#also thank god they just made him a charming and silly flirt rather than an actual pest to women like in the manga

[isablooo]

I realised they made chef zeff and sanji british instead of french in the one piece live action because gordon ramsey. And for the record I do in fact love the performances, gordon ramsey coded chef zeff is everything

[nagipops]

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[waitimcomingtoo]

I Thought This Was A Closet Party

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter helps you with a favor that brings you closer than ever. Like, stuck in a closet together type of close

Masterlist

“Hello Peter.” You greeted him stiffly. “You look very sexy today.”

Peter swiveled in his chair to look at you, perched in his door way with a look on your face that he knew all too well.

“Oh God.” He groaned. “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something, my delectable best friend?” You asked as you walked into his room and shut the door behind you. Peter his earbuds out and looked up at you, giving you his full attention.

“Maybe because called me “delectable”.” He said pointedly and you waved your hand in dismissal.

“Haha.” You faked laughed and draped yourself over his lap, making him adjust himself in the chair to catch you. “You are just as funny as you are handsome.”

“Fake flirting?” He raised an eyebrow at you as he secured his arms around your waist to keep you from falling off the chair. “What do want? My kidney?”

“Oh, Peter. You are so silly. Your sense of humor is unmatched.” You laughed again as you patted his chest. “Have I mentioned I love this flannel? It’s so rugged and lesbian chic. You fill it out really well. Is it Gucci?”

“It’s from Goodwill and I’m not giving you anything. Flattery gets you nowhere-“

“Hold on.” You interrupted before sighing dramatically. “Sorry. I just got lost in your eyes. They remind me of the ocean.”

“My eyes are brown.” Peter shut you down instantly.

“I know. Water pollution is so devastating. I bet you could end it with just a smile and a wink.” You flirted around you walked your fingers up his chest and booped his nose.

“That’s one of the weirder come on’s I’ve heard.” He laughed at you. Even thought he knew you were only kidding, it didn’t stop his heart from pounding when you flirted with him. He did his best to keep a straight face as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. You looked up suddenly and your face softened, almost like you were being genuine for a moment.

“Your face looks scrumptious in the moonlight.” You deadpanned, making Peter groan loudly and rub his tired eyes.

“I need you to stop.” Peter whined as you laughed at yourself.

“I fantasize about us being in love to fall asleep.” You continued your charade as you wrapped your arms around his neck. That one hit a little too close to home for Peter and he blew out a breath.

“Just take it. Take my kidney. This is unbearable.”

“I really like your personality.” You tried again.

“Not gonna happen.” Peter insisted.

“You butt looks good in those jeans?” You phrased it as more of a question as you looked at him with hope.

“You got me.” He sighed. “You know my butt is a direct pathway to my heart. What do you need from me?”

You smiled with pride as you finally broke him down and climbed off his lap.

“I need an interview with Cleatus Kassidy for an article.” You told him as you clasped your hands under your chin.

“Okay.” Peter nodded. “Where is he?”

You took a step towards Peter and brushed a curl behind his ear, letting your hand rest in the back of his neck and and tangle in his curls. He knew this was just another step in your scheme to get him to help you, but he couldn’t help from leaning into your touch.

“Queensboro Correctional facility.” You said sheepishly, and Peter finally understood what all the flirtatious precautions were for.

“He’s in jail?” Peter nearly screamed when you broke the news.

“No.” You said and Peter relaxed. “He’s in prison.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Peter dismissed you and held out the scissors again. “I’d rather you take the kidney.”

“Please?” You pleaded and tilted his chin up to look at you. “I can’t be a criminal investigator without any experience and I’m already behind since my stupid professor doesn’t like me. Which is insane, by the way, since I’m adorable and charming.”

“Yeah, I cant imagine why he wouldn’t like you, you being so humble and all.” He replied. 

“Right?” You answered, unaware of his sarcasm. “I need this to prove I belong in his class. This is the break I’ve been waiting for.”

“What do you need from me?” Peter sighed. “That doesn’t mean I’m helping, I just want an estimation on how stupid this plan is before I put an offer down.”

“I need you to help me break into the prison so I can put my name in his visitors list.” You said all in one breath.

“You want to break into jail?” Peter whispered harshly so his aunt wouldn’t hear.

“No.” You said bluntly. “I want to break into prison.”

“Nope. Not happening.” Peter held up his hands in defense and swiveled back to face his desk.

“Peter, please?” You begged as you turned his chair around. “Do you understand how much this means to me?”

“And do you understand that people typically try to break out of prison? Not in?” Peter sassed you.

“But this is the only way to get on his visitors list.” You whined. “I’ve tried calling everyday for the three weeks but he keeps getting his phone privileges taken away for behavioral misconducts.”

“What kind of behavior misconducts?” Peter lowered his eyebrows skeptically. You looked down at your hands and timidly picked at your chipping nail polish.

“The stabbing kind.” You mumbled and Peters jaw dropped.

“That’s a bad kind!” He exclaimed.

“But no one ever finds a knife!” You retorted. “The victims always have deep puncture wounds but no knife. And the guards once found bite marks.”

“Oh, great. So he takes a little nibble after puncturing his victims.” Peter clasped his hands together on his lap. “Can’t wait to meet him. Should I bake him some cornbread as a gift?”

“That’d be nice.” You ignored his sarcasm and answered honestly.

“I was being sarcastic.” Peter snapped and got out of his chair.

“Good for you!” You said back. “No one investigated the bite marks even though they didn’t match Cleatus’s dental records. Not to mention, his MO has completely changed since getting into prison. He used to go after blonde women in their 40’s-

“Karen’s.” Peter cut in.

“Exactly.” You nodded. “And now he goes after men who are in for non violent crimes with no previous records. Something weird is going and no one is investigating it. That’s why I need to get in there and see what’s up but I need your help to do that. You owe me since you got me thinking about how much I want cornbread.”

Peter leaned on his hand and stared at you, trying to decipher his next move. You folded your arms and stared back, trying to look serious.

“People are dying, Peter.” You said softly, making him sigh.

“I also want cornbread.” He said quietly as he kept his gaze down.

“Peter, I will bake you all the cornbread you can eat until you’re too heavy to swing from your webs if you help me.” You told him as you sat back on his lap. Peter squeezed your hip gently and pursed his lips.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “We could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Your ass is bigger than Captain America’s.” You started up again with the compliments, making a smile tug at Peters lips. 

“I’m in.”

“Yay! Thank you so much.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “When I win the Pulitzer Prize for my work you’ll be the first one I thank.”

“All right, all right.” Peter chuckled softly as he rubbed your back. “What’s the first step of the plan?”

“You have your suit, so it’s only fair I get a disguise of my own.” You began.

“Does that mean...”

“Yep.” You smiled. “Road trip to Goodwill.”

“You treat me so well.” Peter beamed.

~

A day later, you stood outside Queensboro Correctional facility in a makeshift guard next to Peter in his Spiderman suit.

“This is it?” Peter asked as he looked at the building. It’s height alone made him feel small, and the fact he was the reason a few of those inmates were in there didn’t make him feel any better.

“This is it.” You confirmed as you adjusted your tie.

“How do we get in?” Peter looked to you.

“The computer room is the only one with a window that opens since you need a key to get in. It locks automatically so you have to stay there while I do my part of the plan. Once my name is on the list, we can meet back at the computer room.”

“And then we get cornbread?” Peter asked.

“And then we get cornbread.” You nodded.

“Awesome. You ready?”

“Ready.” You secured yourself to Peters side but stopped him before he could swing away. “Oh wait. Hang on.” You took out your phone and quickly dialed a number.

“Who are you calling?” Peter wondered as you held your phone to your ear.

“Remember that thing we talked about? Awesome. Yeah, you can do it now.” You said into the phone as you looked to the sky. Right as Peter looked up in the same direction, a hot blue lightning rod struck the power lines, sending a wave of sparks to rain down. The lights inside the prison flickered for a moment before coming back on.

“You got Thor involved?” Peter asked in shock.

“I needed him to knock out the security cameras so we didn’t get caught.” You shrugged. “Unless, of course, you wanted to join Cleatus in there.”

“Just grab on.” Peter huffed and wrapped his arm around your waist. He shot a web towards the fifth floor and swung you up there with ease. He stuck to the side of the building as he opened the window, pushing you inside before going in himself.

“You didn’t have to roll me in like I’m a bowling ball.” You grumbled as you dusted yourself off.

“You’re just mad because I always beat you at Wii bowling.” Peter shrugged as he brushed some dust off your shoulder.

“Okay, but which one of us cried because they lost at Wii tennis last week?” You asked as you peered out the window in the door for any guards.

“Me, but I wasn’t crying because I lost.” Peter insisted.

“Sure you weren't.” You quipped as you fixed your uniform.

“You hit me in the face with your controller!” Peter whispered harshly, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence.

“The past can hurt us, but we have to chose to run from it or learn from it.” You said causally as you continued to look out the window.

“Do not quote Lion King right now, I swear to God.” Peter grumbled as he took a seat at one of the computers.

“You’re not being very Hakuna matata right now.” You said quietly and Peter glared at you, piercing you through his mask.

“I just feel like you’re being a little too slimy and not enough satisfying.” You added and he balled his hands into a fist.

“We are in a correctional facility right now and unless you’d like to write your next exposition from a cell in a women’s prison, I suggest you get on with your part of the plan.” Peter said with superficial calmness.

“Right. Sorry. I’ll go find a guard.” You hung your head in shame and left the room. You tried to blend in as you walked through the halls, smiling tightly at any guards you passed. Coming behind a corner, you found a single guard by an open window and took the next step of the plan. You ducked behind the wall and held your fingers against the intercom in your ear.

“Eagle 1, do you copy? Eagle 1, over.” You whispered.

“Who’s Eagle 1? Don’t even tell me you got Sam in on the plan.” Peters voice filled your ear.

“You’re Eagle 1!” You whispered abrasively. “We can’t have a heist without code names.”

“I’m thinking of a lot of code names I’d like you call you right now.” Peter mumbled.

“Are you in position?” You asked him.

“Yes, I am in position.” Peter confirmed as he stuck to the side of the building.

“I found a guard.” You told him. “I’m on the west side of the fifth floor. Do you see me?”

“I see you.” Peter responded.

“Okay. Do your thing.”

You watched Peter swing back and forth between the buildings outside of the window where you were positioned. When the guard didn’t look up, you had to step in.

“Wow! Is that Spider-Man?” You asked dramatically as you came around the corner. The guard barely glanced up at the window and looked at you.

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“That’s so cool. He’s like a celebrity.” You gushed.

“Yeah.” He said again.

“Boy, wouldn’t it be awesome to get a picture with him? You’d be the coolest guy ever if you could get a picture.” You forced a laugh, beginning to panic when the guard wasn’t responding the way you hoped.

“Eh.” He shrugged unenthusiastically.

“Why don’t you give me your phone and I’ll take your picture? I’m sure Spiderman wouldn’t mind.” You looked at Peter and gave him a thumbs up, which he reciprocated.

“Meh.” He said and began to walk away, making your heart race with fear.

“Okay, um, wait!” You called after him, still needing the code from him.

“What?” He turned around, growing frustrated with you. Your eyes darted across his face before landing on his name tag.

“Sebastian.” You faked a smile. “I really need to get onto one of the computers but I left my phone as home. Do you think you could tell me the passcode?”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side and looked at you sideways for a moment, making you shift uncomfortably. You were sure you were caught just from his look.

“Where’s your name tag?” He questioned. You looked down at where your name tag should be and gulped. The uniform was pretty easy to make out of miscellaneous items from Goodwill, but you’d forgotten about a name tag.

“An inmate…swallowed it.” You lied, hoping he would somehow believe you with your pithy excuse.

“Which inmate?” Sebastian asked, making you suck in a breath. You raked your brain for the most generic name you could think of.

“Josh?” It came out as more of question as a bead of sweat rolled down your forehead. To your surprise, Sebastians face softened and he let out a laugh.

“Damn. That is so Josh.” He chuckled. “The code is 877-393-4448. If you talk to Sheila at the front desk, she can get you another name tag. This is the ninth one Josh has swallowed.”

You gave Sebastian a gentle smile, surprised he was so eager to help you.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. Sebastian nodded and returned the smile.

“And between you and me, Captain America is way cooler.” He said behind his hand, like it was a secret.

“Totally.” You laughed before he walked away.

“I heard that.” Peter grumbled into your intercom.

“I was just playing along to keep my cover.” You defended yourself as you wrote the code down in your notes.

“Eagle 1, the recipe has been downloaded. I repeat, the recipe had been downloaded.” You whispered so only Peter could hear.

“What recipe?”

“The code!” You almost yelled. “I got the code, you ninny. Are you back in the computer room?”

“I just got in.” He told you.

“Okay. I’m texting you the code. Tell me when you get it.”

“I got it.” He confirmed.

“Go to inmate information.” You walked him through the steps.

“Yep.”

“Find inmate 24601.” You said, Cleatus’s number.

“Getting scared at how much you know about the prison computer system.” Peter laughed nervously as he did what you asked.

“Go to visitors.” You ignored his comment.

“Okay.”

“And put my full name.” You instructed. Your heart raced as you waited for him to complete the most important part of the plan.

“You’re on.” Peter told you, making you sigh in relief.

“Yes! I love you.” You cheered. “You’re the best best friend in the world.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Peter said quietly, still reeling from you saying you loved him.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” You gushed as you walked back towards the computer room. You were flooded with excitement and appreciation for Peter that was pouring out of you.

“And Thor, apparently.” He commented as he got out of the computer chair.

“Shut up.” You teased. “All we need to do now is get out of here without being seen. Think you can do that?”

“You’re talking to Spiderman, baby.” Peter quipped. “I can do anything.”

“Except put the toilet seat down after using it, apparently.” You shrugged, biting your tongue so you wouldn’t laugh as you passed a guard.

“I told you I was sorry for that.”

“Do you know what it’s like to fall into a toilet, Peter?” You asked him. “My knees hit my shoulders.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic.” He insisted.

“I could’ve drowned.” You snapped as you came around a corner. Your eyes widened in shock as Peter, still in his suit, met you in the hallway.

“Could you really, though?” He sassed as he approached you. Your throat went dry at the sight of him and you struggled to find the words to say.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered as you pulled him back around the corner.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? We broke in. You know, like a crime.” Peter said casually, making you groan loudly.

“Do not rehash John Mulaney jokes right now.” You demanded. “Why are you here? You left the computer room?”

“You said we were gonna meet up.” He said, beginning to see how panicked you were.

“Yes! Inside the computer room! So we can escape out the window.” You had to keep yourself from yelling so you frantically paced back and forth. There was no explanation for why or how Spider-Man was inside the prison and all it would take was a quick search of your name to reveal you didn’t actually work there.

“All right, so we’ll just go back in there.” Peter said calmly, trying to address the situation.

“We can’t just go back in there. It locks automatically.” You told him. “That’s why you were supposed to wait in there to let me in.”

“Oh.” Peter said meekly.

“Yeah. Oh.” You poked him angrily.

“What do we do now?” He asked, his panic levels rising to match your own. You opened your mouth to speak until the sound of keys jingling caught your attention.

“Wait, someone’s coming. We can’t get caught.” You gripped his shoulders and looked at him in fear.

“What’s the big deal? You have your guard costume on. Plus, everyone love the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” Peter tried to calm you down but it only made you worse.

“Unless you want to become the friendly cell block inmate, we need to hide.” You whispered as you looked around. You spotted a janitors closet down the hall and tugged Peter towards it. “Get in here.”

You scrambled inside the closet, not realizing how cramped it would be with two people and a prisons worth of cleaning supplies. Your back was pressed against shelves and the front of you was pressed against Peter, someone he wasn’t complaining about. You rested your hands on his chest and looked through the slits in the door vent as Sebastian walked by the closet.

“He looks mean.” Peter gulped. “He looks like a biter.”

“Don’t judge him.” You whispered. “He was actually very nice to me.”

“Why are you getting friendly with the correctional officers?” Peter looked down at you, feeling a familiar sense of jealously bubble in his tummy.

“Why are you so doo doo at following directions?” You shot back.

“Your adjectives never fail to blow my mind.” Peter shook his head as he slipped his mask off.

“yOuR aDjeCtiVes nEVer fAil”, you mimicked his voice as you moved your hand like a puppet, “yeah okay School House Rock.”

“Keep it coming with the obscure references.” Peter leaned closer to taunt you. “Keep it coming please.”

You continued to berate Peter until his attention snapped towards the door and he put a gloved hand over your mouth.

“Wait, shhh!” He silenced you as he squinted through the vents in the door.

“Ew. When was the last time you washed your hands? We’re in a prison! You touched the doorknobs.” You grimaced as your took his hand off your mouth.

“You don’t like my doorknob hands? You don’t like my grimy doorknobs hands?” Peter asked as he rubbed his hands all over your face while you gagged.

“Might I remind you our personal freedoms are at stake? Do you want to go to jail?” You asked as you held his hands tightly in place to keep them off of you. Peter looked down guilty when he remembered where you were and put his hands down.

“I’ll be quiet.” He said sheepishly. You both stood in silence as another guard walked by, the only sounds coming from your heartbeats. Being this close to you was one thing, but Peters heightened senses was giving him gateway to a whole other experience. He could literally smell your fear, as well as your strawberry shampoo.

“I cannot believe we’re hiding in a supply closet.” He laughed a little to distract himself. “What’s next, we’re forced to share a bed?”

“I know. Or like, my mom can’t pay the bills so she sells me to your family.” You added, laughing along with him until you heard footsteps. “Oh, shh.”

You pressed yourself even closer to Peter as a group of guards walked past, trying to breathe as quietly as possible so they didn’t hear you. Peters has tightened with you this close, placing his hand on the small of your back to keep you in place. Your ear was flush against his heartbeat and you could hear it beating like a drum as you clung to him for safety.

“This is ridiculous. I am never going along with one of your plans again. They always put us in the most uncomfortable positions.” Peter grumbled, trying to act like having you this close wasn’t the greatest thing to happen to him.

“No they don’t.” You scoffed and continued to look out the vents for guards.

“Remember your fantastic movie night plan when you convinced me to watch 365 Days? How did that turn out, huh?” He reminded you making your whole face go white as you remembered that movie.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” You avoided his eyes as your cheeks flamed.

“Exactly.” Peter argued. “We couldn’t even look at each other. We were too frozen from shock to turn it off.”

“Every time I hear the word “boat” I get flashbacks.” You shuddered.

“Okay let’s not talk about the boat scene when we’re this close.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut to keep himself calm.

All of him.

“Why?” You asked curiously, not understanding what was going through Peters mind.

“I’m gonna shish kebab you, that’s why.” Peter said with embarrassment, suddenly wishing he had left the mask on to keep you from seeing how flushed he was. The wheels turned in your brain and a sheepish smile came on your face as you realized what he was worried about. You opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it when a janitor and a guard stopped outside your closet.

“Kassidy again? What now?” The janitor asked with a sigh. You listened closely as you clung to Peter. He could barely focus on the conversation as your heartbeat fell into rhythm with him.

“Another stabbing.” The guard said. “If this guy gets one more shot, he’s getting moved to max.”

“All right. I’ll grab a mop.” The janitor said, making you and Peter look at each other in a panic.

“Shit.” You whispered with wide eyes.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Either you’re shish kebab-ing me from the back or the mop he’s looking for is right behind me.” You explained. Peter peered behind you and saw the handle of a mop leaning against the shelves and felt his heart race.

“Oh God. I can’t go to prison! I’m too soft and wholesome.” Peter began to freak out, feeling his forehead drip with sweat.

“Yeah, I hear that defense works really well in court.” You said sarcastically.

“Do not sass me, woman! This is your fault!” He exclaimed and you knew he was right. It was your fault.

“Let’s not play the blame game.” You said timidly. “And calling me “woman” like that is demeaning.”

“I know. Sorry women.” Peter said sincerely as he looked up. You looked up too but saw nothing but a water stain.

“Who are you apologizing to?” You asked.

“Captain Marvel.” He said sheepishly.

“What are we gonna do? We can’t get caught.” You whined quietly as you anxiously clutched Peters arms. Peter cleared his throat as another wave of your shampoo was scent his way.

“On the one hand, we could explain to them what we’re doing here and hope they have a sense of humor and sympathy for college students.” Peter chuckled shortly. “On the other hand, you smell like strawberries.”

“Wait, shh.” You stepped even closer to him when the janitor came closer to the closet door.

“Come here.” Peter said as he turned you around. He wrapped his arm firmly around your shoulders and held you flushed against himself as the janitor opened the door. You both held your breath and you pressed your back as close to Peters chest as you possibly could as the janitor grabbed the mop you were previously leaning against and left the closet. You waited a few seconds before sighing in relief, staying in Peters arms as you relaxed.

“I cannot believe that worked.” You breathed, still scared to talk too loudly in case he came back.

“I know. My friend Drax taught me how to do it. If you stand perfectly still, you become invisible to the human eye.” Peter spoke in a hushed tone as he panted.

“Wow.” You swallowed, your mouth having gone dry from fear.

“I know.” Peter nodded, resting his chin on top of your head. You had finally collected yourself when you felt something pressed against your leg.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I leaning on another mop?”

More silence filled the closet as that something continued to press against you.

“I wish I could say yes.” Peter said after a minute. You hung your head and tried to keep your laughter to yourself.

“Oh my God.” You sputtered. “Peter!”

“I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. “I have no control over him.”

“Him?!” You craned your neck to look at him in shock.

“If you must know, I call him Samuel L. Jackson.” Peter said sheepishly.

“Why?” You looked at him over your shoulder and he looked down in shame.

“Because he’s in everything.” Peter admitted, making you look up at the ceiling and count to ten in your head.

“You belong here.” You nodded. “You belong in prison.”

“I’m sorry!” Peter exclaimed. “Don’t get mad at me. It’ll only make it worse.”

“Everything I’m learning about you right now is against my will.” You grimaced.

“Wait, Karen isn’t picking up any heat signatures near us.” Peter said as he slipped his mask back on.

“Now he changes the subject.” You muttered to yourself.

“The coast is clear. We gotta go.” Peter scooped you up and opened the closet door. “And I’m not waiting for your little slow ass.”

“This is not how I imagined my Saturday.” You commented as Peter carried you back to the computer room as fast as he could.

“That makes three of us.” Peter said as he rounded the corner.

“Three?”

“Can’t forget about Samuel.” He gulped, knowing you’d get mad at him for what he said. You shook your head as he set you down in front of the the computer room door.

“We can’t go out this way. The door is locked, remember?” You put your hands on your hips and looked at him.

“Maybe, but it won’t be unlocked when we use this key I stole from the janitor.” Peter said as he smugly held up a key. “Even has a cute little label on it that says ‘computer room.’ How convenient.”

A smile lit up your face as you took the key from him, wasting no time in unlocking the door and pulled him inside. Once you were hidden from view, you pulled him into a long hug.

“I’m glad you came along.” You murmured in his ear. Peter smiled as he hugged you back, nuzzling into your hair. “Lets go.”

Two hours later, you were back in Peters apartment in your regular clothes. Peter could hear you talking on the phone after you stepped out take a call. After all the romantic moments, he really didn’t want to go back to being just friends.

Peter snapped out of his trance when you came back from his balcony, a giddy smile on your face.

“I just got off the phone with Queensboro.” You beamed. “I have a 2 pm appointment tomorrow with Cleatus.”

You punctuated your sentence by breaking out in a happy dance, grabbing Peters hand and twirling yourself with it.

“So our little plan worked.” He chuckled as you moved back and forth, dancing to music that wasn’t there.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” You said as you took your head off his shoulder to look at him fondly. “Love you.”

“Ew. Whatever.” Peter pretended to gag to distract from his blush.

“You know”, you smiled coyly at Peter, “I’m gonna be pretty hungry after my interview tomorrow. All that criminal investigating is sure to work up an appetite.”

“I’m sure it will.” He responded, not knowing where you were going with that statement. You rested your head back on his shoulder as you continued to sway.

“Maybe you can take me on that date you’ve been dying to ask me on.”

Tag List 🏷

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[lavenderbexlatte]

play you on repeat

stray kids  11.8k words female reader insert FemDom!Reader x Sub!3RACHA EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: unprotected sex, degradation 🖤

Series Masterlist (Parts 1-7)

connect with me! / masterlist

The three of them follow you all the way to the front door in a line like little ducklings, eager-eyed and silent as you part the crowds of students and friends on your way outside.

You only see those eager eyes when you turn around on the front porch of the random house that's throwing this party. Changbin stands just behind you, Jisung after him and Chan bringing up the rear.

They really want more, then. Their instant agreement kind of surprises you; it's one thing to flirt or make out with someone at a party, but it's another thing entirely to invite random classmates home for an orgy. But you're not crazy or stupid enough to let the chance pass you by. You're all in.

"Okay, boys," you say, "Where are we doing this?"

"Me and 'Bin live together," says Chan quickly.

You regard him coolly. "Just you two?"

"Just us," he nods.

That's promising. You live independently but you have roommates, and while you're sure you could sneak one hookup into your room, three of them might turn some heads. Your roommates are patient, but not that patient.

So you smile at them. "Okay. I trust you three aren’t gonna try any dirty tricks on me?"

"Dirty tricks?" Changbin repeats.

You shrug. "Stealing my wallet. Selling me into indentured servitude. Harvesting my organs. The usual nightmare date stuff."

"Why would we do that?" Jisung asks, looking amused but also concerned.

Is he worried that you don't trust them? That's kind of cute.

You just smile wider. "We don't know each other very well, I’m a woman and you’re three men. You guys might be dangerous."

It’s obvious that you’re teasing them. You can't help but laugh a little, saying it, since you’ve actually been alone with the three of them before, for your school project some weeks ago. Besides, the most unpredictable and potentially dangerous person here is you. That's already been proven. The three of them seem just as amused as you, though, so you've succeeded in breaking any tension that was gathering.

"Did you guys drive here?" you ask.

"No," says Jisung.

"Neither did I," you say, “I was planning on getting drunk.”

"No worries. Called a cab already," says Chan.

His cocky attitude is back as he waves his phone in your direction, the screen showing a little animated car tracing its way to your location. When did he order a ride? More importantly, at what point did he assume you were gonna wanna go back to his place? He's right, of course, and you do want to, but come on.

"Presumptuous," you tease.

He shrugs. "Well, 'Sung has roommates, and I figured you wouldn't want three near strangers at your place."

The flash of his eyes lets you know that he’s feeling quite high and mighty for having made up your mind for you. Oh, you're going to have to break this attitude ASAP.

You set about thinking of exactly how to do that as you meander toward the road to wait for the car, trusting that someone will tell you when it arrives. You stand on the sidewalk in the dim circle of light cast by a streetlamp. Chan wants more, right?

So do you. Three boys...three boys who are all partners, it seems. There's gonna be some finagling tonight, some organization needed. You ponder exactly what you want from them. The options are endless, truly. This is going to be very, very good.

When the car pulls up, Changbin comes over and slings his arm around your waist, like he's the one taking you home and not the other way around (figuratively, at least). You look at him, amused, relishing how you can almost meet his eye with the small difference between his height and yours.

"What's this?" you ask, gesturing at his arm around you.

"I'm being gentlemanly," he pouts, bottom lip pushed out exaggeratedly, "Don't kill the vibe."

He's being silly, you realize. That firm confidence from before is gone, replaced by what seems to be an eager desire for you to like him. He's in luck, then. You already like him.

You climb into the back seat of the small black sedan, scooting all the way over to the far window seat. Chan follows right behind you, settling in the middle with Jisung after him. Changbin is up front with the driver. You can tell that the boys would rather have you in the middle seat by the way that Chan and Jisung are playfully glaring at each other, but you much prefer to have your own space by the window. Nobody likes the middle seat.

The boys busy themselves with their phones on the ride, but you just watch the boys instead. You can tell that they know you're watching. Jisung meets your eye once and looks away quickly, grinning, and Changbin is just barely resisting turning all the way around to look at you head-on. You think you know what you want to do with those two, since they're pretty communicative and easy to read, so you study the real predicament.

Chan.

He's got pretty hands, you notice, as he taps away at his phone. He also has one of those dorky leather phone cases with wallet pockets. You just can't get into those; young people use them a lot, now, but you always associate them with dads and teachers and stuff. Old people. Chan's is full of cards, his student ID and a credit card and others. You peer closer at his driver's license with its tiny picture of him. His curly hair is blonde in the photo, which is cute.

You notice something else, too - his birthdate. Chan is in your year in school, but you never knew...

"Are you...are you younger than me?" you ask him, delighted.

He blinks at you. "How old are you?"

You tell him - a year or so older than him. It's not much, but definitely something in a society that puts so much emphasis on age. It also puts you at the oldest in this group by a bit of a margin, considering Changbin is a couple years younger than Chan and Jisung is younger still.

"That makes me the noona tonight," you tease.

Chan gives you an alarmed side-eye, his pale cheeks blushing furiously and his pupils blown big. He's into the noona thing, too? You wonder exactly how many little one-ups you're going to have on him tonight.

So you're the oldest. Hm. You grin to yourself. So they thought they were bagging a shy, quiet submissive, and instead they got you.

The ride to their place is short, and you're surprised when the cab pulls up in front of a small one-story house instead of an apartment building. Not many students around here have homes, since housing prices in the city are predictably sky-high and out of the average student budget. The boys get out of the car right away, thanking the driver, but you take your time. You study the house, the cars in the driveway (two of them, one silver sedan, one black mid-size SUV) and the neat front garden.

"A house," you say mildly.

Changbin looks embarrassed for the first time that night, as he stutters, "My family - I'm - we have-"

"Fucking PILES of money," Chan finishes for him, grinning, "I pay him rent, can you believe it?"

"I didn't want him to pay anything but he insisted," Changbin says.

"I'm not a freeloader," Chan insists.

"You think I'm gonna make my own boyfriend pay rent when I could buy him his own house?" Changbin grumbles, heading up the front walk.

Jisung has already let himself into the house uninterested in the conversation. He doesn't live there, you remember, but obviously he's no stranger. You follow Changbin inside, vaguely aware of Chan coming after you. It's a cute house, you admit to yourself, as you step in the door and kick off your shoes.

It does look like a house where a bunch of boys live, though. An artists' den. There's music equipment strewn all over the small living room; Bluetooth speakers, a midi board, a full-size electric keyboard, a drum pad. Propped on a small table in the corner is a silver slab that you realize is a YouTube subscriber award plaque, and there’s a Soundcloud affiliate certificate next to it.

"The rumors about you guys are true, then," you say, mostly to yourself, not even thinking.

Changbin looks at you, confused. So does Jisung. Chan just smiles lopsidedly.

"What rumors?" Jisung asks.

"Oh." You can feel your face heating up. "Just that you guys are...musicians."

You were actually thinking about their minor celebrity status, their Soundcloud rapper status, but you don't know if that will come across as...like...offensive? Is it rude to call people Soundcloud rappers, since that’s kind of become an insult? They're obviously even more well-known than you thought, if the 100k subs plaque is anything to go off. Not just campus royalty, but actually somewhat famous. It’s bizarre.

"Musicians," Chan repeats, amused.

You kind of hate the expression on his face. He's still holding onto that weird confident charm from the party, the face that you assume he puts on in these situations to pretend he's not one good hair-pull away from whining and begging.

"You can't pretend that you don't know," you say, more aggressively than you mean to, "On campus, with everyone from school…you guys are super...popular."

It sounds so stupid to say, like you're the ugly duckling in a bad teen movie. 'You can’t like meeeee, you're soooo cool and popular!'

"Are we?" Jisung asks, looking genuinely surprised.

Oh my God. You want to facepalm. You want to grab one of them and shake them.

"You literally tried to seduce me in there," you point out, "Would that have worked if you weren't popular? That's something popular people do. Use their, like, social standing to get people to sleep with them."

"That would make us pretty shitty people," Chan says delicately. "Imbalance of power and all that."

Oh. You didn't mean to accuse them of anything. You open your mouth to apologize, feeling incredibly out of place, but Jisung interrupts you, completely unbothered.

"It's only worked once before, anyway," he says.

"...Picking someone up?" you ask.

Changbin nods, "And that only worked because Felix already had a crush on me and Chan. We just had to sell him on Jisung."

"Hey!" Jisung pouts.

Chan pets his hair placatingly, and Jisung shrugs him off in favor of heading for the kitchen, mumbling about being a fucking catch. But you’re focusing on a different bit of what Changbin told you.

"You guys fucked Felix Lee?" you ask, incredulous.

“Maybe a month ago, yeah,” Changbin says.

The cute, freckled face of dance team captain Felix Lee swims in your mind for a moment, followed by the memory of his chiseled abs from a performance earlier in the year. He’s a rising sophomore, but solidly half of campus has a crush on him. Damn, THOSE are their standards, and they wanna fuck YOU? You gotta start giving yourself more credit.

"So, we're popular," Chan muses.

"You had to have known that," you shake your head, "Literally everyone knows you. First years are so thirsty for you. That's why I was so-"

You cut yourself off. They don't need to know that you were flustered when they approached you, back there. They don't need the ego trip.

So you just affix your best innocent smile to you face, looking the three of them over. Chan, leaning against the back of the couch. Changbin, lining up all four pairs of shoes (theirs and yours) by the front door. And Jisung, returned from the kitchen with a bottle of water that he's chugging like a dying man.

"You didn't invite me over to talk about your social status," you say instead.

"We sure didn't," Chan agrees.

"First things first, then," you say, "Boundaries. You guys have any hard limits? Safewords? Musts and don'ts?"

"Nope," says Jisung, taking another sip of the water to punctuate it.

"No musts or no don'ts?" you ask.

"Yes," he quips.

You can't help the way your smile grows. "Alright. Anyone else?"

"No serious degrading," Changbin says, very very quietly.

“Praise motivated, huh?” you coo, “Cute.”

Changbin looks slightly embarrassed, but his eyes are sharp and engaged as he adds, “And no digs at my size.”

You grin. "Size or size?"

"Either!" he pouts.

"Sounds fair to me," you say.

You fix your eyes on the last one: Chan, still looking only mildly interested and very calm. But you can see the very tips of his ears going red, and then it spreads down his cheeks, and then down his neck as you watch him.

And finally, he says, "I'm not good with praise."

Jisung laughs, loud and ridiculous. "That's an understatement."

You smile warmly at Chan, not wanting him to back down if this is a legit thing for him, "So does that mean no praise?"

"No," he says immediately, "Just that...if you - I get all-"

"Flustered," you finish for him. "Good to know."

You pause for a second, wondering what kind of hard limits you'll need to bring up to them tonight. They don't seem like the kind of partners to push you into anything, if they way they're already tiptoeing around is any indication.

"I don't like hitting in the face," you say, after a moment. "Or blood."

Changbin gives you a look. "Is that the kind of stuff you do on your first night with someone?"

You laugh, "No, not usually. But some people have really specific fetishes, and I live to please. Gotta lay everything out before we start."

Chan nods sincerely, like he knows exactly what you're saying, and Jisung follows suit. You're satisfied that you've covered your bases now. And besides, you really want to get started. You have three beautiful men here to play with.

So you say, "Okay. Who's first?"

You're still smiling, but you let some of your pent-up excitement leak into it, wondering if any of them will take the bait. You wonder if they're starting to think that you're some kind of super strict domme. Very serious, or very demanding, or something. You've had that problem before, with people crumbling before you even get started since you're so blunt about boundaries. Some people take that to mean that you like rigid roles and rules and set scenes.

But that's not really true. After the communication is solidified and you trust your partner, you like to just...let go.

Much to your amusement, the first one to crack is Jisung.

He practically bounces up to you, his face so perfectly cute that you wonder if he practices the look in the mirror. It's equal parts funny and ironic, since he's the youngest and also, from what you've seen at school, the one who wants to be taken most seriously.

"I'm first," he informs you.

You smile. You can't help it. His expression is so open and happy, even though his eyes are a little nervous. It's just so much. You gently nudge Chan away from the couch, and pat the back of it gently, invitingly. Jisung seems to understand you immediately and hops right up, balancing himself on the frame and the tops of the cushions, his legs dangling down the back of the couch. You settle yourself between his legs, standing purposefully, spreading your hands across his back to support him gently.

He leans back a little as if to test you, and you hold him up easily. It's not so much that you're strong, but that Jisung's so lean and slim. And even if he did fall, it would just be the short drop onto the seat of the couch. His eyes go wider as he realizes what kind of game you're playing with him. It's a signal, and you figured he'd be smart enough to pick up on it.

"I've got you," you say, very softly, into his ear.

Even if you look unassuming, even if they're taller and louder and bolder than you. Even if you're a gentle dom who puts up with some antics.

You're in control.

When you pull back and look at him, you swear you can see the little cartoon stars blooming in his eyes. He definitely got the message loud and clear.

He nods, almost imperceptibly, and says, "I know."

And you kiss him. He deserves it. A proper kiss, not like the teasing you'd done to him at the party. You let him lick into your mouth, scrape your teeth gently over his soft bottom lip. He's a good boy, you decide. Certified good boy.

Jisung leans back a bit more as he pulls away from you, and he lurches, loses his balance. He doesn’t go anywhere, since you're still holding him up securely, but he looks spooked. It fascinates you, how quickly he's fallen into the game of it. There's no risk if he falls, and yet...

"Can I-" he asks, " - can I touch-"

"Yeah," you say, cutting him off.

And then he's gently holding your face with one hand, the other arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with your hair. His body is much more relaxed as he kisses you, and you relish in it.

Oh, he's a sweetheart, you realize. Not a pushover or anything; he's still cupping your face and smiling into the kiss, confident and comfortable. But a good boy.

"You're so pretty," you say.

Jisung honest to God whines against your lips at the praise.

"It's true," you say, amused.

"He likes that a lot," comes Chan's voice.

You jump, having nearly forgotten your audience again. The other two are standing just beside you, watching intently as you work over their boyfriend.

"Being called pretty?" you ask him, as if Jisung isn't even there.

Chan nods.

"Well, he is," you affirm, leaning in to kiss Jisung's nose, trying to get your groove back.

Honestly, it’s a struggle to keep up with the fact that you’re trying to dom three people at once. You know you’ll do fine. It’s group sex, not a goddamn triathlon. But it’s useful here that you prefer domming psychologically, rather than with lots of physical force. You don’t know exactly what these three are used to, what they’re comfortable doing. A first-time with three people at once probably isn't the best time to fly in with a strap-on and demand people obey you.

So doing this the old-fashioned way, with simple baiting, praising, awarding, withholding…that’s gonna be the way forward.

“Who’s got the best bed for a foursome?” you ask, still holding up Jisung but looking expectantly back at Chan and Changbin.

Changbin nudges Chan with his elbow, "D'you think you could handle moving your pillow fort? For sexy purposes."

"Pillow fort?" you repeat.

"I have a lot of pillows, it's fine," Chan defends. "No big deal."

"He makes a nest with them," pipes up Jisung, "Like a crib."

Chan glares at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was Put Chan On Blast Night."

"Okay, whose bed is biggest?" you ask instead, deigning not to comment on the pillow thing any further.

"Changbin's," says Jisung.

"Then we can go there."

"Yes, ma'am," Changbin says easily, and he turns on his heel to head for the bedroom door on the right side of the house.

It's a small house, so he's quickly out of sight. Chan follows after him. You unwind your arms from around Jisung's little waist, and he lets himself drop dramatically backwards onto the couch cushions. You follow Chan, and Jisung chases after you.

Changbin's room is painted an off-white, the bedding rich dark blue against neutral wood furniture. It's extremely well-done for a college boy's room. You're impressed. It might even be more cohesive than your room. Now, at night, with just the soft light coming in from outside in the gap of his slightly-open blackout curtains, it looks impossibly atmospheric.

"Hold on," Changbin mutters, as you take in the space.

There's a soft click, and a set of fairy lights come on, strung around the perimeter of the room. They're an interesting color array, purple and blue and cool white. It's bright enough to see what you're doing, to see each other, but dark enough to set the tone. Yeah. They have a lot of sex in here. You're kind of excited to be part of it.

"Is there anyone-" you start, before your mind can filter the thought, and you stop.

But all three of them are just looking at you, standing there in a little line. You walk deeper into the room. You can do this. And so you swallow that last trace of lingering shame and ask them outright.

"Is there anyone who doesn't wanna fuck me?"

Jisung and Changbin break out in raucous laughter, and Chan just regards you.

"Why would we not want to?" Chan asks.

"I mean," you huff feeling petulant despite yourself, "Some people have no interest in the P in V stuff and would prefer something else, shut up!"

"You ask a lot of questions," Chan shoots back.

"I'm being considerate," you reply.

"No, I think we're all on board," interrupts Changbin, as if to head off a real argument.

You have no intention of fighting, though. You wonder what kind of people these three have hooked up with in the past. They obviously have no communication difficulties with each other, and yet they're (well...Chan is) being so difficult with you.

"Perfect," you say, "'Bin, c'mere."

Changbin shuffles nearer to you, leaving the others behind, and you look him over carefully. He's broad and strong, much bigger than Jisung. Your approach to him has to be a little different, you think. You make a quick decision: he's gonna be your ally tonight.

You lean into his ear and whisper the plan you've been making up on the fly. He listens. And when you've finished, Changbin grins conniving and bright.

"Does that sound good?" you ask him.

He nods. "I think they'll like it."

"Like what?" Jisung asks eagerly.

"Don't worry about it," you reply.

"I'm gonna worry about it," says Chan.

That dude. So neurotic. You really need to figure out what his buttons are, so you can know which ones to press and which to avoid. It's gonna take more than a little hair-pulling to figure out, you wager.

"'Bin, give me a hand?" you say, gesturing at your top.

Changbin gives you a winning smile and looks gloatingly back at Jisung, then at Chan, and then he reaches down to leisurely unbutton your shirt. You never wear button-downs, but you're glad you did tonight. They make undressing so much more...cinematic.

You shrug off the shirt when Changbin's done, the final button falling open, and you move next to strip off his t-shirt, too. He wears those things tight. He always has; you can't even count how many days in class you've spent staring at the muscular span of his shoulders. This one is the same, clinging to his form ridiculously, like he's trying out to be Captain America's body double.

When the t-shirt is gone, you're greeted with a thick, toned upper body that dips into solid, narrower hips. Not quite cut, no chocolate abs or anything, but he's got some impressive working muscle under his deep-toned skin. Beef. He's beefy.

"Wow," you say appreciatively, running your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his belt.

"What about us?" Jisung asks.

"Patience," you murmur, "Don't you want Changbinnie to feel good?"

Jisung pouts, but says, "Yes..."

"Then you can wait your turn," you say plaintively.

"Can I kiss you, noona?" Changbin asks.

You look at him, amused. "So you heard that conversation."

Changbin shakes his head. "I knew before. Chan-hyung always calls you-"

Chan squeaks, mortified, cutting him off, but you've heard plenty.

"Oh, he always calls me noona," you purr, "Before he knew how old I was?"

"Yes," Changbin says.

That's interesting, to say the least. It means that their approach to you from the start was to defer familiar respect and treat you like an elder, rather than a peer. Hm.

You get a little closer, bringing your face up to his. "Do you talk about me a lot?"

"No," Changbin breathes, "But when we do-"

"Dude!" Chan hisses.

"Don't listen to him," you soothe Changbin, giving Chan a little wink over your shoulder, "Thank you for telling me."

You kiss Changbin, since he did ask so nicely and gave you a wonderful tidbit about Chan. He's a good kisser. Needy; he's pressing you backwards with his enthusiasm. You reach to put your arms around his neck, but then you reconsider. Instead, you fold yourself against his chest, palms flat on his pecs. It gives the illusion that you're much smaller than him, even though admittedly he's not a very tall person.

The change in his body language is instantaneous. Your hunch was right - he likes feeling big. He did say not to make digs about his size. Well, you certainly won't about his height. But his size...

You move down and begin unbuckling his belt.

"How come only he gets to get naked?" Jisung complains.

You glance at him, hands busy unbuttoning and zipping down Changbin.

"I'm not stopping you," you reply, "You could undress without permission. But you'll miss out on all the fun if you just go off on your own."

Jisung blinks doe eyes at you, and Chan huffs out a laugh.

"Some dom you are, yeah?" Chan scoffs.

You shrug. "I can't make you do anything. I'm not gonna force you."

"No?" Chan says.

"That's the fun of this stuff, isn't it?" you say.

You ruffle Changbin's hair playfully, and motion for him to continue undressing himself. Willing all the grace you know you possess, you walk over to Chan, keeping your motions fluid and careless. You want him to see exactly what kind of dom you are.

"The fact that you don't have to listen to me. That's the fun," you say, "You don't have to. But you will. You wanna be good."

Chan swallows hard. "I..."

"I'm sure you like being good," you continue, cupping Chan's face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. "You're gonna be good for me, aren't you, peach?"

"Yeah," he says, so quietly that you think you've imagined it, his cheeks burning red.

"I'm sorry," you hum, "I didn't hear that. Yes...?"

"Yes, noona," Chan says.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, noona, I'll be good for you."

"I thought you would be," you say, satisfied. "Go sit on the bed. Against the headboard."

He looks like he wants to complain about that, but you shrug again, punctuating that you're truly not here to force anyone. Domming is about control, not force. If Chan wants to turn over control to you, he will.

And he does.

He scrambles up the bed and sits with his back against the headboard. You can feel his eyes on you, and Jisung's wide, wide eyes, as you return to Changbin.

Changbin is down to his boxer-briefs, and God, he's good-looking. Solid and masculine. You kind of just want to have your way with him and be done with it. But that's not the plan.

“Jisung,” you say.

He jumps, not expecting to be addressed. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay bottoming tonight?”

“’Course,” he affirms, “Always. For who?”

You glance at Changbin, who nods, and Jisung smiles his biggest, most genuine smile, crooked front tooth and all.

“I like this plan,” he says.

That assent is all you need to hear.

“Is there lube?” you ask Changbin.

He turns away, presumably to grab it, and you snag Jisung by the wrist and tug him toward you. Jisung's wide smile is distracting, as you have him lie down on the bed. Changbin's bed is a king, you think, a really really big mattress with plenty of room to use. But when Jisung sprawls out easily, the top of his head is close to Chan.

"You have one rule, up there," you say to Chan, "No touching."

"No touching...him?" Chan asked, pointing at Jisung.

You smile. "No touching. Him, me, 'Bin, yourself. No touching."

Chan looks wide-eyed, almost hurt at your words. You can't tell exactly how he's feeling, so you move around the bed until you're right in front of him, and take one of his hands in yours.

"Is that okay?" you ask, "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay," he says.

You look at Changbin, waiting by Jisung's knees at the edge of the bed, and at Jisung himself, watching you upside-down.

"Can I implement the traffic light system?" you ask them, "It's the easiest safeword system for me, I think, with so many of you."

"You mean the color thing," Changbin clarifies.

"Yeah," you nod.

"We've used that one before," says Jisung agreeably, "We don't usually use any safewords but we can do that.

You turn back to Chan. "Does that work for you?"

He smiles, and it warms up his face all the way to his eyes, so you relax.

"Yeah, that works well," he says.

"Good," you say, "So. Color?"

"Green," says Chan.

"Great."

You lean in and kiss him for his trouble, realizing with a thrill that you've really only kissed him one other time. He's damn good at it, too, eager but gentle with just enough pressure. You pull back right as he starts to really melt against you, and drop his hand back onto his lap, in favor of returning to Jisung where you've left him.

Jisung, for his part, is lounging back on his elbows, just watching you, and you nudge his knees farther apart as you settle in between them. You can feel Changbin's warmth behind you again as he hovers, not quite touching you.

"Noona," he whines.

You glance back at him, his chin at your shoulder.

"I know," you tut, "You're already doing a good job for me, gorgeous."

He beams at the praise, and repeats, "Noonaaaa."

You smile to yourself at the lilt in his voice. "You can touch, baby."

There are suddenly lips against the side of your throat, Changbin trailing kisses across your skin, and hands on your waist pulling you back gingerly, as if he's afraid you'll tell him off for being too greedy (which is a good and valid worry). You lean away, down toward Jisung, and coax him upright to peel the baggy t-shirt off him. As you get the garment over his head, you're surprised to see firm abs and pecs. Jisung is small and thin, but apparently very, very muscular. Huh.

"You've been holding out on me," you chide him.

"Don't think about it that way, noona," Jisung says, "Think of it as a nice surprise."

You huff out a laugh. He's being kind of mouthy, but it's cute, so you're gonna let it slide. Mostly.

"Are you in any position to be telling me what to do?" you tease.

Jisung shrugs, lips pursed. You tickle your fingers down the hard line of his abs, grinning when he jumps and squeaks under your touch.

"'Bin?" you ask.

"Yes?"

"Who here is overdressed?"

Changbin hums against your skin, mouthing at the soft juncture of your neck and your shoulder, and says, "Jisungie, noona. And you."

"Not Chan?" you ask lightly.

Changbin grins. You can feel the flats of his teeth against your skin.

"Not unless you say so, noona," Changbin says.

"Good call, gorgeous," you say, leaning back into his touch.

He's hard against your ass, you note. Perfect. You go for Jisung's skintight jeans next, unbuttoning and peeling the black denim down his slim thighs. He's so dainty, all thin graceful limbs, his frame small but masculine and defined. You can see his cock twitch with interest as you get the jeans all the way off, his boxers beginning to tent.

"Excited?" you ask, letting your hand trail over him, gently feeling the outline of him through the thin fabric.

"Yeah," he says, shameless.

"Who should get undressed first?" you ask Jisung,

Jisung must register something in your tone, as his big eyes look from you, to Changbin, back to you.

And then he says, "Me, noona."

"Oh," you purr, "Good boy."

You free him from his boxers, and it's not a surprise when you're met with a pretty, proportional cock, flushed and lovely. You're hit with the urge to feel the weight of him in your mouth. And fuck, this is YOUR game, isn't it? So you lean down and do just that, taking his head between your lips.

Jisung gasps, high and pretty, and you can see Chan's face above you darken. He looks...jealous?

"Peach, you okay?" you say, coming off Jisung to speak.

Chan looks at you, puppy-eyed.

"I want..." he trails plaintively.

"I know you do," you agree. “Don’t be greedy.”

He's still sitting obediently, hands balled into fists atop his thighs and not touching anything. He's the only one fully dressed, and you can tell that it's driving him crazy. He can wait. You know he can.

So you nuzzle against Jisung's stomach indulgently and ask him, "Who next?"

Jisung pauses, comprehending what you've asked, and then he says, "Changbin-hyung."

You place your hand over Changbin's where it still rests in its spot on your waist.

"You heard him, Binnie," you say, "Go 'head."

His warmth vanishes from behind you for only a few seconds before he's back, his now unencumbered cock brushing against your shorts. You grip Jisung's length again, pumping him for a moment, looking down at him with a glint in your eye.

"Here's what's going to happen," you say, standing up properly, "I'm going to prep you for Changbin, baby. And Changbin is gonna have some fun of his own while I do it."

Jisung nods his understanding at your words, his expression delighted, and Chan is all but panting as he sits pretty for you. There's a lovely flush creeping from his ears toward the neckline of his button-down shirt.

You shuck off your own shorts, left now in just your bra and panties. As you look down at yourself, you realize that while they are not a matching set, your underwear ARE about the same color, which you count as a personal victory. It's the little things.

"Hand me a pillow, peach?" you ask Chan.

He nearly topples over in his eagerness to give you a pillow from the head of the bed. You have Jisung raise his hips, and settle the pillow under him, angling him up for better access. He doesn't seem the slightest bit self-conscious, on display to you like that. You almost hate how attractive that is.

"Everyone, color?" you ask.

"Green," chirps Jisung, almost before you're done speaking.

"Green," Chan agrees.

"So green," Changbin groans from behind you, where he's still grinding against your ass.

"Wonderful," you murmur.

You turn your attention fully to the boy beneath you. Jisung is impeccably groomed, maybe even better than you, you think. There's a neat thatch of hair around the base, and he's all but hairless everywhere else. It's impressive.

You trail your hand over his balls, his perineum, to his hole, and he chokes out a moan as you just graze the thin skin there.

"Are you sure you're ready to go, Jisungie?" you ask, and he nods eagerly.

"I wanted to bottom tonight anyway," he informs you cheekily.

Chan laughs, which melts any of your lingering worries that you've overwhelming or neglecting him.

"That's true," Chan says softly. "He told us before the party."

"You guys are so much fun," you say.

The lube is laying on the comforter next to you, so you pick it up, pop the top, and coat two of your fingers in the stuff. You lean down over Jisung again, knowing how obscene you must look together, him all spread out for you and you draped over his lithe little body. You're sure both Chan, in front, and Changbin, behind, are getting an eyeful of the two of you.

"I'm gonna start," you warn Jisung.

"Finally," Jisung teases, "I was beginning to think - shit-"

He's cut off as you ease your index finger past that ring of muscle. The slide is much easier than you expected, but he still whines out in a pitch higher than you would have thought.

"You do this a lot?" you ask him, only half-teasing, slowly pumping your finger and relishing in the easy way he takes you, "You're so open."

"I do, yeah," Jisung agrees, breathless.

"And here I thought you were the bottom of the group," you say to Chan, letting a little bit of bite into your voice, wondering if they're at all into that.

Chan's flush picks back up, and he stammers, "I - mean-"

"He can be a great little hole, too," Jisung says, casually, "I wrecked him a couple days ago, didn't I, hyung?"

Still blushing furiously, Chan nods.

"Interesting," you say simply, turning your attention back to Jisung, "Hey, what happened to those pretty sounds?"

You curl your finger slightly, and Jisung lets out another gasp.

"That's more like it," you praise.

You almost wish you had a strap here, so you could do the next part yourself, too. But your actual plan is gonna be just as much fun, so you can easily be content with this.

"Noona," comes Changbin's voice.

"Yes?" you answer.

"Can I...I mean..." Changbin trails off, seeming embarrassed.

"Can you?" you prompt, amused at his sudden shyness.

"Can I make you feel good, too?" he asks.

"Oh, baby," you simper, "Of course. So good, asking for permission."

Changbin laughs breathlessly, and so does Jisung.

"Isn't he good?" you ask Jisung.

"Good," Jisung agrees, though he nearly chokes on the word.

He seems to be ready for another finger, so you draw out and press back in with two, this time. At the same time, you lean down to take his length back into your mouth. Jisung whimpers again, starting to press his hips down against your hand.

As you're bent over at the waist, pleasuring Jisung, you feel tentative fingers pulling your panties to the side. You wonder if you're going to get the warm press of a cockhead, or-

"Oh," you breathe, pulling off Jisung's cock again to collect yourself as the unmistakable trace of a tongue wanders up your core.

Changbin pulls away just as quickly as he began, and you all but groan in frustration.

"Come on, gorgeous, don't be shy," you urge.

And the tongue returns, more eager this time, as Changbin settles himself fully between your legs. You steel yourself to enjoy while also focusing on the task at hand, prepping Jisung, and keeping your wits about you. Changbin definitely doesn't seem like he's only a sub, and neither do the other two, honestly. They seem like switches, if you had to hazard a guess. It would be in poor taste to let any of them turn the tables on you, now, wouldn't it?

Your mind wanders a little as you scissor and work your two fingers, Jisung trembling and whimpering praise under you, Changbin's plush lips against your clit. How the fuck did you get here?

You're kind of floored to think that maybe an hour ago, you were at that party, bored, barely buzzed, and anonymous, or so you thought. Plain old you. And now you're here, sandwiched between two of the hot, popular guys from Physics class with the third one watching you and white-knuckling the sheets.

A surge of power sweeps through you at the thought. You're here. You have this. You deserve this. And you're gonna have a good fucking time.

"I'm ready!" Jisung is sputtering, "I'm - I'm-"

"Ready," you finish for him, bringing your focus back to the moment.

There's arousal building low in your stomach. Changbin is good with his mouth. You kind of wish you could see him while he's doing this.

"Ready for what?" you ask Jisung.

"More!" he whines, “More, Jesus, two fingers is basic!”

You pull your fingers out, which just makes him whine louder, to reapply lube. This time, you push in with three, and Jisung keens long and low.

"You know, Changbinnie," you say, making sure to keep your voice measured and casual, "You're gonna need to get wet to fit inside Jisungie's pretty hole."

Changbin pulls himself up at your words, leaving your core wet and exposed and distinctly throbbing, and he leans forward to take the lube from you. You stop him before he can take the bottle.

"That's not what I meant," you say sweetly.

There's a fraction of a second while he catches up, and then Changbin groans openly against your shoulder blade, as you continue to work your fingers steadily in and out of Jisung.

"Noona, we have condoms in Chan-hyung's room," Changbin says, "I can go-"

"No," you say, "No need."

And that's all the permission Changbin seems to need, before he's lining himself up.

"Can I?" he asks.

You coo. He hasn't missed a single beat, sweet and obedient and so ready to be good for you.

"You're so good, gorgeous," you say, "Yes, please."

He sinks into you quickly, no preamble, and you can't blame him for being eager because you're secretly just as ready for it. He's thicker than you expected, but you should have expected it, considering the rest of his body. You find yourself panting against Jisung’s hipbone, your fingers pausing inside Jisung as you enjoy the delicious stretch.

“Can I move, noona?” Changbin asks, sounding punched-out already.

“Take it slow,” you instruct him, “This is just a warmup for you, you know.”

Changbin whines under his breath but obeys you, pulling out agonizingly slowly. As you try to keep your head clear, you notice Chan shifting on the bed ahead of you, and you have an idea.

“Okay, peach,” you say, keeping your voice level, “Why don’t you come over here and have a good look?”

“A look?” Chan repeats, “At…”

You smile to yourself. “At whatever you want. Jisung is a pretty picture, I’m sure you know that.”

“And you, noona,” Changbin cuts in.

“And me?” you say, amused.

“Pretty,” says Changbin, by way of explanation, as he keeps up his slow, slow pace.

“Thanks,” you say, arching back against him, figuring he deserves a little reward.

You nod at Chan, encouraging, and he crawls off the bed and comes around behind you. You’re sure he can see everything from where he is - your fingers disappearing into Jisung’s heat, Changbin’s cock disappearing into you. The combined power of Changbin’s steady pace and Chan watching it all is a little overwhelming. You need to narrow your focus or else someone is gonna come before you intend it to happen, and that someone might just be you.

You gently pull your fingers out of Jisung’s hole, leaving him complaining behind you.

“It was just starting to get good, come on!” Jisung whines

“Patience, baby,” you say, giving Jisung a playing smack on the meat of his thigh.

You turn your head fully to look at Chan. He’s staring, transfixed, down on the place where Changbin’s cock is slowly working in and out of you. And now that your brain isn’t focusing on being careful with Jisung, the arousal is really catching up with you. You’re getting close.

Really, you reason, what’s the harm in having a little more fun for yourself?

“Jisungie,” you say, “You wanna give me a hand here?”

He looks rightfully confused, until you reach up and snap your own bra strap against your skin. Then Jisung winks at you, and reaches around to push-pull-snap open the hooks in the back in one fluid movement.

“How’d you get so good at that?” you ask him, amused. “None of your partners wear bras.”

Jisung looks offended. “Who says I don’t wear ‘em?”

“Good point.”

You shrug off the garment, now only in your panties, which aren’t doing much of anything anymore since Changbin’s fucking you around them. Jisung’s eyes are following your breasts as you readjust yourself, sitting up more and shifting your weight onto your knees. Man, your core is gonna be killing you tomorrow…

“Lock it up, baby, shit,” you tease Jisung, “How long has it been since you’ve seen tiddies?”

“That weren’t on a man? I don’t even know.”

“Hm.”

You reach down and start drawing lazy circles on your clit, and you can feel yourself clench down on Changbin at the stimulation. He gasps, and you tut at him.

“I know you can wait for me, gorgeous,” you say.

He whines, “But-”

“Changbinnie. You’re gonna let me feel good, aren’t you?” you ask him. “Don’t I deserve to cum first?”

“Yes,” he grinds out.

“Noona, can I do it?” Jisung asks suddenly.

You’re still hovering over him, all but laying on top of him, and you look down at his face. His eyes are fixed on your fingers, rubbing yourself through your underwear.

“Do what?” you ask, just to be difficult.

“Make you cum,” Jisung answers.

You take your hand off your clit and reach out to thread your fingers through Jisung’s, leading him back to the front of your panties.

“You and Binnie need to work together for this, huh?” you say, “One of you isn’t good enough? It has to be two?”

“I’m good enough,” Changbin argues.

“Shush,” you admonish, “Then prove it.”

You let your hand fall away again, as Jisung takes up the task. He slips his fingers down your waistband, circling hard and tight over your clit. Changbin, obedient to the end, is still somehow keeping up those slow, deep strokes that you demanded. And you have to admit: they’re determined to prove it.

“Jesus, noona,” Changbin whines.

“You’re not gonna cum yet,” you instruct.

“I know.”

Jisung meets Changbin’s eye over your shoulder; you can tell that’s what he’s doing from the smirk on Jisung’s face and the muttered shut up that Changbin stifles into your neck. He gets up on his knees, and you find yourself pressed between them, your forehead against Jisung’s breastbone as his fingers work under you. You glance up, intending to tell Jisung off for making his next move on his own, but the vision you see knocks that idea right out of your head.

They’re making out over you.

It’s so beautifully desperate, Changbin biting and panting into Jisung’s mouth and whining under it all as he fucks into you, Jisung with one hand fisted in Changbin’s hair and the other still dutifully circling your clit, wet and dirty. As you feel your peak coming on, you remember the last member of your party, poor Chan, still relegated to his spectator’s spot behind you all, still under orders not to touch. You look up at him, and God, you wish you had looked sooner.

Chan is standing there, hands cemented at his sides. He’s flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck, to his chest, creeping under his shirt, and his eyes are hungry. But he’s being good, no matter how much he wants to move.

He’s still being good, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You drop your head back down against Jisung’s chest, and gasp and shake your way through your own orgasm. Changbin lets out a moan that borders on a shout, as you surprise him with your clenching walls, and he slows down even more, just grinding into you. There’s something so bone-deep satisfying about it, all three of the boys with their eyes on you and unable to do anything without your permission. They just have to watch and hold back.

You wait until you can speak properly before you say anything to them.

“You didn’t cum, did you, gorgeous?” you ask, swiveling your oversensitive pussy back on Changbin, spots swimming in your vision from how hard you came.

“No, noona,” Changbin says, and his voice is thin with strain but confident.

You know he didn’t, but it’s satisfying to make him say it. He’s holding still now, just standing there stuffing you full. That orgasm cleared your head a bit; you feel more centered than ever. And you feel a little bit bad for Chan, honestly. He’s gotten the least attention from you so far.

“I think Channie really wishes he was you two right now. What d’you think, peach?” you ask, directing the last part at Chan.

Chan doesn’t answer right away, which is just as well, because you can see his erection straining against his dark jeans. His eyes are fixed between your legs, where you can feel your own wetness inching obscenely out around Changbin’s cock.

“I asked you a question,” you say, louder, and Chan looks at your face instead of your pussy.

“I think I’ve been good, noona,” Chan says quietly.

“Let’s get a second opinion, hm?” you say.

You peel Changbin’s hands off your waist and scoot away from him, pulling yourself off his dick, and push Jisung away to give yourself some room. You settle beside Jisung, who sits back down against the mattress and leans on his elbows to look at the rest of you.

“But noonaaaa,” Changbin whines.

“You got some already,” you admonish. “Don’t be greedy.”

Changbin pouts at you, and you reach out and squish his cheeks in your hand. He just lets you do it, and you lean in and kiss his lips. He deserves it, and more.

“So. Consensus,” you say, “Has Channie been good?”

“Not as good as me,” Changbin mutters.

You laugh, and turn to Jisung expectantly for his answer.

“I think so,” Jisung says, “He listens to you much better than he listens to me.”

“How honest,” you say.

You turn and swing one leg over Jisung’s torso, only hesitating for a second as you factor in your body weight on top of his dainty little body and then deciding it doesn’t matter. You sit up straight, facing Jisung so that you can see his expression, trapping his bare cock between your folds, still kind of covered in your stretched and soaked panties, and his stomach.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jisung wheezes, throwing his head back.

“They’re really roasting you,” you say to Chan conversationally, as if you’re not torturing Jisung in the same moment.

“I’m used to it,” he replies, giving you a sheepish smile that shows his deep dimples.

His casual admission is strangely charming, and it makes you smile back. You grind down on Jisung just for a second, just to hear the noise that he makes. He doesn't disappoint, a whine coming up from his chest as his hands scrabble at the sheets. He doesn't touch you, even though you haven't said that he can't. The faultless obedience is thrilling.

"Are you ready for a little more?" you ask Jisung, nodding toward Changbin.

"A little?" Changbin protests.

You send him a wink, realizing the stupid joke. "Oh, come on, that wasn't a dig."

"Thin ice, noona," he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Excuse me?"

"Biting the hand that feeds you, hyung," Jisung sing-songs, tilting his head up.

"Jisungie, you talk too much," you tease.

You shift over Jisung so that the head of his cock prods at your entrance. You're still wet and messy from all of their handiwork, and Jisung keens.

"We don't need him, do we?" you nod over your shoulder at Changbin.

"I mean, I was looking forward to the dicking, but - oh shit" Jisung moans, as you reach down and pull your panties aside properly, and let the very tip of him slip inside you.

"This isn't the plan," Changbin complains.

You smile at him sweetly. "I just don't want anyone to forget who's in charge here."

You climb off Jisung, leaving him whining in your wake, and move up to the spot at the head of the bed where you'd sat Chan earlier. The three boys watch as you settle cross-legged, casual as anything.

"I think," you say, resting your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee, "I think that I just want to watch for a while."

All three of them, Changbin and Chan standing side by side and Jisung sitting half-upright, look at you with matching wide eyes. You tut, looking right back at them and silently making up your mind.

"Come here, peach," you say, making grabby hands at Chan.

He complies easily, coming back up the bed toward you, and you uncross your legs to make some room, patting the mattress in front of you. Chan pauses, kneeling between your open legs, and you turn him around gently by the shoulders. You sit him down with his back pressed to your chest. He's still fully dressed, even after everything that’s gone on, and his silky black shirt is cool and soft against your bare skin. His broad shoulders cover you entirely, but he melts against you, sliding down a little so that his head rests at the crook of your neck, curly black hair against your cheek.

"Jisungie, Binnie?" you say, "I want you to put on a good show for me while I give this poor baby boy some attention."

You let your hands wander to the top button on Chan's shirt. It's not the top button, really, because he's got the first three undone already to show a span of pale toned chest. So you unbutton the next one, and crawl your fingers down to the next, too.

"So I can," Changbin starts, "I can-"

"Yes," you nod, "But neither of you can cum until I say so. Okay?"

"Okay," says Jisung eagerly.

"You have to earn it," you warn, "A good show."

Jisung and Changbin look at each other, significantly, like they're silently concocting their own plan. You decide you can get a hand on that ball, too.

"Channie, wouldn't they be pretty if they kissed for us?" you ask, murmuring right into Chan's ear.

He nods eagerly, and you pop another shirt button. You glance down at Chan's torso, completely bare to you now, all pale smooth skin and chiseled abs. So you ease the silky shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, and discard it off the side of the bed.

By the time you look back up, Jisung has Changbin pinned to the bed, straddling his waist and kissing him right into the mattress.

"Oh," you say mildly, "Promising start, hm?"

You stroke up and down Chan's abs with your fingertips, and he laughs gently.

"They're always like this," he says.

"Thirsty?"

"Out of control," he corrects.

Jisung breaks away from Changbin's mouth, frowning at Chan. "You love it, you asshole. You're just as bad."

Chan nestles back into you more and doesn't say anything, but you can see an answering half-smile creeping over his face. Changbin takes advantage of the distraction to flip Jisung over onto his back, finally flexing the strength you know he has, and bends Jisung nearly in half. His knees are up by his shoulders, and his face is more than a little alarmed.

"Hey, I'm not that bendy!" Jisung protests.

"Yeah, you are," Changbin shushes, "Do you wanna cum or not?"

You grin. "Come on, then."

With a big upside-down sigh, Jisung looks at you, while Changbin digs around in the sheets for the lube.

"You see what I have to deal with?" Jisung asks you, "They're so good and nice for you, and for me? This disrespect. I don't even know - OH-"

Jisung cuts off, and it's obvious what's happening from the way Changbin's hands fly down to Jisung's hips and Jisung's back arches up to meet him. You hum your satisfaction, taking in the blissful expression on Changbin's face, and the sweat already beading at Jisung's hairline.

But you quickly realize that you can't see nearly well enough. They're laying up the bed properly, feet at the foot and Jisung's head against the mattress near yours and Chan's intertwined legs. But if they were perpendicular to you...

"Okay, gorgeous," you coo, and Changbin's head snaps up at the sound of the pet name, "Turn around on the bed so that I can see exactly how nice Jisungie fits around you."

It takes a second, but Changbin processes your words with a slow blink, and grabs Jisung's hips to unceremoniously turn them ninety degrees. Now they're laying across the bed widthwise, and you have a delightful view of Changbin's thick cock sinking into Jisung smoothly. He's set a brutal pace, snapping against Jisung's narrow hips with a force that makes you clench around nothing. He’s obviously making up for the painfully slow pace you made him take on you. It's quiet enough that all you can hear is the perverse squelch of lube and the tiny breathy sighs Jisung makes every time Changbin bottoms out.

"Jesus," Chan breathes, and you nearly jump out of your skin; despite the weight of him on you, you've all but forgotten about him while you're taking in the view in front of you.

"How do they look?" you ask him, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

"So good," Chan answers, "So - ah-"

You tug his curls gently, and Chan arches his neck back so that his head rests fully on your shoulder.

"Noona," Changbin says with an edge of desperation in his voice, pulling your attention back to him, "Noona, I'm not, I can't-"

"You gotta hold on for me, gorgeous," you coax.

Changbin nods, digging his fingers into Jisung's hips and making his poor boyfriend squeak at the added pressure. He sits back on his heels, pulling Jisung with him, so that he’s almost upright, giving you a delightful view of their bodies meeting. It makes you groan to yourself, waves of arousal peeling through your gut.

You reach down to undo Chan’s belt and jeans, and it only takes a moment to rid him of those, too. He’s ridiculously hard in his black boxers, and as you palm him through the fabric, you have to admit that he’s the biggest of the three of them.

“Who’s gonna cum first?” you ask Chan.

He drags his eyes away from the sight of Jisung’s arched back, the faint bruises forming under Changbin’s hands, and looks up at you.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs.

“I think Jisung’s earned it,” you decide, “Peach, you wanna give him a hand?”

“Not him,” Jisung gasps.

Chan looks affronted. “Hey!”

“Noona please,” Jisung begs. “Please!”

“Oh, you want me?” you ask, smirking.

Jisung nods, gasping and screwing his eyes shut as Changbin keeps up that punishing pace. You can have mercy on him, can’t you?

Chan leans forward so you can wiggle out from behind him, and you sit back on your heels beside Changbin and Jisung. The view is even better up close: Changbin’s muscles bunching and expanding, Jisung rocking up the bed with every thrust. Changbin’s gorgeous face furrowed in concentration. Jisung’s rim contracting obscenely around the cock still working in and out of him.

You feel delightfully gross, wonderfully perverse and voyeuristic, and you lean down to kiss Jisung. He kisses back like he’s starving, panting into your mouth.

“Pretty boy,” you say, right against his lips, “Do you want to cum?”

Jisung nods, his eyes barely focusing on you, the attention going right to his head. “Yes, noona!”

“What do you need to cum?” you ask him.

“Your…hand, noona, or your mouth, please,” Jisung whines.

You smile at him, leaning in for one more kiss. “You can cum when you’re ready, baby.”

“Yes, noona.”

One down, one to go. You shuffle so that you’re sitting face to face with Changbin and he all but falls forward to kiss you, his hips not even stuttering as they drive forward. His singular focus is impressive. You let Changbin press messy open-mouth kisses against your lips, your cheeks, as you finally wrap a hand around Jisung’s cock.

His whole body jumps when you start jerking him quickly. It only takes two, three, four pumps before Jisung is babbling, begging for your permission even though you’ve already given it.

“Noona, I’m going to – please let me cum, I need it, I need-”

“Go ahead, pretty baby, cum for me,” you say.

That’s all it takes for Jisung to come into your hand with a shout, loud and high-pitched and cracking in the middle. His voice is a rush of power, like adrenaline in your veins, and you keep up your pace, stroking him through his orgasm. You look to Changbin next, watching him as he throws his head back and moans openly at the feeling of Jisung coming around him. His eyes are wide open, still, and he finds your gaze as he finally begins to lose his pace. This is the second person’s orgasm he’s had to ride out, poor thing. It almost makes you want to keep going, see how long he can last…

“I-” he stutters, “I want…”

“Ask nicely,” you instruct.

“I want to cum, noona,” Changbin pleads.

“That doesn’t sound like asking nicely.”

Changbin makes a tiny sound of despair, and tries again, “Please, may I cum, noona? I’ve – God – I’ve been good, haven’t I? Please?”

He’s beautiful, begging so nicely for you. You bring up your hand that’s covered in Jisung’s cum and nudge the dirty fingers against his lips. Without hesitating, Changbin sucks two fingers into his mouth, his tongue working between the digits.

“Filthy,” you coo.

Changbin just whines around your fingers.

“Who are you cumming for, Binnie?” you ask, taking your hand back.

“You.”

“Hm?” you feign ignorance.

“You!”

“Who?”

“You, noona,” he moans.

“Okay, gorgeous, you can cum.”

“Thank you.”

With a final moan that sounds an awful lot like your name, Changbin cums, making Jisung whine out in his high, cracked little voice at the feeling of it. You lean back, just watching and enjoying, as they both come down.

Two down, one to go.

Chan is still waiting for you, though you wouldn’t doubt that he’s a little less patient than he was at the beginning of the session. He’s sitting back against the headboard again when you turn around, just watching you. You notice that he’s actually sitting on top of his hands, and you smile disdainfully at him.

“Oh, peach,” you say, “Are you so fucking desperate that you have to sit on your pretty little hands, to keep from disobeying me?”

“I’ve listened to you, noona,” Chan says.

“Is it so hard for you to be good?” you chide.

“It’s not!” he insists weakly.

“Shit, I think we could go again,” Jisung comments offhandedly, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him, suppressing your smile in favor of a cool stare. “Can you not let me deal with our sweet peach for two fucking minutes?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Jisung defends, holding up his hands in surrender. “Refractory period? Great.”

You decide to ignore Jisung and his big mouth. Chan deserves some undivided attention, and you planned right from the start that you’d have him like this.

Rolling your eyes in Jisung’s direction, you crawl over and take hold of Chan’s boxers, and pull them down his pale pretty legs and off. He looks distinctly shy when he’s finally fully naked for you, so you return the favor by slipping off your ruined panties. You can feel two sets of eyes on your ass as you maneuver yourself onto Chan’s lap.

You’re delighted to find that if you sit up perfectly straight, you’re taller than him. Tall enough that he has to tilt his head back to look at you. He’s all wide brown eyes and handsome flushed skin, and you stare down at him fondly.

“What do you want, peach?” you ask.

“You…” Chan trails.

You walk your hand up his shoulder, up into his hair, and tug at the back of his head. He tilts his chin up, leaning into the action, exposing his long beautiful neck to you. You can’t help it – you lean in and indulgently bite into the skin on the side of his throat.

“What about me?” you ask against his flesh.

You can feel Chan swallow. “I want…to fuck you, noona.”

“I know you can ask nicely.”

As you trail down and add another bite under the first, leaving your mark behind on his porcelain skin, Chan shows you just how well he can ask.

“Please, noona,” he breathes, “I can make you feel good, like Changbinnie, better than Changbinnie, wanna fuck you so good and fill-”

He cuts off with an embarrassed whimper, as if he’d almost let something slip. Unluckily for him, you have a pretty good idea what he was about to say.

“Oh, peach, you’re dirty,” you purr.

“I’m sorry, I-” Chan sputters, but you cut him off.

“No, no, no, no,” you shush him, “I like it.”

You lift yourself up slightly so that you can reach down and line him up with your pussy, and without preamble, you sink down on him. You know you’re still wet and sloppy from before, and Chan groans shamelessly as you settle your hips firmly against his.

“You can have me, but you’re doing all the work,” you inform him.

Apparently, that’s no problem for Chan, because he plants his feet on the mattress for leverage and begins pistoning upwards into you. You rise onto your knees slightly to meet him, making him work harder, rise higher to chase what he wants.

His pace is brutal, his hips moving precise and intense against yours, and you’re shocked to feel a second, penetrative orgasm rising on its own. You’re still so sensitive from cumming the first time, you know you’re not going to last very long. But Chan is having a similar problem.

“I’m not…I’m not going to last, noona, I’m-” Chan moans, sounding embarrassed by it.

You coo at him. His self-consciousness, even this far into a scene, is so endearing.

“Did you get all worked up watching Jisung and Changbin have their fun?” you ask, patronizing.

Chan nods, throwing his head all the way back as he chases his high, driving into you hard. “So good, noona, it was so good…”

You glance over your shoulder at the other two, the mention of them making you wonder what they’re up to, unattended over there, and you’re met with quite the scene.

“It seems like they’re enjoying us, too,” you say.

Chan brings his head forward again with what seems like a tremendous amount of effort, and peels his eyes open. When he sees his boyfriends behind you, his breakneck pace finally stutters.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Oh, Jesus Christ-”

Jisung is standing beside the bed, bracing himself against the wall like he’ll collapse if left only to his own strength. Which is valid, because Changbin is knelt between his legs, Jisung’s cock down his throat and Jisung’s hand on the back of his head, guiding him.

“They weren’t kidding about being ready another round,” you joke, and to your utter delight, Chan laughs.

“And I wasn’t kidding about – noona, fuck,” Chan whimpers, “I’m not – can I cum, noona?”

You hum. “You wanna fill me up, peach?”

Chan’s breath hitches at your words, and if it’s even possible, he begins fucking into you harder. He’s hitting you just right inside, cockhead brushing against that delicious spot and making stars dance in your vision. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve cum just from a partner like this, and you’re salivating at the idea of it. You’re so damn close.

“Yes,” he whines, “Noona please let me, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, fill you up with my cum and – and-”

“You’ve waited long enough for me, peach,” you say, reaching up to cup his face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Cum.”

On command, like the good boy he is, Chan cries out, high pitched and absolutely beautiful, and cums. And then, surprise of surprises, he snakes one hand down between the two of you and finds your clit, rubbing into the poor sore nerves like he might die if he doesn’t make you cum.

And you do. You can’t even choke down the squeak of “Chan, oh, fuck!” as you clamp down on him, pleasure bursting behind your eyelids like fireworks and warming you all the way down to your toes.

As your orgasm fades and the world comes back into focus around you, the first thing you see is Chan’s self-satisfied little smile. That smug bastard…

You grin back at him, pushing him away by the chest, “Shut up.”

Gingerly, you climb off his softening cock and off his lap entirely, to throw yourself down haphazardly on the bed. Chan collapses across you, landing heavy over your legs and making you protest for your poor ankles.

“I can confidently say, that was fantastic,” comes Chan’s muffled voice, facedown in the mattress as he is.

“Seconded,” says Jisung.

You tilt your head back to see Jisung and Changbin peering down at you, both looking heavy-eyed and swollen-lipped. They look as drained as you feel, and just as satisfied.

“That was a hell of a show, (Y/N)-noona,” Changbin says.

“Glad you liked it, I worked really hard,” you tease. “Does anyone need water? Food?”

“Cuddles,” mumbles Chan.

“Yeah, you have to stay the night, noona, aftercare and cuddling is non-negotiable,” Jisung agrees.

Changbin nods. “We’re even better at that than the sex.”

It shouldn’t be as touching as it is that they want you to stay. But fondness wells up in your chest, soft delight that they seem to enjoy your platonic company just as much as your sexual company. But this bed is disgusting. Changbin needs to wash his sheets, there’s no way you can sleep here in the miasma of lube and bodily fluids.

And besides, the four of you need to talk about all of this at some point. You’re still their classmate, after all, at least until the end of the semester, and an impromptu hookup like this can lead to some real awkward class meetings. Some pillow talk, some cuddles, and some Gatorade are all in order here.

So you smile, wide and honest and mischievous, and stand up on shaky legs to head for the bedroom door. The boys look confused at your seemingly sudden departure, and you cock a thumb at the other bedroom, across the hall.

“Now, Channie, where’s that pillow fort I heard so much about?”

[hatterstan-shameblog]

The Best Quiche in Tokyo

Rating: ‼️18+ Minors Do Not Interact ‼️

Warnings: explicit sexuality (it literally takes place at an orgy so like.......Y’know)

Characters: Hatter (Takeru), Aguni, and Female Reader (You)

Summary: When one of your customers invites you to a potluck-slash-orgy, you assume the “orgy” part is a joke—because nobody really hosts a potluck and an orgy at the same time, right?

Notes: One time, @nessinborderland (happy belated birthday btw) gave me the brilliant idea of Hatter hosting an orgy and serving really good food and I just......ran with it. This ended up being part comedy, part character study—and mostly features Aguni, if you can believe it! I don’t know, I just let the story take me where it wanted to go! (Also, this is definitely the longest thing I’ve written on here, so get ready to dig in!)

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon in March, and you’re standing in front of a hat shop. Well, technically, you’re slightly to the left of a hat shop, peering down a skinny alleyway in search of a door or a set of stairs—something to indicate that there is, in fact, an apartment up there and this is not just an elaborate prank.

There is a very good chance this is a prank—after all, the eccentric man who walked into your stationary store two weeks ago seemed...off. Not in a bad way, just. One-of-a-kind. Unique. Entirely himself, in a way that people usually aren’t.

Was he flirting or was he just overly friendly when he leaned in just a bit too close to see the various fonts available for his choosing? It’s difficult to say. He did seem genuinely interested to know the difference between serif and sans serif, which doesn’t much thrill your customers on the regular. Does asking for an extra business card ‘for his personal records’ count as a pick-up line? It’s hard to say. Not that it matters much, of course—you are a professional, he is a customer, and there’s nothing more to it.

And you really are a professional, because when he told you that he wanted—in metallic gold, 30-point, center aligned—to say, quote, “The Third Annual Springtime Potluck and Orgy: Presented by Danma Takeru,” you didn’t so much as bat an eye. Partially because he was very insistent that you spell his name correctly, and partially because. Well. How does a person respond to that?

In truth, he ended up being one of your better customers—he showed a genuine interest in the process while still deferring to your expertise—and when one of the printed invitations arrived in your mailbox, you figured you might as well go see what the fuss is about. It could be an opportunity to meet some new friends, maybe drum up a little business if you’re lucky.

And besides—a potluck-slash-orgy? Who would even do that?

The merry little jingle of bell catches your attention, and you turn your head to see a solemn-looking man peeking his head around the hat shop’s glass door. He looks at you. He looks at the plastic-wrapped pie in your hands. He looks back at you.

He frowns.

“Hi,” you say, putting on your most charming smile in the hopes that he’ll stop looking at you like you just slapped him across the face, “I’m, uh, I’m here for the party!”

You shuffle over to him, careful not to scuff the white of your sensible-yet-pretty patent leather heels on the sidewalk. Maybe you’re dressed too formally—he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans while you’re sporting a calf-length chiffon dress dyed in a lovely array of watercolor blues and violets.

Oh dear, what a faux-pas! There was no dress code listed on the invite, but maybe you should’ve dressed in a more casual fashion. You don’t live far, you could probably run home quickly and change...

“Do you...have an invitation,” the man asks, crossing his arms across his chest and furrowing his brow. Is he annoyed? No, no. He seems. Confused? Wary? How very strange.

“Oh, of course,” you answer, reaching a fumbling hand into your purse to search for the little pink envelope, “I almost forgot it walking out the door, but I remembered at the last second! I can be a bit scatterbrained sometimes!”

The man doesn’t say anything, but leans forward to inspect the invitation once you manage to produce it from the cluttered mess that is your handbag.

“I know the time said it started at three, but the pie took a little longer than expected. It takes time for the chocolate to set, and—“ you gasp, covering your mouth with your invite-laden hand, “I haven’t kept you waiting, have I? I’m so sorry, Mister...?”

“Call me Aguni,” he says, and his eyes narrow slightly when you give him your most chipper ‘thank you’ and apologize for not being able to shake his hand at the moment. What a strange man.

“You,” he asks slowly, “you read the invitation, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m the one who made them,” you explain, puffing your chest up with pride, “and our host was kind enough to send one to me! He must have really liked my work!”

“...Yeah,” the man called Aguni says, “I’m sure that’s it.”

But, to your pleasure, he steps aside and holds the door open for you to enter. Such a strange man, but at least he’s gentlemanly enough to hold the door for you as you step inside.

“Oh, wow,” you say, “this place is amazing!”

And maybe it sounds silly, but you’re being entirely honest. There are hats in shelves, hats hanging on the wall, hats on faceless plastic heads on the counter and placed atop a long wooden table to the left—all of them in different shapes and colors, embellished and feathered and ribboned to the nines. There’s a certain magic to a little place like this, a kind of whimsical charm you want to bottle and keep on the kitchen windowsill.

“Walls could use some paint. Floor needs polished, too,” Aguni says, “but...yeah, I guess it’s nice enough.”

You follow him as he leads you towards the back, your eyes drinking in all the details of this fascinating little shop.

“No, no, the walls and the floor are perfect,” you assert with a wide-mouthed smile, “it gives it character. Makes it feel...like home, I think.”

“Takeru says the same thing,” Aguni answers with a chuckle, “although I also think he just doesn’t want to put in the work. He’s...not very handy.”

There is a second door at the very back of the shop, and once again, Aguni holds it open for you. Perhaps his original air of discontent was a simple case of shyness—maybe he just takes a bit to warm up to people. Well, just wait until he tries your homemade triple-chocolate silk pie; you’ll be best friends in no time!

He leads you into a tiny courtyard, which is just barely big enough to hold a steep set of metal stairs and a handful of plant pots, which remain empty due to the early spring cold. But, oh, it must be so lovely back here when the plants are in full bloom! You say as much to your companion, who actually manages to smile a bit in your direction as he leads you up the stairs.

“Those are mine, actually,” he tells you, his boot-covered feet thunking up the stairs at a leisurely pace, “He lets me garden back here.”

You picture it—this tall, stoic man, kneeling on the ground, his gloved hands tending little green sprouts as the morning sun shines gold and warm on the cold stone ground. The thought of it warms you. Does he know anything about succulents? You’ve always thought they would look so cute in the shop...

“Look,” Aguni says when the two of you reach a very drab-looking door, “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but...you sure you’re ready for this?”

What an odd thing to say! Maybe you’re acting more nervous than you originally thought? It is rather daunting, walking into a party of strangers; but, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

“You’re sweet for worrying about me,” you respond, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “but if everyone is half as lovely as you, I’m sure I’ll do just fine. I will probably stick with you for a while—if that’s okay, of course!”

“Alright, then.” Aguni says—and is that a hint of a blush you see creeping up his neck? All this time, you thought he was just being strange, but he’s just a little shy! You give his arm a knowing pat before withdrawing your touch, and he quickly turns around to unlock the door.

Are all of Takeru’s friends this adorable? You hope so. You follow your bashful escort inside—the genkan is already full of shoes, but you manage to squeeze yours in between a pair of snakeskin wedge heels and the wall. Aguni also removes his boots, and you’re happy he isn’t going to stay down in the hat shop the whole time. He can introduce you to everyone, and maybe—

You hear something. Was that...? No, no, you must be imagining things. You definitely did not just hear a woman moan on the other side of the wall. You stop and angle your head towards the door slightly to get a better listen. It’s all rather muffled (it must be well-insulated!) but there’s definitely some kind of music playing. Maybe it’s part of a song?

It happens again. This time, it’s deeper, and more of a prolonged “ah” sound. And then laughter. Aguni is looking at you in that concerned way of his again.

Instead of waiting for him to open the door for you a third time, you decide to take initiative and open it yourself—a show of confidence, to put his mind at ease. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to try and stop you, but he instead just crosses his arms and watches as you open the door to the rest of the house.

The first thing you see is candles. Little flickering spots of yellow-orange flame, winking inside clear glass votives. A trio of them on the kitchen table to the left, surrounded by a mismatched variety of trays and plates and bowls, each holding a different delicacy.

There’s a candle on the kitchen counter, next to the refrigerator. One on a bookshelf, which is filled to bowing with vinyl LP’s. Two on either side of the television, and a cluster of them on a coffee table next to a fishbowl of shiny gold squares and—

Oh.

Oh, dear.

There are limbs. Moving, writing, reaching. Hands grabbing. Mouths kissing. Mouths...doing things other than kissing. Oh, God, there’s boobs. And somebody’s butt. Aw, geez, there goes another one. How many naked people are there in here, anyways?

“Oh, hey!”

A familiar voice calls out from the fleshy throng, and your stomach drops. Like Venus emerging from the surf, you see Danma Takeru rise up from the crowd, hair mussed and smiling mouth smudged with at least two different colors of lipstick. While he does appear to be wearing some kind of brightly-patterned robe, the more he stands, the less confident you are that it’s actually covering anything.

You spin on your heel, unwilling as of the moment to become visually acquainted with your host’s penis, and you’re met once more with Aguni’s concerned stare. This time, though, you understand why he’s looking at you like that, and it makes the burn of embarrassment creeping up your neck that much hotter.

“Do you want to leave?”

This is. Oh, boy. This is a lot. Aguni must be able to sense your discomfort, although you imagine it’s rather palpable at the moment.

“I,” you say, “I don’t...know.”

And you say you don’t know because you truly don’t know what to do. Was it really so naïve of you to think that the ‘orgy’ part of the invitation was some kind of weird inside joke? Is there some kind of social protocol for these things?

You feel two hands descend upon each of your shoulders, and you try to convince yourself that they are slightly damp with sweat as opposed to any other kind of aqueous material.

“You made it,” Takeru exclaims with genuine excitement as he gives your person a gentle shake, “I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“He’s covered, don’t worry,” Aguni says to you before directing his attention over your shoulder, “I take it you didn’t tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

The hand on your right shoulder stays while the left slips away, leaving room for Takeru to stand at your side and squeeze you against him in a weird little half-hug. In another situation, you might enjoy the way the silk of his robe whispers against the skin of your arms, perhaps smile at the warm comfort of a lazy arm thrown about your shoulders like a heavy scarf, but. Well. Right now, it’s just a little...awkward.

Aguni rolls his eyes.

“About that,” he says, gesturing impatiently at the debauchery behind your back, “I mean, just look at her face.”

“Mori-chan, how could you be so rude to our lovely guest? Darling,” Takeru says, turning your face towards him with two fingers under your chin, “don’t listen to him, you’re...ah, I see what you mean.”

Is your expression really that bad? It must be, because Takeru very slowly and very carefully withdrawing his arm from around your shoulder and taking a generous step to the side. His mouth is twisted into a rather comical gaping frown, his eyes nervously darting side-to-side.

“In my defense,” he says, putting his hands up like some kind of fucked-out traffic cop at a four-way intersection, “the, uh, the orgy part was very prominent. Big letters, right at the top.”

“I,” you reply, “I thought it was...a joke?”

“This is why we don’t just hand out invitations,” Aguni grits through his teeth, “for fuck’s sake, Takeru, we’ve talked about this!”

“I know, I know. I am humble enough to admit when I’ve fucked up, and this time, I have fucked up in a truly spectacular fashion,” Takeru’s gaze shifts from horrified to quizzical as he scrutinized you for a moment, “Unless...you’d like to stay?”

You look at the pie. The slowly-warming chocolate is beginning to sweat beneath the thin film of plastic wrap you so lovingly secured with lilac ribbon.

“Or you could slap him on the way out,” Aguni offers, “he’s very slap-able.”

“It’s true! And when you slap me,” he whips his head to the side suddenly, “my hair does that and it looks really cool!”

Yeah, okay—it did look pretty cool. But, does he deserve to be slapped? Probably for something else, but not for this. It’s a simple misunderstanding, and honest mistake on both your parts.

“I want...” you start, and the way they’re looking at you, wide-eyed and breath-bated, reminds you of the final rose ceremony on The Bachelorette.

It’s kind of hilarious, actually.

“I, uh,” you continue, “I want to...to put this in the refrigerator, if that’s okay? It’s, uh, starting to melt...”

To say that Takeru’s face lights up is an understatement. With a mega-watt smile and a sparkle in his eye, he swoops his arm back around your shoulder and begins leading you towards the kitchen.

Although you have (almost) gotten used to the sea of strangers fucking and moaning in the background, you still choose to politely avert your gaze as you pass them by. You instead focus on Takeru, who has taken this opportunity to explain the inner-workings of...whatever this is.

“...And I personally see to it that these events remain exclusive,” he says, “Although I do occasionally invite outsiders, such as yourself. You were just so sweet and helpful, I couldn’t resist trying my luck and sending you an invite.”

“Thank you,” you say, “although, I, uh...”

He opens the refrigerator door and motions for you to place the pie inside. Luckily, it’s mostly empty, save for a collection of bottled water and a tin of what looks to be cat food. You’re grateful to not have to carry it around anymore, and thank him for his assistance.

It’s finally time for you to acknowledge the proverbial ‘elephant in the room’—except, you’re not exactly sure how to begin.

“I,” you start, stopping to bite your lip, “I, uh. Is it okay if I...don’t, y’know, do the whole...uh...sex thing?”

“Oh, do you prefer to watch?”

“No! I mean, no, uh,” you laugh nervously, “I’m just...”

Takeru chuckles.

“I’m only teasing. You’re more than welcome to skip the sex and go straight to the food. As long as you’re on the kitchen side, nobody will touch you. It’s one of our rules.”

He motions for Aguni to come over with a wave of his arm, smiling when the tall man comes to lean against the kitchen counter.

“Mori-chan also prefers to abstain from the more salacious aspects of our little gathering, so the two of you can keep each other company.”

“I’m usually in charge of the food,” Aguni adds, “and I try to make sure the candles stay lit.”

“I, uh, I noticed those on the way in. They’re nice.”

Takeru leans towards you as if he’s about to share a secret.

“I don’t mean to be indelicate,” he says in a low tone, “but there is a certain stench that comes with these events. Sweat, musk, various secretions...it all really adds up in the end.”

“It’s awful,” Aguni concludes, “but candles help dissipate the worst of it.”

“Oh, and the ambiance,” Takeru exclaims, “there’s just nothing like candlelight to really get people in the mood for—“

A sharp ding! makes you jump. From what you can gather, it came from the small oven to Aguni’s left.

“Hold it right there,” Takeru growls towards Aguni, who had been in the middle of donning a pair of floral-printed oven mitts, “she needs thirty more seconds.”

Aguni looks at you and rolls his eyes. You stifle a giggle behind your hand, hoping your host doesn’t notice.

“I saw that,” Takeru snips towards Aguni, “honestly, Mori-chan, you get one new friend...”

And even though he’s mid-scold, there remains a joviality to Takeru’s tone—a testament, you believe, to what can only be a long-standing friendship between him and Aguni. It’s hard not to feel jealous of their easy back-and-forth, their banter like a well-matched game of tennis.

“Now you can take her out,” Takeru says, “but, so help me God, if you don’t let her rest for seven minutes–“

“–They’ll never find my body, I know, I know,” Aguni finishes, gingerly placing a metal pan on the stove, “Look, we’ve got it handled. You can go back to your side of the party and I’ll call you when it’s plated.”

“Fine,” Takeru answers with a false pout, “but only because I know she’ll keep you honest.”

And just like that, it’s just you and Aguni once more—but, this time, he seems much more at ease to have you around. Happy, almost. It must be kind of boring, sitting alone in a kitchen while everyone else is...well, busy.

“So,” you say, moving to Aguni’s side to peer into the baking pan, “looks kind of like...a quiche?”

“Not just any quiche,” Aguni answers, opening the drawer to his right and digging a hand inside, “the best quiche in Tokyo.”

He pulls out a shiny silver chef’s knife and places it on the counter. Next comes a pair of dainty forks, delicate little things one might use for tea cakes at a French-inspired bistro. Knowing what you know about Takeru—which, granted, isn’t very much at all—it doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“You’re in front of the plates,” he says, tapping the cabinet directly in front of your face, “grab us some?”

“But we’re supposed to wait seven minutes,” you protest, all while following his instructions, “it’s only been...like, three.”

Aguni’s eyes take on a glint of mischief.

“Only a problem if we get caught.”

Honestly, it looks divine. Pillowy-soft and the perfect pale-yellow hue, delicate tendrils of steam billowing out as he drags the knife through. You hadn’t ever seen a non-rectangular quiche before, but you suppose it makes sense; there are a fair few people in attendance, and the standard circular composition wouldn’t quite feed everyone.

He serves you first. A corner piece (which he insists are the best), speckled with herbs and studded with little pieces of what you assume to be some kind of ham. Little strings of cheese stick to the blade of the knife, and Aguni scrapes them off with the side of a fork, which he then hands to you.

“Takeru doesn’t cook much,” Aguni explains, playing his own small square, “but when he does...”

The sound that comes from your mouth as you take your first bite of quiche could rival any of those happening in the orgy across the room. Oh, that is so good! Buttery crust, the salt of cheese and ham, the subtle bite of onion—and there’s something else there, something you can’t quite place, but you know it tastes absolutely heavenly. Immediately, you take another bite.

“Grew the herbs de Provence myself,” Aguni mentions, “He refuses to use store-bought.”

“Makes all the difference,” you respond, “I could eat the whole pan by myself.”

“I did that for my last birthday, actually,” Aguni chuckles around a forkful of quiche, “Takeru insisted on putting all thirty-eight candles in before carrying it to the table—you know, like a dumbass. Part of his hair caught fire, and I had to give him a haircut at two in the morning because he was so distraught.”

The two of you laugh—Aguni at the memory, and you at the idea of a tearful Takeru sulking as Aguni snipping the fried locks with a pair of kitchen shears.

“He forgave me, even though I took a whole two inches off,” Aguni sets his empty plate in the sink and looks out of the small window above it, “He’s not a bad guy, you know. Doesn’t always make the best choices, sure, but he’s got a good heart in him.”

There is a sadness here, something in Aguni that speaks to a troubled past you haven’t quite unearthed yet—and you know better than to press him, especially here, especially now.

“Well, I can’t say I’m an expert,” you say, handing him your plate, “but you two seem like decent people. Orgies aside, of course.”

“Of course,” Aguni nods, “though I don’t suppose you’ll come to the next one, will you?”

For the first time since your arrival, you allow yourself to watch the festivities happening across the room. It isn’t that bad, you suppose—it’s just a group of people having a fun time together, laughing and gasping and enjoying each others’ bodies in a safe and comfortable place. It’s not something you necessarily want to do yourself, but...well, the ‘weird’ factor of the whole thing has gone down exponentially over the past hour or so.

“And miss out on the best quiche in Tokyo,” you say, nudging against Aguni’s arm with your shoulder, “not a chance!”

[koushisatori]

All you have to do is ask

It’s me again! This isn’t beta-read yet, but I’ll do so tomorrow after lunch!! But i need to get this out of my drafts asap and...well, here you go!!  Edit: 16.11.,13:10: I beta’ed it now and weeded out dumb mistakes (and made new ones, probably ) !  ♡ ～('▽^人)  

oikawa x f!reader

genre: small bit of angst, fluff

warnings: someone kinda trying to force themselves onto you??

word count: 3.4k

note: this was supposed to be a drabble, now look at what it turned out to be </3</blockquote>

____________________________________________________

Tooru was sure that he had saved at least thousands of people in his last life to deserve you liking him back

you didn’t play ‘’unreachable’’ but he had to out in some work for you

especially with his fan club being all over him all the damn time, 

but you never gave him any reason to doubt your intentions with him which is why he took wooing you very seriously

both of you actually spend a lot of time by just talking and getting to know each other due to that

for example: he liked taking you on cute little and spontaneous dates on volleyball-free afternoons and would then walk you home after

or on lunch breaks that you (at first) spend with him alone 

(sometimes he waits at your classroom door to pick you up if it’s manageable for him - aka if he’s not swarmed by people with confession letters)

later you both are consequently joined by Iwa, Mattsun, and Makki 

the last two loved teasing him with their ‘fun facts for lunch’

’’(Y/N)?’’ you hear Makki sing even before you can see any of the other three. next to you, Tooru groans in advance 

’’Did you know that ‘Kawa can reach a g’’ as soon as he’s eye to eye with an insect larger than your pinky finger?’’ the strawberry haired boy says, mattsun next to him wagging his eyebrows 

the professional that you are easily suppresses a grin, you merely chuckle amused 

’’Who isn’t afraid of bugs larger than that? There are way smaller things that could kill you!’’ you exclaim with wide eyes ‘’...and I’ll gladly channel all my bravery and…’’ you look around before leaning forward, the two boys following your example, intrigued by the secretive expression on your face ‘’…annihilate everything and everyone that might scare Tooru or make fun of hi’’ – ‘’WOAH, (Y/N)-‘’

they had tried to flirt with you just to fuck with Oikawa (so with no real intention) but they had to realize rather quickly that this was a hopeless task – you couldn’t tell that people were flirting with you unless they spelled it out

(literally that one meme;   you: ’’were you flirting with me, Tooru?’’ Tooru: did for the past half-year, thanks for noticing tho <3’’)

Don’t worry you know the setter well enough by now to be able to tell when he does, and really - only Tooru’s flirting matters to you

it also makes you blush furiously, now that you truly get it, but we’re not talking about that

Iwaizumi took you to the side one day while you were waiting for Oikawa to finish his training

he asked you sternly if you were sure that you would be able to handle days, weekends, and sometimes weeks in which Tooru would unintentionally prioritize Volleyball over you

said, that you had to find a balance on the fine line that was leaving him be with his training and stopping him from overexertion (and really ruining his knee)

after assuring that yeah, you would because you genuinely liked him, volleyball obsession and all, and that wanted to be with him, Iwa let go of any rest reservations he had had against you and joined the general teasing

Okay, moving on

as soon as his and your interest in each other became clear, you kept a clear distance from other males (and females, ‘yer that desired, as you should btw)

if they pushed it, you unmistakable stated that you’re not interested in other advances because you liked someone

Like??? Oikawa really just had to say the magic words at this point, you'd say yes in an instant

for god's sake tf is he waiting for?!!

despite you being obvious with your interest in the setter and disinterest in everyone else regarding this you constantly get approached by admirers

some people need it spelled out that you mean what you say, honestly

A thing Tooru liked so much about you was your kindness, but it also was the reason that - as already said - some people still thought they might have a chance

it’s not your fault, your natural charm is like...the 8th wonder of the world!!

due to your impeccable behavior and perfect grades, you obviously were the teachers’ favorite student to pick to help out other students

cue to: oh, look!! you're chosen again *sigh*

up until now, the tutoring never bugged Tooru too much, it was more like an itch he couldn’t scratch

but usually, they weren’t after school (giving up your lunch break, you’re a hero) and never awoke any rumors

your latest ’student’ seemed to think that he was close to ’’winning you over’’, though, that you were secretly but undeniably head over heels for him by now

’’I’ve heard that he plans on asking (Y/N) out today!’’ - ‘’No way! Even with Oikawa-Senpai obviously being interested in her?’’ - ‘’Yes!’’ - ‘’Death wish~’’

Tooru had to hear it in between classes and while he trusted you (and the last comment made him chuckle a bit), this was not the case for that guy

You: go home after class, Tooru, I need to give another tutoring session :(

of course, he wanted to hear none of that, especially with the hushed words fresh in his mind

meanwhile, you vividly imagined his annoyed expression reading it and the cute little huffing sound; you couldn’t help but smile softly to yourself </3

Tooru Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→: I’ll wait for you, (Y/N)-chan, Iwa-chan and me wanted to try out something anyway (^.~)☆

Tooru Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→: also, I waited to try out the sweets at the patisserie for too long to not eat my weight in cake twice today, so you better hurry if you want me to share with you

His answer clearly stating: I will wait for you, don’t take too long

Okay, maybe he was a bit jealous 

that this guy gets a reward – another hour with you alone - for being stupid ?? it obviously fed into a crazy fantasy and it was unfair

Oikawa reminded himself that he had no reason to be jealous, especially since he had yet to ask you out and make it official

(it had to be perfect and cute just like you, okay? no rom-com was able to prepare him for the real thing!!)

training – for the first time in years – dragged on endlessly

his mind kept wandering, and after the first 5 volleyballs to the head, courtesy of a very annoyed Iwaizumi, said one took matters into his own hands dragging his sulking best friend out of the gym

‘’If you’re jealous, Shittykawa, then fucking confess already.’’ Iwaizumi says with his no-bullshit voice, letting go of Tooru's jacket. 

While it was obvious that Oikawa is, in fact, super fucking jealous, he chuckles and puts on an easy smile. ‘’Silly Iwa-chan! I’m not- OUCH!’’ The brunet yelps, holding the back of his head and looking at his childhood friend with a pout. 

‘’First of all, fuck you, Shittykawa, for thinking I’m falling for your dumb act.’’ The ace growls, narrowing his eyes. ’’(Y/N) is a beautiful girl. Of course, Extras try to get close to and confess to her, you morron.’’ The spiky-haired let’s out a tsk-sound, seeing Tooru’s wide eyes. ‘’I at least hope you are aware that she is waiting for you to ask her out officially, right? It’s literally on you to put your foot over the line between a girl friend and your girlfriend. But if you take too long, she’ll eventually be fed up with waiting…so why in hell are you stalling?’’ Iwaizumi huffs, crossing his buff arms over his chest.

With a shrug, Oikawa looks up to the sky before his gaze travels down to settle on his feet, shuffling from side to side. ‘’I’m scared that making it official will do more harm than good, Hajime. She never said something else but…is she really fine with me forgetting basic things over Volleyball? Or will she leave me after a while like my last girlfriend? Because she realized Damn, he’s really into volleyball. I also don’t want to hurt (Y/N) by asking her to be mine and then…being me and screw everything up again.’’ Tooru whispers quietly, trying to hide the vulnerability while intentionally avoiding his best friends eyes. 

‘’You’re dumb, Tooru.’’ 

Well…that’s not what he was expecting Iwaizumi to do or say. A punch against his upper arm or chest maybe, or a kick to the shin – always with love but still painful enough to get the message across. But not a soft-voiced statement paired with a sigh. 

‘’I hate...’’ Iwaizumi says, waving his hand up and down. ‘’...why do I have to do...the emotionally charged pep talk.’’ He grumbles, pulling his hand over his face before he looks up directly into Oikawa’s insecure but also curious eyes.

’’You might not be aware of it, but things already are different compared to last time. (Y/N) does not just accept your passion, but supports you fully. With the amount of time she spends on the bench doing her homework and cheering for everyone when we do training's matches, while remembering our schedules and matches, she’s practically an inofficial second manager. By any means, she’s a perfect match to your madness, it’s scary.’’ he jokes, thinking of all the small things you do for his best friend that - in the end - make him trust you even more.

‘’But…what might be more important to you right now is that you’re not behaving like last time as well. You still are so freaking stupid and overexert yourself…but you check up on her whenever you take a water break. If it's asking in person or sending her a message. You make sure to have at least two free afternoons where you spend time with each other, which is two days more than you did last time by the way. You have that stupidly dopey smile on your face when you see Y/N. I mean…nothing ever breaks your focus after you set foot on the field and yet here we are, standing outside because all you do is mope around instead of playing!’’ The spiky-haired player huffs.

After a moment of silence, Tooru cries out an ‘’Iwa-chan, you do love me!’’ while draping himself over his best friend. ‘’Oi, Trashykawa!’’ the other protests with a fake angry voice, yet hugging the other back for a second before he pushes him off nonetheless. 

‘’Okay, now move your ass, the pinning you two are doing is a pain to witness.’’ Iwa says accusatory before going back into the gym, leaving Oikawa to make a decision. 

Hurrying through the gym to the changing rooms, Tooru nearly makes it out unseen until Yahaba is half asking, half yelling from the other side of the hall. ‘’Oikawa-san, where are you going?’’ 

With a wide grin and his signature peace sign (it’s for his own emotional support here, okay, his nerves are killing him), the Captain turns around to announce ‘’I’m finally getting myself a girlfriend!’’ before he quickly leaves his hollering teammates. 

(Oikawa was quite sure to hear Mattsun yell something like ‘All of you! Pay up!’ and Kyoutani muttering an ‘I’m leaving.’ somewhere in his vicinity.)

5 Minutes later, the brunet looks through all the classrooms in the hallway you should be in, teaching a good for nothing that was adamant about trying to steal you away from him. Tsk. 

Right after turning around the corner, Tooru hears a dull thud, followed up by a soft gasp that made his insides churn uncomfortably. That it’s immediately followed by a low, deep voice doesn’t help at all with calming Oikawas heart beat. He slowly creeps closer to the slightly ajar door to the room with the treacherous sounds. The soft whimper following was unmistakably you, and his heart suddenly felt like it was on the verge of breaking for a second.

Should he turn around and leave? Perhaps Iwaizumi was right with you being tired of waiting for him. Maybe you were tired and accepted someone else? 

Luckily, a gruff inner voice growls – surprisingly sounding like his best friend – and mentally slaps him. You never gave him a reason to doubt your affection! And if he had to fight for your affection then so it be! Also, you wouldn’t engage in something inappropriate out in public. There was a 99,9% chance of him misinterpreting everything due to his own insecurities, and you being uncomfrotable right now. Unacceptable. 

With his resolve strengthened again, the setter finally takes the last steps over to the door. Standing there, he finally could understand the words being spoken. Oikawa suddenly had a presentiment of what was happening inside.

Meanwhile, you were struggling unceasingly. ’’It…it is flattering that you…that you like me, honestly!! And…there are surely many other girls that would feel honored to be confessed to by you, but I like someone else, I’m sorry. Please, accept my choice!’’ you say, damming your voice for shaking and underminding your own statement.

’’Ah, ah, pretty girl, it’s not nice to lie.’’ the guy in front of you chuckles. The usage of such a pet name makes you cringe in disgust. There’s only one person allowed to give you tese kind of names. ‘’I know you like me, too. You with your cute little blush when you talk to me and lingering soft touches-‘’ 

A scandalized sound of protest leaves your lips. You were just short of stomping your foot. ’’I did no such thing! I-’’ But as before, your words meet a seemingly deaf ear. 

’’I will be the best boyfriend a pretty girl like you could ever wish for.’’ Moving closer, the guy slowly backs you up until you meet the chalkboard behind you. ’’Come on, give in.’’ He murmurs, hitting his hand against the board next to your head, which forces a scared whimper out of you. ‘’I’m all you need.’’

Stepping into the room, Tooru couldn’t believe his eyes and ears,. The blood in his veins slowly but surely starts to boil. 

’’Please, let me leave! I told you, I am not interested. I am with-’’ You plea softly, one hand pressed against the guys’ chest to stop him from coming any closer, – did he really try to kabedon you against the chalkboard? - while your other was hidden from his view. Even though you were trying your best, the distance between the two of you was insultingly sparse, the guy making up for the lack bodily closeness in general by leaning forward enough for your faces to be separated by only a few inches. You could probably feel his breath on your face. Tooru really felt like punching the guy.

’’What’s so special about the pretty boy anyway? He has many girls running after him to choose from, let me have you. I’ll treat you better! I have so much free time and I would spend all of it on you. Let me take you out for a coffee, pretty girl, or dinner. Hm? I’ll prove my words directly. I mean…he hasn’t even asked you out! It’s unfair how he is keeping you on the back burner, stringing you along. To you…’’ suddenly the boy moves closer, lowering his voice to a sultry murmur ‘’…and to m-‘’ 

’’That’s enough.’’ Oikawa says, his tone icy, sending shivers down the other male's spine. You on the other hand… 

’’Tooru…’’ you whisper, relief evident, as you watch him move closer to you as fast as humanly possible. Yet you still aren’t able to reach out. ’’Please, Tooru…’’ 

Upon hearing your soft whimper, his brown eyes follow yours to your other hand, realizing that said one is still in the firm grip of the guys' right. At that a clearly dangerous growl leaves the usually sweet brunet. ‘’If you don’t let go of her in the next two seconds and leave her be for good in 5, I can and will break your arm.’’ Oikawa threatens with an overly sweet, yet terrifying smile, wrapping his own hands around the guy's wrist, blunt nails pressing painfully into the sensitive flesh on the inside.

With a hiss, the guy finally pulls back his hand. It allows you to seek shelter behind the tall setters back. Your fingers tightly hold onto his shirt while you peek at the other from behind him. ’’Aww, come on, pretty boy,…’’ he says, voice provoking, the words clearly meant to degrade Oikawa. ’’…let me have some fun with sweets over there, and when I’m done you can have her all to yourself.’’ To top of his words, he winks at you. 

With the way he had tensed up the first moment, you half expect Tooru to suit the action to the word, and really break his arm...instead, Oikawa looks the other dead in the eye, while saying ’’Hey, (Y/N)-chan,? There’s that really sickening wretched smell in here, it’s kind of painful. I’d like to take you somewhere nice, will you get your things?’’

You hastily nod and do as you are told while Tooru continues to stare the other down, keeping his attention away from you and using the slighty height difference to his advantage. The moment you reach him, Oikawa finally lets go of the others wrist, grabbing yours instead. You tug him to the door as quick as possible, when suddenly life found its way back into the other. 

‘’Hey, what did you mean?’’ he asks, half angry, half clueless. Unable to accept his loss. 

Oikawa turns back one last time, a smirk settling on his lips while his eyes twinkle with amusement. ‘’I said, that a mouth breather as pitiful as you are is a disgrace to be in the vicinity of someone as amazing as her.’’ And with that, you both finally leave.

(Y/N)-chan…are you alright?’’ Tooru asks once you left the school grounds. His thumb drawing little circles on the back of your hand. 

You nod before you eventually look up, worrying your lip. ’’Thank you. I…I was really scared. Even though I'm sure that he would have done something…something…’’ you swallow down the nasty words, shuddering slightly. ’’I’m glad you came to save me, Tooru.’’ You finally settle on, pink coloring your cheeks. Beckoning him to lean down a bit by waggling your finger, you softly craddle his face and press a kiss to his cheek. The blush becoming more intense now with every passing moment.

Before you can pull back your hands, though, his had already found purchase on yours, keeping them - and you - in place. Everything about this moment felt right to him. Maybe now was the right time. ’’Pretty girl...’’ he murmurs, assessing your reaction. (He notes, pleased, that your blush intensifies, and your smile turns all giddy. He needs you to forget about that douchebag calling you that. He would repeat it until all you remembered was his voice using it.) ‘’I kind of really, really, really want to kiss you right now…’’ He whispers, the warmth of his cheeks telling him that he was most likely sporting a blush similar to yours. ’’…Will you be mine? Will you allow me to hold your hand? To kiss you silly? To steal bites of your food and make up for it with compliments and as many cuddles as you wish? Will you allow me to brag about you being my girlfriend and force you to wear my jersey to all my matches now and in the future?’’ His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second. He enjoyed watching yours light up as if he had just hung the stars in the night sky, or as if he had made you the best present a girl could wish for. 

’’Tooru…I thought you’d never ask…’’ you say with a smile so affectionate that it makes him feel mushy and warm all over. And then he finally closes the gap. 

The moment your lips meet for their first kiss is better than anything he had ever imagined. It isn’t a firework exploding, nor an unbalanced fight of passion and dominance. Instead, it’s gentle. A loving flow and exchange, wrapping you both in a blanket of warmth. A bubble just for the two of you. He understood what Iwaizumi meant with different, because – even though this relationship just started – he knows, that with you he had found a completely new world of comfort and love. Being with you already felt like coming home.

[jjuzoir]

How about flirting/dating/marriage headcanons for Theo, Arthur and Napoleon from Ikevamp? *w* thamks a lot luv! 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

took me some time due to me not knowing theo too well;;: hahaha, ne way thank you for waiting!

————🌷————

Flirting/Dating/Marriage: Theo + Arthur + Napoleon;

—(🌱

-Napoleon-

flirting;

- You two hit it off particularly well, especially after he attempted to guide you to safety the night you arrived.

- So flirting came naturally to you two, what once started out as a game of who could make the other more flustered rapidly became an attempt to let the other know of the others’ feelings.

- He was quite daring, you’d have to admit that after a few weeks of flirting he started becoming more adventurous with his displays.

- Napoleon would rarely go for the cheap pick up lines, he’d rather gift you thought out compliments he’d know you’d accept.

- His favorite part of flirting with you, however, were the quick and clever remarks and how when he’d hit a particularly well spot you’d blush and quickly leave the room.

- His flirting involves teasing, quick and witty remarks, sarcasm, and lots of sincerity.

- Although a bit of a jester, Napoleon always makes certain to make his intentions with you clear; possibly, if you ever do feel the same, to have a relationship with you.

dating;

- Dating Napoleon is as easy as it is to breathe.

- Once he asks you out it doesn't really feel like anything new, simply putting a label on what came naturally.

- Though you had to admit he’d finally let himself loose now, he’d be more open about his gratitude and admiration for you and the work you did.

- Believe it or not, Mr. Bonaparte sometimes does wake up early but stays inside the bed in hopes of being able to steal a quick morning kiss.

- Enjoys taking you out on strolls of the city and showing you places you’d never seen before.

- He takes a lot of pride in being a soldier so you’ll never have to fear being unsafe when it comes to him.

marriage;

- When he asked you to marry him you had no second thoughts before shouting yes with all your heart.

- The wedding was magical, out of a children’s fairytale.

- Once you did arrive home, you two decided to quickly move out and near the mansion.

- You two open up a small school for less-fortunate kids where Isaac and Arthur help teach too.

- Napoleon makes it a habit of waking up and getting ready together.

- Loves cooking with you on rainy days and he truly enjoys being able to sit down with you while you chatted about god know what.

- Your relationship doesn’t change much, except that nowadays he rarely finds himself doubting his own humanity anymore.

—(🌱

-Theo-

flirting;

- At first you were sure he disliked you or held an unknown grudge against you, but slowly with some work and time he began opening up.

- Mostly thanks to your love for Vincent’s art.

- For outsiders, your flirting may sound more like insulting but you two make sure to never cross that line.

- Tends to blush very deeply when you compliment him out of nowhere but covers it with some arrogant comment.

- Gets shocked when you flirt with him for the first time with no teasing in between though, you almost killed him.

- Calls you pet-names in dutch quite often.

- Enjoys tanking about art with you, so expect him to add stupid little nods to artistic culture and him calling you a “stupid hondje” for not getting it.

- Overall, very smooth but there are times where even you shock and fluster him.

dating;

- When you two started dating it felt extremely natural.

- Even if you two found yourselves disagreeing there was never once an argument that couldn’t be solved with some good old talking.

- Enjoys taking you out so you could see art exhibitions from artists he enjoys, he also likes being able to take you with him when he goes out for work.

- You make the long carriage rides more tolerable.

- Enjoys eating your pancakes for breakfast so much, the way to get him to comply with you is to promise him a thick and tall tower of pancakes with syrup.

- Still a major tease, though he tends to not call you hondje or any sort of dog-related name old habits die hard.

- Likes being around you a lot.

marriage;

- When he asked you to marry him you felt honored so there was no hesitation on your part.

- The wedding was actually small, originally he only wanted to invite Vincent but you convinced him to invite the other guests.

- Cried a lot the day after the wedding.

- Hates being alone so now that you two are together he doesn’t really need to fear that anymore.

- You two don’t move out until a few years married and so you bought a house big enough for you three; Theo, Vincent, and you.

- When Theo isn’t around you, not very often, he leaves you with Vincent.

- He melts when he receives a painting of you made by his older brother.

- He works late into the night, so you often surprise him with warm pancakes.

- Likes taking the weekends off and spending them with you and taking you out on dates.

- You three do go to the mansion quite often too.

- Is awfully sweet and caring in his own, sometimes silly and cold, way.

—(🌱

-Arthur-

flirting;

- Flirting is like second nature for a guy like Conan (yes, I will refer to him by both of names, no I won’t stop).

- It’s not that he has to actively try and flirt with people, he’s just a natural charming guy.

- So when you two begin flirting after the incident (which should’ve taken you some time to come to terms with), you have a hard time trying to make out if he means it or not.

- So, just for the sake of it you reciprocated the feeling.

- He goes for the cheesy one liners he knows such but make you laugh, that plus the genuine compliment shoved in the sandwich and that’s his style baby.

- Doesn’t get flustered easily unless he can feel the genuineness from the compliment, then he short circuits like a robot dumped in water.

- Won’t touch you without your consent (surprising considering that stunt he pulled; I’m still mad).

- Knows your buttons as well as he knows he looks hot in glasses; very fucking well.

dating;

-. At first it was hard to understand if he wanted to date you or if you were going to be another one hit wonder with him.

- But soon he realized that you were more than just a one time thing, and when he does he fully throws himself deeply in the relationship.

- Very thoughtful once he realizes he’s fallen for you.

- Loves spoiling you with clothes and shoes, and if you’re not into that he’d love to do so too with other materials used for your hobbies.

- Romantic, very romantic.

- Likes calling you pet-names but especially darling for some reason.

- Hates serious situations so he will divert them with humor.

- Funny dude, overall.

- Takes you out of the town very often and likes taking you over europe.

- Would love to adopt another dog with you tbh.

- Asks you to tell him stories from the future to inspire him for his stories.

- Arthur’s also surprisingly open with his feelings after a while, he enjoys being able to unwind to you after a hard day.

- Spends less time in the pubs, he’d rather spend his nights with you.

marriage;

-. Overall a very chill and lowkey wedding believe it or not.

- You two moved out near the mansion and probably have a small detective spot you guys help around the city.

- You two became a well-known duo and grew close to the police force.

- The house you two would have would probably sport a very big backyard.

- Loves having coffee with you in the mornings.

- Matching outfits and shit it’s almost annoyingly sweet.

- Arthur enjoys taking walks with you and the dogs.

- Probably doesn’t want kids, he’d rather you two be known as the cool older friends to other people’s kids.

- You two are kind of friends before you’re a couple, you know?

[my-arlington-academia]

Hi! I love the way you write! I was wondering if you could make a headcanons of the 10 Sweet Elite characters, on jealousy! But not towards a boy / girl but towards a tender kitten who is our great love, an affectionate cat and who will always find the way to receive all the attention, but not by making spite, but in a more subtle way, with purr, meows and ball eyes! Of course, only us and the others are not even considered XD A kiss!

Awww thank you so much!! 💘💘 It means a lot to me that people like what I write even though it's just silly stuff. Anyway... making the main 10 jealous of a cat? 😂 Alright! I guess I can do that much 👌 (Sorry if this isn't exactly what you had in mind but I made the cat a stray in the hcs.)

Alistair

- honestly he is a dog person but he's not the type to argue which are cuter: dogs or cats?

- but when you met that kitten in the street and your voice suddenly shifted to "baby talk" mode?

- at first he doesn't think much of it but later on, for some reason he starts feeling a bit irritated

- wants to show you his puppies from back home but he knows just how childish his reasoning is

- ends up not only feeling jealous but also pathetic

- starts talking to himself

- "Come on Alistair, why are you feeling jealous of a CAT of all things?? That's so stupid..."

- You notice him figeting on the side looking like a sad doggo

- out of pure impulse, you run your fingers through his hair

- he doesn't really get what's happening but he's happy that your attention shifted back to him

- if he really was a dog, his tail would be wagging right now

- "Y/N? W-what are you doing? Not that I don't like it! But uh..."

- "Sorry, you just looked really cute for a sec haha... Well, I mean you always do but um."

- the both of you get embarrassed and move on from this silly situation

Axel

- a dog person as well but he didn't expect to feel so frustrated over... a cat

- in a matter of seconds, he felt like he had disappeared and he didn't like that

- for once that the both of you were alone he didn't want anyone to get in their way

- feels like he's being an idiot

- you continue petting the cat and when you scratch him under its neck, the little kitten starts purring

- suddenly Axel bends over and points to the space under his chin

- "Scratch me here."

- you're so taken aback by what he said that you actually do it... and he starts purring too??

- it sounds pretty identical to how cats purr

- "See? I can do it just as well as this little guy over there..."

- Axel looks down in shame knowing just how ridiculous he must sound right now

- you kiss him on the cheek to cheer him up

- "Come on, you know that you're my favorite!... and honestly, that purring was surprisingly good."

- "Uh-huh, I should try voice acting for cats or something."

Claire

- starts off gushing over the kitten with you

- but quickly realizes that she became almost invisible to you

- all your affection is now aimed at the cute kitty which makes Claire feel a bit abandoned

- she feels horrible for being envious of a cat, especially since she's also the type of person who loses herself in front of cute animals

- "No sad thoughts allowed! Stop thinking about ridiculous things Claire..."

- tries to cheer herself up

- somehow gathers the courage to snuggle her head against your shoulder

- you ask her what she's doing

- "Oh uh! Y-you know... I'm just imitating the kitten! Isn't it just so adorable when they press their little heads against your legs when they pass by?! S-so cute, right? Haha..."

- has realized how stupid she was being and is sad all over again until you do the same thing as her

- her cheeks heat up and she's super embarrassed

- "I-it would be nice if we were allowed to have pets in the dorms, we could've taken the cat with us..."

- "Adopt it? So we can play parents? What should we name it..."

- "W-wait! We can't actually take it with us! Lady A will be so mad..."

Ellie

- is thrilled to find a cute cat in the street!... until you start playing with it that is

- becomes silent and watches how you're smiling like a dumb-dumb

- finds you cuter than the cat and is a bit sad that she has become a second thought to you

- in an attempt to catch your attention (or more precisely get it back) she bends over and tries to imitate the cat's meowing

- at the same time, she moves her arms as if she has paws instead of human hands

- you try to ask her what she's doing but she only answers in meows

- "Meow meow meow 😥😤 Meoowwww 😖"

- you give up and start talking in "cat language" as well

- "Uhhhh... Meow?"

- at the end of it all the both of you laugh about it and make a plan to somehow find a home for the kitty

Karolina

- tries really hard to act like she doesn't give a damn

- but she's extremely annoyed

- "Oh so a cat is more important than spending time with me, huh?"

- is petty af

- keeps on sighing loudly and has had her arms crossed for a solid minute now

- sees that you're not even noticing how annoyed she is

- starts walking away and makes sure to make each one of her steps really loud so you can hear her

- when you try to stop her she's all like "Oh no it's fine. You can go on ahead and have a cup of tea with this... cat, and while you're at it kiss it under the moonlight why don't you?"

- is red of both anger and embarrassement because she knows just how childish she sounds and she hates it

- like a kid throwing a tantrum

- in the end you convince her to pet the cat as well and she gets charmed quite quickly and forgives you

- even gives it a name and refuses to give the cat to anybody else

Neha

- stares at you with a neutral expression ...or so it seems

- that is the face of BETRAYAL

- she's thinking "Seriously? You're ditching me for a cat?"

- starts asking you questions to see if she can distract you

- "So... you like cats too? I had the impression that you were more of a dog person but I guess I was wrong..."

- tries really hard not to sound passive-agressive

- fails at it.

- "Neha um. Are you like... jealous? Haha! No way, right? Sorry it was a dumb ques-"

- when you see the blush on her face you immediately understand what's going on

- you let go of the kitten and hug her

- "Want me to scratch your head too? Haha..."

- "Oh shut up! Don't make me feel more ridiculous than I already am..."

Raquel

- is super thrilled at first

- "Let's adopt it! I'm sure we can hide it in your room since you don't have a roommate."

- quickly changes her mind on the way back when she sees all the attention you're giving to the kitten

- knows exactly why she feels that way so she tries her best to play it cool, knowing how idiotic it is to be envious of a cat

- "So uh. Y'know, I know I'm the one who said that we should take it with us but now thinking about it, it's honestly kinda dangerous, isn't? I mean I don't want you to get in trouble because of me and all..."

- is rambling and rambling, telling you all the reasons why maybe it is actually a bad idea to "adopt" the cat

- you take the hint pretty easily and agree with her

- but in the end you guys manage to shelter the kitty in your room during a week before finding someone in town who'll take care of it

Tadashi

- loves cats but plays dumb when you first find the kitten in the street

- "Cats? Uh. Yeah. They're cute I guess..."

- really wants to pet the cat after he sees you doing it

- you have to push him a little bit

- "All right! If you insist so much then I guess I'll pet it..."

- (side note: you didn't insist at all 😂)

- has a small smile on his face, he's trying to conceal his happiness even though he really doesn't have to

- after a while though, he starts feeling frustrated when he sees that you get along with the kitten better than he does

- but at first, he thinks that he's jealous of you, not the cat

- however it's the other way around

- he tries to catch the cat's attention to get it away from you

- He's shyly making cat sounds

- "N-nyaaa..."

- "What are you doing?"

- "Uh... that's the onomatopoeia for the sounds cats make in Japanese..."

- "Haha! So you're meowing in Japanese? 😂"

- "So what if I AM?!?"

Tegan

- likes animals but he often sees them through a screen rather than in real life

- he's honestly a little bit scared of getting scratched so he stays on the side at first

- but when he sees you having so much fun he gets envious and gets closer, trying to play with the cat

- he's not really successful...

- "Looks like it doesn't like me. I only get along with the villagers in Animal Blessing..."

- is so sad that not only have you been snatched away by the cute kitty, but also he can't join in on the fun

- you trick him into meowing for the cat because apparently "it will feel at ease if it hears you make the same sound as them"

- "Wait, really? You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

- "Nope. Seriously, you can moogle it."

- "Whenever you bring up Moogle it means that you're lying because you don't have any solid proof..."

- does it anyway

- is super embarrassed when you start laughing because he got tricked so easily

- curses himself for being so gullible

Tyler

- loves animals, but mostly loves how funny they can be under the right circumstances

- pulls out his phone camera to film you playing with the cat

- "A really cute kitten and a really adorable human being side by side, this will definitely gather a lot of views on ViewTube!"

- he's being silly again while flirting with you, that's the part you like about him though

- he gives commentary on every single thing the cat does

- "Oh my GOD! Look at its paws!!! LOOK AT ITS PAWS!! WOOOOOW! That is spectacuLAR LaDiES AnD gEnTLeMeN!!"

- is talking with a nonexistent crowd

- but when he's done filming you keep on playing with it and Tyler feels a bit forgotten

- hugs you gently from behind then SQUEEZES you really hard

- "Tylerr... I can't breath... Hhhhhhhh."

- "Really? Good! You shouldn't ditch me for a cat Y/N! Howww daaare youuuu..."

- is joking about it but he's genuinely a bit jealous

[writingjusttowrite8]

Keeping Warm (Tom Hiddleston One-Shot)

Hi friends! So, I’ve been in a bit of a writing lull lately, and I wanted to work on a couple ideas just to get out of it. So naturally, a two-paragraph idea of mine stretched into a 5K fic...

All I can say about this is that I am both v cold and v horny, and this is the product of the collaboration! Also the gif below is kinda what inspired this, but it’s just a supplement. Just a fun lil smut fest to enjoy during this polar vortex. Please enjoy! Any feedback is always appreciated!

You can also read this on AO3!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Smut, Sharing a Bed, Friends to Lovers, Sharing Body Heat, Porn with Feelings, Dry Humping, inordinate amount of shaking, because of the cold and also the smut, slight d/s if you squint real hard, Aftercare, Making Out, Biting, it gets a lil dicey but this is mostly just real intense sex with the thought of other darker stuff, enjoy!

-

Hot shower, warm tea, and toasty bed. 

Hot shower, warm tea, and toasty bed. 

It’s all I could think about all day. In fact, it was just about the only thing getting me through the day at all. I repeated the mantra in my head. 

Hot shower, warm tea, and toasty bed. 

I finish this scene, then I get a whole three days off and I’m going to kick it off with the three best thing’s on earth. A hot shower, a warm tea, and the toasty-est of beds. Bless.

“You’re thinking about being warm again, aren’t you?” My co-star asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked at him on top of the snow embankment. Tom Hiddleston, one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met, was staring down at me like I was a helpless little kitten, all while looking like the freezing temperatures were barely even fazing him. A posh, charming, intelligent, upstanding British lad who was capable of looking like a Vogue model in the worst of circumstances; typical. 

“Well, I figure if I can’t actually be warm, I can at least think about it. Serendipity, or whatever…” I mumble through my near frozen lips. 

“Synchronicity, actually,” Tom corrects me, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “So, I take it you’re not going home for the long weekend?” He asks. I shrug.

“Three days isn’t long enough. I’d spend most of it traveling anyways,” I wasn’t sad about not being able to go home, but I was sad that I’d be kept from the heat of southern California. “I have a plan, actually. Spend the entire weekend in my warm cocoon. I even stocked up on groceries so that I wouldn’t have to leave. What about you? headed back to jolly ol’ London?” I asked.

“Nah, it’ll either be just as cold there or even colder. Why travel all that way for more snow,” He says, and I nod in agreement. “Seems like we’ll be the only two poor souls shacked up here this weekend. We should do something together, babe.” 

His proposition and term of endearment make me blush, warming my cheeks, and I’m almost grateful. Tom was a flirt. Polite teasing was his superpower, I’m sure of it. And honestly, who could resist him? He radiated such intense vibes that made anyone within a 10ft radius swoon. 

“For sure, but you’ll have to come to my place. Once I’m inside, I will not be touching any of the snow until I’m contractually obligated,” I stated, making him giggle. Good god… a grown man shouldn’t be able to giggle that adorably.

“Of course babe; I’d track through the snow all day to get to you,” He teased. He smiled sweetly, but there was a darkness to his look that made me shiver. Or that could have just been the wind that picked up. I smiled and rolled my eyes at him. This is just his way of teasing… I think.

-

Hot Shower: check.

Warm Tea: check.

Toasty Bed: about to be blessedly checked off.

I moved quickly around my room, getting everything I needed for my little cocoon. Once I got in bed and away from the cold that was somehow seeping into my little space, I wasn’t getting out of it until kingdom come. 

I had my Netflix show to watch, my snacks, my books, glasses, glasses cleaner, extra blankets all prepped. I took a deep breath, allowing myself the momentary bliss of this weekend to wash over me. I was finally going to be warm.

But my momentary bliss was just that: momentary.

Cccccrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnccccckkkkkkkkkkkk

The heater in my room shook and rattled a minute. I stood deathly still, afraid any movement would scare it.

Ccccccccccccrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk- PPPPppppfffffffffttt-

Oh fuck me.

I approached it slowly, with a feeling of imminent dread tailing right behind me. I got up to the little screen, looked at it’s dead, blank face, and gently touched it.

A few touches; pressing the power button seven thousand times in four seconds; tapping the screen the same amount.

A few bangs that did more harm to my wrist than anything else.

Any attempt I made at this point was futile; my heater was gone. And with it? My spirit. 

Hot shower, warm tea, and toasty bed. Close, but no cigar.

-

I paced the room for a minute. Could I call the maintenance guy? Would the nice, middle-aged, maintenance guy, with a warm house miles from here, come to me in this blizzard? Could I even ask that of him?

No; I may be cold, but my heart hasn’t frozen solid… yet.

The only person I know for sure is still here is Tom. Oh good god. 

It would be so easy to call him and ask for help if I weren’t so helplessly attracted to him. Hell, I’d probably be okay as long as he didn’t call me babe, the term of endearment that meant eternal blushing on my part. 

I need to suck it up an call him. Tom is one of, if not the, nicest people I’ve met. He’d help, there’s no doubt in my mind about that. But it’s the how he would help that made my insides shake a bit. Would he come here to help me fix it? Would he say ‘damn it all to hell’ and make it worse? Would he just invite me over to his place? Could I even survive that? I chewed on my lip for longer than I’d like to admit, nervously prepping what I was going to say to him. 

How do I ask a guy to come fix my heater without sounding like I’m in a bad porno?

Short answer: I can’t.

Long answer: the person picks up the phone and I immediately babble on about how sorry I am to disturb him, but that he’s the only person I could think of, and end on “basically I just really need you to fix my heat.”

Good job me. I’ll be thinking about that conversation every night while I lie awake for the next fifty years.

“I’m sorry, darling, are you propositioning me?” Tom asks. His tone was teasing, but it made me blush nonetheless.

“My heater broke and I’m just worried I’ll freeze to death. I don’t know what to do…” I didn’t mean to sound so pathetic, but I definitely felt it.

“Oh, okay,” Tom could sense my desperation, and shifted his tone. Ever the gentleman. “Why don’t you come to my place? I’ve got heat and a warm bed. I’d offer to help you fix the heater, but I’m afraid I’d only make it worse. I’d rather not like to assist in freezing you to death, babe.”

Ugh, that word again.

“Are you sure I could come over? I mean, I don’t want to put you out or anything,” I said.

“Nonsense. I was the one who suggested we get together anyway. This is just an advance in the plan. Please, babe, come over. I’ll be worried sick about you if you don’t. It’s pretty bad out there and I’m from the UK,” Tom said with a light laugh. I found it in myself to laugh too.

“Okay, I’ll head over. If you see a large, fleece-blanked mass lying unresponsive in the snow, just know that it’s probably me,” I joked, only half-heartedly.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Tom said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

-

Nearly seven layers of coats, two pairs of pants, three pairs of socks, and the fluffiest gloves in the known universe, and I still felt like a popsicle when I arrived at Tom’s door. He really must have been looking out for me, because he was pulling me inside before I could even knock. As he helped me peel back the many layers I’d covered myself in, I could hear his laughter. 

“I don’t think I realized just how deathly afraid you are of the cold. You look like you’ve just returned from climbing Mount Everest!” Tom laughed. I shivered in response, and just pure instinct, and shed until I was in a normal amount of clothes.

“Thank you again… I’m so sorry to bring this on you,” I said. I meant it too. I felt sick imposing myself on him like this. It might of been a bit of selfish guilt, thinking back to all the times I imagined him… intimately. Not that he would ever know that, but it still make the hairs on the back of my neck prick up.

“Don’t be silly,” Tom said, rubbing his hands up and down my arms to warm me up, “You need heat; I am in a position to give it to you. I can’t think of anyone else in the world I’d rather be keeping warm with.” I didn’t know if my mind was playing tricks on me or if he really did wink. 

I gulped.

Oh, this is going to be a long night.

“There is one thing that I didn’t mention on the phone… I don’t have a couch or anything else to sleep on really. I’d offer but the bed is the only thing I got,” Tom said, gesturing to the gigantic bed taking up nearly 50% of the room. “I don’t have anything against sharing if you don’t,” Tom finished. He scratched behind his neck, sheepishly looking little guilty.

I gulped again.

“Sharing is, ugh, good- sharing is good. I’m happy to share,” I said. I gratefully stopped myself from giving a thumbs up before my body receded into total and complete mortification. 

“Good! Well, the bathrooms right in there if you want to change or anything,” Tom said, eyeing me up and down. 

The final layer I was wearing and now standing in front of Tom in, was what I was planning to sleep in anyways. I had wished I’d donned a bra before heading over. But that would have taken cognitive brain function, and any time Tom Hiddleston in involved, I didn’t have that.

“I’m just going to go brush my teeth. Thanks,” I said, before grabbing my bag and going to the bathroom. I saw Tom pull the covers back as I went it.

I also caught a glimpse of him checking me out again in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. 

I wondered how long I could use the cold as a reason my skin was so flushed.

-

When I got back out, after a good five minutes of deep breaths and calming mantras, Tom was already under the covers. The lights were out, so I had to feel my way around to the bed, praying that I didn’t bump into anything unexpectedly. Or anyone, for that matter.

I climbed tentatively under the covers, letting out a grunt of relief when I felt how warm it was underneath. I quickly pulled the covers up to my chin and turned onto my side. I stayed on the far edge of the bed, not sure of what to do. Would this turn into a cuddle session? Would we wind up with our backs pressed against each other? Would he even touch me?

His deep voice snapped me from my thoughts.

“It’s warmer near me, you know,” Tom whispered. I bit my lip, refusing to turn over.

“I didn’t know how close you wanted me to get,” I said.

“Oh don’t be daft,” I felt his arm grab onto my waist and pull me over towards the center of the bed; to his body. “You’ll get warmer quicker.”

I moved my body towards him so that I could feel his chest brush against my back. Despite our new proximity, my teeth were still chattering. This time, Tom didn’t give me a verbal warning. Instead, he wrapped his arm around my core and shoved my back to his chest. It was much warmer, undoubtedly, and I could feel his breath next to my head.

“’s alright?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly. Any more verbal communications and he would hear how out of breath I was, just by his touch. Instead, I put my arm over his, holding on his wrist.

I really tried to relax. To just drift off in a warm, comfortable environment, but sleep alluded me. Normally, I toss, turn and squirm until I find the right position, but that wasn’t an option. I could feel every inch of myself pressed into Tom. His thudding heartbeat against my back, his shins resting near mine, his arm holding onto my stomach. But most importantly; I could feel my ass pressed into his crotch. Any squirming I did would press against his crotch and would defiantly cross a line.

I cursed myself for thinking about that particular aspect at the moment. It would be truly horrific if I got turned on in this position, while Tom peacefully sleeps behind me. I sent that message directly from my nipples, which were already started to grow stiff.

I focused on my breathing and not the hot, giant of a man sleeping practically on me. That was until I felt… him.

At first, I thought it was my mind. Dirty thoughts lead to dirtier thoughts, so obviously my mind is just in the gutter, right? Then, I felt a twitch. It wasn’t particularly incessant, but it was there. As the minutes ticked by, I could feel his cock stiffen against my ass. I gulped and tried to settle my heart rate. 

“Sorry,” Tom mumbled, “I don’t mean to… pester you,” I wanted to laugh at his choice of words, but my anxiety kept me in check.

“It’s okay…” I said, barely audible. “Honestly it’s kind of impressive, considering how cold it is.” I wanted to make him feel better if he was embarrassed, but that was challenging.

“You’re perky little ass is keeping me nice and warm. Don’t sell yourself too short,” He laughed lightly. I attempted to push myself closer to him, to get more warmth, but I ended up pressing myself further into his crotch. 

Fucking perfect. I stilled immediately

“Women are lucky with that” Tom started, clearing his voice a bit, “that their arousal is less evident.” He said into my hair. His voice was closer now, making me gulp and giving me perhaps a bit of courage.

“That’s not necessarily true,” I said. I wrapped my hand around the top of his and pulled up. His giant palm drug across my t-shirt, feeling the stiff peaks of my hardened nipples. I rested his hand on the top of my chest and brought down my arm again.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. I felt him dig his face into my hair and I arched against him. Tom pressed himself firmly into my back so that there was no mistaking what I felt anymore. His leg nudged between mine so that we became a huge mess of limbs. He pushed his leg up so that his thigh was shoved right against my crotch. I whimpered at the contact, which spurred him on more. 

Tom moved his hand back down my chest, this time without my assistance. His large palm skimmed over my hard nipples, making me push my chest into him for more contact. He cupped my breast, rolling my hard nipple through my shirt and I had to bite my lip to keep quiet. 

His hand inched back down to the edge of my shirt while I ground into him. His hips moved in sync with mine, slowly and deliberately. Tom reached underneath my shirt, splaying his cold hands across my abdomen. I gasped at this and Tom shushed into my ear. 

“Is this okay?” Tom asked. Verbal communication escaped me at the moment so I just nodded my head. Tom got the message and began moving his hand further up until it cupped my bare breast. The feeling of his skin on mine was euphoric and made me feel like putty in his hand. I ground myself harder onto his thigh, cursing the number of layers that separated us. 

We stayed like that for a while, wordlessly moving against each other, letting him explore my body. I could feel his cock throb against me and I pushed harder into him, wanting that friction just as much as he did. 

Tom quickly pulled his hand out of my shir, and went to cup the side of my face. He pulled me around so that we were now chest to chest, and he didn’t waste any time pressing his lips to me. 

It was sloppy, wet, and intense. We hungrily devoured each others mouth, like even a split second apart would break us. It was defiantly the best kiss of my life. 

His tongue explored my mouth, tangling with mine as his hands went to my waist. I immediately responded by pulling up my shirt to get it over my head, and Tom helped get it off while rolling us over. 

He slotted between my legs and went right back to kissing me as soon as my shirt was off. I ran my hands along his sides, feeling the thick muscles trapped behind the light grey shirt (that was too tight for its own good). I moaned into his mouth when my hands traced the clenched muscle of his ass. 

“You like that, baby?” Tom said, breathlessly. 

Baby.

I could have cum right there.   

I nodded fervently and gave what I hope sounded like a noise of approval. Tom stared down at my chest, moving his hands over my chest. He bit his lip as I felt him run his thumbs over my nipples. I whined and pushed my chest into his hand, getting desperate for more friction. Tom immediately lowered his head and latched his mouth to my stiff peak. His tongue swirled around it, teasing, as I dug my fingers into his hair. 

He licked and nipped at one before moving to the other, his hand massaging whichever breast was neglected by his tongue. Tom was steadfast in his assault on my tits, but his hips never faltered while grinding into me. I was becoming desperate, humping against him, and trying to pull him closer. 

“Tom…” I whined, not recognizing my own voice. “Please…” I mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

“Tell” kiss “me” kiss “what” kiss “you” kiss “need,” Tom said, working his way across my chest.

“Fuck me, please,” I begged, bringing my hands up to dig into his shoulder blades. Tom groaned and shoved against me with such force that the entire room shook. He lifted his head back up to kiss me again, wrapping his hands around my face. I could feel him twitching against me, so I shoved my hands between us in an attempt to get my sleeping pants off. 

Tom’s kiss pressed deeper into me, like he was going to swallow me whole. For a moment, I forgot how to move. It was deep and intense, consuming every fiber of my being. I could only think of him. 

Of how he felt against me.

Of how he moved with me.

Of how he smelled.

Of how his mouth tasted.

Of how warm we now were.

Of how desperately I wanted to fuck him.

Of how desperately he wanted to fuck me. 

I snapped out of my daze when I felt Tom pull back and look down at me. His eyes, bluer than ever before, were intense and demanded my attention.

“Are you still with me, baby?” He asked, his voice deep and restrained.

I nodded and moaned, trying to move my hips against his, but his body was forcing me down.

“You sure you want this baby?” He asked. The confidence of his last question wained a little bit, but he still sounded very much in control. 

“God, yes,” I breathed, the words involuntarily falling from my lips. Tom cracked a crooked smile before bending down once more and capturing my lips with his. This time, our hands worked in tandem to get ourselves naked. Though I would have settled for just getting him inside of me, regardless of how far our clothes fell. 

Tom made quick work of his pants, tossing them away, before helping me shimmy out of mine. He tossed them to the side as well, but kept ahold of my ankles. He lifted my right leg up, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of my ankle. If there had been any air left in my lungs, I would have made the most obscene sound at the sight. 

Tom smirked against me, eye locked with mine, as he pulled my legs further apart, and positioned himself flush against my core. His hands traced the underside of my thighs before moving up, dragging along my stomach, and back up to my breast. He held them in his hands once again, weighing and massaging them. His hands traced back down to my cunt; throbbing with need.

He used one finger to trace my outer lips, oh so lightly, sending shivers up my spine. The tip of his finger came up glistening with my slick. Tom quickly stuck his finger to his mouth, sucking it off. His eyes closed as he slowly pulled his finger back out, and made a deep, guttural noise of approval.

“I’ll feast on this later. But right now you need me to fuck you, don’t you baby?” He asks again. This time, it isn’t a question. I still nod my head. 

Tom places his fingers back down on my pussy, gathering my juices as his fingers work their way inside of me. He uses the pad of his thumb to slowly swirl at my clit and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. With his other hand, Tom holds down my hip as I attempt to buck against him. I don’t think I’d ever appreciated how strong he was until I felt the full weight of his arms pinning me to the bed. It thrilled me more than words could say. Not that I even understood what words were at that point.

Tom works two fingers deep inside of me before removing his hand and wrapping it around his cock. My juices make him slick, and I can see his chest breath deeply when he gets a hand around himself.

His cock is red and leaking, bumping up against his abdomen. He was thick. I could see the veins pumping against him, making his cock twitch. A million thoughts were running through my mind. Ideas for what I want him to do to me; what I wanted to do to him. Just the thought of blowing him made me horse.

I’ll make time for that later.

Tom works my juices over himself, making a slick sound that I personally believed deserved a grammy. When he was properly coated, Tom leaned down so that we were chest to chest. His arm came around my head, and his hand worked itself tot he back of my head, holding me there. 

I didn’t realize it before, but I was shaking. My body was covered in goosebumps and I was acutely aware of every part of our skin that was touching. I could feel his cock twitch against my thigh, ready for more. I wanted to shout ‘just go for it, already!’, but my mind and my mouth were not connected at the moment.

Also, Tom was in charge. Completely.

He was going to fuck me when he was good and ready, and not a moment sooner. I was in his room, surrounded by his things, covered in his scent, and draped by his body. It was Tom’s show, and I was along for the ride. Literally.

“You ready for me?” He asked, eyes boring into mine. I nodded.

“Words, baby,” He said.

“Yes… please,” I said immediately. My body was thrumming in anticipation and every second without him felt like a year. 

He kissed me again, deeply, slowly, like time meant nothing to him. His tongue coaxed mine into his mouth, twirling against each other. I felt his body shift against mine and felt his hand between us. 

Tom guided his cock into me, pushing deep into my core. I felt his hand clench on the back of my head, and I inadvertently pushed my head back, baring my neck to him. 

Tom waited a minute before moving. I could hear him breath deeply, feel his chest expand with every breath. It made my head swim. 

I felt his lips against my throat, hot and slick with our exchanged saliva. He peppered kisses along the column of my throat. 

I wanted to beg him to bite me. 

To mark me unmistakably as his. 

To skink into me and stake his claim, as if he hadn’t already done that. 

But my verbal abilities were nonexistent at the moment, so sweet slow kissed would suffice. I’d added that to the list of things we’d do later, too.

His hips started moving, shallowly thrusting into mine. He was getting me adjusted to his size, and for that I was thankful. I was also thankful for how quickly my body adapted. It wasn’t long before the thrust got deeper and sharper. Tom’s hips were working in earnest now, snapping against mine with ever-increasing force. I clung to him, digging my nails into the hard plane of his back. 

Tom’s hand stayed clenched on the back of my head, pulling my face up to his when he wanted to make out, and pulling my neck back so he’d have full access. I was more than happy to comply. His other hand went to my breast, kneading it and pushing it against his chest. His thumb worked on my now hyper-sensitive nipple, and the little pain each rough tug inflicted was laced with a sweetness I couldn’t quite place.

It wasn’t long before we got even rougher. Tom was thrusting hard and fast, making the headboard and bed frame quake under our ministrations. If I’d been able to think with coherent thoughts, I’d be grateful that we were likely the only two left in the immediate vicinity. I’d probably be mortified just thinking about the possibility that we weren’t. But my mind was blessedly clear of anything other than Tom. 

He was getting sloppier in his movements. He was still in control, but his carnal desires were taking over. His hand slipped between us, down to where we connected. He pressed his thumb on my clit, making me sputter. A few swirls of his finger tips, and I was tipping over. 

My body arched up into his as I threw my head back. My whole body quaked, somewhat violently, as my orgasm washed over me. I could feel even more of Tom moving within me, as my walls clamped down, sucking him in.

My eyes rolled back, but I willed myself to remain coherent.

I wanted every bit of this committed to memory.

I knew, even in the throes of my orgasm, that I was ruined for anyone else. 

No amount of masturbation would ever suffice. No other cocks would ever be enough. Nothing other than this intensity would do this to me. And the only provider would be Tom. I wanted to tell him this; I wanted to curse him and thank him in equal measure. 

My orgasm was enough to pull Tom over the edge too. Just as I was able to open my eyes once more, Tom pushed one final bed-breaking thrust, that sent him over the edge. 

I could feel his cum in thick, hot spurts. It was deep in my core, exactly where Tom wanted it. I got the unmistakeable feeling that pulling out wouldn’t be an option with him. He comes in you, or not at all. I didn’t mind in the slightest; it gave me a silent thrill to think of how deep he was within me, how my body would absorb everything he gave me. His hands were on my hips, pressing us together as tightly as possible, ensuring it.

Tom’s forehead pressed against mine, his eyes still screws shut. We were both breathing erratically, him more-so than me. Our faces were flushed and hot, but I’d rather burn up than give up even an inch of contact. 

We stayed that way for a few moments, coming down from our respective high. My eyes were open wide, waiting for the first place into his. When Tom slowly came to, I could something in his face that wasn’t there before.

Complete and total admiration.

It was a lot to take in.

The weight of his stare made me shy, but his hands kept our gaze firmly locked. His hands cupped my face, and he pressed a sickeningly sweet kiss to my lips. If I hadn’t melted before, I surely did now. 

Once again I was reminded of my body quivering. I still had goosebumps all over my skin, but I could no longer tell if it was from the sex or the chill that led me to his bed in the first place. Tom looked at me deeply, and without words, seemed to know exactly what I needed.

He didn’t rise completely off me, just enough that he could reach the box of tissues that blessedly hadn’t been knocked from his grasp. He pulled a few out and placed them between us before he even pulled out of me. I understood why when he finally did. 

Tom was slow, slower than we’d been all night, like he was reluctant to leave my body. I accidentally clenched around him, when only the head was left, and I could hear a faint gasp from Tom. Our cum slowly dribbled out of me, but I tried to retain what I could. 

I don’t know entirely why I did that, but the answer seemed obvious enough to me at the moment, so I didn’t question it. 

Tom finished cleaning us up before discarding the tissues haphazardly. He shifted us around a bit, so that I wasn’t completely underneath him, but his body was still covering mine. I was still slightly shaking, but I got the impression that I wasn’t going to stop any time soon. My body was still thrumming from our high, and I was going to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

Tom arranged the covers around us, tucking us in highly, so that the soft fabric of his comforter and the silky feeling of his skin were totally encompassing me. 

For a moment I was convinced Tom had fucked me into heaven. 

I was completely cool with it.

I felt his thumb brush a strand of hair out of my face, the over my swollen lips. He leaned down and pressed another kiss to me, that would have taken my breath away if I’d had any left. When he opened his eyes, I couldn’t help but break into a smile.

“Are we good?” Tom asked, voice still low and deep, but returning to the normal tenor I was so used to.

“Yeah, better than good,” I admitted. Good wasn’t even remotely the right adjective to describe what I was feeling right now. I doubt a word existed that would properly convey it. But this wasn’t a time to reel in philosophical questions of what I was feeling on a greater scale.

It was time to bask in Tom’s sweet smile, as he looked down at me, and to relish in this moment.

“I’m really glad I have you to keep me warm this weekend,” I said, thinking of the mental list I’d configured. A deadly smirk broke out on Tom’s face that would have knocked me off my knees if they weren’t already jelly.

“Oh, baby, I intend on keeping warm for much, much longer than that.”

[ringobean]

New fanfic on wattpad:

"I wanna be your man"

Butlins Camps part1

August 1960, finally the end of the school year, after a long exhausting year, finally came holiday time.

As I had really succeed in my exams and my year, my parents had promised to let me go on holiday with three of my friends for one month, they were a little worried about seeing me go on vacation alone, in a holiday camp, with a lot of young people, especially young men, but they trusted me, I was a pretty serious girl, who spent her time reading rather than flirting. But this time I really wanted to enjoy, laugh with my friends, and why not meet a boy to have fun during the holidays, and my friends who was really more experimented as me, wanted to make me cut loose during this month.

One of my friend had booked a bungalow for a month at Butlin's Pwllheli, it was a holiday camp near Pwllheli in Wales, the guy she fancied, was playing over there in a band, and she was determined to have him! It wasn't a dreaming destination , but the camp looked nice, there was a large swimming pool, full of activities, and in the evening concerts and dancing parties, and the price wasn't very expensive for a month. For the occasion, I bought a collection of sexy bikini and pretty summer dresses, obviously my parents had no idea of it.

While I was waiting for my friend to pick me up by car, my parents gave me their last recommendations, especially my mother:

"My dear daughter, take care of yourself, you know boys are real predators, and will do anything to sleep with you, try to protect your virginity for your futur husband, darling!"

"Mum, please, i know... It's so odd to talk about this with you. Now i got to go, my friends is here, i promess i'll stay well behave, and won't do stupid things, you know me, i'm a good girl."

I kissed them, and rush into the car of my friend, that her father bought her to celebrate the success of her exam.

We all laughed, and we spent the trip listening to music, and chatting about all the things we were going to do!

"come on girls, let's go for the holidays, we're going to have fun! And who's gonna sleep with the handsome Rory all summer, it's me!"

We unpacked our belongings and don't waste time changing into bikini to enjoy the pool. I opted for a superb pink and white gingham bikini highlighting my chest and legs, with a matching headband. Then we went to the pool, the water was good and warm, after a few minutes of swimming, we were going to dry and sunbathe on the deckchairs, I started to read a book, while the girls were looking for boys, especially Betsie who was absolutely looking for her Rory, I had no idea who he was and his band, since I hardly have time to go out, spending the majority of the year to study. I was so absorbed in my book, that I hadn't noticed the group of boys who had approached us.

After two hours on the road, we finally arrived, a young woman at the reception made us visit the camp by explaining everything to us, then led us to our bungalow.

A deep baritone sensual male voice with a strong liverpool accent, got my head out of my book.

"Hi, i hope that i'm not bothering you? Can I sit next to you?"

"no, of course you can"

He gave me a charming smile, he wore only a very small swimsuit, he didn't look very tall, he was thin but slightly muscular, arms and thighs very toned, large hands with rings on his fingers, he had a fine face, big blue eyes, a luscious mouth, a masculine aquiline nose, beautiful fluffy wavy hair that looked soft! I blush, not knowing where to put my eyes. He was very attractive, and he was quite the kind of boy my parents dreaded!

"I'm Richard, but you can also call me Ritchie or Ringo"

"Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N), Ringo?"

"Yes my bandmates call me like that cause of my rings."

"are you a musician?"

"a little bit, I studied it at school, I dream to go to Paris one day!"

"yes, I'm the drummer of the band "Rory storm and the Hurricanes" What were you reading?"

"oh a french book, by Boris Vian, it's very poetic, but a little bit weird!"

"I also like to read when I have time, do you speak french?"

"Me too, maybe we'll can go there one day together?"

"yeah, maybe, who knows!" i giggles.

"do you want to drink something?"

I felt so silly blushing and giggling like an idiot every time he spoke to me, but he was such a handsome guy.

"Yes, why not!"

He comes back a few minutes later with two bottles of coke and a straw for me, meanwhile Betsie was already busy flirting with Rory and my 2 other friends wading in the water, having fun splashing with boys. He took a sip from his bottle and asked me:

"I've already seen your friends at our concerts, but you, it's the first time that I see you, where were you hiding?

"Yeah i can see that, he said, watching Betsie getting groped, on Rory's lap.

I was sipping my coke from the end of my straw.

"Actually, I don't go out much the rest of the year..."

"Oh too bad, but it doesn't matter we'll catch up on time! How long are you staying here?"

"all August"

"so we'll definitely have time to get to know each other better!"

"yes, I hope it would be nice ..."

"will you come and see us play tonight?"

"yes of course, especially knowing that my friends are totally fan of your band"

I was very happy and quite worried at the same time, to have come across a boy who I liked, but who also seemed to be a womanizer...

I laughed.

"you have something planned after the concert, maybe we could spend time together?"

"uh.. no... nothing planned yet."

I had butterflies in my stomach at the idea of spending time alone with him, totally excited and frightened at the same time, never having really gone out with a boy, especially a boy who seemed really experienced, and who attracted me.

"you're cute when you blush"

My god i just wanted to kill myself for being so stupid and shy...

"Thanks"

"So, see you tonight, pretty (y / n) we have to prepare for the concert!"

He gave me a kiss on the cheek and left with his bandmates...

Maggie said to me laughing:

"Well what a chance, great for the first day, you caught a beautiful fish, he's the one that I wanted, Girls says that he has the biggest of all, and he make love very well, but he choose you... At least, Johnny is great too!

"I'm not aware of what girls says about him, anyway he looks very nice and charming"

I was very happy and quite worried at the same time, to have come across a boy who I liked, but who also seemed to be a womanizer...

[charmedtheselfproclaimedking]

Charmed Again: Season 3 (Charmed Fanfic) Master-List

Episode 6 - The Death of The Charmed Ones (International Fanworks Day Special)

Warnings: I don’t own the rights to any of the characters from the hit TV show “Charmed” or the storylines related to the show those rights belong to original creator Constance M Burge.

15+ Moderate/Graphic Displays of Violence, Sexual Innuendos, Witchcraft and Potentially Triggering Scenes.

Paul Halliwell was working late one night at Halliwell and Turner typing away on his laptop while sat behind his desk in his office when suddenly a picture of himself, Pan and Drake who was holding Lilah placed on his desk in a frame fell of the desk and smashed causing Paul to stand up from his chair and walk over to pick up the pieces of the broken frame only for the eldest Halliwell to be hit by a premonition.

In Paul’s premonition he saw Drake walking into the dining room of the Halliwell Manor looking alarmed as he saw the window in there smashed and covered with blood before turning to look at a table which was covered in broken glass from the window as Drake continued walking through the dining room only to break down in tears and horror when he oversaw Paul and Pan’s lifeless and bloody bodies laying on the floor of a blood soaked foyer before Paul’s horrifying premonition came to an end.

“Oh no this can’t be good.” Paul mumbled to himself before accidentally cutting his hand on a piece of glass from the broken photo frame he attempted to clean up as Raven knocked on the door before walking into Paul’s office.

“Ouch what happened in here? Pretty quiet for a demonic attack.” Raven joked before becoming alarmed by the look of horror on Paul’s face. “Paul what is it? Are you okay?”

“No, I don’t think I am or at least I don’t think I’m going to be.” Paul replied.

That same night Drake walked into the currently not ruined dining room of the Halliwell Manor wearing old pajamas and a face mask while chowing down on a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream only to be left stunned to see Dermot sitting at the table clearly waiting to see him.

“What the bloody hell are you doing in my house?” Drake asked his boss before ripping his own face mask off causing him to let out of small scream of pain as he threw the remains of the face mask onto the dining table.

“I must admit despite the horrifying image in front of me the Halliwell Manor is even more stunning up close.” Dermot replied while snickering away at Drake’s current state.

“Yeah that didn’t answer my question buddy!” Drake snapped as he put his ice cream and spoon down on the dining table.

“I need you and the fellow charmed ones’ assistance with a certain situation I’ve found myself in so if you could hurry along, get changed and get the others I’d be very grateful.” Dermot told the Halliwell hybrid.

“Yeah you see the thing is my dad’s working late for the third night in a row and my aunt is currently on honeymoon with my best friend so if you’re looking for the charmed ones then I’m afraid your out of luck.” Drake took pleasure in telling his boss.

“And what about you? You don’t seem to be even remotely busy.” Dermot asked him.

“Not busy correct but also not interested in helping you with whatever dilemma you’ve got yourself into.” Drake made clear.

“Okay well that’s just rude and quite frankly unprofessional considering you’re a charmed one and the charmed ones are meant to help the innocent no matter what.” Dermot snapped at Drake as he stood up from his chair.

“Yeah that rule only applies to actual innocents and last time I checked the elders were far from innocent especially the one in front of me who very recently tried to get my dad’s girlfriend executed.” Drake replied before taking a deep sigh. “I’ll help you with whatever trouble you’ve got yourself into but only because if you wind up dead, I’ll be the number one suspect.”

“Drake this is serious I’ve received a very troubling and frankly rather terrifying letter placed on my desk within magic school.” Dermot informed Drake who instantly responded by laughing at the headmaster of magic school.

“I’m sure the person who wrote the letter was just expressing their hate without actually meaning to kill you.” Drake continued to laugh, clearly guilty of some letters himself.

“I’m not talking about your silly little passive aggressive bite me styled notes which are the weirdest form of flirting I’ve ever known I’m talking about actual terrifying death threats.” Dermot corrected him.

“Hey, they are way more sophisticated than bite me…” Drake tried to defend himself before going on to backtrack. “I mean you can’t prove those ones are from me!”

“Can we just try and pretend we’re adults for more than a second please?” Dermot asked him.

“You’re right I’ll go get changed and while I’m doing that you should probably write a really long list of all the people who would want you dead which let’s face it is going to take you longer than it’ll take me to get changed.” Drake replied.

“Please just be serious for a moment.” Dermot begged him.

“I was being deadly serious about that list.” Drake responded with a sinister smile.

“Well in that case nice pajamas Mr Black.” Dermot mocked him.

“Bite me!” Drake said before blinking out of sight.

The next morning Pan and Lacey woke up in bed together within a hotel located somewhere in London.

“I wish we could just stay here forever and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.” Pan told Lacey before pulling her wife in towards her for a morning kiss. “See now this is the life Mrs Morgan-Halliwell.”

“I don’t think your brother would be too happy if we didn’t even return home before moving out Mrs Morgan-Halliwell.” Lacey joked. “In fact, I’m fairly certain he’d cast some spell forcing us to return to San Francisco whether we liked it or not.”

“True but we could always have fun staying put until that day came.” Pan replied with a playful smile until the two brides were left stunned when Raven shimmered her way into their hotel room.

“Okay I hate to be the girl to break up what looks like a very happy honeymoon, but Paul sent me here because he had a terrifying premonition and you need to come home right away.” Raven told them both as Pan and Lacey climbed out of their bed and put on hotel robes.

“Was it so difficult to ask my brother for a whole week to myself?” Pan asked Raven with a snarky attitude.

“Paul had a premonition of you and him dying.” Raven revealed to a stunned Pan as an equally stunned Lacey was left horrified.

“I’ll check with the elders and see what’s going on.” Lacey told Pan before kissing her wife on the cheek and orbing out of sight.

“I’m getting so sick of one of us always being in trouble swear to god demons need to learn when to take a holiday.” Pan snapped. “No offense Raven.”

“You could’ve knocked first Drake I could’ve been busy with a student or another member of the faculty.” Dermot complained after Drake stormed into his office and threw himself down on Dermot’s couch while Dermot sat behind his desk.

“You could’ve knocked before breaking into my house last night, but you didn’t so let’s not going around throwing stones now.” Drake replied to his boss. “So, I tried interrogating but then I was like Drake you stop being a detective for a reason so instead I decided to get some students onto casting an identity spell figured they may as well learn something new and it would save me time playing Clue-do with you.”

“No don’t get them doing that using the students as your lackeys is totally unacceptable not to mention dangerous I mean who knows if their even ready for that kind of spell.” Dermot argued with him.

“Okay chill Mr uptight I picked the best students if anything this spell is going to be easy play for them.” Drake told Dermot, not understanding why Dermot had such an issue.

“I demand that you stop the students casting this spell at one.” Dermot shouted at Drake as he stood up from behind his desk.

“Okay I’ve about had it with your attitude.” Drake snapped back as he stood up from the couch. “I’m trying to help you and yet you’re still being a total dick can’t you just say thank you for once in your life!”

“Okay thank you.” Dermot said reluctantly before taking a big sigh, clearly frustrated. “Please just stop the spell.”

“Why should I?” Drake questioned the headmaster.

“Because I’m the one who wrote the damn note.” Dermot admitted much to Drake’s fury.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Drake shouted before storming out of Dermot’s office as Dermot quickly chased after him.

“Drake just stop for a second and let me explain.” Dermot shouted at Drake causing the two of them to stop in the main hallway of magic school.

“I gave up my day off the first weekend in a while where Cindy has Lilah and I wasn’t working or doing charmed duties and I have to give that all up so you could play me like some fool.” Drake snapped at him.

“I wasn’t trying to make a fool out of you I just wanted to spend some time with you.” Dermot explained to Drake.

“More like you wanted to spend time moaning and complaining to me because for some reason you’ve got some issue with me!” Drake argued. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is but I’m getting really tired of it.”

“My problem is that you drive me crazy crazier than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve been around for centuries so that’s quite the achievement.” Dermot admitted as he walked closer towards Drake. “My problem is that you challenge everything I’ve ever believed in and yet despite how irritated and frustrated you make me I can’t seem to get you out of my mind!”

“Okay I’m sick of your constant…” Drake began to say before Dermot kissed him once again.

“I like you stupid!” Dermot declared before the two shared a look of longing for a moment before they began passionately kissing each other and tearing at each other’s clothes as they began crashing back towards Dermot’s office.

“You know after you filled me in on this whole premonition of me and Paul laying dead in this house everywhere, I go has got me jumping out my skin.” Pan told Raven as she walked into the kitchen of the Halliwell Manor to find Raven sat at the kitchen table drinking a glass of water. “That’s the first time I’ve ever saw you not drink wine don’t tell me this premonition has you scared sober.”

“Not exactly I know it’s not Paul’s first premonition in which one of you die he informed me of that not that we shouldn’t still worry of course but I have confidence you’ll kill whatever demon is coming like you three always do.” Raven replied to the newlywed Halliwell as Pan walked over and sat down next to her. “I’m sorry your honeymoon’s being ruined I guess it’s just a case of one nasty surprise after another.”

“Well if us dying hasn’t got you sober…” Pan began to say before looking at the glass of water and realizing what was up for herself. “Oh my god my brother’s done it again your knocked up aren’t you?”

“A girl restrains from drinking one occasion and you assume she’s pregnant?” Raven tried to deny for a moment before realizing she had to tell someone. “Okay I’m pregnant but trust me when I say I never planned any of this I mean it’s literally the worst possible timing.”

“This is great news!” Pan screeched as she stood up, pulling Raven up too and in for a hug. “I’m so thrilled I’m going to be an aunt again…Paul’s going to be a dad again…oh my god Drake’s going to be a brother.”

“Okay I’ve got to admit that is so not the reaction I was expecting although I think I’m happy by your response.” Raven replied. “I didn’t plan any of this and Paul and I haven’t even said we love each other yet.”

“Paul’s loved you since your first kiss he was your sucker the minute you laid those lips on him Missy you have nothing to worry about…unless you don’t love him?” Pan answered.

“I do love him of course I do…” Raven admitted. “I just wanted him to say he loved me without a baby making him biased. Don’t get me wrong I’ve always wanted to be a mum and start a family I just figured I’d do it the old-fashioned way I’m kind of an old-fashioned demon.”

“Listen Paul loves you and you love him there doesn’t have to be any complications if you don’t let there be.” Pan advised the baby mother of her future niece or nephew. “I’m just glad it’s you he knocked up instead of Lacey I mean the guy has previous with Eve.”

“Yeah I suppose this demonic pregnancy has nothing on that one.” Raven joked. “Are you sure everything’s going to be okay?”

“You mean after we stop Paul’s premonition from coming true and stop us all from dying?” Pan asked sarcastically before hugging Raven once more. “I’m just kidding we’ll kick this demon’s ass and then we’ll celebrate another baby in the Halliwell family! Don’t worry everything is going to be fine.”

Lacey orbed into Dermot’s office with Paul by her side after picking him up from work after her little visit to the elders proved unhelpful only for the two of them to be left shocked to see Drake popping up from behind his desk using a laptop to cover his naked body.

“Guys what are you doing in the headmaster’s office without knocking?” Drake asked them nervously.

“Why are you in the headmaster’s office naked?” Paul asked his son. “I mean I know you like to flaunt your body, but this is a school not to mention your boss’ office.”

“I’m trying this new fitness regime that’s really trendy right now besides this part of the school is closed so thought why not exercise naked.” Drake blatantly lied as Lacey noticed somebody’s else feet popping out from the end of the table.

“I’m guessing your in the boss’ office because he joined you for this little naked exercise?” Lacey teased her best friend before Dermot jumped up from behind the desk also very naked and using a stack of books to cover his modesty.

“Mr Halliwell it’s good to finally meet you!” Dermot greeted Drake’s father awkwardly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Do you seriously have to sleep with all your bosses?” Lacey laughed at Drake while Paul rolled his eyes in disapproval of the situation, he had just found himself in.

“Drake we don’t really have time for you to seek out another wayward romance that’s never going to work out.” Paul told his son. “We need you back at the Manor now!”

“Hey!” Drake snapped at his father. “You barged in here this is on you not me besides who says this is even romance?”

“I don’t tend to make a habit out this.” A nervous and still very naked Dermot tried to make himself clear.

“To be fair Paul, your son’s been with demons and white lighter’s what an elder or two added to the list?” Lacey joked with her brother in law. “At least this one isn’t wiping his brain, trying to make him king of hell or using him to reunite with his own father.”

“I feel like we’re setting the standard real low for him.” Paul laughed with Lacey.

“Can you guys just get our of here already?” Drake begged them both.

“Very well kiss your boss goodbye and meet us back at the Manor.” Lacey replied as she grabbed a hold of Paul’s shoulder and the two of them orbed out of Dermot’s office.

“So, this isn’t a romance then?” Dermot awkwardly asked Drake.

“God knows.” Drake laughed to himself.

“Listen I’m telling you there is nothing to worry about.” Pan said as her and Raven walked into the dining room and sat down at the table. “We’re power of three whatever’s coming for us this time and then you can get straight to telling Paul the happy news.”

“Let’s just hope Paul takes this as well as you do.” Raven replied. “What if he doesn’t want another child? What if it hurts him too much to consider starting again with another baby after having to give up Drake when he was a baby?”

“That’s exactly why this is brilliant news look I wouldn’t change Drake for the world and neither would Paul but there’s not a day that goes by where Paul doesn’t regret raising Drake and now he finally gets a chance to be a father from the very beginning.” Pan told Raven, trying to reassure the demon. “It doesn’t mean he’s any less of a father to Drake or will be any less of a father to him when this one is born it just means he gets two children instead of one and trust me he’s going to be thrilled.”

“Thanks, you and Lacey are going to be wonderful mothers when the time comes.” Raven complimented the Halliwell witch. “You’ve made me feel so much more at ease.”

“I’m sorry I took my time turns out the elders were completely clueless about Paul’s premonition.” Lacey apologised after orbing into the dining room with Paul by her side.

“That’s okay I guess this just means holding tight till we work out more about who’s going to attack.” Pan said as she stood up from her chair and hugged her wife.

“Raven you’re still here!” Paul smiled as Raven stood up, walked over to her man and kissed him on the lips.

“I love you!” Raven declared to the eldest Halliwell.

“I love you too!” He replied.

“Listen Paul there’s something I need to tell you...” Raven began to say until suddenly a bullet pierced through the dining room window smashing the glass in the process as it headed for Pan’s direction who tried to freeze the bullet but her power’s failed on her as the bullet went straight through her forehead causing an instantly lifeless Pan to go flying backwards into the foyer of the Halliwell Manor as the three others screamed in horror.

“Pan!” Lacey frantically screamed as she rushed over to her wife, knelled and attempted to heal Pan only for her healing powers not to work much to Lacey’s horror as she continued screaming. “Heal...god damn it, powers don’t fail me now!”

Suddenly another bullet pierced through the kitchen window this time heading straight in Paul’s direction as he was hit in the chest and fell down into the foyer next to his lifeless sister as he looked over at Pan as Raven continued to scream in horror.

Lacey quickly and gently placed Pan down before moving over to Paul attempting to heal her brother in law only for her powers not to work once more.

“Quinn! Paige! Somebody please!” Lacey screamed as Raven rushed over to Paul grabbing a hold of his hand while Lacey stood up covered in both the blood of her wife and her wife’s brother as her look of heartbreak turned into a look of pure rage before she orbed away.

“Stay with me okay you’ve got to stay with me!” Raven cried frantically. “This can’t end like this we can’t end like this I love you Paul.”

“I love you too.” Paul replied before his eyes closed causing Raven to scream louder as she watched the man she loved died.

Meanwhile a grief stricken, and vengeful Lacey orbed herself outside of the dining room window in the back garden of the Halliwell Manor to find a woman dressed all in black holding a rifle that had clearly been used to kill Paul and Pan.

Before the assassin had any chance to shoot at her Lacey launched herself at the woman jumping onto her and causing them both to fall to the ground as Lacey began repeatedly punching the villainess in the face before picking her up and throwing her head against the dining room window completely smashing all of the glass in the process as a wounded and bloodied assassin fell to the ground.

Lacey walked over towards the rifle, picked it up and aimed it in the murderous woman’s direction before Raven shimmered herself into the garden to stand by Lacey’s side with her eyes still red raw and her body still trembling from just having watched Paul die.

“Lacey!” Raven screamed at the vengeful white lighter. “She’s human we can’t kill humans I know you want to and trust me so do I but killing her is not the answer.”

“Maybe not,” Replied a broken Lacey before she fired the gun several times at the assassin making bullet after bullet pierce the body of the woman who had killer her wife and her wife’s brother.

“What have you done?” Raven cried before a broken Lacey orbed away dark lighter style.

Drake blinked into the kitchen of the Halliwell Manor before walking into the dining room where he was instantly alarmed upon see the dining room window completely smashed with blood covered on what remained of the window before he turned to look at the dining table which was covered in broken glass from the window as Drake continued cautiously walking through the dining room only to let out a huge scream as he saw the lifeless and bloodied bodies of his father Drake and his aunt Pan as he quickly rushed over to his father and began sobbing uncontrollably as he picked his father up into his arms.

“No!” Drake screamed as he hugged into his father while shaking erratically back and forth. “This can’t be happening again! I can’t go through this again! Come on dad please just wake up please don’t leave me dad…please don’t leave me!”

Drake continued to sob and scream uncontrollably while hugging his father’s lifeless body tighter and tighter, accidentally covering himself in his father’s blood before a group of police burst in through the front door shouting “It’s the San Francisco Police please stand up and put your hands where we can see them.”

Non-corporeal versions of Pan and Paul suddenly appeared within the attic of the Halliwell Manor looking at each other with pure confusion in their eyes before a non-corporeal Piper Halliwell appeared in front of them as the two siblings instantly realized what had just happened.

“I’m sorry my beautiful grandchildren it’s never easy saying goodbye even if you are given time to do such.” Piper said to them both with tears in her eyes. “I thought I’d come here and guide you along the way to try and comfort you both as much as possible. Death kind of owed us all a favour.”

“I don’t want to go I was finally happy I finally got my son back and I found someone I really love.” Paul told his grandmother, pleading for his death not to be finale.

“I just got married we were going to have children together.” Pan cried. “All that can’t be over before it’s even begun.”

“I don’t want to leave them!” Paul cried while grabbing a hold of his sister’s hand.

“We never want to leave when our time comes and yet it still comes.” Piper admitted to them both.

“Are they going to be okay without us?” Pan asked her grandmother.

“No not for a really long time.” Piper cried. “But in time their going to be okay their going to be better than okay and their going to be stronger than ever because you both taught them how to be strong.”

“I can’t believe this is over.” Paul said with a broken look on his face as he and his sister began walking towards their grandmother.

“I know my darlings, but I promise you everything will make sense in time.” Piper cried as she hugged her grandchildren before all three of them disappeared.

[borhapimagines]

fic #1: joe and the bass:) -P

pairing: joe x original character 

word count: 1,572

summary: joe and one of bo rhap’s sound mixers hit it off when he plays the bass for her :)

 Ann arrived on set Monday morning expecting a typical work day. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Working as a sound mixer for Bohemian Rhapsody was pretty much as good as it gets, considering the iconic music that came with it. Although days were long and required focus, it was all worth it. It was exciting work, after all. 

    As she pulled her red Jeep Wrangler into the lot, she noticed Joe, one of the actors on set, was parked in spot adjacent to hers. He was sitting in his car, looking as though he was waiting for someone. Ann had always thought Joe was cute, but didn’t have strong enough feelings to act on. Besides, they were both quite busy throughout the day and only found time to exchange “hellos”. 

    Ann made a few maneuvers to make sure her car was parked between the lines and eventually took her key out of ignition. She could be a bit of a precisionist, notably while parking, and always made sure her wheels were perfectly parallel to the lines bordering her spot. 

    Ann took off her seatbelt and glanced to her left. She grabbed her purse from the passenger seat, and glanced at Joe before giving him a quick wave and smile before hopping out of the car. Quick “hellos”, as usual. 

    As soon as Joe saw her, he smiled back enthusiastically and swiftly got out of his car. He walked up to Ann cooly, trying to seem nonchalant, although he had been waiting for her to arrive so he could strike up a conversation on the way in. 

    “Hey Ann, how are you?”, Joe said, trying to seem relaxed. He feared he sounded too cordial, however. 

     Ann was taken aback. Not because she didn’t want to talk to Joe, but because she didn’t really expect it. Wasn’t he doing something in his car? 

    “I’m good, how about you?” Ann replied. She was also trying to seemed breezy and calm, and succeeded without really trying. It was that very type of demeanor that Joe liked about her. He was typically a fun, silly person to be around, although he couldn’t deny his occasional neurotic tendencies. He tried his best to cover it up, but Ann just thought it was part of what made him so charming. 

    “Good! Good. Just a little nervous for today, you know?”. 

    Ann laughed. “I can’t say that I do? Are you getting a funky new haircut?” 

    Joe rolled his eyes playfully in response. “No, but don’t manifest it. This perm will be the death of me.”

    “I don’t know, it really isn’t that bad. Maybe curls suit you”, Ann said, trying to comfort him without seeming overly earnest. “Anyway, what are you nervous about?”

    “Oh, well, I guess it’s silly, but we’re filming the Another One Bites the Dust studio scene today, and since I go back and forth from dialogue to the beginning riff on the bass, I assume they’re going to want me to do it without any backing track. It’s not that I don’t know how to do it, it’s just a little scary playing completely by myself, you know? Oh god, I’ve talked your ear off, sorry”, Joe responds, just a little sheepishly. 

     Ann smiled sympathetically. “No, no, don’t apologize. I don’t mind. I bet that can be a little nerve-racking. If it makes you feel better though, I’ll be right behind the camera, recording it all onto the sound mixer”, Ann responds with a laugh. 

    Joe smiles. “You know, it kind of does.” 

~     Joe had been neurotically practicing the same riff over and over again, afraid that he would mess up once the cameras started rolling. It was time. The assistant director called action, and before Joe knew it, he was reciting his lines without even thinking about it. Finally, it was time.   

   “Let’s see how good of a boxer you really are!”, Ben (as Roger Taylor, obviously) said. 

    That was Joe’s que. He twiddled his fingers, and finally, when the time came, he played. Needless to say, he was nervous, but had to conceal it. He was an actor. Staying in character was very clearly the most crucial part of his job. John Deacon probably wasn’t nervous in that moment; Joe had to act like he wasn’t either. 

    Determined as he was, Joe was able to play the riff perfectly in one take. It certainly helped that Ann was behind the camera cheering him on with kind eyes and a smile. 

    After a few more takes, shooting was complete for the day. As the cast and crew slowly started to shuffle off set, Ann approached Joe. 

    “Hey sorry to do this to you, but the mixer didn’t pick up the riff very well. Could you do it again for me real quick? I didn’t want to ask earlier because I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of everyone like that”, Ann explained sympathetically. 

    “Oh yeah, no problem”, Joe responded casually.

    Almost everyone had headed out of the room, and both Ann and Joe were conscious of the fact that they were waiting until it was just the two of them. The two tried to convince themselves that it was just so the sound quality could be enhanced, but Ann knew better than anyone that sound mixing didn’t work like that. 

    Gwil, Ben, and Rami were the last to leave. They pretended to be preoccupied, but were just eavesdropping. They knew that Joe had a little bit of a crush on Ann. As they finally decided to leave them alone, Gwil subtly winked at Joe, to which he received an eye roll. 

    Ann swiftly set up the sound mixer and gave Joe the go ahead. He played the riff once more, visibly more relaxed than before. Ann smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

    “That was perfect, thanks!”

    “Was it really? It keeps just sounding off in my head”, Joe replied sheepishly. 

    “Of course. I wish I could pick up on an instrument like that”, Ann reassured. 

  Just then, Joe decided to make a move. A friendly one, but still, a move. 

    “Do you want me to teach you? It’s actually pretty simple once you get the hang of it”, Joe said warmly. 

    Ann gave a closed-mouth smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to waste your time. You barely ever get a break.” 

    “No, no I don’t mind at all! Besides, it’ll be fun. There’s no pressure or anything”, Joe replied convincingly. 

    Ann gave in, but made Joe promise that if he needed to go he wouldn’t be too polite and head out. 

    Since most of the instruments had been moved off set once shooting finished, Joe and Ann had one bass to work with. Joe began to teach her the notes, and demonstrated how she should move her fingers along the strings. To guide her, Joe decided to put her hands on top of Ann’s. He admitted to himself that he realized it was rather flirtatious of him, but figured it was fair because his heart was practically beating out of his chest. 

    Ann was no different. She hadn’t expected this. Not that it was even a huge deal, but it changed her perspective a bit. She had never considered Joe in this way. She figured it was hopeless. 

    But Ann knew flirting when she saw it. And that’s what he was doing. 

    “Yeah, there you go. It’s not that hard, right? If I can do it, then a brick could do it too”, Joe joked. 

    “Hey, don’t sell yourself short. It’s cool that you’re able to do that. Makes you interesting.”

     Joe blushed. “Well, now you can too. So I guess we’re both interesting.” 

~

    Ann and Joe walked to their cars together. They were both trying to slow down their pace in an attempt to make their time together last longer. What both of them eventually realized was that if they wanted, they could spend time together elsewhere. It just never seemed like an option to them. 

    As Joe unlocked his car and headed toward the driver’s seat, Ann decided to be bold. After all, it was clear they both liked each other. 

    Nervously, Ann spoke. “Hey, uh- I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime, like not at work?”

    Joe didn’t respond right away, which prompted an anxious Ann to get insecure. Defeatedly, she said, “You know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, I think I just read into today too much, sorry.” 

    Shocked, Joe shuffled over to her. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. He did like Ann. But Joe was just as nervous as she was. He didn’t want to respond too enthusiastically, or not excited enough. So his neurotic mind got the best of him. But Joe wasn’t going to let that stop him. 

    “Hey, no no no, I don’t think you misread it at all. I felt the same way, I’m just bad at socially interaction”, Joe joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

    “You don’t just have to say that. It’s okay, I get it.” 

    Joe realized there wasn’t much he could say to sway her. So instead, Joe gently kissed her on the cheek. 

    “I promise I’m not just saying it. I’m going to call you tonight and we’re making plans”, Joe announced, walking back to his car. 

    Ann had never blushed so much before. 

~

 Joe did in fact, call. 

[kayanne369]

18th of Last Seed

I awoke early this day. Gerder and Ralof were discussing the situation at hand. It took me a few minutes to remember where I was, to be honest. I stayed relatively quiet throughout their conversation. I’m not sure why. I’ve always been more of a listener than a talker. Was always taught the value of listening. They both looked at me when the realised I was awake and smiled warmly. That hearty warm-blooded smile that Nords wear so well. Gerder offered me some breakfast. I still wasn’t very hungry but good manners would not let me refuse. It was not long after that Ralof brought up the topic that was likely on all our minds, but no-one wanted to say. Dragons. We had seen a dragon. We had been attacked by a dragon. We had survived an attack by a dragon. No others made it to the village that day so I can only assume that we were indeed the only survivors. This tiny village. A tiny village made up of farmers and craftsmen. It wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in oblivion if a dragon decided to attack.

It was the man that finally called on me. I had by this point learned his name to be Hod. Odd name, but there we go. He asked me for a favour. A simple favour in all honesty. Go to Whiterun. Tell the Jarl about the dragons. Bring back reinforcements. A simple task really. I thought so at the time and I think so now. I don’t really wish to get too involved in whatever this god's forsaken land has gotten itself into. I’ve been hearing murmurings about some kind of civil war all day and quite frankly, I could care less about it. But these people were kind enough to take me in. Feed me and let me sleep. I honestly consider it my duty at this point to repay them in some way and since I have nothing in the way of material goods to give, a small favour seems like nothing. So, I agreed. If what I was told was correct, Whiterun was little more than half a day away. I did however with that Ralof would come with me. To keep me from getting lost if nothing else. Oh, well. All’s well that end’s well in this case.

Before I headed out, I thought it a good idea of collect some supplies, but as my bad luck would have it, I walked right into the middle of a blazing argument between the two proprietors. Something about bandits and a golden claw and the future of the shop depending on it and this Camilla girl insisting that she go an confront them like it wasn’t the stupidest idea ever thought up. Eventually, I agreed to go and retrieve the claw for them. Honestly, I feel taking down a few bandits would do me the world of good at the moment. I was about to leave when the door burst open, practically knocking me on off my feet. A young Nord walked in. Blonde hair tied back. Broad shoulders. A smile that could worm its way into any woman's heart. He didn’t even seem to notice me when he passed and strode confidently up to Camilla, presenting her with a makeshift bouquet of wildflowers. It would be rather charming if the fellow didn’t give off such an arrogant air about him. The two flirted playfully for a while. At the very least Camilla seemed to reciprocate his affections. I left in a quiet hurry just as the shop owner, who I took by his reaction was the young lady’s brother, decided to put a stop to this rather embarrassing display and showed the lad out.

He blew a kiss at the closed door and looked at me rather suspiciously. I snapped a quick “What?” at him and he offered a half-hearted smile.

“I haven’t seen you before” he said.

“No,” I said back, not really intending to talk to him.

“Are you new?” he asked, leaning slightly closer to me.

“I am.” I reached back for my dagger. I’d no intention of using it but I thought perhaps that if he saw it, it would dissuade him from conversing with me further.

“Not often we get a Dunmer around here. Are you a friend of Faendal?”

I looked at him, questioningly. There was an almost hopeful anticipation in his voice. I fought back the urge to tell him that I had no idea who this Faendal character was, and answered with a quiet shake of my head. He seemed almost anxious at this, rubbing his arms and avoiding my eyes.

“Oh, I see. Um…well, in that case, do you think you’d like to meet him?”

I gave him a very odd look and took several steps back. He must have seen the seriousness in my expression for he gave a sigh and slumped over the railing. He offered a passing attempt at an apology and out of brazenness or stupidity, our right confessed that he hoped I’d be a suitable partner for this Bosmer chap that he’d apparently been in something of a love feud with Sven for the fair Camilla’s affections.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” he said to no-one in particular. “They’re just friends after all.”

I couldn’t stop myself from scoffing.

“Of course. And when ever has a close friendship developed into feelings of love.”

Not entirely sure why I said that. Maybe just to get a rise out of him. Maybe I actually felt sorry for the twit. Either way, he gave me a look of utter disdain and then almost immediately relented and agreed. He looked at me rather sheepishly and asked if I could do him a quick favour, after which he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it over to me.

“Listen. I know this is none of your concern really, but could you deliver this to Camilla. Tell her it’s from Faendal?”

I shot him another look but took the paper from him anyway. I’d no desire get involved in this foolishness. I had things to do. I didn’t have time to be dealing with some silly love triangle. But on the other hand. I relented that it might be nice to play matchmaker for a time. At least this is what I told myself. In truth, I think I just wanted to read what this young whelp had written. Pure nosiness. I will not try and pretend it was anything but. However, given the nature of the letter he gave me, I’m quite glad I made that decision. The letter I held in my hand was full of toxicities so vile I doubt the young man had any real awareness about its severity. The long and short of it was a statement that the difference in race between the two meant that Faendal and our dear Camilla could never be together. This was bad enough. But it was not what enraged me so. The letter mentioned the Aldmeri Dominion. Made very dangerous accusations. This was a Nord village. It doesn’t take a genius to understand the uneasy relationship these people have with my kind. Somehow, this Faendal had slipped through the cracks of prejudice and set up a life here for himself. If there was even the slightest hint that he was connected with the Thalmor I shudder to think what would happen to him. And this was the letter he wished me to deliver? A letter that could ruin a man’s life. A man I had never met? Over some girl?

What a sickening thing to do. Honestly, the fact that I’m rather sure Sven was nothing but ignorant about how damaging this could be was the only thing preventing me from sticking my dagger through his neck…that and his mother was literally sitting a few feet away from me. I took the letter and decided that I’d probably better tell this Faendal character what was going on. If this idiot was willing to say something like this, then it was likely something Faendal would have to look out for.

I actually found him relatively quickly. I’d passed by him before but we had never talked until now. He was tall for a Bosmer. Dark eyes. Long white hair pulled back in a high ponytail. He looked at me and smiled. Can’t deny there was an earnest charm about him. Perhaps it was just nice to see one of my own, but I wouldn’t fault Camilla for having an interest in him. His demeanour changed however when I showed him the letter. His body visually tensed up and he clutched the letter in his hand. Obviously, I was not overreacting when I considered how damaging this could be to him. He peered over to me and gave me a quick smile, silently thanking me for telling him. We were silent for a moment before he suddenly perked up and pulled me over to a large tree stump. He took out a piece of paper and without uttering a word began scribbling on it with a piece of charcoal. It took me a few seconds to figure out what he was doing but when I did, I couldn’t help but giggle. What he was writing was a letter in return. A taste of the bard’s own medicine. Nothing as potentially life-destroying as the one Sven had made for him, but one that if delivered to a certain young woman, would not hold him in good favour. Still makes me laugh. I almost feel sorry for the boy.

Oh well. To cut a long story short, Sven’s prospects of romancing Camilla are now significantly lower than before. However, both Faendal and I recognised the danger before us. Sven was obviously willing to tell egregious lies in order to get him out of the way. I doubt there is any real malice intended with him. Just stupidity. But stupidity is as dangerous as anything. In any regard, I suggest that Faendal accompany me to retrieve the golden claw that seemed to mean so much to the fair imperial. Perhaps if he returns it to her instead of me, he could gain favour. I can’t believe I’m giving this so much though. I truly did intend not to get involved in this. On the other hand, I also intended that this journal would be a factual account of important matters and we see how well that turned out.

He agreed and we set out towards Whiterun. I wish I can say something more interesting happened on the way, but alas, it was a perfectly calm and uneventful journey. We chatted together, mainly about Camilla. The fool truly does seem to love her. I told him about what happened at Helgan. He seemed dubious, like I had been remembering things wrong or that perhaps I was playing a trick on him. This aside, we travelled silently and by the time we reached the city, it was near midnight. Too late to talk to the Jarl now. He will be asleep. Everyone will be asleep. All we can really do is hope to the eight that Riverwood will be safe from those beats for one more night. We decided to spend the night in an inn. I believe it’s called the Bannered Mare. It’s a hearty place. Rough and warm like a tight embrace. I do love these Nord customs.

Just before we turned int for the night, Faendal took my arm and looked dead into my eyes.

“Did you really see a dragon?”

“I did more than see it.”

He let me go. His eyes were worried, but I could not quite place at what specifically. His home perhaps. His lady love back in Riverwood. The prospect of possibly facing one. I don’t know, for he retired before I could ask. I will in the morning.  

[juliairian]

Chapter 06 | “…Adrenaline.” | A fluffy short surprisingly long johnlock ficlet story

John jogged up the stairs to his room, taking two at a time. He hadn’t felt this motivated to get dressed for a date in a long time. And the most bizarre of dates it would be. For one, he was taking his flatmate (who happened to be a man) on said date. Second, that flatmate also happened to be Sherlock, a person John had not thought capable of knowing what a date was. Third, he and said clueless flatmate had already made out quite passionately on numerous occasions now (okay, not so clueless, actually), at least one of which had been pure indulgence, no matter what Sherlock might think.

Once again, he didn’t quite understand why Sherlock had bolted that night. At the same time, neither had he expected for his little experiment to really produce any results. Sometimes, Sherlock’s sudden one-eighties truly gave John emotional whiplash.

That they wanted each other was embarrassingly transparent at this point. That was not to say John wasn’t worried. He knew going down this path with Sherlock would irrevocably alter their relationship, for better or for worse – and precisely that was up in the air at this point. Sherlock was a wild card in any given situation, who knew how he’d react to… intimacy? Another stab of arousal shot through John, and he tried to calm himself, doing up the buttons of his dark blue shirt. He ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, feeling completely silly. No, this was definitely about more than just sex, for John. But what exactly was it to Sherlock at this point?

The entire cab ride, John could not keep his eyes of Sherlock. He’d chosen to wear his bloody purple shirt of course, under his impeccable dark suit. John sighed inwardly, wishing he could in any way keep up with that kind of effortless grace, but Sherlock seemed to read his mind and quickly sent him a flash of a glance, his eye lit up in pleasure, that assuaged John’s worries. He remembered Sherlock shuddering under his lips, pressed against the wall of the warehouse. A thrill of power went through him again at the idea that he could make Sherlock feel like that.

They arrived at Angelo’s after a short stint in London evening traffic. Sherlock had given the driver the address without even having to ask John. Their destination had been obvious to them both. Angelo waved them in enthusiastically, settled them at their usual table and this time, nobody protested the addition of a romantic candle.

John would later be hard-pressed to recall exactly how long he and Sherlock sat at their table, eating, drinking wine and talking in a strange hushed tone that seemed entirely new to them both. The evening went on in a softly lit blur, a warm sensation of happiness and anticipation being all that John really could swear to experiencing.

Sherlock actually ate, but he didn’t take his eyes off John. At some point, their knees brushed, and John shuffled just an inch closer to make sure they stayed that way. Sherlock leaned closer when he spoke, his deep baritone chuckle reverberating all the way through John’s core. Sherlock smirked in a way that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and made John’s brain dissolve.

Of course, Sherlock was still himself. He deduced the other patrons a little bit too loudly, making one woman leave indignantly and her husband trying to revenge himself with his fists before both John and Angelo intervened rather physically. John promised Angelo it wouldn’t happen again. Sherlock called John an idiot for thinking he could ensure that and nibbled stoically on a bread stick. But then John leaned in closer and promised dire consequences if he didn’t behave and suddenly Sherlock’s eyes widened and his breath hitched. “I’d be a fool to argue with my doctor, I suppose,” he murmured darkly, a twinkle in his eye.

“Thank God you’re no fool,” John said, his face close enough to feel Sherlock’s answering breath rushing out against his skin.

After that, Sherlock focused his entire considerable attention simply on John. He internally deduced every single facial expression, John could tell from his rapidly moving eyes. Sherlock, after all, was Sherlock, and he was clearly now experimenting with just what kind of effect he could have on John if he chose to. John was, for lack of a better word, flattered. He’d known Sherlock could be charming if he wanted to, but this was stunningly genuine. Sherlock seemed like a boy enjoying a new game he’d finally understood how to play. John kept waiting for the façade to crack, for Sherlock to roll his eyes at the silliness of dating and to just leave to experiment on something more interesting.

But Sherlock stayed. And laughed and talked and bloody flirted with John. That was not to say that John didn’t give as good as he got. At first, he felt himself blush and look away, ready to reign in his reactions to Sherlock, as he’d always done. But then he remembered that he was the one who had actually drawn Sherlock out with his unnerving closeness and casual touches over the past few days. He could want this, Sherlock had shown him that much. John pulled himself up a bit straighter and met Sherlock’s eye more steadily. Oh, this was achingly perfect, being allowed to just let himself go and show Sherlock exactly what he was in for.

He casually brushed their fingers together on the table. When Sherlock was being amusing or appreciated something John had said, John allowed himself to truly show how happy that made him. He thought that he usually wore his heart on his sleeve; well, here was the bloody placard. Let the entire restaurant, Mycroft’s cameras, every passer-by who happened to glance through the window see: John Watson was in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock seemed at first taken aback at the open, honest admiration shining his way. His lips parted and he looked confused, properly confounded for a moment, before something like pleased understanding dawned on his features. They were really doing this. He quickly drained the last of his wine, his eyes burning like fire into John’s. Suddenly, he knew this was it. They had to get out of there and get back home as quickly as possible or John wouldn’t vouch for his composure much longer.

It was late. They hastily pulled on their jacket and coat and Sherlock reluctantly pocketed his wallet when a relentless Angelo refused his money once again. They stepped out of the restaurant and John shivered when the cold night air came into contact with his heated skin. Darkness settled on the empty streets, slick from rain. John felt as if he was going to explode if he didn’t get to kiss Sherlock in less than five seconds.

He turned half-way, already standing close enough to touch him, but then he froze. Sherlock was standing still, staring at his phone. The screen illuminated his face as he frowned at it.

“What is it?” John stepped a bit closer, trying to see. Without thinking about it, his hand hovered over Sherlock’s back.

Sherlock looked at him, his face disturbed and torn. It looked like for once, he couldn’t decide how to. Some of the passion from a few minutes before still simmered underneath, yet now it was tampered with worry.

“It’s the man from the drugs bust the other night. He was found dead in the factory next to the warehouse.”

John saw the text from Lestrade. Can you come? it said, and John could practically hear the words in the man’s pleading voice.

“Well,” John cleared his throat and zipped up his jacket, his body slowly cooling down, his mind adjusting to the new situation. “Let’s go.”

Sherlock hesitated a moment, his lips softening into a smile. He seemed glad that it was John who made the decision. John returned the smile. We’re good. Plenty of time.

I’ll hold you to that. Sherlock’s eyes bored into his a second longer, before he flung his arm out, hailing the nearest cab.

They found the police in a small make-shift shipping office in a large container next to the warehouse of the original drugs dop. It was functional; a desk, a couple of chairs, an outdated laptop and a few empty shelves the only things in the room.

Sherlock watched as John stepped forward, efficient as ever, to kneel by the body. Who here could guess that not half an hour ago, this same John Watson had been ready to devour Sherlock alive if they didn’t get in a cab (and somebody’s bed) quickly enough? The doctor’s hands moved over the silent form on the ground, examining the eyes, the mouth, the neck. Sherlock couldn’t tear his eyes away from the precision in those hands. He realised it was a bit not good to be turned on next to a dead body, but…. He usually felt exhilarated by a case, so perhaps his brain was getting its wires crossed? Whatever the reasons, it was enough to drive him insane. His skin was still burning from before and, more annoyingly, his groin was protesting at the tease without a follow-through. Most tedious.

“Why are we here again?” He turned to glare at Lestrade.

The DI ran his hands through his hair. “Well, you were the ones to catch him,” he shrugged. “And… uh, the room was locked from the inside, there’s no murder weapon, no obvious cause of death and we don’t even know how he got from his holding cell to here in the last few hours, so I thought…” he trailed off.

“Yes,” he mused. “So of course this has nothing to do with the fact that you’re clueless, tired and really just want this solved as quickly as possible so you can go back home where you hope that lovely redhead from reception will still be waiting for you.” Lestrade gaped. The people around them had fallen silent. Sherlock clapped his gloved hands together with a loud smack. “Well! For once, Detective Inspector, we find ourselves in similar positions. I also would very much like to get back to my date, which you so rudely interrupted. So let’s solve this and go home, shall we?” Sherlock gave him a cheerful grin and turned back to the body. “John?”

John stared at him, mouth slightly open in amused shock. He snorted through his nose but Sherlock saw his eyes darken and his cheeks flush. He blinked, then quickly pulled himself together as he realised his hand was still resting on the dead man’s pale throat. “Asphyxiated,” he said as calmly as he could.

Lestrade was looking between them as if the Queen had just bestowed him a knighthood. His lips parted and he gaped at John, then at Sherlock, then back at John, and a twinkle entered his eyes. “Date?” he mouthed, and John lowered his face to stop smiling. Dead body and all. Sherlock found it incredibly endearing, if pointless (nobody here cared either way) but he was also aware that all of this bantering was taking too long.

“You two?” Lestrade mouthed with an even more intrigued look. Luckily none of his officers stood close or they might have asked why their Detective Inspector suddenly looked positively gleeful at a crime scene. Perhaps Sherlock was rubbing off on him. John shot Sherlock a ravenous look, one that sent his brain spinning for a moment. Then he smiled back at Lestrade and shrugged. Lestrade huffed a silent laugh and then cleared his throat. “Right. You sure?”

“Yes, yes, he’s sure,” Sherlock replied before John could explain every single sign of asphyxiation. Time was of the essence. “Just because your team takes forever to determine a cause of death doesn’t mean there’s any doubt. Now.”

He stood and walked over to the door. “The room was locked from the inside. Our killer broke out the deceased from a holding cell – no small feat, I imagine – therefore, we’re looking for someone with significant experience in high-profile burglary. He’ll have known how to get around the security cameras at the Met; locking a door from the inside after he left can’t have been much of a challenge.” Sherlock picked up a thin white thread that clung to the opened lock of the door. “No doubt some ingenious mechanism that triggered once the door was pulled shut.”

A forensics officer quickly hurried forward and let him drop the thread into an evidence bag, looking as if Sherlock was going to swallow the evidence otherwise. He sighed at the idiocy of everyone besides John in the room. John… he quickly looked around …was watching him, an amused smile lingering on his face. All good then.

“Someone with that kind of skillset who also had something to lose by this man confessing everything – and he would have, he was a coward – now that should lower the potential suspects down considerably. The murder weapon is the more interesting bit.”

He stepped over to the body again. “John, what’s your estimation of the state of his throat?”

John clasped his hands behind his back. “Well, if he wasn’t dead, I’d be hard-pressed to say he was strangled at all.” He kneeled again and pointed. “Do you see these small marks?”

Lestrade kneeled by his side, examining two small, faint bruises in the dead flesh, just underneath the man’s jaw. “Yes?”

“Easy to miss here,” John soothed, hoping obviously not to insult the incompetent forensics team further. “But I’m sure they would have picked up on it at the morgue.”

“Yes, yes, John, stop being nice,” Sherlock muttered, earning him a fond eye roll from John.

“The killer pressed these two points to obstruct the air flow. The victim must have been drugged very heavily. Even if he was only asleep or lightly sedated, the body would have reacted instinctively to the lack of oxygen and begun to struggle. But there’s absolutely no sign of any fight, otherwise the bruises would be more pronounced or there would be additional injuries.”

“Right,” Lestrade said, rubbing his chin. “And he couldn’t have already been dead then?”

“His eyes and skin discoloration points towards asphyxiation, but of course you’d have to confirm all of this with the autopsy.”

“Of course he wasn’t already dead,” Sherlock scoffed. “If he’d died from the drugs he was given, there would be signs – dried sweat, frothing, saliva on his clothes, something like that. But he’s clean and looks fine… well, apart from being dead.” He stood up again.

“So… no murder weapon, then.” Lestrade looked disappointed. Sherlock knew the man liked a nice and obvious gun or knife at the scene, but he was rarely so lucky.”

“No…” he mused, but then walked quickly over to the single window. It was only a brief glimpse in the dark, but was sure that someone just slipped into the warehouse.

“Sherlock?” John was immediately by his side. Of course he’d picked up on it.

Sherlock pointed back at the body, speaking rapidly. “There’s a reason he did it here. He needed to come back and he killed two birds with one stone like this. Keep you baffled at the crime scene while he gets the rest of the goods.” He swirled around and rushed out of the door, John and Lestrade right on his heels.

“Sherlock, wait!”

He didn’t. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he ran for the warehouse. The game was on.

Of course, everything went south very quickly after that. The suspect was indeed in the process of retrieving the rest of his merchandise in the warehouse, but one of Lestrade’s officers had gotten in his way by the door. He’d dragged the young man with him to a back room, where Sherlock confronted him. What he hadn’t counted on was that it was rather difficult to manoeuvre in this office, especially in the dark. The man managed to shine his torchlight right in Sherlock’s eyes for a moment, blinding him, and had quickly immobilized him, a practised hand restraining his arms whilst another pressed a knife to his throat. The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than a minute.

Footsteps came closer. Sherlock heard John calling his name. He desperately tried to kick the killer holding him, but his stupid coat got in the way. He was also partly focussed on the young policeman clutching his side, blood slowly seeping out, his face contorted in agony. Wound not too deep; painful but probably manageable if help got here fast.

“Jones!”

“SHERLOCK!”

John and Lestrade took in the scene even as the murderer slowly backed away to the other door. Sherlock’s eyes did not leave John. He could see he was planning something, anything, probably something reckless. He shook his head almost imperceptibly and saw John frown. The man dragged him along, there was nothing he could do. Sherlock deliberately moved his eyes to the doorway through which John and Lestrade had come. Then he looked aside, trying to indicate the door he was being pulled towards. There’s another way.

John’s eyes lit up with understanding. His eyes flickered to the doorway and he nodded. He stopped moving forward. The last thing Sherlock saw before he was dragged through the door and it fell closed was John’s determined look, fists clenched at his sides.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Lestrade yelled orders for an ambulance into his radio; but John was already leaving, hearing the DI shout after him. He jogged back through the warehouse, frantically looking around.

“John! Where are you going?!”

John ran to another door. He didn’t even feel his feet hit the ground; all he could sense was his violently beating heart and his pulse throbbing in his temples. All he could think was that he had to get to Sherlock.

The murderer was dragging a squirming, resisting man, he couldn’t have gotten further up than the first floor. That was, of course, assuming that Sherlock was right (he usually was) and that the back corridor led to the staircase. John had no time to second-guess the looks he’d given him. He ran up the secondary stairwell, taking two steps at a time. He thanked his luck that the factory was old as he began kicking at the door to the first floor. After a few kicks, the lock finally gave and the door swung inwards.

After a few turns, he reached the open space of the main factory floor again. Around the hall, a metal walkway stretched alongside the wall. When he peered through the door, he noticed it was even darker up here. But Sherlock had been right; he could hear two sets of footsteps ascending and clanging loudly on the metal grating. He withdrew when he noticed them coming closer and waited for his moment. Slowly, the steps became louder. John held his breath. He heard Sherlock struggle, and both men were breathing loudly through their mouths with the effort.

Finally, he was close enough. In one fluid motion, John stepped through the doorway, immediately into the path of the killer. Clearly, he hadn’t expected him; the man jumped violently, drawing back. But then he made his first and final mistake. He removed the knife from Sherlock’s throat and thrust it towards his newest foe, and that was all the opening John needed.

With speed and unerring precision, he twisted the man’s arm and pulled his body off-centre. The killer let go of Sherlock; he was surprised and not expecting this kind of opposition from John. He still tried plunging the knife forward even as Sherlock finally slipped from his grasp, coughing, ducking away a step, breathing. John felt better instantly and hooked his legs around the man’s, brought up a hand against his shoulder and flipped him, using his loss of balance to tip him sideways. One hand shot out and twisted the knife from him; John quickly kicked it away when it landed, sending it tumbling down to the factory floor below. He had him now.

Sherlock had stumbled to his feet. “John…” he rasped and grabbed something in his pocket. The killer struggled and rambled something aggressive, readying for another attack. John quickly rammed his elbow in his nose and heard a satisfying crack that shut him up. He turned him around, pulling his arms behind his back; Sherlock shuffled closer, still coughing, and brought out a zip tie (of course he had one in his pocket, John thought) to wrap sloppily around the hands John was holding forcefully together. With a sharp tug, Sherlock tightened the hold, drawing a startled cry from their quarry.

Once the man was tied up, John forced him on his knees and the man tumbled to his side, coughing and spluttering with his nosebleed, but unable to do much else. He just let him slump there and stepped back. John heard footsteps ascending the stairs to their level quickly, but he ignored them for now.

All his focus was on Sherlock, who was leaning against the wall, steadying himself, rubbing his throat. He was breathing heavily, looking a bit sick. John felt something twist in his stomach; rage and possessiveness and fierce protectiveness. Nobody was going to touch Sherlock ever again, to threaten him like this, or….

John stepped up to him, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “All right…?” he managed, Sherlock’s scorching glance drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

“Yes… yes, of course I’m…” Sherlock swallowed and stopped himself, reaching out with one hand. “John,” he whispered.

That was all he could take.

John rushed forward, into Sherlock’s arms, pressing him up to the wall and then he was kissing him.

Sherlock moaned as their lips met, the sound being absorbed into John as he parted his lips, setting his nerves on fire. His tongue plunged into Sherlock and felt a tremor go through the body in his arms. Hands ran down his back and he felt them draw him even closer, sending stabs of pure need directly to his groin.

Amongst panting kisses, John was whispering his name and you’re safe and Sherlock simply breathed him in, murmuring oh God John and clinging on for dear life, and their soft voices mingled in the electrified air between them. John felt like he was drowning, all the adrenaline making his head spin and then he remembered they were on a walkway quite high up in the large factory hall and he stopped himself for a moment to fight the vertigo. Sherlock pressed his forehead to John’s, catching his breath, steadying them both.

“John…” God, Sherlock sounded wrecked. It set John’s chest on fire. He looked up and their eyes met before John leaned in again to…

“Oh! Hello…?”

John jumped and immediately stepped back, startled by Lestrade’s voice. The DI had managed to follow them, finally, his gun drawn. Two more police officers were running up behind him, but Lestrade waved backwards. “Stand down, it’s under control…” he coughed. “Or at least, one of them is,” he added with a relieved snort, glancing at the resigned lump of a man on the floor.

The officers came up to him and secured the culprit, pulling him to his feet. They left down the stairwell again and Lestrade turned to John and Sherlock, who still maintained a decidedly deliberate distance. He rocked back on his heels, grinned at John and wiggled his eyebrows. He lowered his voice a bit. “Well!” He sounded relieved. “Couldn’t wait to get back to your date, huh?”

John stared at him, then at Sherlock. He took a deep breath. A smile quirked on his lip. “Oh… it was just… an experiment.”

Sherlock’ answering smile slowly bloomed on his face, and he laughed.

John sobered a little, straightened his jacket and raised his chin. A few more things needed doing. “Your officer…?”

“Oh!” Lestrade remembered. “He’s okay. Jones’ ribs reflected the knife and he’s responsive and not losing too much blood.” He finally held out his arm to indicate that they should probably get back downstairs.

“Do you want me to have a look?” John opened the door that brought them back to the corridor Sherlock had been dragged from and took the stairs.

“Ta, much appreciated, doctor,” Lestrade said, before glancing at Sherlock. “You all right?”

“Fine,” Sherlock drawled, but John thought he heard traces of insecurity… and perhaps arousal in his voice. Both made him shudder. He needed Sherlock alone, back at Baker Street, as quickly as possible.

Downstairs, two people were holding pressure on Jones’ wound. John kneeled next to the man and asked them to give him some space. He began examining the wound – thankfully, it really wasn’t deep. The young man looked up at Sherlock, his face pale. “T-thanks,” he muttered, giving the detective a weak smile. “Saved my life.”

Sherlock pressed his lips together in acknowledgement, and John felt him shift uncomfortably.

The man smiled even as he winced. “They really shouldn’t call you freak,” he muttered.

John felt his heart warm a little more towards the guy. “Too right, but stop talking,” he chided gently, probing the wound before pressing whatever piece of clothing had been sacrificed back against it.

“You’ll be fine, the wound is only superficial – it hurts worse than it is.”

The man coughed a little. “That it fucking does, pardon me Doctor Watson.”

John laughed and gestured for the policewoman next to them to come closer again. “What you did was the only thing we can do until the paramedics get here,” he said and returned her hand to press on the fabric. She nodded and kneeled back beside his patient. John already heard the sirens of the ambulance outside and knew his work here was done.

He got up and almost without noticing it, he reached out. Sherlock moved closer as well, a small smile lighting up his tired face. He grabbed John’s hand and didn’t let go.

He looked at Lestrade. “You’ll get our statements tomorrow, Greg,��� he said, his voice still rough. Lestrade looked surprised but pleased and gave them both a warm smile.

“I’ll make sure of it,” John added. He grinned and gave one last nod to Lestrade before he and Sherlock walked out, hands clasped tightly together.

I had to edit this chapter rather heavily after I accidentally turned the crime scene into a gore-fest. I temporarily forgot this was a fluffy one-shot. Well, it’s become longer than I expected, that’s for sure ;-)

Also on Ao3!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

[ddproductionsw77]

The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love (Pt. 2)

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle, hints at side Lucaya and flirts with Zaya for fun.

Prompt from riarklespirfire: Part 2 of the Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love, a Riarkle enemies-to-friends-to-lovers AU

Author’s Note: I decided to keep on this one because I just loved it so much!!!! So, this is the official announcement that The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love will be a book instead of a one or two shot as originally planned. I actually already have the plot laid out and everything so…

Find it on FF.net or at Ao3 as well!

Riley Matthews was not his friend.

She really wasn’t.

Because Farkle Minkus could never be friends with someone like her.

She was just so fucking entitled, with her decent looks, social easy, and (admittedly) impressive intelligence, not to mention that having her father as one of their teachers did her attitude no favors either.

And that waltz she always seemed to have? The inherent skip in her step? It made his skin crawl.

Or rather, it usually did…

She was also astoundingly naive and so damn idealistic. No one had disillusioned her yet, explained to her that people actually weren’t always born good and sometimes bad shit just happens to people who don’t deserve it. Speaking to her was like talking to a child and Farkle didn’t have the patience for it. 

Growing up in his household, patience was definitely not a virtue.

Yet, he supposed that she wasn’t exactly his enemy anymore.

Something had changed in the last few weeks and even in his infinite stubbornness, Farkle had to admit that he might not exactly hate Riley Matthews anymore. No, he didn’t really mind her most of the time nowadays… Possibly even liked her a little bit here and there.

So, Riley Matthews was not his friend. But she wasn’t his enemy, either. She was something else. Something on the tip of Farkle’s tongue that he couldn’t quite recall but also wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to dwell on long enough to come up with it.

Not that it was a big deal or anything.

Because it wasn’t.

It was Riley fucking Matthews and Farkle could never be friends with someone like her.

That was what was running through Farkle Minkus’ mind, at least, as his gaze followed the subject in question as she crossed the cafeteria with Maya Hart by her side.

“Pretty girl, huh?” Lucas spoke up, elbowing him in the ribs as he also watched the girls take their seats.

Farkle dropped his eyes to the apple in his hand. No way in hell was he going to eat it; it was practically mush, but he didn’t like his best friend’s gloating tone.

He rolled his eyes, “Is that all you see when you look at a girl? How pretty she is?”

Zay, sitting across from the duo, had turned incredibly conspicuously in his chair to see what the fuss was. “Uh, if I’m looking at Maya Hart? Yeah, man.” He took a bite of his own mushy apple, “She’s hot.”

“What else am I exactly supposed to look at? I don’t really know Maya.” Lucas countered, gearing up for a good, old fashion, Minkus-Friar debate.

“First of all, Maya Hart? Wasn’t looking at her.” Farkle shook his head and leaned back in his seat.

“And next, you don’t need to know someone personally to learn about them. Scientists observe.” He repeated, Lucas and Zay echoing along to the last sentence in annoyance from the number of times they’d heard it before.

Farkle pressed on, regardless. “They watch patterns, monitor behaviors, track consistencies. You see a hot blonde but I see someone who never leaves the side of her closest companion, who probably has a harder home life because she always takes extra at lunch, and who fails almost every written test but can answer most questions in a classroom discussion.”

“So basically, she’s loyal, little cynical, and averagely smart.” Sitting up with an eyebrow quirked in triumph, Farkle drummed his apple on the tabletop, “Lastly, and again, Maya Hart?”

“You know what?” Lucas challenged, trying to sound annoyed but the effect was lost to the amusement clear in his expression. “Fuck you, Farkle. Fuck you on two counts because seriously, how do you do that? And also because Maya Hart is hot, even you can’t deny that.”

Farkle chuckled, leaning over the table a bit with a casual shrug, “She’s okay.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Zay threw a hand up, “If you weren’t staring at Maya Hart than who-“

Again the boy spun in his chair and Farkle inwardly groaned, slouching back into his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the way the tips of his ears were warming. Why would he be blushing? He had nothing to be embarrassed by.

Zay whirled back round, mouth agape and uneaten apple in plain sight. Charming. Really. 

“Wiley Maffhews?!” He exclaimed through the food.

Lucas cocked his head to the side, taking in the girl beside the ‘blonde beauty’, before turning to a glaring Farkle. “But you hate her?”

“Yeah, every time you see her, you start muttering about pie?” Zay suppled after swallowing.

“Pi.” Farkle corrected, instinctually, before hardening his gaze and giving both his friends scathing looks. “And I’m perfectly aware of how I feel about Riley Matthews, thanks.” He sighed, “She’s my chemistry partner, that’s all. And she may be getting to me… But just a bit!”

“Damn, you must really hate her. Usually you don’t admit when things bug you.” Lucas lightly punched Farkle’s shoulder, glancing between his friend and the brunette giggling across the cafeteria.

Zay nodded, “Yeah, you’re just an asshole about it.”

“Why am I friends with you guys, again?” The genius asked, eyeing both boys.

“See?” Zay gestured to Farkle’s whole being, “Like that!”

|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

“Matthews.”

“Minkus!”

Okay, did she really have to sound so excited to see him? It’s still just fucking chemistry. Farkle wondered even as something warm blossomed in his chest.

It has been a bad idea to talk to Riley about his parents, he had concluded the day after he’d done so. It was like she thought they had some connection now or something. He’d just been trying to prevent her from meddling in his life, not make her think they were somehow closer than before.

Because they weren’t.

“Guess what?” Riley asked, turning on her stool to face him.

Oh, and they were doing that thing now? Well okay…

“What?” Farkle answered to placate her, keeping his head down and flipping needlessly through his notebook.

Whatever hints he was trying to drop, honestly he wasn’t even sure, Riley definitely did not pick up on them. Her grin only seemed to widen, if possible, as she reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Her grip was tight with enthusiasm and odd but not entirely unwelcome. Pin pricks seemed to rise up on his skin through the sleeve of his t-shirt under the pressure. His gaze came up to rest on her perfectly manicured fingertips, eyebrows drawn in confusion as she rambled on.

“Last night I got an email from Columbia confirming my enrollment! I am officially going to be a student at Columbia University in the fall!” She practically squealed at the end, those manicure nails digging into his arm.

Farkle rolled his eyes, biting back the smile trying to fight its way on to his face, “That’s generally what confirming an enrollment means, Matthews.”

“I know that, silly! I’m just so excited!” Riley snatched her hand back to clap and bounce in her seat. Without permission, a light chuckle slipped past Farkle’s lips as he watched her, practically feeling the excitement radiating from her.

God, she’s adorable.

Wait, what? No! No, she was not. Absolutely not!

Dropping his smile, Farkle turned back to glare at his own wiry handwriting sprawled across the pages of his notebook. As if those were the thoughts that offended him and not the ones still locked in his brain.

“I’m just shocked you managed at Ivy League, Matthews. I always pegged you for a community college or maybe NYU.” He grumbled.

Riley stopped bouncing, hands still raised mid-clap. Her grin, always so infectious and genuine, slipped away to be replaced by a much less contagious but equally genuine look of hurt. 

Slowly, she folded her hands in her lap and turned back to the front of the class right as Mr. Hudson came cruising into the room.

Farkle finally started to relax with her big, brown eyes off him when he heard her hiss, “You are such an asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.” He countered, remaining expressionless.

The reply easily rolled off his tongue, but the guilt continued to roll around in his gut long after chemistry. The hurt on Riley’s face didn’t settle on his shoulder quite the way it normally did. There wasn’t any satisfaction in raining on her parade anymore…

Maybe she really was getting to him.

Farkle thumbed through his copy of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks as the subway soared through the underground. Music played in the background of his mind from the earbuds he’d popped in after leaving Abigail Adams. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to focus on the lyrics anymore than he could the words on the pages.

His eyes burned from tiredness but he’d already found that no amount of blinking would do him any good. This was a weariness deep within his bones. An exhaustion that took time to cultivate, layering and layering until it fit like a second skin.

Calling it quits, he hastily dog-eared the page he’d been on, earning a glare from the bookish girl a few seats down, and shoved the novel back into his bag.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he laid his head back against the cool glass of the window. Light flickered sporadically throughout the cart as the train barreled through the tunnel and Farkle fought to keep his eyes open and his mind awake. Falling asleep on the subway was a basic no-no to any New Yorker, but he was just so tired.

The cell phone in his pocket felt heavier than usual, it’s weight on his leg like a brick. The text he’d gotten as he boarded the subway had equal weight on his mind.

From Stuart Minkus: Your mother will be here when you get home. We’re having a family dinner. Play nice.

Play nice? What the hell did that even mean? 

Farkle wondered and drummed his thumb against his thigh. It wasn’t like he was ever not nice to his mother. He wasn’t even disrespectful, in his own opinion, that just wasn’t how she saw things.

Since the day he’d been born, Farkle had been Stuart Minkus’ son.

Not just biologically, because obviously, but in identity. Sure, his name was ridiculous but he wore it proudly because he shared it with his father, the man who’d built an empire.

His father was someone important who did important things. It was one of the first facts that Farkle knew with complete certainty, even when he was just a toddler teetering around the top floors of Minkus International. 

Sure, his father was almost always absence in his life but that came with being so important. Stuart had things to do, people to see.

Still, Farkle had spent most nights of his childhood staying up until dawn just to say a quick hello. Just to get a glance of what it was that his father gave everything to.

There was a need to please ingrained deep in his system, to earn his father’s approval.

That was not the case with Jennifer and it never had been.

Farkle had a running theory that his mother viewed him as a black hole. Before he was even eight, Farkle had learned that Everything, Farkle! You just ruin everything! and he’d learn it from his mother.

Apparently, she’d been a country club, homecoming queen with a trust fund and bright future all before she’d gotten knocked up on the second date — not that his parents would ever admit that but he could do the basic math of their September wedding and his April arrival.

He’d put the rest of the story together on his own over the years.

Barely ten minutes after the pregnancy test turned positive mom had been disowned by her family and frantically tacking ‘Minkus’ onto her last name with a precious, little parasite multiplying its cells in her uterus… Or at least that’s how she’d put it to one of her housewife friends one afternoon when she’d been drinking wine from a box and forgotten Farkle was coming home early from school to see the ophthalmologist.

Basically, Jennifer Bassett had been a massive star and the birth of her son marked the end of her life cycle. He was the black hole formed from her collapse. His existence had taken not only her life from her, but her potential, her opportunities, the very light in her soul. He’d absorbed them and destroyed them just like a black hole.

Farkle figured that was why the woman seemed to avoid him like the plague and treated him with nothing but resentment when she was around. Maybe she loved him, maybe she didn’t, these days Farkle couldn’t bring himself to care either way.

Love had never been something he’d craved anyway.

It was an illogical fallacy, after all. An unproven hypothesis for those too desperately lonely to be left to their own devices when facing the bleakness of life head on.

Fuck, he was so tired he was getting poetic. Never a good sign.

And he’d closed the door on his mommy and daddy issues long ago, so why was he dwelling on them again now all of the sudden? On the subway, of all places?

Probably because Riley fucking Matthews had come along and knocked on that damn door.

Farkle sat up straight and ran a hand down his face.

Whatever. It didn’t matter, he was going to have to face dinner with his parents either way. Awkward, suffocating, it was like playing a role he knew his mother and father preferred. It was easier having a successful, bright son after all than living in the gravitational pull of a black hole.

It was even worse than Farkle had thought it would be. And that was saying something.

The teenager threw himself down into his bed, groaning as he slowly relaxed. His whole body had been tense for the last hour and a half and even the relief ached. He reached up, tugging at his hair and thinking back over the events of the so-called ‘family dinner’.

It hadn’t been a family dinner, first of all.

Farkle had been bombarded by his father from the moment he’d stepped out of their private elevator and apparently Marty and Helen Coleman were having dinner with them. He’d barely suppressed an eye roll at the news because the Coleman’s were even more insufferable than Riley Matthews on a good day.

They were old Princeton friends of his father’s and Marty was on the board of admissions still. Farkle had been pulled aside by his father the first day he met Marty and told that 'they could use the leg up’ to get him accepted.

It had stung that his father didn’t think he could get into Princeton on merit and capability alone, that he thought Farkle needed connections and favors. But Farkle always did as his father told him. Even if it meant playing nice with a corporate asshole like Marty Coleman and his stuck-up wife.

As they sat to talk about Farkle’s 'promising future’, the boy took note that his mother was nowhere in sight. A part of him sighed in relief while a smaller piece twitched in annoyance. Wasn’t the point of the dinner that, for once, both she and Stuart were home?

Luckily however, Jennifer Bassett Minkus appeared just in time for the merlot. A small detail which didn’t really surprise her husband or son and went unnoticed by their guests. She easily fell into her well-rehearsed role of loving wife and doting mother, holding Stuart’s hand and even reaching over once to ruffle Farkle’s hair.

“Our baby boy sure is exceptional.” She grinned with teeth as white as her lies.

Farkle bit his cheek and faked a smile to the table top, playing with his hands. The tremble from his irritation was barely noticeable, he noted with sarcastic pride.

Helen laughed, one of those big ones that just came off as practiced. “Well, with such great influences, how could he not be?”

Ah, irony.

Farkle and irony were old buddies.

“So, Farkle, you still set on Princeton next fall?” Marty questioned, pushing the broccoli around his plate. Had Farkle tried to have pulled that, he’d have been snapped at to stop playing with his food… or, if his father had noticed, made to name all of the nutrients in each piece.

The teenager nodded, “Of course, sir. Princeton is the dream.”

“Just like his old man,” Stuart said, clapping his son on the back. “Farkle was officially named valedictorian about a week ago and his test scores are impeccable. Kid’s gonna give me a run for my money one of these days.”

And yet he could still 'use the leg up’… Sure.

Anyway, the dinner ended up feeling more like a job interview.

What were his goals?

His strengths? Weaknesses?

Where did he see himself in ten years?

His parents and the Coleman’s did realize he’d only been 18 for two weeks, right? Sure, in fucking middle school he’d thought he’d rule the world but things changed. He had realized quickly how easily someone could topple you from your high horse, how exhausting it was to be on point every second of every day, to never let it all in…

Really, all the dinner had done was remind Farkle Minkus of both just how uncertain his future really was and yet how little choice he had in it.

Farkle shot into an upright position on the edge of his mattress, bouncing one leg and drumming his cell phone against the thigh of the other. Suddenly, he felt incredibly restless and wired. Running a hand down his face, he thought about maybe texting Zay or calling Lucas, maybe even video chatting Smackle.

The problem was that he didn’t really want to do any of those things.

His legs twitched more sporadically and it felt like his skin was crawling.

What he wanted was to move.

Jumping up, he grabbed the jacket from the back of his desk chair and practically flew across the room to his door. Slipping down the hall to the private elevator, Farkle glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the muffled yelling from his parents.

Maybe he should tell him he was leaving; it was what most responsible teenagers did, right?

Without pausing in his stride, Farkle stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor, not even seeing his mother or father before the doors slide closed.

He pulled at his hair as he moved through the lobby and waved to the doorman in passing before stepped out into the chilly night air of New York. A perk of being further north in the spring, Farkle thought.

He veered to the left, not really having any idea where he wanted to go or really caring as long as it was no longer the top floor of Minkus International.

When had his own home become so suffocating?

His ceiling was a planetarium and his bedroom alone was the size of some small apartments, he had more space than he knew what to do with. 

So, why did it feel like the residence was slowly running out of oxygen, filling more and more with carbon monoxide with each passing? The ratio was all off and it made his head feel dizzy even as it pounded.

Farkle didn’t know how long he was walking before he came to stand before Topanga’s, hands stuffed into his pockets. Somehow, in all of New York, he ended up at the cafe her family owned.

Standing at the railing, he could see the glowing ‘OPEN’ sign and, just behind it, Riley Matthews sitting at the corner booth and tucking cutlery into paper napkins.

She looked…nice and happy, Farkle guessed.

She was smiling warmly and nodding, glancing to the side now and then to say something to her mother behind the counter, that curly brown hair cascading over her shoulder each time. Her younger brother was on one of the cozy chairs, occasionally tossing an opinion over his shoulder to the women. They would both just roll their eyes, Riley’s chocolate ones always looking more amused than annoyed. And even Mr. Matthews was there, sitting across from his daughter and grading papers.

They looked like whatever it was his family always tried to look like.

Clenching the railing until it hurt a little, Farkle felt something cold and bitter in his chest.

Riley just had to have everything, didn’t she? The personality, the looks, the loving family, and the perfect grades. How exactly was he supposed to not hate her?

As he watched, Riley’s eyes flickered over her father’s shoulder and to the window, to him.

Her smile remained, only her eyebrows creasing together. They watched each other for a long moment and Farkle felt something completely different flicker to life in his chest. Something like fire, catching in his lungs and tightening his muscles until they too burned.

Riley’s gaze shifted back down and she slid from the booth, causing Farkle’s stomach to drop.

He was suddenly extremely aware that he’d just been standing there and watching her like a fucking stalker, and only after being a total dick to her just earlier that day. So, now he was going to have to face the music of that snappy voice and ‘resting bitch face’ as Zay deemed it.

Riley stopped to say something to her father, resting a hand on his shoulder, before bouncing over to the door. She grabbed a jacket and pulled it on as she pushed her away outside, stopping to stand a few feet from the door as it slowly shut behind her. She looked up at him, still on the stairs and still painfully gripping the railing.

“You look at little like your detoxing.” Riley said after a long moment of silence.

Farkle cocked his head to the side, “I might be feeling a little on edge.”

Her eyebrows drew closer together and she took another step forward, looking down at her boots, “Is everything okay, Farkle?”

Why did she have to do that? Ask like that? Like she cared? Why, why, why on Earth would she care? She didn’t even want to breathe the same air as him a few weeks ago! He hated her, but so what, because she hated him, too, right?

So, why?

It was infuriating to him that there was no equation or textbook that he could turn to for the answers on Riley Matthews. With little to now options left, he just narrowed his eyes at her and shrugged, collapsing down to sit on the cement steps.

Riley bit the inside of her cheek and paused a second before moving to stand before him at the bottom of the stairs. Her hands were folded in front of her, those ever-smiling rosebud lips downcast to form a steady frown. Her eyes scanned over at him from up close and she shifted on her feet.

“Is…” She seemed to hesitate before powering on, “Is it your parents?”

Farkle’s hung head shot up, hand in his hair, looking bewildered. Maybe he didn’t give Riley Matthews enough credit because apparently she was much more preceptive than he’d ever thought.

It was all the answer Riley needed.

With a nod, she came to stand less than a foot from him, raising her eyebrows expectantly and nudging his knee with her hand, “Well, move over!”

Since he hated her, he probably should have just told her to fuck off but Farkle found himself sliding to make room for the girl instead. She positioned herself directly next to him on the step, their shoulders brushing from the narrowness of the railings.

Clapping her hands together, Riley turned her head to him and gave him a look, “Are we really going to do this who uncomfortable silence thing again? Just talk, Minkus! I’m only trying to help!”

“Yeah, but, why?” He asked before he could stop himself. He had to know, as a scientist he could only seek answers to life’s mysteries.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” She asked, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward.

“Well, Matthews, I thought I was ‘such an asshole’.”

The corners of Riley’s mouth flickered and she bit her lip, shaking her head, “And you are. But luckily for you, I am not.”

Farkle’s finally let his eyes roamed over her as she examined her hands closely.

Her every edge looked so soft, like a glow encased her and made it impossible for him to sharpen his focus when viewing her so directly. Like the sun… or maybe a quasar, what the scientific community agreed was the brightest point of light in the known universe.

“No, you’re not.” The second he said it, he wanted to club himself over the head.

Riley froze at his words.

What the utter fuck is wrong with you, Minkus?

He silently prayed to the god he didn’t believe in that she would just let it slip, let it go. He should have known better, though, because Riley Matthews didn’t let things go. She poked and prodded, meddled and schemed.

Slowly, she turned her head to him and leaned in closer, something Farkle would have thought impossible a moment before with how tightly they were already packed. But suddenly he couldn’t think at all because, goddamn, the girl was practically just inches from him and staring right into his soul, as if she truly believed he had one.

“Have you ever read Robert Frost?” Riley asked in a hushed tone, her open gaze flickering over his face before settling on his electric eyes. “Fire and Ice?”

Numbly, he shook his head, recalling somewhere in the back of his mind the cool, icy hatred he’d been encased in at seeing Riley with her perfect life and family and how quickly he’d thawed just under weight of her warm scrutiny.

She licked her lips and Farkle couldn’t help but just glance, just flicker, down to her mouth.

For some reason, the sight made it hard to swallow as he forced himself back to her eyes.

“Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire,” She paused and maybe he was crazy but he thought she might have glanced down at his own lips before continuing, “I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice,”

Riley then wrenched her gaze from him, looking out at the little patio in front of Topanga’s while still whispering, only quicker, and playing with her hands, “I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.”

Smiling a little, she stood and turned to face him. Her arms crossed over her chest, one hand moving up to tuck her hair behind her ear as she watched her shuffling feet, “Maybe that’ll help you understand why, Farkle.”

And then Riley turned and slipped back inside of Topanga’s without another word to him.

Farkle followed her movements, watching as she seemed to melt right back into her family with ease and feeling even more restless and wired than he had when he’d set out.

Okay, wow! Like, soooo much sexual tension and I, like, wasn’t even planning on that! Like, holy shit! Fire and Ice is my favorite Robert Frost and I thought it was very appropriate for this pair… In this story, I’ve kind of established science as Farkle’s things, but english and literature is definitely Riley’s. I always head-canon Riley as a writer, to be honest, because of the Girl Meets 1961 and Rosie McGee being one.

[sleepymarmot]

DS9 season 4 liveblog

[Season index: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 PS]

The Way of the Warrior

they changed the music! I liked the original arrangement better. I guess they decided that if they have to change the opening titles, better redo them from scratch?

I love how the Klingon general dramatically cuts his hand. It's like looking at the origins of an ancient ritual which real and very important meaning has long been forgotten. Tbh I thought the crew would do the same in the previous episode, but they went for the less dramatic blood tests :D

How was the Obsidian Order destroyed? The Dominion destroyed the fleet that the Order wasn't even supposed to have. What about all of their normal agents, infrastructure, gathered intelligence? 

"Not like you? Impossible" (note: as I prepare to publish this post, having just finished season 5, it seems this line was the last time they ever shared a flirty moment... rip garashir 1993-1995)

finally!

please stop reminding me about that awful movie thanks

Poor Worf is so awkward as usual

"And I find you offensive. Now hold up your arm, or I'll have the security do it for you"

"Captain Sisko bet me that you would thank him for the rescue before you started complaining." "I lost."

The Visitor

I have a hard time becoming invested in stories like this, when I know that the entire timeline would be undone by the end. The final scene did manage to make me tear up a bit, but overall I'm not impressed. At least it's not outright terrible like The Inner Light...

Hippocratic Oath

Wait, did Bashir get promoted between seasons?

I don't think that joke about Keiko was very good :\ But this is the second time Miles comes really close to confessing his love for Julian... what's up with that

seriously, why does the new theme have such a messy rhythm? it's as if the beat is out of sync with the melody

Odo is such an unusual security officer, of course there's conflict between him and Worf. I'm glad they're addressing this!

of course O'Brien does a transporter trick

oh come oooon O'Brien do you really need to be such a jerk this week

Sisko is nicer to Worf than I expected

the last scene between Bashir and O'Brien is very poignant

Indiscretion

The runabout scene with Kira and Dukat is unsettling because this rhetoric is too real...

The Worst Field Trip(tm)

Julian & Jadzia's Judging Corner: priceless

honestly the absolute last thing i expected was for Dukat's butt to get so much attention...

Ziyal looks much younger than someone who was 13yo six years ago

halfway through the episode I thought Ziyal would be that Cardassian girl from season 2, I mean there was a reason for that scene, right? right?

great episode

Rejoined

Oh, Dax got promoted too

Trill society sounds dumber and dumber with each episode

Kahn is so beautiful, charming and well-dressed. damn

how did my mom manage to walk into the room just as they kissed? is that a special parent talent

;_;

"your work produced the first artificially created wormhole in history" not counting, you know, THE wormhole

welp. a romance episode finally made me cry :(

Starship Down

Wait, is the alien played by Odo's actor? 

this is like a really boring version of "Disaster"...

Dax knows Bashir now better than a year ago? He hasn't changed much over the past year, the difference is rather between seasons 1-2 and later ones, plus they seemed pretty good friends in season 1 already, not like "she was avoiding him" -- in fact, I thought she was his only friend at the time. Their body language is cute as hell though.

Damn, I could hardly keep track of the plot in this one... or why the characters were saying what they were saying... how dull

you know what was the selling point of The Disaster? characters in unusual combinations and roles! I see none of this here...

Little Green Men

ew using someone else's tooth sharpener

omg Odo! :D

what, Klingons and Vulcans didn't have warp drive by 20th century?

The Sword of Kahless

what, this was the little boy we saw in TNG? Klingon children sure grow fast...

is this sword telepathically infected or something?

So, when Worf was acting OOC he wasn't under outside influence? okay... I enjoyed this episode, but under the assumption that Worf's dishonorable actions would be explained

Our Man Bashir

Bashir's taste is about as lame as Picard's...

"I think I joined the wrong intelligence service"

"This is more than I ever wanted to know about your fantasy life" same tbh... it's enough to remember these gross tropes exist somewhere out there, I don't need them in Star Trek reenacted by my faves

This just made me remember how much I dislike James Bond... We just had a cheesy 20th century pastiche two episodes ago, but at least I don't have anything against that genre. Not to judge what people do behind the holosuite's closed doors, but it's pretty offputting to see a 24 century man so enamored with this sexist fiction. And I have pretty much the same reaction to kisses with not-Kira and not-Dax as in the Mirror Universe episode, though to a lesser degree; that was pretty gross and exploitative. It's as if someone decided that the show wasn't straight enough after Rejoined and decided to compensate...

Also I think this was the first time ever that Bashir wasn't happy to see Garak. It feels strange and sad...

I expected Garak to spend all episode making fun of silly tropes, but the little he said was pretty weak. Though I liked the confrontation in the end and the way Bashir repeated Garak's speech.

And I don't think they even took advantage of the J. B. initials. Come on! :D

Homefront

"I prefer Klingon beliefs. Our gods are dead. Ancient Klingon warriors slew them a millennia ago. They were more trouble than they were worth." I think I prefer Klingon beliefs too...

Why did Sisko put on TNG-type uniform?

Is that Leah Brahms?

Very relevant story about security vs civil rights, and it's very fitting for Odo to be here -- not just because of the plot. I really like the thematic unity between the changeling storyline and Odo's personal issues as a character.

Come on, it's so easy to deprive the entire planet of power?

Paradise Lost

This title is very ominous...

Cadet Shepard haha

I think I've heard this boast... "We have five million Cybermen. How many are you?" "Four." "You would destroy the Cybermen with four Daleks?" "We would destroy the Cybermen with one Dalek!"

So, Earth and DS9 can communicate in real time? But in the previous episode, DS9 "received a recording of a high level diplomatic conference that took place on Earth a few days ago". I assumed the delay was due to the distance, but apparently not -- was the recording just classified before someone decided to send it to Sisko?

Wait, what President's speech? Did I miss something?

I liked the first part better. So, the changeling terrorist attack on the same week was just a coincidence? Everyone seemed to forget about that...

Crossfire

Odo/Kira scene is cute instead of irritating for once

"You could hear that?" "*points to lobes* Hello?"

"I have reason to believe someone is planning to assassinate First Minister Shakaar" and by someone you mean Winn?

Odo and Worf discussing security and order! 

are they replacing Odo/Kira/Bareil with Odo/Kira/Shakaar? How many nice but bland Bajoran dudes can be in love with her?

"Frankly, I don't care whether you and Major Kira end up living happily ever after or not. I just want to see the situation resolved" same

ok, I get it, falling in love makes you very upset, bad at your job, and is sad and frustrating to watch on tv screen. nothing new here

Return to Grace

"Is that what you kept track of during the occupation? No wonder you lost"

"It bothers him, you know. Very much. He talks about it sometimes" crocodile tears... literally

some men just won't take a hint...

wait, since it was previously mentioned that Cardassian flirting is bickering, does Dukat genuinely misinterpret Kira and think he's got a chance here??

so much for keeping Klingon secrets from the Cardassians...

There's something about this dynamic I really appreciate, but I can't yet articulate it. The way Kira confidently and unflinchingly deflects all the bullshit he sends her way? How she is allowed to be right in her unforgiving stance? That being civil and working together with someone and seeing their better side does not mean all their past (and present) misdeeds are forgotten and they're suddenly your friend? Maybe this is the infamous "grey morality" done right -- not the indiscriminate tolerance and moral relativism, but allowing the other side to plead their case without losing sight of what made them "the other side" in the first place.

Sons of Mogh

Jadzia has a great "I'm gonna fuck that" face

"Charged with murder?" Have these people never heard of assisted suicide?

"I don't give a damn about Klingon beliefs, rituals or custom" ohhh so when we talk about Bajoran religion we all have to be tolerant and culturally sensitive and understanding, but Klingons are not allowed to perform their own rituals among themselves?

Wait, did Kurn consent to this or?...

A second good Klingon episode in the season that is tainted by the heroes' inexplicable immoral decisions. Last time Mr. Honor attemped murder in the most dishonorable day possible; this time ritual assisted suicide was deemed outrageous but likely nonconsensual mindwipe is an acceptable solution. The former can be headcanoned away with the assumption that the sword had some curse on it. My headcanon for the latter: people other than Sisko wouldn't have objected to the ritual (Dax canonically, O'Brien was implied to), so they accepted Worf's other solution on the same grounds.

Bar Association

Haha, Odo brings up Rascals, one of TNG's most ridiculous security failures :D

"Have you have any idea how bored I used to get sitting in the Transporter room waiting for something to break down? Here, I've a half dozen new problems every day. This station needs me" Damn, I hoped he got to do something interesting that we just weren't shown...

Wait, O'Brien got into a physical fight with Worf of all people?!

"If this was Ferenginar, I'd have you all taken to the Spire of the Tower of Commerce, displayed to the crowds in the Great Marketplace below, then shoved off, one by one. Small children would bet on where you would land, and your spattered remains would be sold as feed mulch for gree-worms" lol remember Quark's little speech about Ferengi not being barbaric?

I really care about this messed up family...

Yaaaaay I'm so happy for Rom! :D

Ferenginar sounds no less oppressive than Cardassia. I want a revolution! You know what, now that the Dominion has kindly disposed of the Tal Shiar and the Obsidian Order, can it take the FCA next? I, for one, would welcome our new gelatinous overlords in this case...

(I'm not a fan of that Leeta/Bashir background noise, thank you very much.)

Accession

"Quark, did you hear? Chief O'Brien is having a baby!" "I thought your females carried your young."

people from the past should stay in the past... apparently only 50 years ago Bajor was a pretty oppressive place too... 

"Maybe you never realised this, Captain, but we would've tried to do whatever you asked of us when you were Emissary, no matter how difficult it seemed" well that's creepy

oh come on Kira, don't follow your religion so blindly...

O'Brien and Bashir is the real love story of this show istg

oh god they have an untouchable caste too

and of course the aliens can't tell which is the true Emissary because the word "first" isn't in their vocabulary lol

The aliens say "First. Later. They have no meaning to us." -- and in the same conversation use grammatical tense to indicate the order of events: "This IS the one that WAS injured." "He WAS injured" "We KEPT him with us" "The Sisko TAUGHT us" -- so they must have some perception of time

"We are of Bajor" oh? since when do you even know that word? did the poet teach you?

these two are so awkward that poor Keiko has to play matchmaker for her own husband :D bless her

I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the direction of this story... Sisko was completely right to feel uncomfortable as a saint for a religion he doesn't believe in of planet he's not from, but it turned out he's so awesome that the Prophets chose him over the man from this culture who fits the descriptions in the sacred texts. Because only an enlightened human can lead the silly natives -- by following one of their own they'd go back to the dark ages! Yuck.

I've seen more than half of the show now... time flies fast.

Rules of Engagement

Courtroom episode!

I like the clever cinematography & editing

Hard Time

Poor O'Brien...

Well. This was really upsetting. I've been crying for several minutes now.

TNG repeatedly failed to show the recovery after a character's traumatic experience -- specifically, Picard's loss of time in The Inner Light and imprisonment and torture in Chain of Command. DS9 finally delivers an episode just about that -- even if the next week the status quo will be restored and I'll have the same complaint. 

What Miles goes through is completely horrific -- so much that I can't imagine how one can survive that. Even as a viewer I want to wipe this from my memory and pretend it didn't happen... For my own peace of mind I'm gonna pretend O'Brien's friend was a part of the simulation, and later he managed to erase it all from his mind somehow.

Now I kinda want a story where the characters become self-aware and O'Brien decides to get away from his sadistic writers (and Bashir helps him, sacrificing their friendship for O'Brien's well-being).

Shattered Mirror

Always nice to see Worf's hair loose

Well, at least Dax is angry at Sisko for the rape by deception...

Why is Kira still wearing that shit...

at this rate you won't have any characters left for the next episode

The Muse

will this adult woman leave Jake alone

poor Sisko

Odo: "Actually, I have some free time and I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk." Worf: "I would." Odo: "I meant Lwaxana."

"Well, just don't go do what I did. Look for someone to fix your broken heart then end up pregnant and on the run." "I don't think there's too much danger of that happening."

aah Odo makes her a blanket! (well, I guess he owed her a night of sleep on his lap...) this entire scene was so sweet

eww not the pedo woman again

why must I watch this

Odo and Lwaxana playing hide-and-seek!!! this is the best thing ever

oh my god this is such a fanfic trope

ew can I just fast-forward through this?

"If you don't mind, this is a very special moment for me"

"You know, for a minute there, I really believed you wanted to marry me" ahh poor Odo's face :( even when he literally declares he wants someone in his life, that person thinks he didn't mean it...

aaaaaah! the goodbye scene!!! Lwaxana is so good! this is so significant and beautiful, this is Lwaxana recognizing and preventing her biggest negative trait/habit (pursiung and harassing disinterested men) with one of her more rarely shown positive traits (compassion and emotional intelligence)

i don’t know what to say about an episode where the main story is 0/10 but the side story is 10/10

For the Cause

Finally, some info on replicator sharing policy! "The Federation only gave Bajor two CFI [industrial] replicators” 

"If she's really a Maquis, then she's no longer a Federation citizen" wait what?! I thought this was the entire reason Starfleet had to keep them in check -- because they were Federation outlaws! have they proclaimed their own state while I wasn't looking?

have they recast Ziyal? she looks different

I don't appreciate all this UST

"I would not become a terrorist. It would be dishonourable" "I wouldn't say that around Major Kira if I were you"

she... invites him... to a SAUNA??! ohhh my god whyyyyyy who wrote this

You go Kira!

okaaay I definitely missed something major about the Maquis formally leaving the Federation

well at least Cardassians enjoy their saunas fully dressed, that's a relief. the idea of lizard people lying around on heated rocks for relaxation is actually really cute, though

To be honest, I was dreading Garak's scenes in this episode. It seems that the writers ran out of Mysterious Past and Unclear Motivations to hint at, and stripped of that he's just... not particularly interesting. Plus, this episode confirmed my unpleasant impression that starting with this season, the producers/writers decided to forcibly drag Garak and Bashir away from each other and throw girls at them no matter how random and/or inappropriate it looks. At least they recast Ziyal so now she actually looks 19 instead of 13! (The problem is, in the previous episode she acted like a child, too, and you can't forget that she's a generation younger, so it's still pretty gross.)

Eddington's point about assimilation would have worked better without the rest of that inane speech. "Why is the Federation so obsessed with the Maquis? We've never harmed you" -- They're obsessed because you're a threat to their foreign relations, what's so hard to understand about that? "We've left the Federation" -- When? When?! Left Starfleet, sure, but the Federation?! Isn’t that the entire reason Starfleet is pursuing them -- because the Federation is responsible for handling its citizens and stopping them from committing crimes against its neighbor!?

To the Death

Iconians -- that's from "Contagion", right?

I like this guy...

"What is the point of doing battle if you cannot enjoy the fruits of victory?" "You mean sleep?" :D

I love how Whatshisname casually gives out the white, rolling his eyes and barely moving attention from his plate -- so different from the Jem'Hadar perspective we saw in Hippocratic Oath!

"I didn't know that was public knowledge." "You told Commander Dax." "Well, that explains it."

O'Brien's answer to the Jem'Hadar! "I am Chief Miles Edward O'Brien. I'm very much alive and I intend to stay that way"

The Quickening

bwahaha

whoa, a city? if it the first one we've seen in the Gamma Quadrant? lovely matte painting

of course they make everything worse. Because being Culturally Advanced and Civilized won't always instantly solve any problem, and hospices and euthanasia aren't evil.

"I was so arrogant I thought I could find one in a week." "Maybe it was arrogant to think that. But it's even more arrogant to think there isn't a cure just because you couldn't find it." Good one, Dax! We're really going back to the pivotal traits of his character in this episode. (Someone on the writing staff: "Hmm, we haven't mentioned Julian's arrogance and hero/savior complex for a couple of months...")

He swallows his pride and decides to stay! I'm proud

I did have a suspicion that the pregnancy would solve everything...

I'm really glad the local doctor wasn't villainized! When Bashir was setting up his clinic I was afraid that he'd raise the townspeople to destroy it or something.

Bashir has more luck with medical episodes than Crusher and Pulaski...

Body Parts

Jadzia's female solidarity!

Alright, how is this one episode going to fit in Keiko's pregnancy (and presumably childbirth?), Quark's condition, Brunt, and Garak? 

Federation technology is amazing...

Second time someone calls DS9 a "Cardassian monstrosity". That would make a good tumblr url... Wait, it's not even taken -- I'm very tempted...

of course Brunt bought him, why else would he be in the opening credits? :D this is so beautifully malicious

finally an episode that makes Quark look like a good person

Garak's face says "Killing you sounds like a great idea" :D :D

This is the most delightfully bizarre way to handle an actress' pregnancy :D

QUARK SHOPPING FOR MURDER-SUICIDE OPTIONS WITH GARAK =  AMAZING

(not to mention very relatable...)

This is Garak's best outing in the entire season, tbh :D

Don't forget to undo your contract with Garak...

aww

This was a blast! This is a huge step in Quark's character development: following Nog and Rom, now he decides to break his society's rules. I'm very happy. ...But what about Garak, though?

Broken Link

Poor Odo...

aw encouraging Quark

"I'm thinking of asking Julian to come live with us. Even things up a little" Is that the only reason? ;)

"Captain, I want to be judged. I'm the only changeling who's ever harmed another. I've spent most of my life bringing people to justice. Now that it's my turn, how can I run away?"

"Don't tell me you'd object to a little genocide in the name of self-defence?" This is such a Cardassian line...

Why human and not Bajoran?

Oh Odo, just as he got comfortable with his identity as a shape-shifter... :/

General impressions:

Bashir in season 4, a summary: "Friendship ended with Garak, now Miles O'Brien is my best friend" Seriously, though... O'Brien and Bashir's relationship has become one of my favourite parts of the show. They got lots of good content this season: countless casual/humorous scenes, conflict in Hippocratic Oath, need for each other's company in Accession, talking down from suicide in Hard Time... And Garak was the most underwhelming part of the season for me, both himself and his relationship with Bashir -- or lack of it. I'm not even asking for shippy stuff, I know it's not going to be canon, but can't they just share screentime and enjoy each other's company, like they did before and Bashir does with O'Brien now?

And while the writers seem unsure what to do with Garak now, Dukat continues to be incredibly entertaining. Need a personification of Cardassian oppression? An unwanted ally the protagonist(s) would barely tolerate? A pompous prick to make fun of? A dangerously charismatic speaker -- or a windbag who thinks himself much cooler than he is? A relatively sympathetic opponent to provide "grey morality"? Well, here's all of that in one character! And my favourite thing is that despite being so immoral, he's not actually an enemy plot-wise (at least so far), so instead of fighting, defeating, and getting him out of the picture, the heroes just keep telling him how much he sucks. An interesting antagonist with a decent amount of screentime -- the dream. But all of that was about the character in general, and my favourite thing about his two episodes in this season is that he's self-aware of his status as a Complex Antagonist and completely overestimates the "complex and sympathetic" part, and (mis)casts himself as some kind of sexy byronic antihero whose deep and rich inner world will eventually win over the feisty heroine. Meanwhile, Kira is really not into villain/protagonist pairings and just wants the creepy guy responsible for genocide against her people to leave her alone. This was filmed twenty years ago but looks like a parody/deconstruction of currently popular ships like reylo or solavellan -- I find it really hilarious. (Maybe I’d feel more grossed out than amused if his behavior disturbed Kira more -- but she seems so gloriously unimpressed!)

I generally like Klingons and was glad to see Worf again, all of his episodes had something that stopped me from fully enjoying them.

It was my impression that Kira’s screetime got reduced because of Nana Visitor’s pregnancy -- and it was actually a good thing for the show! I feel bad saying this about one of the only two main female characters, but Kira is obviously the writers’ favorite, and got the most attention over the past seasons, so stepping back a bit let other characters shine more.