#a lot of you are actually so desperate to be seen and recognised but too afraid to be vulnerable… this is bad…

[thesophistiicate]

i have such mixed feelings about the idea of “moving in privacy”. i think there are seasons for it (certainly your late 20s/saturn return you will probably desire retreat for a while, or any time you feel uncertain). at the same time, moving in public with a thoughtful personal brand can be an incredible, powerful, and easy way to bring connection and opportunities to you. sometimes i think all this “disappear and move in privacy” talk is just a symptom of poor boundaries and rebranding the fear of being vulnerable… but if you can figure out boundaries and overcome the fear of actually being recognised for your gifts and strengths, well, the world is literally your oyster.

[mv1simp]

for anon’s request: How about Lewis’ Daughter!reader like innocent and protected but Max completely makes her submit to him like actual love that she thinks Lewis is the bad guy for tryna come between their relationship? (Made it Lewis’ sister!)

Gods & Monsters ♥️

Max Verstappen x Hamilton!Reader

You got that medicine I need, fame liquor love, give it to me slowly…

As Lewis Hamilton’s younger, innocent sister, you’re desperate to prove yourself as an upcoming racer. Your family never seems to take you seriously, though, and after a fall out you end up training under Max Verstappen - your brother’s arch rival. Max promises he’ll train you to become the next world champion…as long as you do everything he asks.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin Hamilton! Reader, dark manipulative! Max, VERY dubcon, blindfolds, size kink, somnophilia, LH44 is sexist for plot reasons, ayo this is DARK!! 😙 3.4k WC

Growing up, you and your big brother Lewis were presented with two options. Either succeed, or fail to live upto the Hamilton name. Both your parents were incredibly hardworking and sacrificing - but all their attention would always go to their firstborn, the much older, bigger and better Hamilton. You were just as good as Lewis had been when starting out, spending every weekend on the track and dominating the junior karting races - but when it came time for you to progress into formula cars, your brother and father had chuckled, patting your head and saying it might be a bit too much for you, you were a lot smaller and younger than Lewis, after all. Maybe you should just stick to karting for now, or had you considered going into car design, you got pretty good grades in uni and that’s a much safer option?

You were understandably upset at the lack of opportunity to prove your last name. So you tried to sneak onto the F1 paddock, chatting up the team principals in the hope that they would recognise you from the karting podiums and recruit you into their junior teams-

But Lewis had caught on unbelievably fast, a tight smile and redirecting hand on your back as he led you out of the McLaren garage. We discussed this, baby sis Lewis said as you walked back to the Mercedes hospitality. He was never one to raise his voice but you could tell from his tone he was disappointed. You tried to argue again, saying that it wasn’t fair, you were a good driver too, but Lewis cut you off with a stern look. It’s not safe for you. The guys who race here - they aren’t like me, lil sis. You can’t trust any of them. I’m sorry, but you should stay in karting.

You’d slumped in resignation, briefly looking into the Redbull garage as you walked past - the only team you hadn’t yet gone to talk to. And home to perhaps the only driver who could understand the pressure you felt to live upto your father’s expectation - current reigning champion, Max Verstappen. Otherwise known as the bane of your family’s existence. He’d been the one to break your big brother’s winning streak, the subject of many a heated family discussion over the dinner table about how to defeat in a race. Truly, you hadn’t seen your big brother hate someone before until the day Max had crashed into him, sending him to the hospital and your heart rate into 200bpm as you prayed for his safety. Lewis had been fine, but his winning streak had not as Max went onto P1 that race.

So you had always learnt to stay far, far away from Mad Max. But last year when you’d been having a hard time on one of your karting races, and you paced back and forth during the red flag because normally you’d ask Lewis for help but he had started coming less often these days - you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You ran to open it, thinking your brother had decided to come after all - only to crane your head up to meet the handsome face of the tall Dutch Redbull driver. You’d immediately flushed, on guard just like your family had taught you to be and asking what he was doing - but he had kindly ignored your rudeness and said he happened to be here for another friend and had seen your race, did you need some advice?

You’d been so desperate to win that you had let him in, looking around to make sure no paparazzi had seen as you were sure Lewis would ban you permanently from karting if he caught a whiff of this. To your suprise, Max was so helpful and supportive, giving you excellent pointers and aggressive strategies your brother would never dare guide you towards. You’d gone onto win P1, and after the podium had excitedly gone to find Max and thank him. Of course, schat, he’d replied easily, a handsome smile on his face, making you blush. Since then Max had always been there to guide you at your races, making you win multiple competitions to celebrate together or comfort you after a loss. Your family had no idea, of course, because they would skin both you and Max alive if they ever knew about your close friendship.

But now, things were starting to reach a boiling point as your relationship with your brother became tense as he actively tried to deter your formula career. And Max - your kind, thoughtful friend Max - had definitely noticed this. So he casually informed you that the Redbull academy was recruiting, and personally drove you the trials the next week, and welcomed your excited hug into his broad arms afterwards as you sailed into P1 and were offered an immediate spot on the Redbull F2 team, so grateful that the older, experienced driver had taken such a genuine interest in your racing, unlike your own family.

When you tried to break the good news to your family, shit had obviously hit the fan and they demanded that you decline the position. It’s not that I’m not proud of you baby sis, Lewis had sighed. It’s that you cannot trust Max Verstappen, seriously - he only thinks about himself. He’ll definitely hurt you or use you to hurt me.

You had screamed and cried, saying that Max had been the only one to look out for you these last few months. You’d called the Dutchman for advice, sniffling and saying I’m sorry Maxie, they won’t let me go, I have to decline-

He’d gently interrupted and reminded you that you’re an adult, you know schat? And an incredibly talented driver. You should put yourself first for a change. You’d hesitated, because you’d never done anything without your family closely supervising you before - but where would you go, you say confused. You didn’t know anyone - you know me, Max offered. Come stay at mine while you sort things out, but don’t let it delay starting your F2 season.

You’d started crying again, telling the Dutch driver how lucky you were to have him as a friend. And that’s how you found yourself tucked into his much larger frame, on his private jet en route to Monaco, fast asleep from the emotionally charged day as he lovingly kissed your forehead. And your temporary residence at his penthouse dragged into months into an indefinite stay as he insisted it was safer for you, given the papparazzi that had gone crazy at the youngest Hamilton sibling switching sides - just for now, until it dies down. You’d gratefully accepted, becoming accustomed to his luxurious lifestyle and wanting to be in close proximity to Max. It was hard to control the thumping of your heart as you scolded yourself internally for your crush on the tall driver, who you were sure only saw you as a junior driver to guide.

Before the season started, Max had warned you that your family would interfere and try to turn you against him. You hadn’t taken it seriously, but when Lewis approached you at your first race, demanded to speak to you in person after you’d been blocking his calls for days, Max had been all to happy to get security to escort him away after you’d started becoming upset, just like he knew you would. Don’t pay any mind to him, schat. He’s probably just jealous of your success.

You’d found that hard to believe, because although your big brother had a few annoying traits, he would always be genuinely happy about your wins. But Max had planted the seed of doubt that began to crumble your inner self worth, questioning if your big bro had only been holding you back because he wanted to remain the family champion. Remaining on edge, your anxiety began damaging your racing and dropping you in the rankings. You slept fretfully, paranoid that you were going to be benched and would be forced to go home in humiliation and hear your family’s we told you so.

You let Max climb into your bed one night when he heard your muffled cries, running a soothing hand up and down your back, hungrily enjoying the view of your thick ass as your silky nightie rode up while you sobbed into his strong chest. And when you opened up about all your worries, it was only natural that he offered to be the one to train you, being the current world champion and all, right? You had lit up, so delighted that he had offered, flushed because truly you’d never met anyone so kind and giving like him.

And Max - well, he would never let an opportunity to get back at Lewis slide by. Training his precious little sister, the one he always protectively hid away from the rest of the grid? Oh, it was almost too perfect, he thought darkly. And it was an added bonus that you were so gorgeous, all dark curls, innocent doe eyes and a soft, curvy 5 foot figure under his almost 6 foot frame. But my training is intense, schat. Very strict. He made you promise that you’d do whatever he asked, no matter how you felt, because it was the only way to win - and that you couldn’t tell anyone else about his top secret training methods, especially your big brother. You’d eagerly nodded your agreement, looking up at him with starry eyes and saying Yes Maxie, of course, I trust you, thank you so much for offering, I’m so grateful!

As the weeks went by, Max proved himself to be the best mentor you could ask for. You two would train together, going on morning jogs, drinking the same protein smoothies, discussing the best overtaking techniques. All the time you two spent together made rumours fly around the paddock about the exact nature of your relationship - but Max dismissed them all with a roll of his eyes, telling you that it was so sexist of people to assume you were his girlfriend and not his junior driver. You’d agreed, althought you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Max didn’t seem to think about you in a romantic sense at all.

Your rankings started improving, but Max had said that you needed a lot more work if you wanted to reach P1, especially given your smaller size compared to the rest of the drivers. You nodded eagerly, curious when he easily picked you up and deposited you in between his thick thighs on his sim rig, ordering you to show him your driving. You’d been doing so well until he started brushing his large hands across your soft waist and whispering naughty things in your ear about how sexy you looked, how hard it was to resist you every night while you slept right next door to him. You’d squealed, confused and asking just what he was doing - Trying to test your ability to focus, to avoid any distractions, Max replies disapprovingly as your car crashed on the screen. Clearly, you have a lot of work to do. This isn’t good enough!

Oh, you’d replied, feeling foolish for thinking anything romantic of it. Max didn’t like you like that, after all. So you two resumed the daily sessions, him torturing you for hours with caresses all over your body, squeezing your soft tits and pinching your nipples through your tight camisoles, and sliding large fingers up the skirt he’d always make you wear to tease your embarrassingly damp slit. You’d gone pink in the face when he first felt it, stuttering out apologies but he just sweetly reassured you that it wasn’t your fault, just a normal reaction - like this, he’d said, pulling your small waist back so you grinded on something very large and hard tucked into his sweats. You’d never felt something like that before, having never had a boyfriend since your family always kept you under their protective eye.

But it felt sooo good, you thought guiltily, hoping Max wouldn’t mind when you would be unable to resist grinding against him some sessions. He never seemed to care, instead progressing you to the next level by slipping his cock out of his sweats one night and letting it bounce up against your most innocent parts. You had gone wide eyed seeing it for the first time, not expecting it to look soo big and thick and angry, making your stomach twist in fear. But it was business as usual as Max angrily scolded you for becoming distracted, making you restart as he began gliding his cock along your puffy folds - always separated by your soaked lace panties, of course.

Once you had become a master at being laser focused, he made you develop your senses next. A good driver is always in tune with the feel, the smell, the sound of the car, he explains. You don’t question him, obediently drooping onto your thick ass in front of his spread thighs as he wraps a silk tie across your eyes. You bite your lip from the sudden disorientation, feeling nervous, but Max’s large palm comfortingly strokes your hair. At his command you poke your tongue out and hold your palms up, waiting for the first test and he almost groans out loud from your sweet gullibility. You correctly identify a bunch of different exotic tasting fruits, specific switches and buttons on the replica steering wheel - and sassy, you giggle, when you feel Max’s cat climb into your lap. He muses that he’s going to have to give you something harder to figure out cause you’re so good as this, making you blush from the praise. You curiously hear a rustle as he steps closer and then he guides your small hands to something very long and thick. You experimentally rub your hands along it, hearing Max hiss. A banana? You say dumbly after a few beats, Cucumber?

Wrong, Max says, sounding a bit breathless. Why don’t you taste it, hmm? You diligently lick the tip of it with your delicate tongue, not recognising the heady, salty taste, and begin licking more and more as you become determined to figure it out. You don’t know how many minutes have passed but you aren’t any closer to guessing it, instead saying It tastes really good, Maxie, what is it? You hear him swear, grip tightening in your hair, and then he orders you to open your mouth wide to get a proper taste, his normally deep voice even huskier than normal. You feel him trace your plush lips with his thumb, making you feel that dirty tingly feeling in between your legs again, before the mysterious warm and thick length is shoved down your throat, making you gag uncontrollably. You whine, trying to pull back and breathe, but Max’s strong hand doesn’t let up as he roughly shoves it in and out of your tight mouth.

Tears drip down your cheeks at the intensity and you’re drooling messily, but Max doesn’t seem to care one bit and you might’ve imagined it but you thought you hear the click of multiple photos being taken. Guessed what it is yet, schat? Max asks mockingly, and you whine, shaking your head. Too bad, maybe this will help you figure it out. He pushes the whole length past your lips as you feel something thick and creamy flood your mouth, giving you no option but to swallow it, licking your lips to try figure out the taste. Afterwards, Max had gently taken the blindfold off, revealing his flushed face, and wipes your tears away sweetly. Sorry I didn’t get the last answer, you say guiltily, upset that you had no clue. It’s alright, doll, Max reassured, I’m sure you’ll get it next time, yeah?

Another thing that you needed to improve was your endurance and stamina. F2 races were a lot more demanding than karting, Max pointed out, noticing how tired you would be after a race. He increased the frequency of your runs and workouts, always helping you stretch before and letting his dark gaze hungrily linger on your pliant body underneath him. You’d wear the cutest little yoga shorts and sports bras, leaving your sensitive chocolate-toned skin on display for him, and it was almost too easy to accidentally slide in between your legs or brush the swell of your breasts as he stretched you out, bending your legs right back up over your head and leaving you breathless. But it wasn’t enough for Max as you consistently scored on the podium now but never P1. So he proposed the ultimate endurance training, that all the F1 drivers did regularly - fucking.

Fu-you mean, making love?! You’d shrieked hysterically, whipping your head up as he brought it up casually when you two were watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch. He’d smirked, Sure darling, making love.

You’d looked nervous, like a deer in headlights, telling him you weren’t sure, you felt uncomfortable doing that for the first time…but Max’s stormy expression left no room for discussion. Everyone on the grid does it, all the time. Even your older brother, he said condescendingly. It’s a pretty good stress relief. Trust me, your driving will become so much faster.

You innocently eat up Max’s blatant lies, hesitantly asking if you should get a boyfriend then, that cute engineer from the Redbull garage had asked you out after all- No! Max says heatedly, glaring furiously at the thought of some other man laying their hands on what belonged to him. You look at him, confused how he expects you to- I mean, no, it’s fine schat, it’s part of your training after all, so I’ll take care of you, okay?

You flushed prettily, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together at the thought of Max taking your virginity, as your romantic feelings had only grown the more time you spent with him. And soon enough, later that night, Max had climbed into your bed again to find you shyly waiting for him, dressed in that silky nightie he liked. Pulling it up over your hips, he moved your lace panties to the side and made you blush as he hungrily eyed your dripping innocence, just like he’d done many times while you’d been peacefully sleeping, unaware of the twisted desires your mentor had for you. He’d then stretched you out on his thick fingers, then replaced them with his even thicker cock - no condom, of course - sickly enjoying the tears streaming down your face as you sweetly moaned from pain and pleasure. Within minutes he was claiming you as his, sending you spiralling into orgasm after orgasm, screaming his name as you fell apart from overstimulation.

Max smirked at your small frame that was now passed out below him - you’d need a lot more training if this is all you could handle, he thought darkly as he gripped your petite waist, easily continuing to move you up and down his fat cock like a ragdoll. You moan blissfully in your sleep as he stretched out your virgin cunny. Maybe multiple times a day, Max decided, cause you just felt too damn good. In his bed next time, on the kitchen counter, in your driver’s room before the race and then maybe again after- and at least once in a hotel room where he neighboured Lewis. He could just imagine your wide eyes, teary from panic as you struggled to keep your moans quiet, begging him Maxie please, please not so rough as his thrusts repeatedly banged the headboard against the wall, making it clear to his rival just what kind of filthy things Max Verstappen was doing to his precious little sister.

The dirty, possessive thought makes him cum with a guttural moan, pumping you full of his generous load as he buries his flushed face in between your pretty tits to lick and bite at them. But what Max most looked forward to was the look on Lewis’ face when you would eventually show up to the paddock one day, F2 trophy in hand and a glittering rock on your ring finger to match, beaming in anticipation of replacing the Hamilton surname with Verstappen.

And no, Max would not be inviting him to the wedding.

—————————————————————————

A/N: ok anyways. This is a ridiculous amount of smut for me to have churned out in less than a day I need to touch some grass 🙏 as always lmk what you think and send in some more requests!

[miguelsslvt]

ex nerd! scientist! miguel o'hara x slutty! reader

part two here!

word count: 745

TW: smut, nsfw, d/s themes, mentions of pet play.

A/N: THIS IS INSPIRED BY @nymphomatique SO PLS CHECK THEIR ONE OUT!! their drabble rlly inspired me so i thought maybe i could add a little twist;) welcome to the club!

back in your college days, you were.. promiscuous, some would say. well, you were the biggest slut on campus. if your body count didn't say it all, then the rumours sure did.

you took chemistry, maths, physics and biology. you wanted to be a physics scientist, partially because of the thought of there being lots and lots of different universes, but mostly because the pay was brilliant.

miguel o'hara was your 'pet' back in your college days, per-say.

you used him for your homework, and in exchange you would fuck him, give him head, handjobs, you name it. you took miguel's virginity, and every bit of innocence he had left. he was totally smitten by you. i mean, a pretty, popular girl giving him attention no one ever did? sign him up.

miguel was the biggest loser you knew back then. he wasn't the most muscly, and he had those ridiculous black square glasses, and his outfits were shocking. he had a slight lisp due to his late braces, and his hair was far too long and he clearly struggled to maintain it. to keep it blunt, he wasn't cool at all. he was a loser, a simp, and a goody two-shoes. perfect as your little pet.

it wasn't until after graduation did you stop your little encounters. after leaving college, you blocked his number and left campus on the same day. you thought you'd never have to see that nerdy freak again. well, that's what they all say, right?

that was until you finally got a job at ALCHEMAX. you were a 'technological support scientist', which sounded smart but really all you got to do was watch all the better scientists do tests. you didn't mind, it did more then just pay your bills. hell, with the checks you're bringing in you could probably buy a new car in a few months!

you thought things were all sunshine and rainbows, until the thunder walked in. it's funny though, you didn't realise thunder looked like 6'9 tall and 310 pound of pure muscle and attractiveness. his braces were gone, his hair more clean and cut a little shorter, and his glasses just resting on top of his head, but you knew exactly who he was.

'm-miguel o'hara?!' you said, shocked. he turned around swiftly, looking down at you, before his eyes widened. 'y/n l/n?' he said, surprised. you both had become blushing messes. well, his glow up sure came after only 3 years.

'you.. work here?' you asked, absolutely awe-struck. 'i.. do. i am a technological scientist here. you work here too? why haven't i ever seen you around before?' he asked, intriuged. 'i-it's my first day here. you.. matured.' you said, clearly checking him out.

the man smirked. he actually smirked. the man who would whimper, begging to just get off on your shoe, smirked at you like he was in control. 'and you look as gorgeous as 3 years ago.'

your heart stopped. who was this man? this muscular, defined, confident, completely self aware man.. this wasn't miguel. there was no way.

'you..you're very different, miguel.' you said, a blushing mess. he chuckled, putting some latex gloves on. fuck, even his hands were attractive. 'well alot happens to a guy.' he says smoothly, his voice deeper. god this was going to be hard.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

that very night, you were spread out on the bed, and you didn't recognise the man above you.

3 years ago, a scrawny desperate nerdy little boy was on his knees, as if you were a goddess. and now, that very man was on top of you, kissing your neck so skilfully, as if he's done this for years. his thrusts had rhythm, as he grinded along your g spot with ease, you let out a gasp and a breathy moan, as he shushed you.

'sh, bonita.. you've changed. where's that dominatrix you were back in college days? why are you so.. obedient?~' he whispered in your ear, as you moaned again.

'i-i think i-it's y-you that changed, m-miguel..' you breathily said in response, as he chuckled. 'oh no, sweetheart, i'm still the same loser that was begging on his knees for you. just now, i've learnt how to please you as well as me.' he said in response, his hands moving down from your breasts to your hips, his cock deep inside you as he grinded his hips as you felt every inch.

god, is this heaven?

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

[chahnniesroom]

for richer, for poorer

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: gift giving has always been something you've agonised over. for chan, just having you in his life is enough.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: insecurities (especially related to finances), feeling anxious, hurt/comfort

a/n: i know it’s still a long time until october, but i didn't write it in time to fit as like a holiday related fic.

bonus: minho's reaction to his gift (included as a reblog of this post)

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Gift giving has always been something that you agonised over. You wanted so desperately to get something meaningful and special that nothing you ended up getting seemed special enough.

So when Felix had proposed throwing both Chan and Minho a party for their birthdays, you were more than happy to help plan. You could see that Chan had hesitated when Felix had told them about it, but he had ultimately agreed when he saw the way Minho had seemed to perk up at the idea.

It wouldn’t be anything too big, Felix promised, just inviting some close friends to have dinner and hang out. It slowly balloons into more than a simple dinner, but the opportunities for the members to have their friends gather are so rare that you swallow your concerns.

The night of, you can’t help feeling a bit nervous. You recognise almost everyone, but that's the part that scares you - you've only seen most of these people through your phone screen before. You know Chan and Minho have a lot of idol friends, but you didn't realise there would be so many at the party. You had discussed the guest list with Felix briefly, but your concern had been about the number of guests and not who they actually were. Now you’re starting to regret it, you aren’t mentally prepared to be face to face with so many celebrities.

The time passes surprisingly quickly with people trickling in as the night goes on. Dinner is casual, you’ve helped to cook a number of dishes and takeout was ordered to fill the rest of the counter. There isn’t enough proper seating so everyone is spread throughout the kitchen and living room.

You spend most of the time just wandering through and making sure that there’s no shortage of drinks, appetizers, and that the empty dishes or cups are cleared away. Of course, you greet everybody as they arrive and thank them for coming, but it’s hard not to be intimidated by all the famous faces.

Eventually Changbin drags the birthday boys to the living room, standing them in front of the TV to open gifts. Everyone else either crams themselves onto the couches, sits on the floor, or loiters closer to the doors.

Chan insists that he open presents at the same time as Minho instead of one at a time like Jisung suggests. Someone pushes a couple of matching boxes into their hands and steps away.

It's almost comical how different they open them. Chan takes his time, carefully pulling apart the ribbon that's wrapped around the box, sliding the lid off and putting it to the side, then slowly peeling aside the tissue paper. Minho on the other hand, manages to pull the ribbon off the box without untying it and flips the box to shake off the lid and reveal the contents.

They're complementary hoodies in the casual and oversized fit that the boys usually go for. You recognize the brand, have seen the members wear it on more than one occasion, and know that they most likely cost the same as your monthly salary.

The next gifts seem fairly innocuous, a beanie for Chan and a baseball cap for Minho, but you know their pieces often go for over a million won, more than you’ve ever spent on a single clothing item.

It continues on like this, the boys receiving items like music equipment, alcohol, and sunglasses. It makes you swallow hard when you think of your own, mostly handmade gift.

Maybe the worst part is that nobody else at the party even blinks an eye at it. You can’t blame them, it’s the nature of their occupation that has gotten them desensitised to being surrounded by luxury and it’s not like they can’t afford to indulge in getting more expensive things.

When you look down, wanting to stop staring at the pile of opened gifts, you see that you've partially crushed the packaging of your own gift. It already looked shabby enough, it was obvious you had wrapped it yourself and the paper you used was from the supermarket, but now it was even worse.

When you try to smooth out the crinkles, your shaky fingers somehow make it ruin it more. You bite your lip, hard, then stop, self conscious about your appearance around all these idols.

It suddenly feels cramped and too warm, sweat starting to gather on your forehead and back. The room starts to spin slightly and you become overly aware of your heart beating in your chest.

A burst of laughter from the crowd spooks you, pulling you out of your head. You use the opportunity to get to your feet and excuse yourself. You slip away as quietly as you can and breathe a sigh of relief when you make it into Chan's room without anyone following you.

You don’t bother to turn on the lights, not wanting anyone to check up on you, and sit on the ground with your back against Chan’s bed. With the door closed, the noise from the party is muffled and it’s significantly colder in this area of the dorm. You press your hands to your face and take a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you because you know you shouldn’t feel like his. You had been looking forward to watching Chan and Minho open their gifts, you had spent a lot of time preparing them and you had felt confident that they would enjoy them.

Well, until you saw everything else that they received.

Now your ideas just seemed silly. You feel humiliated at the thought of everybody seeing the obviously cheap gifts and even worse when you consider how ashamed Chan might be for others to know that you were his partner.

Although you were working full-time at the moment, you had only graduated from university last year and your student debt was an ever present weight on your shoulders that you tried your best to hide. Everything you had went to paying it back and checking in bi-weekly to see the number get smaller and smaller was the only thing that made you feel better.

Chan knew that you often worried about money. You had been mortified the first time that he had walked in on you trying to organise your finances for the next few months. He had glanced over your shoulder before you had even realised he was in the room and all the red cells showing where you were in a deficit were hard to miss.

It had been early on in your relationship and the dates that the two of you had been on as well as a couple unforeseen events had meant that you had been spending way more than what you had anticipated. Of course, Chan had treated you on a number of occasions, but you refused sometimes because you felt guilty every time he offered to pay, especially since it had been only a couple years after his debut.

He had been more than understanding, but you had been so embarrassed and caught off guard that you couldn't stop the tears from streaking down your face. Since then, Chan and the members had never done anything to make you feel like they pitied you or thought any less of you for your financial situation, in fact they did the opposite.

When you had first started visiting the dorms, opening the food delivery apps was like a reflex for all of the boys once it was dinnertime. You were always hesitant to choose anything and felt even worse by the nonchalant way that they covered the costs each time. Even though you knew they didn’t think anything of it, you couldn’t help but feel like you were taking advantage of their hospitality.

Somehow they caught on to your reluctance to buy food and now it's tradition that you cook for them when you come over, enough so that they keep the kitchen stocked with more than ramen, chicken breasts, and protein powder.

In particular, Minho absolutely loved your cooking and had needled you many times on sharing how you made it. You had always denied him though, saying that you didn't use exact measurements and came up with things on the fly. That’s why for his gift, you had taken the time to create a recipe book, complete with pictures for each step and modifications that he could make based on the ingredients he had.

You had spent a few months thinking about what to give Chan. He was harder to shop for since you knew he wasn't overly fond of celebrating his birthday and didn’t want you to spend money on him, but was always touched when you got him something. Usually, you tried to do something he was more likely to accept.

Last year, you had organised with the company to give Chan a day off and had taken him out to a movie. It was a pretty standard date, but the two of you rarely had the opportunity to go out together and you knew Chan had resigned himself to watching the movie when it was released online instead of going to the theatres like he had hoped to. Having to spend a few days trying to sort out all the logistics of secretly rearranging Chan’s schedule had been more than worth it with the way that his face had lit up when you had told him about what you had planned.

You don't know how long you sit alone, but every time that you tell yourself to get up and rejoin the party, it feels impossible to move.

“Hey,” Chan's voice is cautious, but you startle anyway, scrambling to stand up. Stuck in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed him entering the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just needed some air, it was getting kind of stuffy in there,” you explain. “I didn't think you'd notice.”

“Of course I noticed. You were there one second and gone the next, I didn't know what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” You avoid Chan’s gaze, not wanting to see the concern that shines in his eyes.

Chan steps closer, then reaches out and tangles your fingers together, using your connection to pull the two of you to sit on the bed.

“Y/n, baby,” he says softly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in here.” He leans forward until the side of his head bumps into yours.

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s not important,” he warns. “It’s important to you and that makes it important to me, okay?”

“Uhm,” you pause for a moment, unsure of how you want to word your thoughts. You trust Chan, but it still feels scary being vulnerable. “I guess, I was just feeling… Insecure.”

“Insecure?” Chan tilts his head slightly. “About what?”

“Everyone-” you laugh slightly, embarrassed. “Everyone gave you guys such nice gifts, I feel like mine don’t even compare.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. If I had the choice, nobody would be giving me gifts at all. Just having you in my life is enough.” Chan’s voice is painfully sincere.

“I know you don't mind. It just- It feels bad that I can't give you something nice like they can. It's dumb, I know, but I can't help it.”

“I can open it here, away from everyone else if you want,” Chan offers. “Or you don't even have to give it to me today, you can save it until you feel better. Or don't give it to me at all, it's all okay.”

“No no, I want you to have it,” you say immediately. Before you can think better of it, you reach down and retrieve the gift from where you left it on the floor.

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Chan reassures you.

“This is fine,” you decide. “Just the two of us."

“Okay.”

“It’s not designer,” you say suddenly, fiddling with the ribbon that keeps the two packages together. Both of you ignore the fact that you’re just stalling at this point.

“I don’t need any more clothes, I barely wear everything I own now,” Chan jokes.

“Really, you might not like it,” you warn.

“Baby, when have I ever disliked anything that you’ve gotten for me?” Chan drops the teasing tone. You think for a moment.

“When you asked me to order noodles for you and I accidentally got you the spicy version and it made you cry?”

“Did I say that I didn’t like them?”

“No, you ate it all even though I warned you that it would make your stomach hurt for the next couple of days,” you say, smiling faintly at the memory.

You had gotten yourself the same dish and had found it to be bearable, while Chan’s face had turned bright red after the first bite. You had offered a few times to get him a non-spicy version so that he could enjoy himself, but he had been determined to finish, soaking his shirt and beanie with how much he had sweated. He hadn’t even been able to continue carrying a conversation with you, too busy trying to suck in air to cool his mouth.

It had been even funnier for you the next day, receiving multiple texts from Chan about his stomach hurting and having to continually pause dance practice to go to the bathroom.

“The pain was worth it,” Chan insists. “I'm actually convinced that I'll like anything you give me. Now come on, let me open my gifts!”

You hand over the gift and watch as he pulls away the ribbon to separate the boxes and peels away the tape on the first package. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries not to rip the wrapping paper.

This gift was more neutral, a set that contained a wallet and cardholder, both in black. Although Chan hadn’t complained at all, the wallet he had been using was from years ago and the synthetic material was starting to crack and flake away at the edges.

He looks delighted, examining it briefly before pulling out his old wallet and transferring all his cards and cash into this new one. Although it’s not a name brand, you had purchased it at a small shop specialising in handcrafted genuine leather goods at a surprisingly affordable price. It was good quality and suited the simplicity that Chan preferred.

“It's just what I needed,” he says, sounding pleased. “You pay so much attention.”

“I'm glad you like it,” you say, feeling relieved even though you had been pretty sure that he would be happy with it.

The unease comes back when he turns his attention to the second gift. Once again, he puts in effort to gently unwrap it, revealing an old chocolate box that you had repurposed from one of your dates.

You’ve always been on the more sentimental side and had saved it, wanting to remember the evening that Chan had taken you out and the two of you had spent 20 minutes in the shop, meticulously picking out the flavours that you wanted to try. The box is made of a surprisingly durable material and is the perfect size for this gift. You’ve painted over it too, concealing the original design.

Chan turns it around in his hands curiously, before sliding the lid up. You turn away to stare at your hands, overwhelmed by nervousness.

You already know what’s inside. It’s a deck of cards that you’ve transformed, with 52 things I love about you inscribed on one of the jokers. On the flip side, you’ve painted a picture of you and Chan smiling widely with your cheeks pressed together. It’s his favourite, one he always tells you would be permanently on his lock screen if he wasn’t an idol.

The rest of the cards are decorated similarly, a small drawing or painting on one side with the things, people, and places that Chan loves on one side, and something that you love about Chan on the other. The last joker is the only one that's different, you've treated it as a card and have a small message written on.

You had been so excited when you had thought of the idea, even though it was almost embarrassingly cheesy. Chan was often hard on himself, overly critical, and sometimes insecure. You tried your best to reassure him that he was doing well, both in his career and personal life, but you weren’t always able to be with him to do it in person.

As time goes by, your dread just continues to build, but you don't dare look up, not wanting to see Chan's reaction. Based on the silence, he’s clearly not thrilled with the silly idea that you had gone with. You can almost imagine his expression, jaw clenched and lips pressed together as he tries to think of what he can say to let you down easy.

Finally, you can't take it any longer and you lean forward, reaching out to grab at the cards that he's still reading though.

“I'm sorry, it's stupid, I know,” you say quickly. “You can tell me that you hate it, it's okay. I don't know what I was thinking, but just- give me more time, I'll get you something else, something nicer-”

It catches Chan off guard, and instead of successfully taking the cards away, you grapple with them for a second before they slip between both of your hands, scattering across the floor like confetti.

You instantly drop to your knees, scrabbling to scoop them up like the most awful game of 52 pick up that you've ever played in your life. To your horror, the task gets even more difficult as tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Y/n-” Chan says gently, reaching out and taking your wrists in his hands to stop your frantic movements. “Come here.”

You resist for a moment, but he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head so your face is resting on his shoulder. The tears leaking from your eyes soak into the fabric and you sniffle softly.

“I'm sorry,” you say, voice partially muffled. “I'm a mess.”

In response, Chan pulls back slightly and when you don't turn towards him, he taps a finger against your cheek until you face him. Your eyes widen when you notice that he also has tear tracks streaking down his face.

“What-”

“It's okay, I'm a mess too. I should have said it sooner,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Still in his embrace, you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “I love it. I was overwhelmed, I wanted to say something but you left me speechless.”

“Don't just say it-”

“I've never had a gift so thoughtful, Y/n,” Chan says earnestly. “How could you think this was stupid? You must have spent hours and hours on it and I really appreciate it. It’s just- is this really what you think of me?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Do you really love that-” Chan picks up the closest card to him and flips it so that he can read the message. “That I snore? Y/n, why do you even have this in the list?”

“Yes, snoring was one thing and it's because with everything, there’s always a reason to love it. It's not that I love that you snore, but with your insomnia, hearing you snore is a relief because it means you're sleeping, that you're resting. Even with your insomnia, I know you're busy thinking of every little way you can make things just right for you and the members. It's because you care so much, how could I not love these parts of you?”

“You- you really love all these little things?”

“Of course I do,” you say in a hushed voice. “Of course. When I was making these, I couldn't fit it all. I love everything about you, Chan.”

This time, it's Chan that breaks eye contact, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”

“It's not about deserving. You didn't have to do anything, that's the whole point. I love you just as you are.”

“You know that's how I feel about you, right?”

“Chan-”

“Even if you never got me anything ever again, I wouldn't love you any less. You being in my life, by my side, that's the greatest gift you could ever give.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[issysh3ll]

Reminder ☆ Chris Sturniolo

Summary: you run into your ex at a party and can't seem to shake the reminders of how it used to be Warnings: light angst, drinking Wordcount: 527 Requested? yes here

The sound of chatter surrounds you but the words are long lost in your ears as you glance around the room, again. 

Finally your eyes find who they were looking for, Chris.

Your eyes graze over his body head to toe as he stands on the opposite side of the room with a friend you don’t recognise. There’s a lot you don’t recognise. The red hoodie he’s wearing, not one you’ve ever seen him in before. His hair looks longer, almost touching his shoulders towards the back. 

You force your eyes away as you hear your name being called from the conversation next to you, momentarily returning your attention to your friend as she asks if you remember the name of a song from earlier that day. You shake your head no and lift the cup in your hand to take another swig of your drink only to find it is empty. Sighing and dropping your arms you gesture to your friend that your cup is empty and turn to walk to the kitchen for another refill. 

As you approach the fridge you hear his voice, his laugh coming from the sink on the other side, you freeze in place with the fridge door open, blocking you from his view. Eventually the door swings closed, your hands frozen nervously on the bottle you had grabbed, and you catch his eyes. Holding contact for a minute as you stare through him. The feeling of his eyes is different, less warm, more.. Empty? Not a stare that you recognise. 

There’s a lot you don’t recognise. The glass bottle in his hands, not something you’d seen him drink before. The way he tilts his head to the side, quizzing your stare, he used to grin from ear to ear when he caught you staring. 

But then again, there’s so much you do recognise. The familiar scent of his aftershave wafting towards you as he moves forwards, pushing his back off the wall he had been leaning against. The way his eyes flick quickly down your body and back up to your face, the same way he had looked at you when you first met, seemingly so long ago now. 

Your mind races with memories as you desperately try to forget, forget the way his stare affects you. Ignore the way your heart races when eyes return to meet yours, forget the way his smell feels so comforting. But the reminders are there.

Reminders that you know him, that he knows you. The way his lips curve in a small smirk, the way his hand scratches along his jaw. Reminding your body of how badly it misses him, his touch, his body. Your mind continues to race through memories, reminders of him.

Your thoughts painted clearly on your face as his smirk grows again, reminding you of his cocky attitude. The attitude you loved to tease him for. He takes another step forward, his friends walking past you and back to the party. He pauses briefly next to you, still staring straight into your eyes as he whispers,“everytime you try to forget who i am, i’ll be right there to remind you again”.

© issysh3ll a/n: i don't write angst very often so i didn't go too crazy with this one, let me know your thoughts and feedback please! this request is actually from ages ago and i just took forever to get around to it so - sorry to this anon who's been waiting!

my other works → here

Taglist: @bernardsbendystraws @gxldenlush @scligit @sturniolo-fann @submattenthusiast

[spicychickencows]

It is honestly starting to bug the number of people I've seen referring to Cristin Milioti's performance in The Penguin as something along the lines of 'just playing a complete psycho' and how episode four changed all that because that isn't the performance at all and I think it is a disrcedit to the work Milioti is putting in on this character.

There is a lot more going on here (everyone in this show is great but Milioti as Sofia Falcone is the only one I consistly see people undertalking, I wonder why that is?) and it starts with how sad she looks so muc of the time.

The scene that really sells it for me is in episode two, when Sofia is talking to Carla and you get to see a glimpse at who she was before Arkham. That conversation was enough for me to predict The Hangman reveal that doesn't actually come until episode four. It's Sofia's turn when Carla flinches at her talking to her daughter. There is such a clear change a real differentiation between the Sofia who thinks she's found someone who will treat her normally and the Sofia who is realising just how much her family has turned against her.

Milioti is not playing 'just a psycho' until the big plot turns of episode four when suddenly she has depth she didn't have before. Milioti is playing someone desperate, so desperate, to be seen the way she was before Arkham. Episode four is when she admits that isn't going to happen and strikes out to make the most of who she has been forced to become.

And it annoys me a little bit because it suggest to me that a lot fo viewers have completely failed to recognise that the show is about cycles of abuse and the way that changes someone. Oz has been abused all his life, and now he's turning that around on Victor who is unfortunatly buying into it a little too much.

Sofia was put under some of the worst abuse anyone in this show has been and she knows why, and it should be obvious to any viewer thats paying attention. Sofia's abuse was laid on her because she is a woman and a lot of older and more powerful men didn't like how smart she was.

[wqnwoos]

kwon soonyoung is hopeless at subtlety.

when a guy who’s never touched a book that wasn’t absolutely necessary for an exam suddenly starts lingering around the campus library, it becomes noticeable. it becomes more noticeable when it’s soonyoung, as the popular dance captain and renowned party thrower that he is.

hell, even you’ve noticed, and you’re usually miles and miles away, in a world of your own. when you’re not helping students find books or scanning out their required readings, you’re sitting behind the student librarian desk reading your own books, or studying, or, in some of your lesser moments, scrolling through tiktok. you don’t pay too much attention to who comes in and out, but the thing about soonyoung is that he demands attention.

not him himself, that would be obnoxious. but it’s the bleached hair, and handsome features, and just the fact that he seems to know everyone around here. so yeah, his face becomes recognisable with each day he skulks into the library, dithering between shelves that you never would have assumed held his interest.

today, however, is the first day he actually borrows a book. he waltzes up to the counter carrying, surprisingly, a jane austen — persuasion. which is only one of the greatest novels ever written, but you restrain yourself from blurting that out, instead asking for his name and typing it in.

he’s quieter than you’ve seen him be, around campus with his friends. gentle, almost — shy, too, with the way his cheeks pink when you repeat his name, and the way he drums his fingers nervously on the book.

a moment later, your brows are furrowing at the words that pop up. “um. soonyoung? it says here you last borrowed a book… three years ago. and you didn’t return it.”

the boy in front of you practically goes scarlet. “shit,” he curses, quiet but emphatic. “which book?”

you cast another glance to the computer screen. “um, diary of a wimpy kid. cabin fever.”

he passes one hand over his embarrassed face; it seems that a meagre amount of words is enough to reduce him to a fumbling mess. he drops persuasion, picks it up, slides it back over to you, and, with a strained voice, says, “i’ll find it! i’ll bring it tomorrow. cross my heart.”

and, much to your surprise, ten minutes before you shift ends the next day, kwon soonyoung is running breathlessly through the library double doors; he meets your eyes and brandishes a battered looking copy of cabin fever with a triumphant grin and needless declaration;

“i found it!” he drops it with a satisfying thunk, and you can’t help the amused smile that breaks out onto your face. “you won’t believe where it was,” he continues, shaking his head. “it’s probably best if i don’t even tell you — anyway!” he cuts himself off before you can think too deeply about what that means. “do i have to pay a fine?”

“no,” you say, and bring forward the copy of persuasion he’d been eyeing yesterday. “do you still want this, by the way? i kept it to the side in case you came back for it.”

he beams, and it’s like the sun’s in front of you: bright, warm, lovely. “you did? thank you, ___. actually… you finish up in a few minutes, right?”

“i — yes,” you say slowly, squinting at him. “how do you know that?”

“i’ve been coming here every day for two and a half weeks trying to get the courage to talk to you, and i accidentally memorised your schedule doing that,” he admits with a shameless grin. before you can even process that, he’s suddenly looking a lot shyer; but he taps the cover of the book between you, and continues: “so, um, could i… persuade you to get a coffee with me?”

you can’t help it — you laugh, much louder than library regulations allow, but you can’t bring yourself to care when soonyoung is looking at you, half-hopeful, half-sheepish. “did you pick this book just to — ”

“yes,” he interjects, cheeks flushing. “i was desperate!”

you pretend to consider. “so… you’re not an austen fan?”

“i am if you are,” he says instantly.

again, you laugh, but this time you add an answer. “in that case,” you say, lips curving upward. “i’d love to get a coffee with you.”

an / requested by the lovely lovely @etherealyoungk !! hope u like it skye <3

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

[strwberri-milk]

Pretty in Pink

Rafayel x GN!Reader || Insecurity Comf || 1 640 words

additional tags: readers body is undefined but beautiful is used as a word to describe attractiveness once or twice

“Do we really need to go shopping?” you whine, wishing you could just drag your heels into the ground as the two of you approach the high-end department store Rafayel insisted you needed to visit today.

“Talia’s going to make fun of me if I can’t even spoil the love of my life a little bit,” he says simply, keeping his hand on yours as you rest it in the crook of his elbow.

The staff immediately recognise him, clamouring around him as they ask if he wants his jacket taken care of, if he needs his car washed then reparked. It seems whatever whim he has they’re more than desperate to fulfill it, watching him with equal parts adoration and envy. You’re still a little shy when it comes to the glamour that comes with being his partner, unsure where you stand. He simply glances at you and now the attention is being pushed onto you, so flustered Rafayel ends up having to direct the staff to your needs himself.

“You sure do shop here a lot, don’t you?” you say as the two of you settle in a private dressing room.

“Not really actually,” he says, sipping on some sort of sparkling drink. They offered champagne but he refused it, citing driving you home and his own tendency to be a lightweight.

“That’s why they’re so desperate. The commission they make off the outfits I buy for you today is going to set them for a while.”

“Outfits? Plural? I thought we were just doing a one and done,” you exclaim incredulously, feeling out of place with all the splendour of the store.

“Well, you hate shopping so I thought we could just knock it all off in one fell swoop. At least until you decide you want something new. Don’t worry about how much stuff costs – there’s no tags on anything.”

He’s so cavalier about the whole ordeal you have to think he was born rich. You really have no idea considering he hasn’t candidly talked about his childhood but the fact that he constantly takes you places with no price tags reminds you that money is just an object to him. Suddenly you feel insecure in the simple clothes you picked out for today, picking at a hem and shifting your feet uncomfortably. You thought you’d made the right choice when he said you were going shopping, thinking comfort and something easy to change in and out of would be the right choice.

“It won’t take too long,” he says, interrupting your train of thought. “You look beautiful in everything so I really doubt we’ll be unable to find something to you.”

You laugh awkwardly, now suddenly hyperaware of the way your body looks in the gilded mirror sat across from the two of you. Perhaps you should have opted for the dressing room that had a private changing area as well but Rafayel insisted that it’d be fine. He has seen every inch of you after all but something about this moment feels far too different.

“Maybe we should change rooms. I’ll go ask the attendant,” you say without warning, getting up and walking past him.

He takes the opportunity to pull you onto his lap, frowning at you.

“Why would we do that? This room is nice enough. Besides, they’ll be coming back soon enough with a bundle of clothes for you to try on. You don’t want to really inconvenience them so much by making them swap rooms?”

Logically, the room you want to change to is just next door. However, your need to please outweighs that sense of logic, biting on your bottom lip as you weigh the options over. Your turmoil isn’t missed by Rafayel and he brushes his lips against yours, making a soft humming noise to draw your attention back to him.

“Try it out for a little bit and then we can change if you really hate it, yeah?” he offers, not wanting to push you too far out of your comfort zone.

“…fine. But just because it’s you,” you pout, making no move to get out of his lap as the staff finally start filing in.

Your eyes go wide with the assortment of clothes they’ve chosen. Rafayel was practically barking orders at them earlier, giving them a list of cuts and colours and sizes for them to draw from. Clearly, they know what they’re doing as they’re able to draw a year’s worth of clothing from his instructions. They go through and show the two of you what goes with what, justifying their choices with some sort of fashion theory you barely manage to understand.

When you look over at Rafayel he looks like a kid in a candy shop. His eyes run over the racks of clothing, darting back and forth so quickly you’re sure he’s mentally cataloguing what pieces to swap with what to create new ensembles. You trust him wholly, aware he knows what he’s doing but you can’t help but wonder if the pieces will actually look good on you.

Once the staff finally leaves Rafayel happily pulls you over, selecting the first outfit he wants you to try on. Despite the fact that there was no reserved changing area he turns around and closes his eyes, insisting that he wants it to be a surprise.

You get dressed quickly, trying not to overthink the fabric sliding over your body. It’s uncomfortable and almost cumbersome but the thought of him smiling at you gets you through it. The quicker you get dressed the quicker this is all done and you can convince him to take you to the arcade as payment for torturing you so.

“I’m done,” you say hesitantly, still tugging at your clothes.

He turns around quickly, excited smile softening as soon as his eyes meet your form. His hands wander your body, brushing your hand off of your body as he replaces them, pulling you in by the waist.

“You look great,” he says affectionately, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“I’d say we should stop here but considering how amazing you look in just this I can’t help but imagine you’d look in some of the other choices. I want to see how you look in something that’s more adventurous than just a suit jacket and some slacks. This is good enough for some boring donor event but not good enough for Talia’s show.”

You let him help you strip down before urging you into a more complicated array of fabrics. You don’t doubt that they look lovely but you doubt they have the desire effect when on your body, twisting and turning every which way when you stand in front of the mirror. A glimpse of him is caught in the reflection, still looking at you with that adoring look.

“Maybe this will take longer than I thought,” he sighs, pulling another outfit from the racks. “You do look great in anything you wear. How are we going to choose?”

An hour or two passes and the two of you finally come near to drawing a close on your try on haul. Rafayel somehow looks more exhausted than you do, laying back on the couch with an arm over his eyes. You’re finally back to the clothes you came in, more comfortable than before. All of them were lovely there was no contesting that but there was something that simply made them…less lovely.

He, on the other hand, seemed to adore you in everything. He constantly showered you in his attention, hands careful as they pick and preen at you. You can tell by the way his hands twitch that he wants to grab at you, pulling strings taut across your body and doing up buttons that you can’t quite reach.

“Just pick whatever you want me to wear to the event and I’ll be more than happy to wear it,” you sigh, leaning back on the couch with him.

“That’s just the problem. It all looks so good on you.”

He groans a little before finally standing up to talk to the staff. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying through the thick fabrics of the curtain, feeling a little antsy now that he’s gone. You perk up when he finally returns, watching as he returns to your side.

“It’ll take a bit of time but they’re going to wrap up everything for me. If it doesn’t all fit in the car then they’ll just mail to the house no problem.”

“You – did you buy all of them?!”

“You look great in all of them. I’ll just get a closet or something built for them all. Don’t worry about it.”

He notices your hesitance, taking your hand in his.

“What’s wrong? If you hate them all I’ll tell them I changed my mind.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…do you really think that?”

His brows furrow, looking at you in confusion.

“Think what?”

“That I look great in all those clothes. It feels like I’m putting on costume after costume,” you confide.

“You really think that? Weird. I think you look great in all of them.”

He pulls you over on his lap, admiring your face for a brief moment before kissing you passionately. His hands hold your hips in place as he continues to kiss you, gripping you so tightly you couldn’t move away if you even wanted to. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, gasping softly when he turns ravenous for your touch. His thumb comes up to the corner of your mouth, lightly pushing the two of you apart.

“All I could think about when I saw you was how lucky I am and how badly I wanted to kiss you,” he says dazedly, pressing another kiss to your lips.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

hiii sweetie💗. idk if you still take requests but i had a thing in my mind and also couldn’t find anyone who had write that down as a fic or headcanon how would tokyo revengers characters (especially i wonder about rindou and ran) would react if they met a person, a pretty little charming girls who they reject a long ago (classmate or friend you decide) but they kinda regret after. also i was wondering about readers glow up (in style, make up you decide) ty for attention love your works a lot…💗

Ah so them with someone they rejected when younger but then regret rejecting when they see them again later? Ok here's the Haitani brother's with that!

It had been years since you'd seen them, the three of you all attended the same school and although you liked both brother's well enough, you were only smitten with one. You had spent years crushing on him, until one day you decided to confess to him. Only for him to immediately turn you down, he wasn't interested in you. Soon after that you had finished school and moved away, not seeing him and his brother again. Well not until now, here you are in their club and you just made eye contact with your old crush....

Ran

Gives you a flashy smile before approaching and shamelessly flirting with you. He thinks you're the prettiest girl he's seen and of course wants to make you his.

He actually doesn't recognise you though, not until you say your name. Then the memories come flashing back and he's left shocked. 

You're really the same girl? And he turned you down? Ran vaguely curses his past self for being an idiot.

Doesn't let it effect him when talking to you though, the only hint of surprise on his face is when his eyes slightly widened. He's still confident with you and shamelessly flirting.

Puts his number in your phone and says the two of you have a lot of catching up to do  

He remembers a lot more about you during the catch up which makes him regret his past actions even more. You were always so sweet. 

Spends a lot of the catch up teasing you and talking about light topics, until he suddenly gets a little tense. He tries to ask the question casually but he seems a little bit too interested in knowing your answer

"So are you dating anyone right now?"

When you say no, he acts mock hurt and claims he thought the two of you had been dating all these years. You can tell he's joking but decide to play along. "You rejected me, so we definitely aren't!" "Huh? I rejected a pretty little thing like you? Now why would I do that?" After a bit of back of forth, he surprises you by asking you out instead. 

Looking at you with a grin on his face but with a more unsure look in his eyes, he awaits your answer. Not wasting anytime you immediately reply with....

Rindou 

The second his eyes locked with yours he knew it was you. 

A mix of emotions run through him, he's definitely surprised but also embarrassed. He desperately wants to approach you but at the same time doesn't. Seeing you again just brought back so many memories for him.

He's surprised at how good you look now, even more surprised by how much he wants you. 

Spends a while trying to think of what to say to you before approaching. He half expects you to tell him to get lost after he rejected you all those years ago but is pleasantly surprised when you happily talk with him.

He smiles at you a lot, encouraging you to continue telling him about your life these past few years but inside he's scolding himself big time. How could he not realise how good you were for him back then???? 

Ran's the one who ends up breaking your conversation up, reminding Rindou that it's getting late and the club is about to close. Rindou hastily asks for your number, not wanting to lose you again. 

The two of you arrange a proper catch up, where you can talk as much as you like about old memories and more recent events.

He keeps tensing up, waiting for you to bring up the rejection. 

When it eventually does come up, he actually apologises over it. You tell him he doesn't need to since it was a long time ago but he still does.

Unlike Ran he doesn't ask you out, he wants to but figures it would be better to be friends first and get to know each other more. It has been a long time since you last saw each other after all. As he walks you home though, he does shrug off his jacket and puts it around your shoulder's. He says it's just because you seemed cold but the slight blush on his face and the warm weather says otherwise.

[wooawi]

Alya finds her special interest in the Miraculous and everything concerning them.

She had to quit her blog early on because she had managed to post a few theories that were a bit too close to reality and Ladybug gave her a visit to shut that shit down. Of course, Alya took it for the opportunity it was and questioned Ladybug for long enough to have her detransform into Marinette. Whoops.

She ends up meeting Fu and studying under him after running Marinette so ragged with questions, the girl transferred her over to the guardian. She doesn’t have much time to spend with the man, though, before he loses his memory through transferring guardianship to Marinette.

When Marinette becomes the guardian, it is possibly the best day of Alya’s life (“Sorry, Netta!”). She’s always over to study the box, looking through every compartment it has and testing Marinette’s control of it in and out of the costume.

She wants so badly for Marinette to just give up the box to Alya and is barely keeping herself from asking because she knows that Marinette would lose her memories (which intrigues her even more. Like. What are the mechanics in play? How far does it go? What is the metric for deciding which memories to take?)

She’s entirely into Marinette’s potion making, even taking over the project after Mr. Pigeon’s 72 akumatization to give Marinette a (permanent) break. She’s not only looking for better and quicker ways to achieve the same result, but also trying to create new potions without breaking some cosmic law (yes, the actual laws that govern the universe. Wayzz taught her about them after she had tried to create a new Miraculous and almost had her entire lineage erased.)

She wears and uses miraculous like crazy, testing the limits of the powers and what exactly they can do (lucky charm is always on standby to heal her when she goes too far.) Sometimes, she tries them on friends and teammates alike for a wider range of results, even going as far as testing them on random strangers impromptu participants.

Worst of all, she has beef with Hawkmoth. Not for the terrorism, no; she hates how silly he is with his abilities. Everytime the butterfly is brought up, someone practically has to jump her to get her to shut up about the wasted potential.

He could be doing his job much quicker if he simply treated his kwami right. Despite their God status, they still have needs and wants, both of which keep them at top form if met. The lack of proper utilisation of the butterfly, despite the fact that Hawkmoth clearly knows how to use it says a lot about how Nooroo is treated. (“Did you know they’re called heroes? They aren’t meant to be forced into an unfair contract; it’s supposed to be willing and consensual, not whatever the fuck Hawkmoth has going on. Manipulation of the victim past what was agreed to shows that Nooroo’s magic isn’t cooperating and needs to be forced in order to–.”)

The wish is not a guarantee to fix whatever issue he has, because, as seen from his desperation, he very likely doesn’t have anything of equal or greater worth to give up for what he wants. And that’s not even taking into account that Gimmi could just decide it’s not worth it and split back down to Tikki and Plagg. Destroying and recreating the universe is a lot of work!

He could probably solve his problem by creating a hero with the ability to solve his problem. It is written in the playbook that he stole from the Order!

She wants so badly to meet him and explain this all to his face, but also recognises that they don’t really have time for that. If and when they find him, the danger he poses to the universe is enough to warrant an immediate… termination. So, she helps Marinette look for him, not as Rena Rouge, but as regular old Alya with a knack for investigating; she knows too much about the Miraculous to ever consider wearing any of them full time.

No she won’t stop anyone else from wearing them. She likes having primary evidence of their effects on humans.

Besides. It’s not like they kill people, so there’s not much harm. She just likes keeping her wits about her is all.

[live-laugh-lenney]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a little something about being on tour with George and Max like how max has Andrew with him no worries if not love your writing x

oh, imagine all the mischief they'd get up to... :'))

george loves it.

he loves waking up and seeing yn in the crew bunk opposite him on the tour bus, wearing an oversized t-shirt from their merch collection, curled up underneath the blanket she'd brought to add to her home comforts on the bus. he loves cosying up with her on the sofa in the made-up living space area, munching on snacks that they would buy from the service stations they stop at on the way to each location, as they watch the world go by on their travels to the next tour location. he loves getting to stay up late with her after each show is finished, talking nonsense and having the bus to themselves as max has his snooze in the bedroom at the end. there's just something relaxing, for him, that helps him wind down after each show with her being right beside him.

she's there during the meet and greets, too.

usually sat in the background or loitering by the set on the stage as she watches the two of them hug or take gifts from those who had brought them something special, and she listens as they say hello to everyone who had paid for tickets to see them before each of the shows. and, every so often, someone would recognise yn and they'd come over and say hello to her and include her in their conversations which she absolutely adores. (and sometimes, they bring gifts just for her and she doesn't know whether to cry on the spot or hug them or do both - which george loves to see happen and he's always standing behind with a massive grin on his face as he watches her interact with his fans).

her and max would be chaos.

they'd constantly 'bicker' over george and during the london show, she would make an appearance on stage with a 'query that she needs help with' and it would simply be about how there's some guy who won't leave her boyfriend alone - much like andrew did at the recent london show at the weekend.

"tonight, we thought we'd welcome a few special guests who have a few issues of their own that we most definitely are qualified to help with," george introduces the next, and final, segment of the london show and it's the time when the audience understands why the two arthur's and herself had been announced as guests for the show, "so, without further ado, can we please welcome onto the stage... our very first guest and my very lovely girlfriend, yn!"

she's met with cheers and blinding lights shining upon her as she steps from behind the wings of the stage and makes herself known to those in the audience. her cheeks heating up, already sweating from the stage lights that were intensely lighting her up, and her legs were like jelly as she with the phone in her hand.

"i'm actually really thankful you guys chose my query," she says into the microphone once the cheers had subsided, "i think it's getting worse and i was in desperate need of some answers."

"and how may we help you, dear yn?"

"you see, my boyfriend is currently on tour with his podcast co-host and i'm pretty certain said co-host has a thing for said boyfriend," she says playfully and max feigns shock, holding his hand to his chest with his mouth gaped open, "he's very forward with advances."

"how forward?" max asks.

"well, i'm currently visiting my boyfriend and there's been times when i come back from the toilet and said co-host is in my place beside him. he likes to cuddle with him a lot, too, which makes me feel very jealous," yn frowns playfully and her brows furrow dramatically and it makes the audience laugh loudly, "i was hoping for some alone time since it's been a while since i've seen him but, i'm scared i'm being replaced unwillingly."

"have you tried anything to stop this?" george asks, trying his best to hold back the laughter that was building up within him, "maybe, we should get our own bus?"

"or, you know, you should just consider the option of a throuple?"

shepherd's bush fills with cheers and claps and george just shakes his head at how max encourages the crowd to go louder with over-the-top hand movements to increase the volume. and yn can't help but giggle as george rolls his eyes.

"a throuple?"

"i'm sure said co-host is happy to share," max looks over at george as george's eyes are trained on yn, smirks on both of their lips, "i mean, if you're happy to share, that is."

"i don't know," yn pretends to think about it, tapping her chin with her finger before she placed both of her hands on her hips, "my boyfriend is very handsome, you see, so i really understand why he's in such demand by this co-host."

"maybe said boyfriend has eyes for his girlfriend and only her?" she hears george say into his microphone as the audience cheers at her previous statement, "have you asked him that? you're very beautiful so maybe he doesn't see what's happening because he's distracted by how you are? maybe he just loves you so much that he can't see what's happening?"

max pretends to gag and yn snickers softly at his actions.

"i don't think my boyfriend would like to hear you say that, george clarke," yn teases and george stands from his seat, walking around the desk he was sat at to stand beside her, "you know what, i think i'm just being silly because the co-host is so gay. unless-"

"nope," george shakes his head and stands beside her, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips as the crowd coos and cheers at what they were witnessing. and away from the microphone, he whispers, "i love you. nothing to worry about," into her ear and it's enough for her to melt under him.

"give it up for yn, ladies and gents," max grins widely and gives her a theatrical applaud himself, standing up to give her a hug, "i feel so accomplished tonight, we've helped so many people."

and when the show finishes, like she does every night, she joins them as they do a mini meet-and-greet with those who were waiting by the stage door in hopes of seeing them after the show. and she happily takes photos with those who asked her and has conversations with those who ask her questions and want to talk to her opposed to max and george.

it's always fun and the two weeks she spends on tour is something she speaks about for ages.

mini tiktok vlogs on her days spent with them, instagram q&a's about what she got up to and what her favourite night was, posting tweets during the shows as little updates for those that never got tickets. it's like a two week holiday for her and she has the best time. xx

[hibiscusfairys]

🐞 draco malfoy ; unrequited love, part 5 (hufflepuff fem reader)

♪ a lots gonna change : weyes blood

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

♡ warnings: angst

tagged: @miawastakens @watercolorskyy @pinkynecktie

also to the last person who requested to be tagged, im so sorry but i cant seem to find your blog when i try to tag it :(

by the way a reference to the last chapter, i realised adrian pucey is two years older than harrys year, so for the sake of it not being weird just pretend he was a year older than us

☆

You cried all night.

You didn’t know if whether you had swayed him, or distanced him from you even more. Each passing thought that involved him had only provoked your yearning tears. By the end of the long evening, your pillow was wet with the heartbreak and sadness you wept for him.

You were stupid enough to believe he was for you. The muggleborn girl and the pureblooded boy with a family full of blood supremacists which he was surely influenced from — yeah, right. What a foolish imagination you must have.

Dawn had rolled around, and your quiet sobs had eventually stopped and morphed into your sleep. The bright light of the sun shone through the fogged window, reflecting onto your hair. Your yellow duvet covers were spread everywhere, and the mascara you had worn from the ball before had stained your pillow like watery, black ink.

You rose up from your slumber, increasingly light headed from all the thinking you had been doing all night. It was time to finally get on with your life, and leave this all behind. Your feelings for him would have to disappear, soon enough.

Your ball dress was still on, and was crumpled from the action of tossing and turning restlessly in your bed.

A letter was positioned unknowingly on the windowsill. You noticed that the window door was open, the cold air hitting your face like a vent. You saw that a midnight feathered owl with amber eyes as bright as streetlights perched on the sill, looking at you with its pupils dilating.

Eagerly, you opened the letter, hoping it to be from your parents. They had only just figured out how to use the owl. But the envelope looked too classy, too posh even. Nothing like the basic white envelopes you’d usually see.

It had a certain family emblem on the black seal.

Ripping the top of the envelope, you lifted the mysterious letter from the pocket. You had almost instantly recognised the handwriting, as you had seen it in your potions class not too long ago. It was Malfoy’s.

The words were carefully carved with ink on the parchment, and ink smudges seemed to be far less of a problem for him to prevent than it was for you. Using a quill and proper ink was still something to get used to, even if it had been 4 years. You anxiously let your eyes scan the page, a lump forming in your hoarse throat from all the sobbing. To….

I apologise for my previous behaviour last night

I understand that I may have upset you. This is quite new to me actually. I’m too wrapped up in myself to recognise others problems, if I am being honest.

However, while I still stand by what I said about us not working out, I do want to create a compromise with you. And before you ask, I’ve dealt with Astoria. It was entirely difficult for me to tell her. And to be honest, I am feeling quite down. But I’m still so confused on where my heart is leading and I don’t want to lead her on either. She’s one of the only people I care about. Except for my family and some others which I won’t name.

If you are so desperate, it will have to be a hidden secret between us. If I ever eventually decide to let myself love you, while the guilt might weigh heavily on me, I am not afraid of it. It is quite dismaying knowing that you aren’t a pure-blood like I am, but I want to learn to be more tolerant at least. And I’ll try to be more open. But don’t let a word slip out. I’m sorry if I am asking much. I should really not ask you of anything, but I can’t help it. I’m still adjusting to this. I thought it would be so easy, love. But it’s not. Sometimes we fall in love with the wrong people. But I don’t want to label you as wrong. Rather — unexpected. My family will surely be disappointed, so it’s why I’m so hesitant. But it’s a risk I am willing to take for my heart to finally be at rest. It has been tugging on me for weeks.

Do answer me later. Moreover, maybe I can explain it to you better in person.

Draco Malfoy

You saw your tears melt onto the paper. Different emotions poured through you like a rainfall, you felt excited and happy, but also unnerved. It disappointed you that he couldn’t accept you in the first place.

You found out your quill and a pot of ink.

To Malfoy,

Thank you for your letter. I am glad that you’ve explained to me your feelings. Sometimes writing it down makes everything better.

But please, do accept me as I am. I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you won’t find comfort in. Plus, it would put me in danger too. I don’t know what your family is like, but I don’t want to entrust them just yet.

However, I do feel similarly. Maybe we could try it.

I’d be glad to keep it a secret for you.

From…

You finally signed your name in one swoop of your quill.

“Hopefully..” You say to yourself, handing the addressed envelope to the messenger owl.

☆

thank you all so much for reading this fic, i appreciate all the support youve given me so much and im excited to write more future ones for you soon ♡

also im sorry if the ending seems quite rushed, i had no idea what to do and i didnt want to keep anyone waiting too long :( ill try to improve on this in the future and hopefully, not pressure myself too much with releasing chapters

[tinietaehyun]

Forsaken [II]

[Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader] [Series] [Chapter Two]

Pairing: Sorcerer!Taehyun x Royal!Reader

Genres: royal!au, fantasy, enemies to lovers, supernatural, romance, angst.

Contains: Profanity, mentions of poison/implications of death, family dysfunction. A lot of bickering/back and forth.

Links: Forsaken Masterlist || Masterlist

Chapter Summary: What a conundrum you were in with his sharp wand pointed at you; an expression of disdain in his eyes yet a cocky smirk on his lips. To think, a sorcerer could be so pretty?

You plead the ethereal sorcerer for his help. You just needed him to get you to the border, was that too much to ask? Bickering and arguing, until you realise how incredibly cocky and harsh he is. Would he ever agree to help you?

Perhaps, the ever so subtle softness in his gaze when you cry in desperation, was the hope you needed.

You gaze upon the tall man with an expression akin to a deer about to be eaten by a predator. His slender fingers grasp his wand as he peers at you with an unimpressed expression (albeit, you could tell he was trying his best not to smirk).

It was odd; for a place such as the Woods of Mors, you never expected to see such a…pretty face. His large eyes, sharp nose and sly lips; as though the gods themselves sculpted him.

The man adorns a black cloak; he has laced up boots that reached to the shin. In which you surmise, he is rather intimidating. What was he doing all the way out here?

“Eyes up here, sweetheart,” your thoughts shatter as his voice cuts in. You flush; you had spent too long staring. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?” He glares. You huff peering at the greyish leaf litter below, “And I answered, neither.” The pale blond haired male scoffs, “Are you actually stupid, or are you just playing dumb?” He points his wand right at you.

You gasp before standing up with your hands raised beside your head in an action of surrender, “Hey! Hey, I will not touch your precious berries anymore. Put the wand down, please.” His cold gaze meets yours with a small twinkle; is he enjoying this?

His eyes scan down your attire noticing the patches of dirt, mud, some portions slightly torn. A glint of confusion appears in his eyes before he sighs, putting away the wand. Your shoulders relax - perhaps you looked pitiful enough to not be seen as a threat.

Suddenly, the man starts walking towards you in speedy strides and a shriek escapes your lips as you stumble back slightly. To your embarrassment he walks past you to his berries and kneels down, nonchalantly beginning to pick the remainder of the berries.

As he twists the berries off the branches he mutters in complaint, “You’ve gone and eaten all the good berries. I’ve had to deal with animals, and insects, but now a human?” You cross your arms with a glare at his back. What a self-centered, egotistical man!

More importantly, numerous thoughts echo in your mind. Why was there no reverence for your status? Where are the pleasantries and bows? Surely, he couldn’t have been living under a rock? Then again, this place is rather isolated from the kingdom.

Tentatively, you inquire, “Are you not curious as to why I am here?” You were not used to this nonchalance and lack of respect. Why did it irk you? Perhaps it reminded you of Sehun's indifference towards you. Or were you just too vain? You add, “Do you not recognise me?”

A groan escapes his lips and you see him roll his eyes. “You noble types are always so stuck up. Always expecting everyone you see to acknowledge you and know who you are; it’s always the same.” An expression of annoyance crosses your face. Perhaps, he was a teensy bit right in some cases, but you certainly were not!

“You’re probably some prissy duchess or viscountess, parading around as though she were the heir to the throne herself,” he snorts as he continues picking the berries, moving onto another shrub. A scoff escapes your lips as you cross your arms. “And if I am?” He peers over his shoulder annoyed, “You’re what?” You answer, “The crown princess…y/n,” you mutter, “Or well, I was crown princess, to be more accurate.”

His eyes widen for a moment as be arches a brow, “King Dan-Seong, Queen Iseul, they had a daughter? That’s new information…” Just, how out of touch was he? You gawk offended, “What? You only found out now?” Taehyun peers back at the shrubs continuing, “Well, I only knew about their son.”

A moment of silence passes before you hear him snickering. You snap, “What are you laughing about, sorcerer?” The male snickers as it morphs into a cackle, “They banished one of their own heirs? Seems about right. Always knew that kingdom was fucked, since I left.” Your mind is boggled by his words and your eyes widen - how vulgar! He peers at your gobsmacked silence and a sly grin graces his lips, “Oh, can’t the sweet princess handle a few bad words?” You murmur, “I find them to be quite unnecessary.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, “Of course.”

The sorcerer stands abruptly peering at his basket content with the quantity of berries. He appears to be in a moment of thought before he asks, “Last time I heard, the queen suffered much during her childbirth. How did you appear then?” Your lips part at his bluntness and you murmurs peering away, “I…I was adopted.” His brows scrunch in deep thought, “Adopted? Seems you got thrown back out. Why? You weren’t good enough? Not enough noble blood to rule?” He spits.

A sigh escapes your lips, “…not quite.” He raises a brow before darkly smiling, “I just find it hard to believe the crown princess of Fortuna is here. What’s someone like you doing banished out here?” He outstretches his left arm as if showcasing his surroundings with a twisted pride, “Out here in the Woods of Mors, a place for the wicked scum of the nation.”

Scoffing you respond, “Why don’t you tell me who you are first? Then, I may deem it adequate to tell you.” The sorcerer peers at you unimpressed, “It’s none of your business, sweetheart. Now, answer if you don’t want more trouble for yourself. What if you’re simply lying about being the princess?“

You snap, “Fine. I was adopted by the King and Queen, at the age of six. Since then, I’ve grown up in the palace alongside, Prince Sehun.” The sorcerer stiffens as his eyes darken. “Sehun…ah yes, I’m aware.” You begin explaining his hatred towards you, how you were deemed more fit to rule than he was. How the animosity between you two grew until the point where he became manic. You desperately retell the events in which you were betrayed, imprisoned and escaped through the ancient tunnels in the dungeons.

His eyes glimmer and a serious expression coats his features. You had told him this in the hopes your sob story would incite an ounce of pity from this wretched man. The sorcerer peers at you deeply and you fidget under his intense gaze as he processes the information.

The male snarks, “I’m not surprised by the turn of events. It’s always a competition with you nobles.” He ponders, “Nobility is often dehumanising; shame you all don’t see it.” You glare, “Don’t generalise.”

The man shrugs breaking his gaze away from you, “You know how incredibly lucky you were to be chosen from the bunch of kids? Oh, how the others must have felt. Have you thought about how they’re doing, huh?” A pang of guilt slams into your heart and you snap, “Don’t make me feel bad, you heathen!”

“Heathen? Oh my, I am so hurt,” he drawls amused by your reaction. A sly smirk on his lips seeing you get frustrated. “Truth stings doesn’t it?” Your jaw clenches as you grit out, “You are so infuriating.”

You huff, “You know my life story, sorcerer. What I want to know, is you seem to know the royal family quite well, excluding me.” The male clicks his tongue in irritation, “How observant of you. Well, why do you think, princess? I was exiled.” Now that you think about it, just what type of criminal were you talking to? Oh, why did you have no sense of self-preservation?

You murmur concerned, “You’re a criminal?” He notes your anxiousness before his lips twist in a dark yet mischievous smirk. He begins walking towards you as you step back until you find your back against a tree.

He murmurs standing in front of you, “You really don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, slightly trembling. He peers away with a bitter sigh, “Perhaps, that’s a good thing.” You grimace before he mutters, “So they really erased my father’s legacy, hm? What a shame.” Confusion paints itself on your face.

To your surprise, he backs off giving you space and murmurs solemnly, “I’m just a mediocre sorcerer that was unfortunately banished here by the noble court for supposedly doing something bad. Hm, tragic, no?” He muses cockily and you deadpan exasperated by his arrogant facade and games. Could you believe him?

You observe he seems to be somewhat similar in age to you. “I’ve never seen you at the palace.” He hums, “Have you gone to the sorcerer’s tower?” You shake your head, “Well, I’ve been in there for a few minutes. Sorcery isn’t my…strong suit. People are still wary of it.” The man snorts, “Typical. Well then, you wouldn’t have seen me anyway. But I believe, I had already left before you got adopted,” he utters.

Peering around at the woods, you shudder. Everything looks the same, the trees look menacingly over you both. The mist kisses the floor delicately as it hangs along the tree roots. The woods has numerous supernatural properties which you were not keen on finding out. You question, “How have you remained sane, here? I’m beginning to lose my mind after being here for a mere few hours.”

His answer bamboozles you, “Well, if you didn’t want to be here, then perhaps, you’d go insane.” Your eyes widen, “Are you implying you want to be here?” The sorcerer shrugs, “Well anyway, not like I had a choice, thanks to my father. I suppose it was expected. It’s better than the palace for sure.” You ask, “Your father? Who was he?”

The handsome man groans, “In all your years of elite tutoring, you’d think you would have learnt something; no?” Your eyes narrow. Before you can insult him back he swiftly turns around and begins walking off down the trail.

Wait! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! He was supposed to be swayed by your pitiful situation and ask to help you; a damsel in distress! You scramble after him, tugging your gown up to walk faster, “Hey- you- stop!” He grunts, “Don’t follow me. I’ve had a decade of peace. Yet, now here you are.” You snap marching behind him, “I told you already, I am not exiled! Not a criminal like you! I came here of my own volition! I wanted fo-“

“Then that makes you an idiot, princess. Who voluntarily comes to a place where the most dangerous criminals are exiled?” He peers over his shoulder as he storms ahead.

You murmur, “Well, you don’t seem that scary. Mysterious actually.” The male pauses for a moment and glares darkly at you saying, “Look, princess. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t care to reveal anymore about myself. I just needed to ascertain whether you were a threat or not.” His tone is apathetic and has a sharp edge - it hurt you. He mutters to himself, “You royals are always so quick to judge.” Frowning, you question, “Have my family done something to you? My parents are some of the peaceful rulers we’ve had in decades.”

A bitter laugh escapes his lips, “Oh, of course. No, no, keep living in that perfect little bubble of yours, princess.” Abruptly, he turns and continues marching off. No! No! You were going to get eaten alive out here!

The man mutters behind him, “Don’t follow me.” Whining, you plead, “Please, sorcerer. I really have nowhere else to go!” He mutters, “Well, not my problem, shouldn’t have come here.” You huff, “I really need to get to the Kingdom of Luna. Through the Woods of Mors, it’s the shortest route! But I don’t know how to exactly get there and-“ The sorcerer continues walking and you groan gathering the skirt of your gown trying to not trip over the tree roots.

You ramble exhaustedly, “I saw the smoke from what I thought was a chimney-“ Sharply he says, “Shut it, princess. Goodness, you talk a lot.” You stiffen and glare at the back of his head. “Firstly, the smoke is from my home. Secondly, why the hell are you trying to get to Luna? You got bored of this kingdom? Want to marry into their royal family, marry crown prince Choi?” He utters in irritation. You clench your jaw in vexation, “You are the rudest individual I’ve ever met. And that’s saying something since I meet rude people all the time at balls!”

A snort escapes him. “I’ll give you a point for being funny, this one time. But answer the damn question,” he becomes serious once and you scoff, “You- I-“ You continue, “I wish to rally support from our ally kingdom. In order to go against the tyranny that’s taking place.”

A moment of silence occurs as he processes your words, and he condescendingly smirks, “Yes, well, good luck with that then.” He hastens his pace and you yelp, “You! You disgraceful- utter nuisance-” Your voice begins to crack and your eyes glaze over.

You were so desperate. Your legs ached and you were beyond fatigued. You didn’t think you could do this anymore and this sadist was toying with you as if it were some game to him. No wonder he was banished here! The most arrogant and heartless sorcerer you’ve ever met - nothing like the lovely apprentices back at the palace.

You put your pride aside, “Y-You’re the only person here. I know you dislike royalty- that you were wronged in some way and have a grudge.” The sorcerer stiffens peering over his shoulder icily hearing your wavering voice. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being obnoxious, I…just need help. I’m desperate.” Tears slip out onto your cheeks as your hands tremble. His eyes flicker with slight regret.

He stops walking and stands stiffly. He murmurs, “Why should I care? Why do I want to be subjected to messy politics? I live here contently, away from all that.” You flinch and you raggedly snarl, “I want that bastard- Sehun, to go. I’ll do anything!” The man turns himself around still holding the basket with a surprised expression; yet the coldness in his eyes seems to have melted.

Your knees buckle and you kneel in front of him. He steps back startled by your motion. “Please sorcerer, hear my pleas. I…I just need to get to the border of Luna. I want to get my rightful throne back. Avenge my parents. Protect the kingdom,” you passionately plead.

His eyes widen in surprise and he murmurs, “They’re dead?” You grit out tearfully as your hands form fists, “That bastard, poisoned them. My father is dead, my mother is on her last breath.” He peers at you with a dark expression and his fist clenches. “Was it slow poison?” He questions. The man pales and he almost looks anxious. How did he know?

He runs his hand through his pale blonde locks in frustration, “Fuck.” Your heart sinks as he twists away, shaking in anger. Your eyes widen, stammering, “Sorcerer?” You peer at his broad back enhanced by his elegant ebony cloak.

“Taehyun,” he answers sharply. “What?” He exhales deeply, softening his tone, “My name, princess.” Your shoulders relax and eyes glimmer. He turns away beginning to walk off once more and you clamber up, “Hey! Sorc-Taehyun!”

“Keep up,” he bluntly orders not turning back to look at you. “What?” You gawk with narrow eyes. He scoffs, “Keep your pretty mouth shut, and follow me, alright?” A glare encompasses your gaze before you huff following in silence. You observe his initially cold and cocky aura had dissipated, replaced with a sort of solemness. Did you look pitiful enough in his eyes?

A small laugh escapes his lips, “Hm, you can remain quiet for more than a minute.” You glare intensely; frankly you were too tired to argue. He peers over his shoulder checking if you were still there. You give him a snarky smile and he rolls his eyes looking back ahead. You were merely grateful that he accepted your plea.

——•••——

After a few minutes, you find your eyes widening at a clearing. You spot a small house covered in vines, a few piles of firewood here and there alongside several shabby carts, barrels and crates. You’d have thought this place to be abandoned, if it weren’t for the little garden of fruits and vegetables and the glowing lanterns hung around.

“That’s a lot of lanterns,” you murmur. He grins, “Yes, to keep the bloodmoths away.” You stiffen, “The what?” A devious smirk laces his lips, “The bloodmoths. They’re native to this forest of course.” Your eyes narrow, “Aren’t moths attracted to light?” He hums, grabbing a large set of keys from under his cloak to open the front door. Taehyun hums amused, “Oh you sweet thing, I don’t even know how you made it this far into the forest.”

His condescending attitude irks you. He waits for you to step inside and you scoff, “How am I supposed to know?” Taehyun closes the door behind him as he enters. “These moths aren’t ordinary. They like the darkness and are adapted to the dark. Interestingly, they do love to drink blood. Hence the name.” You feel nauseous. “They’re probably the size of your head. Scary right? Then again, that’s not very big.”

You snap, “Are you calling me stupid?” “I’m implying it,” Taehyun hums snarkily, removing his cloak, tossing it aside onto a chair. You peer at his attire, a black shirt with a ruffle under his top button of the collar. It was elegant as it was tucked into his trousers which cinched his waist ever so slightly. If you weren’t in this situation, you’d have mistaken him for a prince. How unfortunate he had such a sour personality.

“Mm, what? You’re admiring me?” He quips with an irritatingly attractive smirk. Unimpressed, you mutter, “Nothing much to look at. I have standards.” He feigns hurt putting a hand over his heart whilst giving you a dark gaze, “Oh pity, you couldn’t find a Prince Charming to come to your rescue, you found me.” You roll your eyes.

Taehyun outstretches his arms, “This here is my humble abode.” You peer around seeing piles of books, a few chairs and a small circular dining table by a window beside the kitchen. On your right was a corner full of books and a shelf filled with potion bottles and a small cauldron. “You can do alchemy?” He shrugs with a prideful smile, “I dabble in a little of everything.” You continue to peer around. It was small, but enough for one person. “This may not be up to your mighty standards. I’m sure you're used to the scale of the palace.” You scoff, “How stuck up do you think I am? This is fine.” Taehyun snarks, “Quite a bit.”

He walks past you placing the baskets down onto the kitchen counter and begins lighting candles around the dim room. A golden hue from the flames illuminates you both. You murmur as you watch him walk around hastily, “So, when are we going to Luna?” Taehyun sighs, “Why the haste?” You glare, “Answer the question.” He snickers, “Fine, I was thinking you could take some time to compose yourself. Secondly, you look terrible.” You flinch once more at the blatant profanity. “Excuse me?” You snap.

Your eyes widen as he steps in front of you, his arm going over your right shoulder to light the candle behind you. His eyes twinkle alluringly as he uses his fingertips to light the candle. A smirk appears on his face as he leans closer, “What? Are you offended, princess?” You glare into his eyes, “You’re just mean.” He grins, “You should be grateful.” You scoff peering away as he removes his hand, “Step away if you don’t want your lovely locks to be catching on fire, sweetheart,” he snarks. You rush away from the candle stand.

Taehyun strides into the kitchen gesturing you to follow behind him and you so. “Listen, you’re in my house. Don’t touch anything. You can stay within the living room and kitchen area. Don’t set foot near the corner where my magic equipment is.” You hum sneering, “Or what?” His gaze sharpens, “Or you’ll become my next test subject. I’ve never turned a human into a mushroom before,” he taunts.

Noted. He grabs a chopping board and knife, placing them down. Taehyun kindles the wood under the stove, lighting it on fire. “After you’re rested up and in somewhat decent condition, I’ll prepare us some necessities to travel to the border, in around a day or two. It should take us a few hours.” He was indeed serious about helping you..

“Thank you,” you quietly utter. Taehyun’s face snaps up to meet yours; you see his eyes shake a bit at your sincerity. Clearing his throat, “Yes, well, you're welcome. Now come make yourself useful.” He reaches under the counter grabbing some vegetables, washing them and placing them onto the counter. “Cut these up, fine slices, and remove the basil from the stem. Then you can-“ Your eyes widen, “I- I’ve not really cooked in awhile.” “Or at all,” Taehyun deadpans. You pout. Sighing, he asks, “Fine, I’ll make the soup. You can cut vegetables at least, right?” You nod awkwardly as you handle the knife precariously. You hadn’t handled something like this since you were young. The royal kitchen handled everything.

You see him begin cooking and prepare the seasoning with ease. You continue to chop and he peers over your shoulder, “Huh, not bad. Not good but not bad.” You mutter, “Can you be nice for once?” Taehyun smirks, “The least you can do is help me around here in the meantime, no? Or do you plan to lounge about like you do in the palace?”

You glare at him indignantly. Taehyun smirks, leaning forward, “Anyway, consider the next day or two worth of chores, my payment for my services.” Surprised you ask, “Payment? Don’t you want money?” You were planning to take off one of your rings or necklaces to give away. His gaze darkens, “Money doesn’t mean much to me, when I’m out here.” Your shoulders slouch as you frown. How lonely he must be… Taehyun peers up to lock eyes with you, “Don’t worry about it. Just consider it a generous favour. I was bored out here anyway.”

You had a feeling he was lying but you don’t push it; after all you just need his help to the border. He murmurs gently, “I’ll get you there safely. Don’t worry.” Perhaps there was more to him under his arrogant, know-it-all facade. You were drawn to him. You gaze at him awestruck by the way the fire lit up his features.

He notes your gaze and his lips quirk up into a sly smile, “Eyes on the knife, sweetheart. Not me.”

Taglist: [open]

@royallyjjk @wolfytae-exe @rencarnationofangel @sirenla @matcha-binz @beomies-world @michinri @parkweylyn @wikireads @hanniehaeeeeeee1004 @elara828 @wonioml @onima-chan @moonekth

[c-nstellati-ns]

how about b c g h t x for my cowboy cassidy?

cole cassidy - NSFW alphabet

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

contrast to popular belief, cassidy prides himself on his arms- both his regular and prosthetic one. his prosthesis isn’t a source of shame or embarrassment to him, he’s proud of it no matter what. sure sometimes he takes off his arm in his downtime, but he’ll be damned if someone tried making him feel bad for having lost it in the first place. he particularly enjoys tracing the little scars and muscles that ripple underneath your skin, it soothes his mind to feel your warmth against his palms, alive and breathing next to him.

his favourite part about you has to be your back and chest. as stated before, cole is extremely touchy with you. so his downtime often includes him laying down with you, arms wrapped around your waist and his face firmly pressed against your shoulder- pressing kisses against the skin occasionally. when he’s sleepy, he tends to be so lovey-dovey with you, muttering things like “yer heartbeat is so soothin’, hun.” and curl into you even closer, burying himself in your chest. he’s extremely sweet, he makes it known he adores every inch of your body, though.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

it’s a double edged sword with cole… because he does absolutely love being made a mess of, but absolutely despises having to clean up after. he would rather curl up with you and fall asleep but he can’t exactly do that if he’s got cum dripping down onto his thighs and staying there. he’s particularly fond of shower sex though, because you can thoroughly fill him to the brim and clean him up after <3 if you both happen to be having a quickie though, he would not be opposed to you spilling over his tongue and face,,,

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

cole is silly !!!! he’s a firm believer in if you’re not laughing w/ ur partner at least once during sex, then what’s the point ??? he loves cracking jokes in the middle of it just to make you smile because thats the greatest gift you could ever bless him with. of course there’s going to be some serious parts of sex, especially if you both haven’t seen each other for a while or almost lost each other in a particularly horrible fight- but that’s not going to stop cassidy from giggling from the rush of adrenaline and dopamine when you’re fucking him silly. he wants you to completely ruin AND take care of him

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

i’d say he’s tad bit on the hairier side naturally. cole is extremely busy most of the time so he’s found that it’s hard to keep up with it sometimes. you truly do Not mind though, seeing that thick happy trail when his shirt lifts up a bit too high- its a sight for sore eyes. though, he will groom himself a bit more if you’re going on a date or an anniversary of sorts. he’s gotta make sure he looks his best for you ofc !!

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

i’d say he owns a few! not too much though, he prefers having you instead. cole is a little traumatised from an incident of someone recognising him in a sex shop when he went there to buy a few things, so never again <3! i’d say his favourites have to be ropes, vibrators and a blindfold. he’s a sucker for being tied up and waiting for you to touch him. it leaves him leaking, needy and desperate for you. a good session will leave him thoroughly wrecked for a long while after.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

i’d say cole’s fairly well endowed actually. around seven inches, uncut with a pretty flushed pink tip. it slightly curves to the side and drips a lot when he really gets into the groove of things. he has a real pretty cock, a vein running on the side that makes him shudder whenever you pass a finger over it. it’s longer than its thick, but it fits nicely in your hand when you’re jerking him off. cole lost a bet when he was younger and as a result, has a prince albert’s piercing. he did regret it for a while, but seeing you innate interest in the piercing- he feels a lot better about having it.

[9leaguesofmirrors]

Set Lists (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)

This is purely self-indulgent. Nobody asked for a Band!AU, but I love the idea of Drummer!Lisgoe, so we have a band AU!

If you wanna know the name of the song the band is playing, it's Jobseeker by Sealford Mods because the song slaps and I like irony

CONTENT WARNINGS: Smoking and car makeout sessions because that's the life of a rocker innit?

If there was one thing Ross hated about the bar he went to, it was the Open Mic that happened every Thursday night

It had gotten to the point where he was playing mental bingo just to keep his sanity:

"Open Mic Thursdays" set list

A girl screeching her way through My Heart Will Go On

A group of drunk milennials singing ABBA

Some guy with a guitar (bonus points if he plays Wonderwall)

A wannabe rock band

A couple that thinks they’re in a Disney movie

The theatre kid

The one that can actually sing and wants to make it everyone’s problem

The try-hard crooner

So far, he’d managed to tick off almost everything (tonight they had a couple that was particularly gushy and it almost made Ross want to hurl his guts up), and now he was scanning the room for those rock wannabes. It was slightly shameful, the child-like excitement this game gave him, but it was keeping his morale up. And after the day he had at work, it was the least he deserved

And right on cue...

He watched as a group of black-clad 30-somethings took the stage to set up. Surely there’s an age cap on when it’s acceptable to still be in a band was Ross’ immediate thought before turning to his whiskey

Ross could hear a voice through the microphone, but he wasn’t paying too much attention. It wasn’t until the sound of heavy guitar filled the air that he could no longer focus on just his drink due to the sheer noise of it. The joys of live music. Always a racket

What it did mean, however, was that Ross was finally able to see what exactly a bunch of washed-up rockers looked like

"Weird Rock Band" set list

The singer: A slightly weedy guy with shoulder-length hair and glasses who, in all honesty, stuck out like a sad little thumb

The guitarist: Girl in a black bomber jacket and some sort of weird, messy updo; she looked like she’d jumped straight out of an 80s music video

The bassist: Another girl. Undercut, lace button-down and a silver chain. Looked a lot like the drummer, speaking of which...

The drummer: Who was now slamming his drumsticks down on the instrument like it had done something to personally wrong him

If Ross had to pick, and he only ever would if he had a gun to his head, he’d say the drummer was perhaps the most convincing rocker. He certainly had the jewellery, and he had that look of intense anger that was very prevalent in the scene. Ross was slightly ashamed that he could recognise it

Even though he didn’t want to admit it, this band was one of the better ones. Not that it meant much, considering the last time a band performed it ended with the guitarist grabbing a drumstick and volleying it at someone in the back of the pub

In particular, something about the drummer caught Ross’ eye. He’d never seen someone give it the way he did. Despite there being four people on that stage, the drummer was the one clearly pulling focus. And it wasn’t the usual desperate pandering, he was just present in the moment. Ross was slightly concerned that he was going to put a stick through a drum, but at least he was interesting to watch

Well, he wasn’t sure about the rest of the audience, but he was intrigued

The song reached its end and recieved a generally warm atmosphere. Ross' eyes still found themselves on the drummer as he twirled his drumsticks around with his fingers. He'd hardly noticed the singer step forward until he started talking, much to the disappointment of Ross

“We enjoying ourselves!”

I was until you showed up

“I said are we enjoying ourselves!”

Clean out your ears

He spoke a little more, and the people watching were having a good time, but Ross only started really paying attention when he started introducing the band members

"Weird Rock Band" set list 2.0

The singer: Admittedly, even Ross didn’t catch his name. He just wished he’d shut up and finish the song

The guitarist: Ruby Louganis

The bassist: Jodie something

“And of course, last but not least,”

Jesus christ, this is dragging on

“Please give it up for our drummer-“

Can we wrap this up?

"-Mr. Joseph Lisgoe!”

... Joseph

Drummer of a rock band

And his name’s Joseph?

There wasn’t anytime to ponder this though, because the band had started up again, playing another song Ross didn't recognise. Ross went back to his drink, allowing the noise to fade into the background

The band weren’t up for too long, only about two or three songs, before they packed up and went off into the backrooms. Not emerging until a bit later, well, two of them did. The girls. Ruby and Jodie

The closer she was, Ross could really see the resemblance between Jodie and the drummer. It was strange, they looked so alike yet extremely different. Though that could’ve been due to the thick eye makeup she was wearing-

“Show’s over, cunt. Eyes on your glass.”

Damn it

“I was just wondering-“

“Bet you were.”

“Nothing like that! You just looked like your drummer, wondered if there was a genetic reason.”

Jodie gritted her teeth like she was about to launch at him, but was stopped by Ruby placing a hand on her shoulder

“We’ll take your word for it,” she said, zipping up her bomber jacket “Jodie and Joseph are twins.”

“Makes sense. How long have you been playing together?”

“We don’t.” Jodie piped up, still wary of whether she could trust Ross or not “This was just a laugh. I like guitar, he likes drums. Thought ‘fuck it, why not?’ and found out Ruby and Jezza were looking for substitutes. This is a one night only deal.”

Ross nodded and tapped his fingers against his empty glass. For some reason, his mind shifted to the drummer. He always thought twins were attached at the hip

“Does your brother not hang around then? Early night for Little Drummer Boy?”

It came out a lot more condescending than he’d intended, but it got a slight laugh from both of the girls, so at least it eased the tension

“He’s probably outside,” Jodie said “smoking it up-“

“Or having it on with someone.”

“I’ll break his fucking teeth if he is, I’m not staying after hours so he can get a quick shag!”

“And I’m not dragging you off him when the fight breaks out, so get a shot down you and ease up!”

Since Jodie and Ruby seemed to be enjoying their drinks, Ross figured he’d leave them to it. Besides, he needed some fresh air

As Ross approached the side of the pub, he noticed a figure wearing a vest top on the far end. Lanky, cigarette in hand, back against the wall. He couldn’t make out the face until he took a few steps closer

“Can I help you?” Came the figure’s voice, slightly nasal

“I can leave if you want.”

“Nah. Public place, innit?”

Ross leaned against the wall next to him, keeping a slight distance out of respect. Close enough to see the many tattoos that covered his arms, upper chest, and the one on his neck. Usually, Ross thought tattoos were either gross or a desperate attempt to appear intimidating. But he had to admit, the barbed wire that travelled up his arms, the black bird on his neck and what looked like a crack on his chest looked quite good

Obviously, by 'good', he meant objectively speaking

Once he saw the slicked-back hair and the hardened gaze, he recognised who the stranger was

“It’s Joseph, isn’t it?”

“Yup.” He threw the cigarette down and stomped it into the ground “Most people call me Lisgoe.”

“That a stage name?”

Lisgoe gave him an incredulous, amused look

“No. It’s my surname.”

“I’ve never known someone use their surname as a first name before.”

“Puts a boundary up. Helps with my job.”

Right thought Ross he’s not a musician

“I collect debts,” Lisgoe explained, as if he could read Ross’ mind “well, I mainly deal with desk stuff. But I deal with the more difficult targets. Ones that need an extra push.”

Ross thought back to his aggressive drumming and decided that he didn’t want to know how he convinced those ‘difficult targets’

“What?”

Ross snapped out of his thoughts with a soft “hm?”

“You went off somewhere, have you been drinking?”

“What? No! Well, a little, but I can hold my alcohol well. And I never get drunk.”

“Wowee!" Sneered the drummer "We're in the presence of Mother Theresa!"

"Was that necessary?"

"Yeah, I'd say it was."

After that rather snappy altercation, Ross was ready to turn right around and walk off, the only thing that stopped him was the sound of Lisgoe's voice

"You a regular then? At this bar, I mean."

"Yes?"

"No clue how, the drinks are shite and everyone that goes here is a twat."

"Like me?"

That, admittedly, came out as more of an accusation than a legitimate question, and he very nearly asked him to forget it, but that was stopped when he noticed the way Lisgoe was looking at him. As if he was taking the whole of him, really studying him. Reaching into his eyes and grasping his brain, taking it apart with a scalpel to see what was inside

In a word, it was exposing. But not in a creepy way. Ross was frozen in place. Under the watchful eye of Joseph Lisgoe, he felt both anxious and completely at ease. It was a strange feeling, not unpleasant but extremely unorthodox

It was the man's voice that broke him out of his thoughts

"Nah. Well, you seem a little stuck up."

Rude

"And you dress like a secondary school History teacher."

Rude, but annoyingly accurate

"But you're not a twat like most people are." He gestured vaguely with his cigarette "You go to bars and you see all kinds of people. The ones that try to fit in. The ones that think they're God's fucking gift because they don't fit in, the ones that are so desperate to fit in they'll do fucking anything."

"And where do I fit?"

"That's the thing," Lisgoe took a puff of his cigarette "you don't really seem like the kind of guy to fit any of those boxes. You're just... you. You wear your clothes, you drink your beer. And if you don't like the band that's onstage, you don't bother watching. Unless you're making eyes at the drummer."

That last part was accompanied by a playful smirk that made Ross roll his eyes

"I wasn't making eyes at you."

"Would you rather I called it 'gawking' then?"

"I'd rather you didn't exaggerate."

"Whatever," he waved his cigarette dismissively "my point still stands. You don't give a fuck about what people say, you don't seem like the kind of guy that bends to how people think you should act. It's pretty punk."

"I'd hardly call myself a punk."

"You don't look the part, but you're more punk than most twats that wear the badges."

There was something strange about Lisgoe. For someone that spoke so casually, with such a relaxed and colloquial atmosphere, he was strangely philosophical. Contradicting, that's how Ross felt it best to describe Lisgoe

As they stood in silence, Ross' eyes were caught by Lisgoe taking out his cigarette box. Well, for some reason, was specifically watching his hands. Clearly, he wasn't new to this, and his fingers were equally as skilled. That must've been due to his drumming hobby

Why he didn't just look away, Ross didn't know, he can't recognised he was staring until he was pulled out of his trance by Lisgoe's voice

"Did you want one?"

Ross just shook his head, suddenly finding the floor fascinating. Not fascinating enough to stop his eyes from darting over at Lisgoe as he let the cigarette stay in his mouth, stretching his hands down by his sides. The tendons fidgeted as he moved his fingers, bending and shifting in a way that was almost hypnotic

He had rings on. That was how Ross excused his fascination. Silver, some had small black gems, they were quite pretty. Suited him. Suited his hands

Those hands-

"If you want a smoke, I don't mind sharing."

"I was looking at your jewellery."

"Is that right?" Lisgoe's tone was smug and biting, cigarette still in his teeth "Just my jewellery?"

Usually, Ross would just deny it and move on. And he knew he was for the best. But he watched as Lisgoe moved to stand directly in front of him, slowly reaching to take the cigarette out from between his teeth. There was something about the way his canines caught his lower lip as he smiled that caught Ross' attention and refused to let it go

"What else would I be looking at?"

"Dunno," Lisgoe's right hand jolted out to grab Ross' left shoulder, standing in front of him as he brushed his forearm against Ross' throat, causing him to let out a strangled gasp "what else could have your attention?"

Well... this is new

The eye contact between them was thick and glowing like an ember. Ross' eyes darted towards Lisgoe's forearm and he made the mistake of glancing at his shoulder. Because he was instantly met with the sight of Lisgoe's hand tightly gripping it

And that made it incredibly hard to make rational decision

"I'm not a hook-up sort of person," Ross said softly, the way he spoke sounded more like a challenge than anything else "you'll have to do more than push me into a wall to convince me to spend the night with you."

"You may not wanna hook up, but you want something." This was followed by a hand slipping down Ross' back, resting on his ass "Something a little more hands-on?"

"And you're alright with acting like this in public? Where anyone could catch you?"

"No big deal," came the drummer's response as he pulled away, which caused Ross' more disappointment than he cared to admit "part of the fun. But you look like you don't get much of that."

The glare Ross gave him caused him to laugh, and he took another smoke of his cigarette

No fun, is that what you think?

He had the decency to wait for Lisgoe to stop inhaling the smoke before tugging him in by his vest. But, just as their lips brushed, he hesitated. It felt odd. Not bad, not at all. Hell, as he heard Lisgoe exhale the smoke into the tiny space between them, Ross could feel his head spin quite pleasurably. It just wasn't what he was used to, none of it was

Oddly enough, it was as if Lisgoe could read his mind through the web of thought he was tangled in

"Could leave you alone," he said casually "just say the word and I'll fuck off. The others are probably wondering where I am anyway." A pause. As if he were trying to work out how to speak without pushing "Or... if it's publicity you don't like, my apartment's free. Up to you really."

"Logical Things To Say" setlist

"No, I've just met you"

"I have work in the morning"

"This is a very bad idea"

"We could get caught"

"Not very decent, is it?"

Ross opened his mouth and responded with the first thing that came to mind

******************************************

After a long day at work, or a long day anywhere for that matter, Lisgoe often enjoyed sitting in his car, in some secluded area, accompanied only by his thoughts and the radio

This time, however, he was in his car, in some secluded alleyway

The radio off

And his tongue down someone's throat

What a fucking night!

*********************************************

Ross' brain had been yelling at him about his complete lack of dignity as soon as Lisgoe started leading him to his car. It had been somewhat quietened by the feeling of Lisgoe's hand massaging his thigh as he drove, but it didn't leave him alone until the car was stopped and Ross felt his chin being grabbed and his head turned to face the man in the driver's seat

The man he was currently straddling the lap of, in that exact driver's seat

"Making Out With A Guy You Just Met" set list

The buzzing in your stomach at the potential for getting caught, a combination of fear and thrill

Cramped spaces that aren't exactly comfortable, but makes everything feel that much more sensual

Jesus christ, I'm making out with a stranger in the front seat of his car

All of Ross' thoughts came through as static, every time he felt Lisgoe grip at his sides, tug his shirt, run his hands across his bare skin, the static got more intense until his head was completely empty of what had happened and what might happen next. All he could focus on was cold hands on warm skin, the sound of the drummer's breathing becoming more laboured and heavy

He didn't even realise he was making gentle sounds of his own until Lisgoe broke the kiss to tell him in a breathy tone

"You sound so fucking good."

"Do I?"

Lisgoe just nodded as he pulled Ross back in, as if replying simply wasted too much time. Time he wanted to spend completely melting into him, surrounded by the combining scent of cologne and cigarettes. Strange, but somehow added to the thrill. Made it feel more rebellious

"Just realised," Lisgoe muttered against Ross' mouth, unable to pull himself away for more than a few seconds "never got your name."

"Right."

"So what is it?"

"Um, Ross."

As Ross placed a hand on Lisgoe's chest, he could feel the way a chuckle rumbled gently through him

"You didn't sound too sure, that an alias or something? Are you a spy-"

Ross put a stop to the teasing by trailing his lips along Lisgoe's jawline

"It's Ross." He said gently in his ear "Ross Gaines. And I'm an auditor at the job centre, not a spy."

As he kissed down Lisgoe's neck, taking his time as he did with most things, he could hear his saying something under his breath

"Ross Gaines. Ross Gaines."

Each time his name was said, more heat started to pool within him. The way it sounded in Lisgoe's voice wasn't quite something he'd prepared for

"It's fun to say, 'Ross Gaines' all those s sounds." Lisgoe's lips moved to his ear, nipping at the lobe "Ross..." his hand slid up his shirt, digging slightly into his skin "Fuck sake, Ross Gaines," he grabbed the hem of his trousers, moving to undo his belt "you taste so sweet."

The hissing of the sibilance, combined with the feeling of the words hitting his skin, was enough to make Ross slightly dizzy. And the feeling of his belt being unbuckled was not helping his critical reasoning skills in the slightest. The words were bubbling up through his throat, arms wrapped around Lisgoe's neck as pulled him in, as if searching for a way to distract himself. To stop himself from falling off the edge

"Ross-"

"Wait."

Lisgoe pulled his hands away, holding them up like he'd been stopped by police

"You said your apartment was free?"

"I live alone, so I'd be fucking confused if it wasn't."

That made Ross roll his eyes, laughing a little. His hands made their way to cup Lisgoe's face, looking at him with considering eyes

"Do you do this often then?"

"Not as often as people think." Lisgoe answered, his hands on Ross' hips "Yeah, sometimes I like a quick one before I go to bed, but I'm not exactly a hook-up expert. I just get horny." His hands moved slowly up his sides, sending a chill up Ross' spine "You're the first one I've invited back though, I like your company. You're hot as fuck, but you're also easy to talk to. I respect that."

"I thought it was common decency to kick the person out of bed after you're done with them."

That got a gravelly chuckle from the drummer and he let his hand travel to Ross' ass, squeezing roughly

"I like spicing things up every now and then."

"Really?" Ross, in a sudden wave of boldness, leaned in and brushed their lips together "Because I think stalling things would make it quite boring."

The sound of Lisgoe's stuttered breath bounced in Ross' head

"Was... your fucking idea." He replied with a sly smile "You changing your mind, Ross?"

"I'm allowed." He bit Lisgoe's lower lip and god! The low, raspy moan it produced caused his hips to buck, which only drew another groan from the drummer's lips "Any objections, Joseph?"

"Say my name like that again and I won't be able to fucking talk, let alone object!"

There was no more time for set lists

[inkdemonapologist]

I'm more curious about the personality of your Sammy!

I'm not too deep into the hole Call of Cthulhu thing and i'm still digging around. Besides personality I am curious about Sammy and the lost ones. What his relationship is like with them and such (if they are around. Or in general for Batim/Dark Revival what you think of it)

As far as personality goes, overall, I read Sammy as a counterphobic type 6, and this applies to basically all of my Sammy interpretations, haha. If you’re not an enneagram nerd, this is the “skeptic” type – I see Sammy as an anxious person deep down who wants (but finds it hard to believe in) something or someone he can trust to be stable. Understanding that little conflict is hugely important for making sense of his actions; Sammy subconsciously wants something to trust in so badly that he aggressively mistrusts to protect himself from that one huge vulnerability, one I don’t think he fully knows that he has. I've seen him described as a follower at heart, and that rings true to me; he comes across as cynical and unimpressed as a human, but when he switches to his blindly devout worship of the Ink Demon, it’s not as much of a personality change as you might think.

TIOL is actually a really good example of this. When Joey introduces himself as the head of JDS and tells Sammy and Jack he’d like to hire them, Sammy’s first serious question is the weirdly revealing “how do I know it’s real.” He doesn’t first ask what the job would entail or what kind of work the man’s theoretically looking for; his very first response is to bluntly assume this man they just met might be scamming them. But then as soon as Sammy sees the place, which is little more than a room with a piano in it, he believes Joey’s claim that they’re planning to expand without question, as if he was TRYING to be skeptical but isn't actually that good at it. Joey is mystified by him for most of the tour, but it’s actually apparent in Sammy’s wording that he’s interested and getting invested – which shouldn’t be a surprise. Sammy’s immediate mistrust and assumption that the offer was too good to be true was just as telling as Jack’s sparkle-eyed excitement: he already wanted the job.

Anyway, I see Sammy as someone who’s serious and cynical to protect a vulnerable heart that wants someone he can safely rely on and doesn’t think he’ll get it. He values stability and survival over happiness (better the devil you know than the devil you don’t) and doesn’t like taking big risks, but he’s also not careful; he’s not good at thinking things through or identifying his own feelings, and often acts impulsively towards whatever makes the most immediate sense to him. A lot of his rudeness isn’t intended to be mean – he just doesn’t see the point of social niceties and isn’t interested in worrying about them – but he is ALSO not always thoughtful, projects his stress and frustration onto others, and is not good at looking at things from someone else’s perspective. Sammy can be volatile, and between the ink and the overstimulation he's obviously experiencing on the job, some of that genuinely isn't his fault... but some of it is his own choice to lash out at everyone around him before ever looking within or trying to improve things.

The Lost Ones aren’t a thing in the Cthulhu AU. In Escape AU, none of them survived the escape, and Sammy’s relationship with them was something that kind of haunts him now – they were his flock, and he cared for them, but he knows he wasn’t a good leader. I’ve talked about this before, but I tend to interpret Sammy as someone who exploited his followers’ desperation and loyalty for his own protection; even if he did look after them and was the closest thing to hope and care they had. That’s a big reason why Escape Sam was convinced he should stay separated from Jack for a long time – it’s not just Sammy refusing to believe he deserves love (though it’s that too), it’s also Sammy recognising that he was a cult leader who destroyed Jack and then took advantage of his confusion and loyalty.

I don’t know if this answers your question but uh, THERES SOME OF MY THOUGHTS