction was to go on the defensive; after all, it’s exactly the same conclusion he would have come to, in their shoes.

“There’s no way in hell that I killed Mark,” Abe said. Realizing that just saying so didn’t mean much, he added, “Look, this master key isn’t the only one in this house, that butler said so earlier. Mark had a copy, but it wasn’t on him when we searched his body this morning. I’m willing to bet anything that whoever has it now is the one who went into my room last night and swapped my bullets for the silver.”

“And what if Mark just left it in his room?”

“Then the murderer must have got in some other way!” Abe shouted, his words temporarily drowned out by the thunder. “Maybe they swiped the nightstand key off of me and returned it before I noticed, or…Or picked the lock, or something. But we’re not going to get anywhere randomly pointing fingers at each other.”

The district attorney looked down and Abe realized he had his finger pointed right at their chest.

“But it’s a place to start,” Abe said, his voice more subdued as he lowered the accusing finger. “I had planned to search Mark’s room anyways. After you.”

He gestured toward the set of double doors ahead and handed them the spare master key, which they took without a word. They unlocked the door and pushed it open, only to stop short. Abe looked in over their shoulder and gave a low whistle.

“Someone really turned this place over, didn’t they?” He brushed by the attorney on his way in and in that moment realized they were standing rigid, unmoving. Like they didn’t even want to be close to him, like they didn’t want to even be in the same room as a possible—

“Hch!”

Or like they were holding back an enormous sneeze, blocked by their elbow just in time.

The attorney began to cough as they pulled a handkerchief out of their pocket and pressed it over their mouth and nose. Above the piece of fabric, he could see their eyes begin to water.

“Are you okay?” Abe asked.

“It’s that cologne,” they said, voice muffled by the handkerchief. “God, what is that stuff?!”

“Cologne?” Abe sniffed the air and caught a faint whiff of something floral, but then he wasn’t the one with a werewolf’s nose. “You going to be okay?”

“Y-yeah,” the attorney answered, despite another cough into their handkerchief.

Abe nodded as he looked around the room again. This place looked rough, with blankets flung off of the bed, dirty clothes and books scattered across the floor and random pieces of furniture, and the cushioned bench that once stood at the foot of the bed now lying on its side. But there was enough that wasn’t there to make him say with some confidence, “I don’t think Mark died in here, but we might be able to find something that points to his killer. Look around and see if you can find anything, but be careful. I’ve lost three partners before to bedroom booby traps.”

The attorney’s response was muffled, but their streaming eyes met Abe’s and he looked down at the pair of underwear he had picked up off the floor without thinking and quickly tossed them aside.

“What?” he asked.

“What was on your card? The one you got last night?”

“I got the Hermit, not that it means anything to me,” Abe said with a shrug.

“Your other card.” The attorney didn’t look away as they said, “I know I’m not the only one who had a second card in their envelope. The Colonel’s mentioned an old army buddy, and the Chef’s was about a restaurant he used to work at.”

“Yeah, Easy Pickin’s.” Abe saw the attorney’s eyes narrow and added, “Look, I only know that because Mark asked me to look into him and the butler. I don’t know anything about the Colonel or your friend the mayor—”

“Abe.”

Abe sighed and reached into his jacket before pulling out the card in question. The attorney stepped closer, their eyes scanning the far too long list of names before sighing behind their handkerchief.

“Your partners.”

“Yeah,” Abe said, tucking the card away again. “Every one of them.”

“I’m sorry, Abe.”

“Nah, not like it does me any good to hide what I got.” Probably the opposite, actually, if one of these cards might give some clue as to who sent the things.

“No, not that.” Behind the handkerchief, the attorney’s eyes closed, tightening as he could hear their muffled inhale as though working up to what they were about to say. “Last night…I said something about your old partners, didn’t I? Something about…did something help them…?”

Abe winced, once again unable to look at that black eye opposite him, and really, really hoped they didn’t remember their exact words.

“Do you always try to talk all of your other partners into running off with you? How did that work out?”

He knew they probably didn’t mean it like that, that he was just on edge from his card, but even if they had, it didn’t excuse hitting them like that. Abe felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach at the memory of just how angry he had been in that moment, the sheer, impetuous rage, especially when he knew no amount of drinking had ever had that kind of effect on him before.

“Yeah, you did. To be fair, we were both drunk—” At their questioning look, Abe reluctantly added, “And I might have said something about a leash just before that.”

“Abe.”

“In a totally platonic, not at all kinky way—”

“Abe!”

“I just might have referenced the mayor keeping you on a short leash and—"

Really, the pillow they threw into his face shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise as it did.

It might have been a laugh mixed in with that cough, but the attorney turned away before he could tell. Still, at least they didn’t rip out his throat, so that was probably a good sign.

Enough so that Abe risked asking, “You weren’t bitten?”

“What?”

“Earlier, you said something about not all werewolves being turned by a bite.”

The district attorney leaned against the dresser and considered him for a moment before answering. “It’s a long story, but basically it comes down to a curse. Dark magic, probably, but still haven’t figured out exactly which spell. Not as bad as it could be, thanks to an old friend.”

“A curse?” Abe swore and before he could stop himself continued, “You mean I could have been looking for a way to break a curse instead of some kind of—”

He cut himself off, and as muffled as it was, he heard something different in the attorney’s tone when they spoke again.

“…You’ve been looking for a cure for me? Is that what you’ve been doing these past couple of months?”

“I mean, it’s not the only thing…” Abe trailed off. Maybe he had imagined more than once that the next time he saw the attorney, it would be strolling into their office with cure in hand. “But yeah, why not? I seriously doubt you’re okay with staying like this.”

The attorney paused and too late Abe wondered if he had said something, but they just broke into another round of muffled coughing before their shoulders sagged.

“…Thank you, Abe, but I wouldn’t—Don’t go out of your way, okay?”

Abe stared, torn between indignation at the attorney’s words and just how tired they looked as they turned away again, apparently assuming the conversation was just over like that. He had seen them on a case before, relentlessly following up every detail long into the night, not being satisfied until they got to the truth. How could the same person just be so…complacent about their own problems?

Filing that away under something they could argue about later, once the current murdered friend situation was over, Abe decided that for now he would follow their lead and get to searching.

While they went over the frankly ridiculous amount of makeup arranged in front of a set of mirrors, Abe cautiously sorted through the spilled clothes. Most of them appeared to belong to Mark, but he paused at the sight of a woman’s hair clip peeking out from underneath the nightstand. It was brightly colored, the possibly real jewels on it catching the light as he bent down for a closer look.

At a noise from the attorney, he looked up to see that they had made their way to the corner nearest the window, where framed photographs covered a table.

“Did you find something?” he called, and they turned one of the pictures to show the glass in the frame had been smashed, leaving a trail of glass on the table and carpet. Even from here, Abe could recognize the distinctive figure of the Colonel. “Good find, partner.”

Abe looked down again at the hair clip and sniffed it. He swore he could smell the scent that was bothering the attorney so much coming from somewhere around here, but before he could detect the source he was distracted by an unexpected voice.

“You’re quite on the case, aren’t you?”

Abe’s head snapped up to find the Colonel standing in the middle of the room, his back to the hunter as he looked at the attorney.

“Say, hunter, mind if I borrow your friend here?”

Abe thought fast. The attorney had already mentioned something about getting the Colonel to tell them about his card, and he seemed more talkative than usual around them. Maybe they could get some more information out of him, even keep him distracted long enough for Abe to check out his room.

Not to mention it wouldn’t hurt the attorney to get out of this room, judging by the color of their face behind that handkerchief or their still watering eyes.

“Sure. Don’t worry, partner, I’ll handle it from here.”

“Bully. Take a walk with me!”

The Colonel’s voice faded into the distance, followed by the attorney’s muffled coughing.

Really, what was it about this cologne that bothered them so much?

Abe sniffed the hair clip again and realized that one end of it was wet. On a hunch, he got down on his hands and knees and spotted the dark stain beneath the nightstand and the glint of the bottle that had rolled underneath it. The space was tight enough that he could barely touch it with the tips of his fingers, but with a bit of scrabbling he managed to pull out a nearly empty bottle of cologne whose top must have knocked loose with the fall.

Even sniffing the bottle with the stuff all over his hands, Abe thought it wasn’t that much stronger than most other colognes, although he still couldn’t place the scent. With a name like “That Night” not offering much in the way of explaining, he turned the bottle over and scanned the contents. Most of the stuff was chemical nonsense he didn’t know anything about, but one name stuck out in particular: aconite.

Also known as wolfsbane.

“What the hell?”

Who used a poisonous plant in a cologne? Granted, you weren’t supposed to drink the stuff, but still. Swearing under his breath, Abe went into the bathroom and dropped the bottle on the counter before he began scrubbing his hands and arms with soap and water.

Why didn’t he tell the attorney to wait outside? He could see that the smell was getting to them, and there was no telling what that cologne had been doing to their lungs.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Not like they would have listened. They were stubborn, and determined to find the truth even if they were clearly still grieving and in shock about all of this, and they wanted to believe Abe was innocent, he could see it in their eyes even as they pulled his own story on him, and they would keep digging down into the heart of this whole terrible, messed up situation, even if they didn’t like what they might find, and God if all of that didn’t make him—

Abe caught the reflection of his eyes in the mirror and saw the flush creeping under his skin in combination with the heat rising at his train of thought. Very glad that the attorney wasn’t here right now, he splashed some water in his face and around his neck before he turned off the faucet and began to aggressively dry his hands.

Besides, this was clearly Mark’s fault, or whoever bought him the stupid cologne in the first place. Vaguely remembering Mark saying something about the cologne being a gift last night, Abe happily turned his frustration and guilt on the unknown giver and tossed the hand towel down on the counter.

Where it landed next to a key, identical to the spare master key from downstairs. The key his partner used to unlock this room, and had just walked away with in their pocket. The key that would have proved Abe’s innocence, if he could have just found it in literally any other room in the house.

“Well, shit.”

((End of Part 10. Thank you for reading!

Link to Part 11: About Dave.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch))

#markiplier #fanfiction #wkm au #werewolf au #monster hunter au #wkm district attorney #wkm detective #da x detective #terrible cologne #drunk confessions #so long without hope for a cure #the da's given up #but abe hasn't

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years ago

Text

Before This Dance Is Through X

Chapter: 10/16

Rating: E (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

John had been right about the whole thing blowing over by the following morning, but it was most certainly helped by the support The Helter Skelter - whether intentionally or not - had provided for the two of them. Ringo headed over to the John's in the afternoon, after a quick text to confirm he was awake, with a coffee and a few sweet treats. Both of them reenacted the same scene as they always did, John opening the door with a hard face and Ringo with a sheepish smile. Then they'd both laugh and Ringo would be pulled into a tight hug before they headed off into one of John's three rooms - excluding the bathroom of course, that'd be weird - without any acknowledgement about what they'd actually fought about.

Ringo had recounted his night with George, he had been getting very used to that name, excitedly and John listened intently, only interrupting at the end of almost every sentence with a quick quip or suggestive comment. Everything was back to normal before they knew it, not including their unexpected and only partially acknowledged adoration of certain strippers.

"I just don't know why he told me his name." Ringo mused after drinking his coffee, he'd already been up for hours but he expected it made John feel validated if he pretended to be struggling with a hangover too.

"I can't think of any reason other than he likes you, Ringo." John explained "Well I could probably think of a few, but nothing realistic."

At first Ringo had been hesitant to relay the information George had told him right before they'd parted ways, but he didn't want to keep secrets from his best friend and he knew that John would be able to keep his mouth shut, a surprising and selective trait of his.

"It's not like it matters either way, he seemed pretty firm about not dating his customers." Ringo sighed.

"Well he said he won't date them, but did he say anything about fucking?" John raised an eyebrow suggestively which made Ringo scoff.

"I imagine it all falls under the same rule." Ringo rolled his eyes playfully.

"You should never assume Ringo, a lot of good opportunities are lost by assuming." John said with an air of superiority.

"What did you get up to anyway? I've had enough of trying to decode my night." Ringo shook his head dismissively.

"Oh... Not a lot." John drew out his syllables "Went to get a dance off Paul, drank a fair bit then headed home."

It was easy to tell when John was lying, at least for Ringo it was. If his suspicious demeanour wasn't enough to go off, Ringo could also see faint traces of rubbed off makeup on John's face and it didn't take a detective to figure out what that meant. Unless John had suddenly decided to pursue a career in drag last night, which Ringo knew wasn't a possibility because John certainly would've made a huge scene about it, he must've been spending time with Paul, or at least one of the dancers. The fact that George knew John was enough information in itself, because Ringo knew he'd never had a dance from him therefore Paul must've filled him in; exactly what he filled him in about Ringo wasn't sure, knowing John was lying was one thing but figuring out the whole truth was another entirely.

"Fair enough." Ringo simply said, there was no use in drawing attention to it "You up for going again this Friday? I've got all these school days booked this week and I just know it's gonna drain me."

John continued to shift in his seat, the spark in his eyes fading considerably "I don't think I can."

"Oh, alright... What about the weekend then?" Ringo tried to act like he hadn't noticed the change in behaviour.

"No can do, I'm afraid. My mate's breathing down my neck about this poetry book, so I really need to get it done." John revealed, he wasn't looking at Ringo directly.

"Well what ab-" Ringo began.

"My dear Ringo, I can't hold your hand forever. You've gotta spread your gay wings and fly, particularly in the direction of the strip club." John began returning back to his normal self, at least the self that reflected everything potentially serious with a joke.

"I guess you're right. Just feels a bit more dodgy that way, you know? Like I'm not just there for a laugh, I'm there-" Ringo tried once more.

"To watch the love of your life take his clothes off?" John quickly finished the sentence which earned him a kick under the table.

"I bloody hate you, you know that?" Ringo asked with a huge grin on his face.

When Ringo finally returned home, he couldn't help still worrying about John somewhat. He knew the reason hadn't been a complete fabrication, after all there had been countless occasions in which John struggled to meet the deadlines for his work, but that had almost never stopped him from going out and having a good time. Ringo suspected that his night hadn't been the only one resulting in partially unwanted revelations.

The following days unfolded agonisingly slowly, the hot weather didn't help nor did the mania of the children or the incompetence of the teachers. Surprisingly one of the teachers had been male this time, but even more surprising had been how little Ringo seemed to care. If the man had been interested in him or not he didn't know, he'd hardly paid any attention to him. He had to admit to himself that this thing with George wasn't merely a fleeting obsession, rather it was a real interest and a more than intense attraction.

When Friday finally came Ringo kept trying to talk himself out of it, but ultimately failed each time. The alternative would've been sticking a cheap meal in the microwave, or he could've been adventurous and ordered takeaway, and falling asleep in front of the television to reruns of Friends or a peculiar series which tried to pin every major world event on aliens. It wasn't a hard decision to make. So he showered and picked out a nice enough outfit, he didn't want to look like he was trying too hard. He decided to drive because it ensured, or at least attempted to, that he wouldn't drink too much throughout the night. It definitely felt strange without John by side, he hadn't realised how much of a support he'd been until he was absent.

The club was rather busy, but nothing compared to the previous time Ringo had been there. As he walked inside the bouncer gave him a suspicious look which didn't help his nerves one bit, but he managed to remain composed as he headed over to the bar. One drink was alright, surely, it'd help calm his nerves and at least give him something to do with his hands. After he ordered his drink he asked the bartender whether Spike was working tonight, he'd been very cautious of slipping up with the names, after all he didn't know whether any of George's colleagues knew.

"I dunno." He answered uninterested, he only spoke more when Ringo looked at him confused "We don't really talk to the dancers."

Ringo just nodded his head and sat back on the stool, looking around nervously. The horrible fear began solidifying that George might not even be working tonight. If he earned as much money as Ringo suspected, surely he didn't work every single night. He'd noticed enough different dancers every night to suppose that the amount of staff was fairly large. Ringo tried not to worry too much, after all he didn't know that was the case, but it was hard not to try and plan out the best possible course of action if it was the case. The normal thing to do would be to simply find another dancer, to watch the shows on the stage and go home without any fuss. But the thought of paying someone else for a private dance felt wrong, it almost felt like cheating, which Ringo knew was utterly ridiculous but he couldn't help it. He finished his drink rapidly then set off in search for an answer, a quick glance to the main stage was all he needed to know that there was nothing of interest for him there. As he worked through the crowd he finally spotted a familiar head of hair, even if it wasn't the one he wanted it was better than nothing. The closer he got he could see Paul speaking to a group of customers, the drinks tray clasped in his hands. Ringo hung around the outside of the circle rather awkwardly until Paul noticed his presence, for a second he seemed confused but soon he was smiling and politely excusing his way out of the conversation.

"Ringo. How can I help you, love?" Paul asked with a smile, his smell was very eniticing.

"Hi. Sorry to disturb you like that, I just wanted to know if Spike was working tonight." Ringo explained, he was still carrying around his empty glass.

"Oh." Paul's eyes lit up knowingly "He sure is, think he's out back smoking right now. He's up on stage next, actually."

"Perfect. Er- I mean, good. Fine." Ringo stammered which only made Paul's smile widen.

"Is John with you tonight?" Paul was trying to sound unbothered, and while he was doing a far better job than Ringo it wasn't faultless.

"He's not, actually. Had some poetry stuff to take care of." Ringo explained, he thought that'd be enough information to satisfy Paul but he continued to stand there waiting "His friend's putting together a collection, asked John to write something for it."

"I see, well that's great news. Isn't it?" Paul didn't give Ringo time to respond, he flipped his tray upwards and took Ringo's empty glass from him "Let me take that off you, love. Enjoy the show." And so he parted with a wink.

Ringo ordered another drink, he was pushing his luck at this point but his conversation with Paul had put him a little on edge. There was nothing left to do now but wait, he took a seat on the outer ring of chairs and tried to enjoy the current dancer's performance: they were on all fours twerking in a rather cheap looking gold thong. It wasn't Ringo's cup of tea, that was for sure, and so his attention drifted over to his phone. He didn't want to look rude but if he watched any longer his facial expressions might've been a little too revealing of what he really thought.

paul asked where you were

There was nobody he could really message in this moment other than John, any Snapchat selfie might've given too much away, and there was nobody else who'd respond quick enough to justify his continued staring at this phone.

what did you say??

is there something I shouldve said? or not said? i said you had your poetry thing to do

okay cool hows georgie

havent seen him yet waiting for him to come on stage

ooo exciting wish i could be there now get off your phone you rude prick fill me in on everything after

sure thing

Ringo hesitantly slid his phone back into his pocket, focusing entirely on his drink as he waited for this performance to finally end. Luckily it wasn't too long before the twerking ended, not without cheers from the crowd who threw money onto the stage. The announcer announced, as was their job, that Spike was the next one to grace the stage. Ringo had never figured out exactly where the DJ was in the club, or if there even was one at all, perhaps one of the dancer's just put on a voice before each performance to give it a sense of occasion. The pounding music of the previous dance had been replaced by a gentle piano and sultry voice, it was 'Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy' by Queen; not the song Ringo had expected to hear in a strip club but it was definitely welcome. Not as welcome as George's presence, of course, as he stepped out onto the stage and Ringo instinctively held his breath.

It was strange seeing him like this again, the image that had been visiting Ringo constantly over the past few days had been the more casual version. It was like he was seeing him for the first time all over again, but this time he wasn't going to run away, he was going to sit right here and enjoy every moment. He was wearing a harness across his chest, of lilac leather, and grey baggy trousers, almost harem style, as they clung to his slim calves perfectly then loosened up towards the top. His hair was loose, poofing up a little at the top as though he'd just dried it. Ringo felt his mouth lying open a little, and had to shut it by drinking more.

George stepped out on the stage slowly, letting the lights reflect off the metal of his harness and shine off his bare skin. As the beat began to kick in, he moved his hips rhythmically, his hand immediately going to the pole in the center as he dipped low with the legs spread wide open as the falsettos of the song started - Ringo had always enjoyed this song, there was something a little sensual about it but it was being taken to a whole new level now. George didn't stay on the stage for too long, instead he moved out into the audience. Yet it wasn't the same as it had been before, teasing each customer just a little and collecting money, instead he was searching for something, or someone for that matter. It made Ringo a little anxious, but part of him said that he wouldn't be noticed in the back row and someone else would catch George's eye long before he'd even realised he was here. This was one of the few occasions that Ringo had been incredibly pleased to be wrong.

George's eyes flitted over the people in the audience fairly quickly and rather dismissively, while he kept up the sultry movements of his hips and hands. That was until he spotted Ringo who of course was staring right back at him. George's eyes didn't move any further, not bothering to see who else the room had to offer. In that moment it felt like the room and everyone around them vanished, like it was just the two of them looking at one another as George slowly made his way over, even the music began to fade away. What shook Ringo out of this haze was the feeling of George tugging at the neck of his jumper, his fingers brushing against Ringo's skin just slightly. Ringo wasn't sure how he was able to stand up, he felt like his entire body was made of lead, but the next thing he knew he was being lead over to the stage where a chair was now sitting. The crowd had begun cheering, just as they had the last time, but Ringo was determined to not allow this moment to pass him by, to not get into his head and ruin it all for himself.

George didn't move his hand off of Ringo the entire time, somehow managing to walk backwards to the stage while his fingers pulled at the fabric of Ringo's jumper. Even when he guided Ringo down into the chair, his hands ghosted over Ringo's shoulders gently until he was back in front of him. The first thing Ringo noticed was how bright the lights were, he wondered how anyone was able to pull a sexy face when being heavily blinded, but it helped with any potential stage fright because he could hardly see an audience out there. Ringo had no idea if there was anything he was meant to be doing, his hands just lay flat on his thighs like he was sat waiting for the bus. George had that same confident grin on his lips, but it didn't frighten Ringo as much as it used to, rather it made him smile too.

Wearing a jumper had definitely been a mistake, not only because of the intense heat radiating from the lights but with George kneeling down in front of him he couldn't help but start to sweat. The song was still playing even though Ringo was certain far too much time had passed for that to be true. George began running his hands slowly up Ringo's legs which were conveniently spread apart, but he never pressed down too hard and it was the lightness of his touch that was making Ringo's skin itch. George looked up at him directly, his eyes dark and slightly closed. Ringo would give anything to see him like this again, away from the club and all this confusion, just the two of them together and alone. George's hands never got too close to Ringo's crotch, for which he was very grateful for because he could already feel himself hardening and George was the last person he wanted to know. Right before his fingers brushed just a little too high, he lifted himself back up to his full height and looked down at Ringo somewhat mischievously. Then he turned around, taking a small step backwards so that he was hovering over Ringo's lap just slightly, and then began to grind his hips slowly down. The sound of the crowd cheering broke out again, it was a sobering reminder that George wasn't doing this for Ringo, he was doing it to put on a good show.

It was impossible not to look at George's arse from his angle, luckily Ringo didn't feel overly guilty because he was wearing more clothes than he usually did. The bagginess of the pants left a little to the imagination but Ringo could still somewhat make out the roundness of George's cheeks beneath the fabric as he moved. Just as Ringo was very much making peace with this view, George turned around again so that his crotch was right in Ringo's face. Even though he'd experienced this before, it didn't make it any easier. If anything, everything that had happened since that first lapdance made this all the harder, in more ways than one.

George swiftly moved his right leg upwards towards his own chest without faltering, making Ringo realise very easily why they were referred to as exotic dancers, then pressed his foot down onto the tiny space left on the seat between Ringo's thighs. It was painfully close to his almost fully hard cock, something that Ringo doubted was lost on George. He moved his other leg slightly outwards then began thrusting his hips upwards again, more aggressively this time. That should've been enough, enough to satisfy whatever urge George had when he pulled Ringo up there, but he was far from done. One of Ringo's hands was gently picked up, he expected for it to be placed against George's bare chest as it had been before, but it moved up further until one of his fingers was pressing against George's lips. There was a pause for just a moment, it couldn't have been longer than a few seconds, where George cocked his eyebrow to give Ringo a chance to back out. In response Ringo just licked across his top lip, it hadn't been entirely intentional because his mouth was ridiculously dry, but it wasn't a complete accident either.

The heat of George's mouth was a shock to Ringo's system as his finger slipped inside, ring and all. He was still thrusting at this point but Ringo hardly noticed, his eyes were completely fixed on the way George's lips wrapped around the digit. It probably didn't last as long as Ringo felt it did, or as long as he wanted it to, but it was safe to say that he was fully hard now. George twirled his tongue around the finger skillfully, before he slowly pulled his mouth away and let it fall out with a small popping sound. His foot also moved off of the seat, but didn't move too far as it settled on the floor still between Ringo's legs.

George began to lower himself again, swirling his hips as he did so, scooting his feet carefully closer towards Ringo. He didn't know what was so different about this time, Ringo didn't want to convince himself that it had anything to do with George liking him in any way, but it was difficult to dismiss it completely; especially when instead of George hovering over Ringo's thigh as he'd expected him to, he settled directly down onto him. Ringo let out an involuntary soft moan, it was quiet enough that George might not have heard it. As if the contact wasn't enough, George practically fucking himself on Ringo's thigh, he raised one of his hands to brush against the stubble on Ringo's cheek. This simple touch brought Ringo's gaze up to meet George's, he was looking incredibly pleased with himself and when he caught Ringo looking at him he grinned wolfishly revealing his sharp teeth.

George's hand began to trail downwards slowly, skimming over Ringo's neck then onto his chest until it came back down to just above Ringo's groin. He paused for a moment, as he knew he shouldn't go any further than this but the wrecked look on Ringo's face spurred him on. It wasn't much, just a quick brush of his fingertips over Ringo's erection, but it was enough to make Ringo gasp. He'd nearly forgotten that people were watching them, but the continued cheers made it hard to block them out entirely.

George moved his hand onward onto the inside of Ringo's thigh, but he could only reach so far from his current position. Ringo thought George was beginning to look a little exasperated, but it could've just been an act. His whole body felt like it was on fire, like he was ready to explode at any moment. It couldn't last forever though, this moment, as much as Ringo wanted it to. Soon George was picking himself back up, moving in front of Ringo once more and reaching down to his knees while he pushed his hips backwards to give yet another glorious view of his arse. But that had been the last of it, George then began walking off the stage with a quick wink and grin.

Ringo sat in the chair for longer than he probably should've but he didn't feel like he was ready to move. Eventually he was able to stumble back to where he'd left his drink, he downed it immediately. As he walked past groups of people he received a few pats on the back, as though he'd achieved something.

What he should do next was difficult to decide, he didn't feel mentally or physically prepared to get a private dance from George but heading home immediately felt a little strange, even when there were pressing matters to attend to. What he wanted to do, that was easy: he wanted to take George out for another drink, to take him back to his place and fuck him like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted, and in this moment it felt that way. Alas, that was never going to happen. It was hard to ignore that fact when he handed a £20 note to the bartender to pass along to Spike, he managed to not let the name slip even in his dishevelled state. Whether the bartender was going to pocket the money or not wasn't a massive concern to Ringo, it was the quickest way he felt he could get the money along without hanging around desperately for a chance of seeing George again.

The drive home had been almost painful, Ringo still wasn't certain that he'd managed to catch his breath. Before he'd even closed the front door behind him, he was loading up George's Onlyfans profile and unbuckling his very restrictive belt. If fantasising about having George all to himself was all he could do, then so be it, he was going to let his mind run wild.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #ringo starr/george harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

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