#and not because he lost a well paced fight but because of his ego?? like did you watch z he’s always been one of the more cautious z fighter

[waffle-time-god]

Fuck you db super I’ll never forgive you for what you did to my boy Krillin

[tubbypeddle]

Guido Mista x reader headcanons! (sfw, nsfw)

afab! reader, for context

(credits to gif owner)

(sfw)

-he's a touchy touchy guy, don't you know? he has to have at least one of his hands on you at all times. out on a walk? he has a hand in your butt pocket, around your waist. trying to wash dishes? he's hugging you from behind. literally just going shopping? trailing behind you like a lost puppy with his arms around your waist.

-when he can't touch you, he's making faces at you from across the room to get you to laugh. the sight of your smile makes him weak, you know. he's not a weak man, but that smile,,,

-the sound of your laughter makes him weaker, believe it or not. that's the main reason he initiates so many tickle fights. that, and the constant rolling around makes his blood run south, if you know what im sayin ;)

-it's very rare that you two get into arguments, but when you do, it's about his attitude about things. Sometimes, it'll feel like he's not taking the relationship seriously, because of how relaxed he is all the time, but he really is. your relationship with him means the world

-NAP DATES!!!

-Mista absolutely loves nap dates. just laying in his bed and sleeping the free day away, cuddled close to each other,,,,

-that's his own personal heaven right there

-or even if you wanna go out and do something for a date, he doesn't mind as long as he's doing it with his favorite person

-although, his favorite "going out" dates are the ones where you two go to the beach just to swim. seeing you in a swim suit makes his brain go awooga, you see. and also, just you two swimming and splashing around.

-it's a perfect picture of domesticity.

(nsfw below the cut)

-total ass guy

-he loves your ass, and will take every chance he can to touch it, spank it, grope it, whatever. he just wants dat ass

-so you best believe doggy is his favorite position

-doesn't matter if he's eating you out or fucking you, if your ass is not in the air, he's not doing it right.

-laughter during sex is also another one of his favorite things. he doesn't take too many things in his life too seriously, and sex is no different. it's just an activity he likes doing with you, and like all of his shared activities that he does with you, he wants to hear you laugh during it

-well, actually, he wants to hear all of your sounds. he's big on hearing everything that comes from you

-it's a sort of ego boost. to know that he makes you feel so good that you can't contain your noises

-if you seem too nervous at some point, he'll stop what he's doing to goof around with you, lighten the mood. he wants you to be comfortable with him

-he refuses to bed you anywhere but on a bed. it's the gentleman in him.

-unless you work him up too much, and at that point, just pray that nobody can hear you from where ever he drags you for a quickie

-his pace is usually slow, but deep and hard. He wants you to really feel him.

-he'll move you with his pace, hands grabbing at your ass cheeks hard enough that your flesh spill between his fingers.

-if you're into spanking, he'll spank you. not hard, he doesn't wanna hurt you, even if you beg for it. he'd feel too bad. but he will clap it just to see it jiggle 🤭

[bengiyo]

Last Twilight Ep 3 Stray Thoughts

Last time, Mhok began working and was pleased with his salary. He may be rough around the edges, but he was doing his "easy" job. He had some initial friction with Day around moving his things and taking care of the fish, but things came to a head when Day tried to run from strangers seeing his condition. Mhok got triggered, thinking Day might hurt himself, and broke into his room. Mhok got fired, but Porjai came to talk to Day about Mhok putting himself through an exercise to understand Day's disability more and the two have reconciled for now.

I like the two of them straightening Day's room together and understanding the system to help him find things. It's a relief to see Day having fun with it.

The inflatable dino costumes are so silly. This is fun.

Now, Mhok, you know better than to swipe through someone else's pictures.

They saw Day making progress around the house and made him instantly clam back up by suggesting he go back to school.

Mhok's relationship with Porjai is used very well here. I love that she has moved on from Mhok and is happy, so I don't feel bad about her giving perspective and wondering about some jealousy plotline.

I like the pace of the relationship between Mhok and Day so far. Day is already asking Mhok for help on his own.

I will always love teachers who refuse to let students give up on themselves.

Mhok is a good listener and supporter. I like that he doesn't involve himself in the conversations between the family or the teacher, and that he aids Day's attempt to avoid notice.

Said the name of the show. Finish your drinks.

Thank you for keeping the lights on, Oishii.

I like how Mhok plays with the preconceptions that he doesn't know much to encourage Day to figure out some things. It's a very gentle approach that uses Day's own ego to move him forward.

WE HAVE FINALLY USED THE BANGKOK METRO SYSTEM IN A BL. 🎉 IPYTM came close, but we never went inside.

I love that Mhok tried to prank Day with the pink shirt. Later, in the dressing room, we know he's watching out for Day because he confirmed that he knew what was on the shirt he picked.

I like the way the physical tension between them around Day's exposed body is building.

And Day made Mhok get the pink shirt! I love this.

Mhok being sure to include Day in the conversation with the bookstore owner is a great touch. I like that he didn't let Day give up and insisted they find the book today.

Even if it's a bit artificial, I like Mhok slipping the book where Day would find it to help him have a sense of accomplishment since Day had been also sifting through books.

The last page is missing? How will we know the ending? Okay, Aof. I see you.

Increasing the price because he's Mhok's friend was so fun. It's the kind of detail that makes the world feel like it has a history. It was clearly a joke and let Day have fun.

Oh, we were having such a good day, and now Mhok feels like he has to defend Porjai and in a fight against Porjai's two-timing boyfriend. Now Day is lost.

Oh my goodness, did Mhok switch to the pink shirt to make himself more visible? I am going to melt.

Mhok is so ready for people to look down on him that he immediately owned his own history rather than let the mom hold it over him.

Oh shit that was great eye shine from Jimmy when Day started saying how much he appreciates Mhok.

Not sure what all is going on with Night and Day yet, but I like that he came to Mhok's defense after they left the room.

That was a really well done wind down for this episode.

More of Film next week!!

So, I'm really loving this show and so glad that a GMMTV show is back to sound episodic structure. Jimmy and Sea both feel much more attuned to their characters and their chemistry feels a lot easier than their last outing. This is a solid watch

[mr-president]

Haiiii do you hc Jamie as Yun and yang’s youngest brother? I heard they were cousins, but apparently that’s also false :0

technically, jamie is completely unrelated to the twins by blood. the reason they know him is because they saved jamie when he was a kid from gangsters. it’s unclear if they took him in and patched him up, gave him a home, or if jamie just started following them around like a lost puppy, but considering how much jamie admires them to the point where he holds himself to the standards of BOTH brothers (as well as a lot of other jamie traits), i like to think they adopted him basically

the reason jamie’s likely called their “cousin” is because there isn’t really as meaningful of a word in english, or none with the same connotations, as a really close family friend to the point where you are basically family. the word is still basically “cousin,” if that makes sense? i use the same terminology with my chinese family friends when referring to them in shorthand for the equivalence of our relationship. so, yeah, there’s no blood connection (cowards capcom!!), but the meaning of the term is essentially the same

but yes! i hc that jamie’s basically adopted, and a lot of that comes from my own understanding of yun and yang’s characters as well, basically how jamie breaks the flow of their typical dynamic.

when it comes to yun, not much changes—he can still be the older brother type that you can, should, and do look up to. and jamie does, fervently, but he still breaks the pace of yun’s typical demeanor by providing another source for yun to bully (lovingly, of course). but jamie’s definitely very rebellious compared to the more “ughhhhh fucking…fine…” disgruntlement of yang, which is why i want to explore yun getting his tricks backfiring on him.

it becomes much more interesting with yang, who’s nursing an inferiority complex the size of the ming dynasty. we know, for one, that yang already has a habit of (and fondness for) taming stray cats and caring for them, and i could definitely see him doing the same for jamie when they first meet. but also, jamie is a mirror of that part of yang that can’t help but feel inferior in every possible way, making up for it with aggression and ego.

don’t get me wrong, the expressions of their personalities are completely different (yang kind of copes, seethes, and plots watching yun be better at him at basically everything, lashing out in his fighting style and taunts; jamie projects it outward, emulating yun’s personability and carefree bastard flair in his own unique style, and also a lot of alcohol). but ultimately, these aspects of jamie i believe would contribute to yang particularly really, really caring for jamie.

also, even though jamie’s ego is like some part a shield, for him to express it in such a vogue, genuine manner, i’m fairly sure the twins absolutely gassed him the fuck up as a kid to bring his confidence and will to live back.

either way, i really hope the adoration on jamie’s side towards the twins is mutual; he acts like it may not be. but that’d be hella boring if not, and i think jamie deserves to be happy :3

[knifeeater]

director’s commentary for bruise pristine? >.< literally reread it this morning. thank u for my life ily <3

hi, ily 💕

so, little backstory, when i was listening to tvl on audiobook half awake i fever dreamed a combination of the lestat & armand palais de royal fight/tower scene where they actually hate fucked to the point that i was of the hard conviction it actually truly happened in canon for like half a year. daniel molloy tv programme voice 'can he make his dream a reality?'

smth i really wanted to focus on was fear and resentment, not only because it is so defining for their dynamic, but also becomes smth metaphysical, transmutating, erotic. it helped me to understand their characters so much by reading them through the prisms of each other, and the absent gravity well of louis between them. their initial encounter figures to me as a violent turning point in both of their vampiric existences that hooks upon their opposing forces. for armand, who's a creature of the mind and lives an almost disembodied, quasi-spiritual interned life to this point is broken down by lestat's physical violence, the first thing that truly touches him in centuries, a crack that opens him to the horrors of his past. lestat has lived his life so far through the power of his body, his strength as the sword he uses to cut through the world to pave his way. armand's mental powers are something he can not physically grasp or defend himself from, reaching somewhere inside he does not want to go because he needs to keep himself contained, a horror of loss of control that reaches back far into his past as well. this power of armand as something ephemeral and uncanny is what made me realize that this is, for lestat, what the witches' place revolves around, so that is where he sinks in his delirium at the end ('sorcière, feu d'un ange de la mort' - 'witch, fire of an angel of death').

i love a slide on spatial & temporal registers, so the repetitive framing device of the rain and the trees came very easy, the dark forest full of wolves, the savage garden, paradise lost, indifferent nature, ruins and history, sacrificial blood and the living grave. the mask of death was a small allusion to the mask of red death and the king in yellow, the facade of civility and nobility lestat likes to keep up and the beatific, static face armand puts on, rotting away. when they come together they're naked, so to speak, broken down and bare. lestat has none of his physical strength and armand's mind is frayed and vulnerable. because of louis, the gravity centre of both of their worlds, who is always in the rafters in this. it was interesting to me, that the only way they could come together was in that broken down state and to frame their encounter around both of them losing their center with no one but each other to blame.

i also just really wanted some top on top violence. lestat's masculinity is so very fragile and hinges on him occupying a dominant role, so it was extremely fun to break that down a bit and have that desire for submission be pleasurable exactly IN the shame and debasement that comes with it, while not losing his bite. this kind of violent sexuality is something very unique to them and opened up a potential for dissolving the limits of the vampiric body in vulnerability/expansion, in the way that violence and erotics and emotion rip apart and grow into each other. it was way more dynamic and visceral than what i usually write for loumand, really enjoyed the change of pace.

last 'fun' fact to close this out, 'neutral, static life' comes from having read clarice lispector's 'the passion according to g.h.' at the time and integrating her idea of losing the ego in the processes of life, emptying out the superiority of vampire blood and mixing it into the soil.

[n3onstarss]

PACIFIC RIM AU - CH 1 Part 1

I'm very autistic about both TMNT and pacific rim, so have this!! the plot for this takes place in an alternate universe where the rim wasn't fully closed. everything plot-hole wise will be explained away later, it's there for a reason!

each chapter will have 3 parts, I'm splitting them up so i can pace myself!

TW for mentioned blood, plenty of violence and cussing if you need one for that!

this is the Rise turtles, and all are aged up by 5 years. (Making Raph 22, April 21, Donnie and Leo 20, Reader 19 and Mikey 18!) the events of the Rise movie or most of rise in general, along with the Pacific rim movies, won't be used. this is an excuse for me to be weird about my interests ♡♡

°•°

Things weren't going well. The war against the kaiju out in the Pacific wasn't going great either. Many jeagers and their pilots had been lost. In fact, pilots were sparse, few and far between. That is, legal pilots. In the slums of NYC, there were 6 delinquent individuals. And not far away there was a junkyard full of old jeagers from both the US and Canada.

Those 6 had spent years, almost a decade by now, gathering parts and assembling their very own jeagers, hidden in warehouses along the docks. These young adults had even perfected drift compatibly down to a science, literally. Teams of two, that was the deal, and they were all partnered off.

Donatello was most compatible with his older sister figure April. Raphael with Michelangelo.

And Leo with [NAME].

An odd team, compared to the others. a short fused, easily upset human with a cocky turtle who laughed through all his problems. A team that shouldn't have worked. And yet it did. Flawlessly, even.

In fact, most would think they were only paired due to being the last options left, when infact they were the first to be found compatible. They fueled each others ego when needed, brought each other down to Earth more often than not, fueled the others rage and motivated them to keep going when things looked bleak.

Most would think they were just teens in love, and they wouldn't necessarily be wrong. [NAME] had harbored feelings for the blue clad turtle since they first piloted side by side, even before. His memories, his hopes, his fears. They'd seen them all and still fell for him all the same. But it was something they had to bury deep. A day would inevitably come when they would have to pilot in a fight, and their feelings cannot get in the way.

And today was the day, apparently. [NAME] was sat straddling the shoulder of their jeager, clinging tightly while they welded on some finishing touches to the large blue and white bot. And not a second too late were these upgrades finished.

Mikey burst through the warehouse doors into the large, dusty space, making [NAME] twist around at the waist and stare down at him, shocked by his sudden entrance.

"KAIJU! OFF THE COAST! LIKE, RIGHT NOW!!" His arms flailed wildly as he tried to talk with his hands and convey his distress. He definitely succeeded in that last part.

"DEADASS?? You're kidding, right?! Aren't they only in the Pacific?!" Their welding items and mask were dropped off into the basket and the rope untied, sending it plummeting down. [NAME] caught the end of the rope, gently lowering it the last of the way quickly as Mikey continued to holler.

"No, no I'm not kidding!! It's moving fast, Dee and Apes are already out there! We gotta go Now!" He was still gesturing wildly, bouncing on his heels like he was about to bolt to suit up. And he was, [NAME] could tell.

"Shit okay!! Go get Leo, tell him to get his blue ass in here!" [NAME] called as they scrambled down the arm with practiced ease.

As if on queue, Leo bolted in and almost knocked Mikey over, clambering up the jeager's leg at surprising speed. Mikey bolted out the instant Leo was in the room, likely because the warehouse holding his and Raph's jeager was down the way a little.

By the time both pilots were inside, in sync and moving, the kaiju was up in the shallows, coming off the coastal shelf. The bots burst from their warehouses, tearing them to splinters. The two bots sprinted through the decrepit storage yard, barreling towards the nearby sea and the other jeager.

Leo and [NAME] moved in tandem, running in place and pumping their arms in sync. The neural handshake was strong as always and practically ensured precision. They sped ahead of Mikey and Raph's jeager, taunting eachother over the comms.

"Damn, you guys are slow today! And that's saying something Mr. Orange-insisted-on-long-ass-legs-on-this-itty-bitty-torso!' Leo panted into the mic, teasing Mikey about his design choices.

"Oh shut up Leo!! Did you even bring medic supplies like you were supposed to?" Mikey was yelling and [NAME] almost had to crank down their comms to stop the oncoming headache, chuckling the entire time.

"No, he didn't Mike." [NAME] faux whispered into the comms, knowing it would be heard by Leo anyways.

"HEY-"

"Guys! We need to handle this as a team, which means no. Fighting!" Raph interjected, cutting Leo off and smashing the red jeager's fist into its palm mid run as if to punctuate his point.

"Hey, hi, hello! We could REALLY use some help right now! Our plasma cannon rounds are low and we don't have any more back at home, so I'd really fucking hate to run out right now!!" April jumped in, sounds of struggle from inside the jeager alongside the screaming of metal and the bellows of the beats could be faintly heard.

"Shit, sorry Apes, we are enroute! ETA is about a minute and a half out!" [NAME] reassured their friend, going faster and pushing themselves to the limit to get there quicker, which in turn made Leo speed up too.

"Yeah yeah, hurry UP!" Donnie interjected. He wasn't really one to talk on comms, so hearing him made everyone realize how bad the situation must be.

Finally close enough, Leo and [NAME] got good visuals on the fight. Running across a large stretch of gravelly sand they could see Donnie and April's jeager, Echo Seven, grappling hand to hand with a giant beast. This kaiju was likely only a category 2, but it was still formidable on the battlefield. The kaiju looked like a pangolin, shark and lionfish all at once, with spines along it's back and arms, scaley plates covering it's body and fin-like legs supporting the whole thing. The head resembled that of a shark with some odd growths and horns.

Even worse, the kaiju towered over the green jeager. This normally wouldn't have been a problem, their jeagers were small, but Echo Seven was that tallest of their little fleet.

Even with the disadvantage of size, the fleet had the advantage of speed and team work. The mace flew past Typhoon Eden, the blue jeager, landing right on the creatures back, crushing spines and causing the kaiju to scream out in pain. Just as the creature whipped around, flailing that long tail of its in an attempt to knock down Brawler Fury, the red jeager. Typhoon Eden, and subsequently the pilots, ducked and rolled underneath the flying tail before sliding across the dunes beneath it's belly. Time seemed to slow as they delivered an uppercut punch, rolling to a stop right beside Echo Seven and the creature was forced to rear back with the force of the blow.

"Thank God, what took y'all so long?!" April hollered over comms.

"Eh, downtown traffic, you know how it is." Leo joked back, earning a small chuckle from [NAME]. They began running the small bot up the bigger bot's back and onto the monster, working seamlessly like a well oiled machine. The kaiju had been mid-turn when Typhoon Eden ascended, the creature moving to attack Brawler Fury. The blue and white bot grabbed tight to the keratin horns and yanked, putting all the force of the bot and their combined fury to the test.

The kaiju's head was reared back again, and Brawler Fury was able to land a few hits to the chest and neck and tangle up it's front legs in the chain. Typhoon Eden's pilots shared a nod and attempted to snap the kaiju's neck and end this battle quickly. Just as the head began to be yanked at a full force by the jeager the monster threw its head forward in an attempt to buck off the mecha.

Typhoon Eden managed to hang on and ride the kaiju like a bucking bronco for a minute, but were ultimately sent tumbling info Brawler Fury, knocking both jeagers back into the sand. During the time it took for that one move to throw off the plan of attack, Donnie had concocted a new one.

"April, under it! If we go under it and plasma blast it we can rip it to shreds!!" Donnie spoke a little too quickly, undecipherable to anybody except those close to him.

Echo Seven tucked in on itself an rolled onto the jeager pile, landing on it's back with it's arms flung wide, as the baest shuddered and collapsed.

"Got it, got it!"

And with that the two of them ran in tandem, falling to their knees and leaning back in a mock power slide. Their plasma cannon ripped and burned through the creatures belly, tearing it from anus to mouth as sickly teal blood began to ooze from the rift and drop onto the sand below.

Shock and joy filled everyone's systems and within a minute all three bots were on their feet, holding each other's shoulders and jumping for joy as the comms lit up with boisterous laughter.

They did it! They'd defeated a kaiju! All on their own! They were as good as actual pilots with no training and half the jeager!

Just as the celebration was coming to an high and the adrenaline rush crashed, a booming voice rang through the atmosphere.

"Unauthorized jeager pilots, exit your jeagers and surrender."

The loud voice was demanding and left no room for contemplation. All four turtles, alongside their human companions, exited the command pods cautiously.

The giant, full sized jeager cast a shadow over the pilots and their bots. The Saber Athena glowered down at the six young adults, who simply stared in awe.

Eventually, and nervously, [NAME] and Raph both waved at the massive jeager, one five fingered hand next to a three fingered one. The pilots of Saber Athena must've been stunned, an educated guess substantiated by the lack of response or movement since the pilots of the rouge jeagers emerged.

The Saber Athena straightened, and one of her pilots cleared their throat before speaking.

"Re-enter your jeagers and retrieve your weapons. Await orders from there. And no funny business. understood?" A different, higher voice came through the comms, presumably the other pilot.

A lot of nodding and a few salutes were sent towards the Saber Athena and her pilots before the children dispersed, splitting off into pairs and disappearing quickly back down the hatches into their jeagers.

Teasing jabs and laughter could be hear over the comms, and the pilots of Saber Athena seemed to relax at the lightheartedness. These kids weren't here to cause trouble, that could've been guessed by the fact that they took down the kaiju instead of the city while they had the chance, but they had been uncertain up until this point.

It wasn't long before all three jeagers were up and running again, and again the voice they'd heard first came over the comms.

"What are your designations and names?" The voice seemed almost softer, but not by much. Enough to allow them room to respond, but still demanding.

The blue and white jeager raised it's hand first as an older teens voice came across the comms.

"Pilot number one here, you can call me Leo. This here is my lovely co-pilot [NAME] and our bot is the Typhoon Eden." The jeager did a theatrical bow followed by a curtsy, one for each pilot assumably.

The giant Saber Athena nodded sharply before directing it's gaze to the next, a green and black robot.

"Hi, hello, I'm April-" The left hand of the jeager waved a little, but rather enthusiastically.

"-And I'm Donnie." The right hand raised in the least enthusiastic wave possible.

"And we're piloting the Echo Seven." Both hands began doing jazz hands, except one was more exaggerated than the other.

Another nod from Saber Athena and a vague salute from the Echo Seven were exchanged before they moved on for the final time. Their gaze directed at the red and black bot seemed to make it stiffen as one of the pilots began to speak.

"Oh, yeah, okay so I'm Mikey, and," The speakers attention seemed to shift from the Saber Athena to someone else, supposedly it's co-pilot. "You wanna introduce yourself?"

The jeager shook its head, before the teen continued.

"Okay, and that's Raph and this is our beloved Brawler Fury!"

The Saber Athena looked from bot to bot before speaking.

"Well, it's easy to assume none of you have licenses. Or experience. Or training." As if to punctuate and add weight to each sentence the giant jeager looked pointedly at each bot, assessing them almost. "And based on how advanced your jeagers are, for hunks of scrap at least, parents who don't care." The higher voice pitched in.

The smaller jeagers all have different reactions. The Typhoon Eden looks ready to launch and attack the Saber Athena, Echo Seven stiffens up and stands at attention, falling completely radio silent as if they weren't already, and the Brawler Fury seems to curl in on itself.

A small crowd of civilians were now gathering nearby on a sight seeing parking area on the side of the road, simply observing. The Saber Athena held a hand out.

"Welcome aboard."

And with nothing else the jeager turned around and began to talk away, turning back after a few steps to see if the smaller jeagers were following. Not one had moved from it's previous spot, but all the stances had gone slack from surprise or relief, maybe both. The Saber Athena nodded its head sharply towards the direction it was walking in and began to move again, except now the pilots could hear the scramble of the three smaller jeagers running to keep up.

[talia-rumlow]

Escort To The Multiverse (X Reader) Chapter Nine - Some Sort Of Super Human

You walk as fast as you can, without it looking like you’re walking fast. When you get closer to the guy in front of you. You talk as loud as you can without it sounding like you’re shouting.

– Hi honey. Sorry I’m late! I sorta got lost!

The footsteps behind you is decreasing in pace. And the guy in front of you turns around. He obviously sees whoever’s behind you, because he looks at you, and extends his arms towards you, wraps you in a hug.

– Sweetheart! I almost thought you forgot about tonight.

He holds you in the hug, until the guys behind you is gone. Then he lets you go, and looks at you. He’s handsome. Ocean blue eyes brown hair, and he’s well built. Strong. And he is a lot taller than you. You have to look up to see his eyes.

– A beautiful girl like you, should’t walk around in this neighbourhood in the middle of the night!

The guy looks at you. Searching for an answer.

– I know. It’s just cold, and I wanted to get home fast.

He continues to search your face. Hopefully the dark hides the bruises. At least he’s not mentioning them. Instead he takes off his jacket, and puts it around your shoulders.

– I’ll walk you home. You shouldn’t be alone anywhere in this City at this time.

Normally you wouldn’t let a stranger follow you home. If it’s one thing you’ve learned through your line of work, it’s that most guys are assholes. Some even stalked you. But his jacket is warm, and he did save you, even though he didn’t have to.

You walk for a while in silence, before you look at him again. And you see that he’s only wearing a t-shirt. His muscles showing through it. Man, this guy is well built.

– Are you cold? Do you need your jacket back?

He looks at you, and your eyes meet. Man, he has blue eyes. Like the bluest you’ve ever seen. And he looks kind. Almost like a saving grace. Stop it, YN. You don’t think like this about guys. It’s usually fuck, swallow, leave. It’s easy that way. And who would want to date you anyway? You doing what you do for a living.

– It’s fine I usually don’t get cold. Where do you live?

You look at his bare arms. He doesn’t look cold. Who the fuck doesn’t get cold, night time New York this time of the year. This guy must be some sort of super human. You’ve heard about that Spider guy. Never seen him though. So you know that those super people exists. You’ve wondered several times if they are regular people. Like Clark Kent, with his alter ego Superman.

– Hey! Is something wrong? You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ll be happy to play your devoted boyfriend for the rest of the night.

– You don’t have to. I live right around the corner. Thank you.

You start to remove his jacket to give it back to him. But he places it back on your shoulders.

– I’ll walk you to the door. Make sure you get home safe. I’m Steve by the way. Steve Rogers!

He offers his hand. You take it. He has a firm grip, but still it shows that he has respect for women. His whole appearance feels like something from the 1940’s. It’s not often you meet guys like this these days. Most of them are total dickheads, and only wants one thing. Of course, doing what you do, you meet a lot of that kind.

– YN!

You reach your apartment, and you unlock the door. The light hits your face, and he looks at you. Fuck! The bruises after Rumlow and Rollins’ grip of your chin. He must think you were in a fight. Steve looks at you but he’s not saying anything. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. You take off the jacket, and give it back to him. It’s a brown leather jacket. As the rest of him, his jacket also seems to be from the 1940’s. Is he cosplaying or something?

– Thanks again, Steve. You helped me a lot.

– Damsel in distress! How can I not help?

Ok, cosplaying or just really, like REALLY old fashioned.

– Well, I think I’ll hit the shower, and then go to bed. It’s been a long night. Thanks, Steve. Again.

He puts his jacket back on, and his abs flex through his shirt. You can’t help but look. And you thought Rumlows muscles were big. Obviously you haven’t seen it all. This guy must hit the gym, like five times a day everyday.

– Remember to lock the door, mam! Have a good night!

With that he leaves, and you close and lock the door behind you. Mam? What the fuck? Good thing those guys behind you, didn’t attack him. A guy who uses the phrase mam, cannot possibly be good at fighting. Maybe with some sort of weapon from the dark ages. Jesus, you still know how to find them.

You hit the shower. Look at your body. Already black and blue from earlier. You have to see if you can use make up to cover most of them. If you show up to another job looking like this. You’ll probably be treated rough there too. But that last part. Oh God. Jenna was right. They definitely treated you right.

You dry off, and take a look at yourself in the mirror. The bruises on your face is barley visible. At least you can cover them up. Maybe you can do blow jobs only, until the bruises fade.

You put on your favorite PJs. The snoopy one. And you laugh a bit of yourself. Who would have thought that a working girl uses snoopy PJs. Well, there’s more to people than what meets the eye.

You follow your normal after a job routine. A drink and a cigarette. You usually don’t smoke. But sometimes, after special or different jobs, such as tonight. You need one. So you always have them available.

You turn on the TV. Just to see if something special has happened. But nothing special tonight. Tony Stark only. Nothing new. He’s like the face of New York by now. You usually don’t care about billionaires. But Tony is different. And you can’t help but wonder if he orders girls like you. Maybe not for sex. But, for like a date or a party or something like that. It doesn’t happen often. But you have been on jobs, where the guy only wanted you on his arm. To show you off, for like a business dinner or some stupid shit like that. Man, guys are pathetic.

You gulp the last of your drink, then you walk back into the bathroom to remove your make up, and brush your teeth.

When you drag the cleaning wipe over your jaw bones, you can see that the bruises shows more under your make up. You get closer to the mirror, to get a better look. Fuck! This is not good. You have to use a ton of make up to cover these. And it’ll probably be even worse tomorrow. You have to shop for more make up. And even then, they will probably show, at least the ones on your hips and breasts.

Perfect. Blow jobs only then. You tell yourself in the mirror to also shop for more toothpaste, before you go to bed.

@nekoannie-chan @here4thefanfics @there-goes-thefighter @randomlittleimp @late-to-the-party-81

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Previous Chapter

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[oc-atelier]

Maybe

Genre: Slice of life; fluff; drabble

Characters: Leoht and Elric

While Leoht is fast at work preparing his decorative magic for sealing, Elric pinpoints the reason behind Leoht's lightning magic always exploding on him and opts to help the other out in coming up with an easier, less dangerous solution to the problem. A bit of introspection ensues.

His hand is a lot colder to the touch than anticipated. 

Elric can’t even begin to imagine how many years its been since he’s done something like this; standing in close proximity of the one witch he’d always known to be his best and only friend, leaning over Leoht’s desk, hand clasped around the witch’s own as he makes a move to reposition the pen between those long, slender fingers to fit comfortably between his fingers too; it feels familiar, intimately so, and the intimacy of it all didn’t seem lost on the witch seated beside him either, if the way those long lashes fluttering down into a soft, half-lidded gaze were anything to go by. 

A pang of guilt pierces Elric’s chest. 

Surely, he of all people didn’t deserve such closeness? Not after the way the two of them had broken things off all those years ago. Even if Leoht didn’t say it out loud, maybe even refused to acknowledge it altogether, Elric couldn’t imagine the last fight they’d had being any less hurtful on his end. 

And yet, here Leoht is anyways, sitting calmly in his seat, eyes still glued to the paper in front of him, his facial features relaxed despite the slight tenseness in his shoulders, hand trembling slightly beneath Elric’s own; a little clammy from the prolonged contact. If there’s any indication that Leoht isn’t comfortable in Elric’s presence, he certainly couldn’t see it, and that in and of itself soothes him, at least a little. 

Without Elric realizing it himself, the stiffness in his own muscles begins to relax and he lets go of the breath he didn’t even know he was holding onto. It figures something like this would be a relief to him, but not just because of any confirmation bias Leoht’s body language is giving him. 

Rather, it’s because it reminds him of a time long since passed, back when they were apprentices, struggling to learn magic together at their own pace. They may be older now, but the similarities in their positions and the problem at hand are almost too eerie not to take note of. 

His hand was cold back then too, Elric thinks, suppressing the urge to smile. 

While Elric was able to latch onto their lessons and perform exceptionally well in the realm of magic, Leoht was usually always lagging a few steps behind him, and his struggles only became more apparent the trickier the glyphs and problem-solving were getting. Despite knowing this, Elric rarely ever got a big head over it, instead opting to help Leoht out whenever he could, even if it meant taking Leoht by the hand and trying to ingrain the movements of his pen into his muscle memory by guiding his hand along the rough terrain.

Had it been any other apprentice, Elric would have surely scoffed at their efforts and been thankful that that wasn’t him having such a tough time learning something that should have been simple enough for even toddlers to do. His ego would have gotten the better of him for sure.

But for some reason, because it was Leoht specifically having these troubles, because it was Leoht beating himself up over not being able to pick up on it faster, Elric couldn’t bring himself to be so spiteful. 

He wanted to help, not to have a leg up on Leoht or to compete with him necessarily, but merely out of the kindness of his own heart. He couldn’t stand to see Leoht being so hard on himself over something that wasn’t even his fault. If there was anything Elric could do to see Leoht’s big, dumb, doofy smile again, to feel the warmth of his presence, his electrifying energy spiking through the air, then he’d help the other out as much as he could, no matter what. 

Maybe the reason behind his willingness to help isn’t as unclear as Elric assumed it to be after all. 

Elric huffs, as if to push the softness flooding his chest out of his system as quickly as possible. His grip on the pen and Leoht’s hand firmed up. 

“Here,” Elric says, his voice low enough that he hopes only Leoht would be able to hear it, if only because the thought of anyone eavesdropping on them from outside the room mortifies him. “There’s an easier way to accomplish what you’re trying to go for. Let me show you.”

The warm, fuzzy feelings only continue to ravage his lungs as Leoht smiles and leans into Elric’s arm. “Sure,” Leoht replies, softly. 

Elric’s brow twitches, his cheeks burning hot in spite of himself. He lifts his free hand and clasps it tight around the top of Leoht’s head, grumbling, “I’m only showing you once, so you better pay attention, alright? I’m not showing you again if you fall asleep on me.” 

Leoht chuckles. “Now, what makes you think I’d do something like that, hm?” 

“Because you’ve done that before. Remember?” 

“That was a long time ago.”

“Might as well have been yesterday to me.”

“Maybe it was yesterday,” Leoht teases, flashing a lighthearted bounce of his brows for added emphasis.

Elric’s grip loosens, his hand falling away from Leoht’s head and raising to scratch the side of his own. “Whatever,” he mutters, sheepishly, though his verbal response isn’t tinged with nearly as much fondness as his thoughts. As he returns to leaning back over the desk, his voice filling what little remaining space is left between them as the pen begins to glide across the page with both hands in tow, Elric, this time, allows the tiniest of smiles to tug along the corners of his lips.

Maybe it was.

[kobblefort]

Daarunbay Detevay 2

When you zoom out and look at it like this, it's not really an anomaly. Like, it's fucked up, but it's barely even a footnote.

In the grand history of The Nightmare of Tunneling, which is thousands and thousands of lines long, Blackfaint is two of them. It started and then it ended. The Land of Nails is a cruel place where life moves fast from beginning to end. The Hill of Scars just happens to be one exceedingly fast-paced part of it. I haven't really provided many good visual aids, so here's an image of the Daarunbay Detevay in its entirety which took me way too long to make.

The whole world! The Land of Nails is the western continent, the Land of Dividing is the eastern one. Where's The Hill of Scars in all of this, you might ask?

"Circled" in red is The Hill of Scars. Over on the left in blue, Rushsly. And on the right in puke green, Blackfaint. All the history of The Nightmare of Tunneling, of The Comedy of Sweating, has been constrained to this little western chunk of the continent. We have barely scratched the surface of the surface, even with our deepest dives into the history of kobbles and ratfolk. There's like 10 other major civilized species inhabiting the world, some of them not even on this continent that we've only known a little 1/10th swatch of. For instance, did you know there's fucking crab people?

There's crab people, baby. Well, that's an oversimplification. They're Decapoda, which is an umbrella term that includes lobsters, shrimp, and all kinds of crabs. The Axe of Glaciers live on the edges of the world, where it's cold: all the way up northwest on the glacial Island of Fate, and another decapodian civilization named The Paddle of Furs lives far to the southeast, among The Hills of Dividing and the terrifying Glacier of Corrupting at the end of The Land of Dividing - some even living out on the great ice floes in the arctic ocean. The harsh conditions come natural to such hardy peoples - after all, even the humble shrimp among them can heal well enough to regrow lost limbs.

There may very well be lobsters among us older than the very concept of counting years. And hell, there's one among The Axe of Glaciers who's as old as the calendar. The first King of Decapodia: Kuteci Peaceletters.

There's something very interesting about his reign, besides the "suddenly getting deposed in a coup" part. Yes, obviously, it's the "throwing competition" part. Obviously, losing 10 years in a row is one thing - but in the very first one at Bronzeskies, the seat of AoG, he actually won that one. The fact that he put the competition to rest until right at the end of his reign is just... interesting. Did he keep trying it again thinking he'd recapture the glory of his youth? Been there. Did his desperate attempts turn everyone against him? Been there. I don't throw controllers or anything because them shits cost like $60 for a good one but I haven't been able to enjoy fighting games for over 3 years because lately when I lose I get so fucking mad I punch my desk. Part of my ego is inextricably linked with the idea that "I have to be good at games." If I hop on an FPS and get headshotted over and over I have to just turn that shit off. I physically cannot handle "getting dominated" because I have so few avenues for success in my life that I have latched on to "yeah, I'm good at Sniper in Team Fortress 2" as one of my last pathetic desperate reaches for validation. I don't know what's wrong with me. I try to not be like this. I'm reading The Inner Game of Tennis but it hasn't really helped me yet. I can't play Street Fighter 6 off my friend's Steam family-share library because if I get put in the corner and don't tech the throw twice in a row I just have to turn the fucking game off, I alt-f4 out of it immediately, I can't stomach failure and victory only even feels like a reprieve from loss. I realize this is so much more pathetic than just being bad at games. In fact a guy who's bad at games and a good sport about it is probably the best thing you can be, because whenever anyone says "wow you're bad at this" you can just be like "Yeah I was too busy going outside and having sex and stuff." But I haven't been!! I've been here, sitting at my fucking desk, playing video games!! I should at least get Fortnite wins and not just in those first few games after you haven't played in a while where the whole lobby is bots, I mean I should be able to out-snipe any zoomer in the world with my 20 years of Counter-Strike experience or at least I fucking tell myself that, even though I've never fucking practiced the game or its particular flavor of sniping, or when I have it's just for like 5 flaccid minutes of not challenging myself because my ego is too fragile to actually let me!! I mean I'll tell you up and down the fucking block that battle royales are a literal cancer that caused "good map design" to be amputated from the modern multiplayer first-person-shooter genre and that actually is true but you'd never know it because I'm such a fucking bitch who fucking cries over never winning in Apex Legends even though I like Titanfall 2 way better but I can't fucking play that either because I get too fucking mad and competitive and hard on myself to enjoy it unless I'm playing absolutely perfectly!! Like what the fuck!?!? I'm 30 years old!! If I went back to my 10-year-old self and said "this is what you grow up to be, little guy" he would start downing shots of bleach right there on the spot!!! But I don't know how to change!!! My ego, my wavering sense of self completely dominates me and prevents me from enjoying my life and my so-called passions!! And it really feels like there's no way to fix it short of just tripping on so much acid I completely forget my current personality!! Even then what if it just comes back!!

The one who deposed Kuteci and reigns to this day is the former baroness, Scucutk Raspboats, whose true goal is to create a great work of art. Throughout her life, she has written eleven pieces of literature, but she only bothered to name six of them: Errors In the Keep, her first. The Journey Into Scucutk Raspboats, her third. The Truth About the Decapod fourth, The Wizard'S Guide to Creation sixth, Discourse on Pagesnarling (named for her barony) eighth, and After Genius tenth. Her last book, untitled, was writen in 163, and just 5 years later she would seize the throne in Bronzeskies and thus the throne of all decapodia, aided by Rerrr Crazyletter, the baroness of Gorgelearned, and Rerrr's daughter Cecichi Springchannels, duchess of Diamondtangled.

Legends Browser 2 seems to not like how many mods I've got running, but it doesn't look like we're missing too much. Besides their positions of significance in The Axe of Glaciers, they are mostly unremarkable women - all unlucky in love, but who isn't?

Why does any of this matter? Because it's clear Scucutk cannot write her true masterpiece from where she sits. Caravans are sent out all the time in search of a better location for a true grand library, one where she might finally create the artifact that has eluded her for all her life. Because I've never actually played a cold-weather biome, and it sounds both fun and more manageable than whatever the fuck Blackfaint ended up being. Because playing as lobsters and crabs sounds really funny

So at the northwestern tip of the world, we'll try it again. Unlike in other video games, it's very fun to lose in the greatest simulation game of all time Dwarf Fortress, I've talked at length about that already. So why don't we try to make the greatest library Of All Time in possible the least hospitable environment Of All Time?

What could possibly go wrong?????

[ofrushedcockymd]

Conrad had the awful tenacity to want to tend to himself. His major flaw was lacking the ability to ask for help. He felt he was a grown man; he was stubborn and he felt like his own ego was wounded now. He got caught in flames, he had burns that caused redness aching against plenty areas of skin. Conrad felt weak, vulnerable to anyone that wasn’t Nic. He was his worse patient; he didn’t like to be fussed over. A habit Nic knew all too well when it came to him.

But given his lack of fast pace movement; the easily way he lost his breath when he walked he knew the aching feeling; even with the medication; hints why he was alluring to the fact he had his ways; he wanted to prove to himself he was healthy enough to be seen out in public. Healthy enough to go eat at a restaurant with the blonde, the girl he loves. But Conrad had this nagging feeling that once he was in the safety of his home; he would lose his desire to prove himself wrong. It was a pride thing; and he knew Nic only wanted to aid in him taking care of himself; not to over extend himself in this recovery process a lesson Conrad found he was slowly learning and grasping onto. As he heard her retorts; he had to escape a laugh from bare lips. It was no shock; Conrad only agreed to let Devon take him in; because he wasn’t allow alone and he and the female were in a fight. A petty one might he add. “ You’d be surprised how hard it was to sneak out, Devon never left the keys with me the spare, and he apparently locks the door from the outside. It was like he knew my every move..” A express of irritation; I tried more than once; I even attempted to climb the back door; the balcony and try to get to the fire escape but I decided to keep that plan to myself I had the feeling Nic may scold me for that. Alls to say; Conrad couldn’t stand still; as he slowly moved outside of the elevator now; the male had taken in the fresh air; the world he had been missing. 

Her car in view; as his hand grasped gently onto her; as he removed himself into the passengers seat. Where Nic was able to assist in him sliding into the seat. “ Chinese that way if chance I change my mind we can do take out..” Alluring to his doubts that were slowly creeping into his head.

continued

@wearshisring

The accident had flickered a change. Not to say Conrad wouldn’t be jumping into the line of fire again. Because let’s be honest he was a protector at heart. He rather be the one hurt than to be the one watching a child, or someone he cared for in pain. He knew he had to have a sense of self control; but at the end of the day; he had the hero tenacity inside of him. And as he played that moment in his head; he knew the kid in danger was priorty and his rage at those firefighters taking their time; it just infatuated him. He loved Nic and don’t get him wrong he appreciated her; and her want to ensure he was okay; but he didn’t need a nurse, he only wanted the girl he’d been pinning for. 

She had the caring nature, I saw it; the gentle touches, the easing into showing she wanted to ensure I was okay. I didn’t want her to feel like she was on eggshells around me, but at the same time I was a grown adult, I was capable to eating on my own, of taking in the fluids; hints the bottle of water that sat on the end table, right besides my stay on the couch. I was stubborn as hell; it took a lot of force to get Devon to get me through the apartment doors; better yet to rest. I had a lot on my mind; and now that Nic and I had talked I felt like a weight had been lifted from my body. 

The same page; I wanted to be with her; with everything i had. I wanted to be the man she deserved. I didn’t want to beat around the bush, I didn’t want to take it slow. But given how our last conversation ended when we pushed; I had to force myself to compromise, for myself and her. I had no desire to move; so the discussion of moving to one of our places was temporary on hold. Offering a gentle smile I nodded my head briefly at her requisition. 

“ I promise to be straight with you, If I’m in pain you’ll be the first to know. If I need anything I will tell you.” Communication was key; a spot the male was working on. He had impulse, he had the need to better himself; nor did he go out of his way to damage anyone’s feelings. But he did have to work on communicating on what he felt and wanted; no man wants to feel vulnerable, but with Nic I trusted the love we had; the care we shared for one another. Leaning into her touch; his head had rested gentle upon her shoulder; taking in her familiar scent. His head tilted down to let his lips press a kiss onto her shoulder over her shirt; it was the closeness, the need to feel we could make it work; through our horrific history perhaps now the timing was right. “ I know I’m a pig head at times, probably not the best at communicating, but I’m glad we talked. For once Devon did something right.” The slight fake annoyed retort regarding Devon; but he was a friend someone I could admit I liked having around. 

As for the cape; eyes lifted in curiosity against the stance on her shoulder tilting my eyes up on the remark about the C. “ Yes, it sounds perfect, you think you can make it happen?” A tease a gentle lightness to the heaviness of topics we’ve shared so far.

[pinkteapotwriting]

yasss you’re taking requests <333

can you write a smut with Marauders where it’s readers’ first time and the boys are already experienced so she is kind of nervous(also little insecure about her body bc stretch marks?🤗)

I loooove your writing, have a good day and please take care of yourself!

Marauders x Fem!reader

Warning : Smut, fingering, female receiving, pet names also did not proof read

Word count : 1721

---

I made this more light hearted, thanks for your patience love.

James’ hands were getting lost in your hair, much like your inhibitions. Today was going to be your first time and they knew you were anxious. So they were trying their best to keep things light but still intentional. You were mirroring Sirius on top of Remus, both of you straddling a brunette below you. Sirius however kept pulling away from Remus to pull you away from James. Apparently he couldn’t decide who he wanted to be kissing more. Which was all fine and good, for you. James however was getting frustrated with Sirius’s blatant thievery. Sirius wasn’t in reach though. So you were unsuspecting when his hands drifted down to your waist. Just when you thought you were safe you were being tossed onto your back and James was tickling your sides and you were trying your best not to kick him.

“Jamie, JAMIE stoooop. That tickles!”

“That’s kind of the point. Last I checked you were kissing me. Sirius can wait his turn hmmm?”

“AH stop! Stop it!”

You were playfully slapping his hands.

“Beg then”

Sirius and Remus were now enjoying the show. But then your shirt started to ride up and you pushed your palm against his chest as hard as you could; which surprised the boys. You were quick to pull your shirt down once you sat up and crossed your arms over your chest. Successfully creating a physical barrier to help mask your insecurity. Sirius was now turned around completely. Why were you hiding yourself from them? James felt especially bad.

“M’sorry for tickling you. I thought it was funny, but now I see it just made you feel bad. Are you okay?”

“Yeah I just” you took a deep breath “I didn’t want you to see yet. I thought I was ready and brave enough but I didn’t want you to see my- my”

James reached for your hand as soon as he heard your voice falter.

“Your what, love?”

“I have some stretch marks, and I know it’s ridiculous to hold myself to society's standards about my body size and how I look but it’s hard sometimes.”

 Remus was the first to reassure you. He pushed Sirius forward so he could stand beside the bed and pull off his shirt.

“I know what it’s like to feel insecure about my body Y/N. Some people learn to accept and love themselves on their own, but we’re both lucky that we have people that are here to remind us that they find us attractive.”

He chuckled then because you were kind of listening, but really your main focus was running your hand across his chest and tracing his scars delicately. He hadn’t even noticed you edge closer to him until he felt your warm touch.

“I do find you attractive.”

“Really Bunny? We didn’t notice.” Sirius snickered at first, but then he became more sincere. He lifted the bottom of James’ shirt.

“See look, James has some stretch marks too, and we think he’s beautiful.”

Sirius’s head was much closer to James' lower stomach now. Close enough to delicately kiss along each mark. Remus had turned you around now and was resting his chin against your shoulder. Both of you very much enjoyed the beautiful sight of Sirius worshiping James with his lips. Remus starts to do the same for you but on the sweet spot on your neck before whispering in your ear. 

“Want Siri to do the same for you, love?”

Your nervous disposition started to dissolve and you found yourself nodding now. Sirius was smiling, not his cocky grin, but one full of the same love and adoration you felt for him. He lifted the hem of your shirt and his palm felt warm against the softness of your stomach.

“Breath honey, you gotta breath.”

You let out the air you didn’t know you were holding at Remus’s reassurance, but squeezed  your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see, but the boys wanted you to. Remus slid his hand to grasp your chin and pull your gaze down to Sirius. 

“Open your eyes darling, that’s it. See? There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Remus had one of his hands in Sirius’s hair now and while it was nice, you couldn’t help but notice James in the same spot at the edge of the bed. He didn’t look lonely, he actually looked pretty pleased with the view. The bulge in his pants made that perfectly clear. You’re not sure how you got away from Sirius and Remus, maybe they noticed the focused look in your eye, but you were able to make your way to James again. This time you were the one to get that pesky shirt out of the way and kiss his stomach and lower abdomen.

“Like this James?” 

James adored how timid you were, how soft you traced your fingers across his chest. It was maddening.

“Yes dove, but this is supposed to be about you, no?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay love, we’ve gotta prep you okay? Can we take your clothes off now?”

“Only if the rest of yours come off too.”

Sirius stood up instantly and threw his shirt to the side and yanked his pants off. Once his clothes were off he spread his arms out.

“I’m ready, your turn.”

All eyes were on Sirius now. James hucked a pillow in your honor that hit Sirius straight in the face. 

“Shut it you git. Let her take her time.”

Remus furrowed his eyebrows, because instead of the usual angry outburst from Sirius there was a focused look in his eyes. Then he turned around to find you completely naked with your arms outstretched giggling.

“I’m ready, your turn.”

Sirius quite literally dove across the bed. James and Remus didn’t have time to process what was happening. They barely were able to scramble out of the way as Sirius clambered on past him. But he halted as soon as he was in front of you, smiling like a little kid. 

And you wouldn’t be separated. 

Your fingers locked into his hair, while his hands hooked under your thighs to pull you onto his lap. He fell onto his back and pulled you in chest to chest. 

“Sirius, come on. We wanna see her too.” James was getting less and less patient, but Remus was smarter than James and knew how to coax you out. 

“My angel you’ve got to remember to breathe.”

As soon as he reminded you you were able to pull away and to your surprise you were panting. Once your breath was level Remus took your face in his hands gently and kissed you. You don’t know how you made the switch but you were now being pulled onto Remus’s lap. There was no control over your body with any of these boys. It was like you were magnetic, it flowed through you naturally to follow their lead now. The embarrassment dissipated all along the way. You needed them. 

“Remus please”

“Alright love, who do you want to prep you?”

“Let’s flip a coin.” James suggested.

“There’s three of us, you idiot.” Sirius retorted.

“Yeah, but I figured you don’t even count so.” 

“Sirius counts, don’t be mean James.”

Sirius was very pleased you stood up for him. “Thanks bunny, does that mean you pick me?”

“Well… seeing as Remus is the only one not acting like a five year old.”

Remus tried not to look too happy with himself as he led you to lie back against the pillows. James scooted up to the right of you to hold your hand as Remus rubbed the inside of your thighs when they fell open. Sirius looked like he was plotting something, but instead opted to sit beside Remus and flash you a cheeky grin. 

“You ready love”

“Yes.”

His fingers lightly trailed your inner thighs. He relished in how sensitive they were. His thumb found your clit and he began to massage gentle circles against it.

“You’re so wet already love, and we’ve barely touched you.”

Sirius grumbled; Remus humored him.

“What was that Padfoot?”

“I said you’re welcome”

Remus slipped a finger inside you now, which had you bucking your hips up which had him pushing his hand against your lower stomach. 

“I don’t think I need your help getting her off  Sirius.”

“I personally wouldn’t mind his help.”

Remus rolled his eyes at you while adding in another finger.

“You sure about that?”

“Stop being mean to our bunny, I bet she looks so pretty when she cums and your banter is preventing that.”

While James stole Remus’s attention Sirius took the opportunity to tend to your neglected clit with his tongue. The unrestrained moan you let out gathered everyone’s attention. Your thighs began to shake while Remus quickened his pace. 

“Si-Siri I can't, it's too much.”

Sirius didn’t stop though. James was still holding your hand, completely mesmerized by your face as you were building to your release.

“Doing so good for us love. Come on, it’s okay to let go.”

You whimpered, James grinned.

“You look so beautiful like this bunny.”

This time Remus let you arch your back. A high pitched whine was ripped from your throat and Remus had to pull Sirius away to keep him from lapping at your cunt. He was able to get over the loss of contact when he saw that your legs were still trembling. He was going to make some sort of snarky comment but the blissed out look on your face had him crumbling.

“Oh Puppy, you look so pretty. Are you ready for more?”

You nodded your head.

“By the way Siri, I think you’re pretty too.”

“See Remus, Y/N knows how to feed my ego. Take notes.”

“You think I want to encourage your behaviour.”

“Yes yes i d- OI James you can’t snog her under our noses like that.”

So silly to think they’d dislike you for the way you looked. It was a battle for who would get to sit next to you in the great hall for dinner. What else would you expect for something like this? You would be sure to make it known you’ll fight for them the same way that they fight for you. 

And they would always fight for you.

---

@sunny-bunnny @quindolyn @midnightgremlin @weasleyposts @bluemoonyblurbs @emmaev  @agalandhermarvelobsession

[shirophantomvox]

How Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo would react to their S/O in the hospital

Hi, anon! You are welcome to join my Discord Server if you are a fan of Hxh, Voltron, or both! I promise this is a safe environment! This is an interesting topic for sure! To the other anon(s), I am working on your request! This will contain both fluff and angst. I forgot to include Leorio in this, so I’ll include him in the next HxH post. You’ll have to forgive me, I have 2 more requests in my inbox and I am not feeling the best. I just got my second Covid shot and it is hurting like hell. Nevertheless, I encourage you all to get your shot if you can. I will be on this site one and off and I should be on it for real next week. I have run out of ideas to write and I began to think I was annoying people with my HxH content (no one said this I just assumed). This post has 1974 words. After these requests are finished, I plan on doing a character analysis for Leorio.

Anyway, let’s get into the post!

We’ll start with Hisoka this time.

Hisoka

In all honesty, this man has heard of a hospital (since he sends a lot of people to it after fights) but has never been in one.

The signs, floors, staircase numbers, and elevators all confuse him. He has only been in one once when he was a kid and has never been again.

He isn’t a social butterfly in this setting because this is a professional establishment and not a college party. Asking for directions takes quite a toll on him because of his established pride. You know guys act when they want to find a destination on their own and will go miles out of the way instead of just asking for direction.

He doesn’t talk to anyone; all he wants to do is find you and make sure you are alright.

He is the tallest person in the freight elevator. So tall that everyone at turns to look at him at once for at least 10 seconds and turn back around surprised.

“How tall is he,” one of the nurses ask.

“Tall enough to be my house!”

This annoys him. He takes out the Joker card and lays it against his thigh but realizes he cannot make any hasty decisions. His bloodlust was activated merely out of irritation and not by threat. You were on his mind and destroying these worthless humans wasn’t an option for today.

He approached the guest desk and waited for about 2 minutes before he was acknowledged.

“May I help you,” a smug receptionist asked. Wow, these people do not know who they’re talking to.

“I’m here to see y/n.”

“Y/n is in room 345. Go down the hall and to the right all the way down.”

This man nearly ran with a quickness! His jester shoes somehow made the floor shake as he ran.

You were awake, eating the horrible food the hospital provided and watching TV. It seemed like you were doing ok, but you had just been in a car accident. Your arms and right leg were still sore. It was so bad that you’d be fine with Hisoka carrying you everywhere.

When you two are alone in serious public places, he doesn’t play games or tricks. He is often portrayed as a ruthless man, but in settings like this, he places the jokes and games aside for later. When he enters your room, he is silent for 30 seconds. Much too long. He was shocked; he walked around your hospital bed, pulled up a chair, and stared at your cast. It had many names written on it.

“Yes, I am ok.”

“I apologize for not being there for you,” he began to say.

“Shh… it’s ok. This is life. It hurts like hell, but I’m a trooper!”

Admiring your cast and its multiple fonts of handwriting and messages, he grabbed a sharpie marker, wrote his name, with a heart and spade next to it. Surprisingly, his cursive was very neat and legible.

“I didn’t know you knew how to write in cursive! Why don’t you write me letters?”

“I see you every day and it hurts my hand.”

The doctor wouldn’t be in for another 1 ½ hours, so Hisoka used your thigh as a pillow as he took a nap. He had been up for countless nights thinking about you. He was screwing up so bad, Chrollo let him leave early.

“As soon as your better, we will fight again. I won’t go easy on you. You won’t be in the hospital but you get the jest.”

Illumi

Illumi isn’t the type of man to overreact in these types of situations. When you both agreed to date each other, you knew you all were tough cookies. You were aware of the dangers of dating an assassin and he knew about the dangers of dating a bounty hunter. People hated you both and you targeted.

One night you both were caught in a vulnerable state. While you both enjoyed chocolate milkshakes at a laid-back 1950’s styled diner, two men were previously thrown out for fighting. While your back was turned one of those men shot your arm, causing you to carelessly throw your body to the ground due to impact.

While everyone else was screaming, Illumi jumped to the ground and tied his hair tie around your arm to temporarily stop the bleeding.

“Illu, why does it feel cold in here,” you managed to breathe out.

His heart dropped to his stomach for the first time in history.

“Don’t say things like that!”

Illumi is already horrible at displaying emotions, but all he could do is frown in fear. Once the EMS came barling in, he demanded that he ride with you.

Illumi hadn’t experienced anything like this since Killua had been injured when he fell from a tree.

You and he were separated when you were rushed into surgery leaving him alone in the waiting room.

When Illumi is stressed and cannot properly display how he feels, he tends to act in “odd” ways.

He begins to furiously turn pages in magazines or bother the receptions every 2 minutes about the status of your surgery. When the woman finally says that you’re still alive, he tones it down a little.

Illumi is open to conforming advice from strangers; he has been receiving it secretly from strangers. Since Silva was busy abusing him, he often found comfort from “the streets”.

He has a bad habit of pacing back and forth and fidgeting in his seat while horrific images fill his mind. All he has seen is pain and even though he was used to it, he didn’t want you to go through it as well.

While sitting in his seat (finally!) and head in his lap, doubled over indescribable sorrow, a little girl walks up to him with her hands folded and a doll under her arms. Illumi feels her presence and looks up. The girl’s curly hair covered her endearing eyes and her smile is wide.

“They’ll be alright. I just know they will,” turning around returning to her mother, the girl said with confidence.

On cue, Illumi placed his hand over his heart, smiling just a little.

He walked quickly to your room once you were out of surgery.

His speed walk mimics one of a soldier; his left arm in since with his right leg. His shoes echoed throughout the hall.

As soon as he enters the room, he shuts the door harder than usual and gives you a tight embrace. This surprises you! You’re lucky if he lays his head on your shoulder!

Illumi had been working out lately. He wanted to beat you in the “squish the melon” contest. He is very competitive and even if he lost, that doesn’t hurt his ego. Not in the slightest. Since it was just the both of you alone, he bends down to hug you tight, so tight that your face is squished against his.

This behavior is only surprising because he usually doesn’t coddle you even when you get hurt, but this time he realized that you could have died from the gunshot wound.

After that he kissed your forehead and almost simultaneously the doctor barreled in just missing the sweet moment between you and your beau.

Chrollo

When Chrollo is holding meetings with the Phantom Troupe, he always appears to be neutral. That is very important. A leader has to show strength even through the worst/hurtful times of their lives.

Chrollo had gotten a call from Nobunaga that you had gotten hurt on a mission and had actually gotten captured by the enemy. Phinks was able to get you back but you suffered horrible injuries.

This is protocol; they do this for any of the members. The troupe was oblivious to the fact that you and Chrollo were dating. They thought you were here to replace Uvo.

In situations like this, he is calm on the outside but screaming on the inside. Common sense will tell you if you are startled by the news you’ve just received and you begin to drive, you could cause more harm on the way to your destination.

Chrollo is very silent; he doesn’t call to check on your status or anything; he would rather see it for himself.

You were a trooper! After all, you are dating a dangerous robber.

Chrollo already knew what room you were in so he just went.

“I knew I should have kept y/n by my side. Y/n insisted on doing my dirty work that they almost died! How foolish could I have been?” He constantly cursed himself for letting his guard down with you.

He always gave you room to think and complete your own tasks but he can’t help his protective nature; one he has for the troupe but times 10.

His childhood friends had been shot by law enforcers, his home was horrific, and the last thing he needed was for you to be gone. You were keeping him afloat in society.

When he opened the door, Phinks was sitting in a chair, one leg over the other, laughing at a TikTok video.

Nobunaga on the other hand was watching the world news and seemed invested that he didn’t hear Chrollo enter the room. Once they both saw, they stood to their feet.

“Y/n is ok boss. They suffered a few cuts and burns, but they're breathing.”

Chrollo’s straight face remained as he stared at you.

Chrollo’s silence is something the troupe has internalized as a sign of anger, rage, or both. When he didn’t speak and just stared, everyone knew that their next mission was going to be a brutal one.

Chrollo is a man that isn’t afraid to express how he feels. He could cry right now if he wanted to and no one would dare laugh at him or insult him. After all, Nobunaga cried when he realized Uvo was dead.

Nobunaga and Phinks excused themselves as they saw him place his hand over his mouth.

Once the door closed, He pulled up the chair, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. His warmth woke you up instantly and you turned your head. You winced in pain causing Chrollo to jump from his seat, moving to your right side so you wouldn’t turn your head too much.

“I’m glad you're alive, darling. What were you doing putting yourself in danger? Feitan could have handled the beast!”

He isn’t trying to doubt your ability to fight, he’s just concerned for your safety. Even so, why would he insist that you join the spiders?

A tear dropped from his face as he silently kissed your hand three times. You smiled warmly and placed your right left hand on top of his.

“I am fine, boss. You need not worry. I’m a trooper, remember?”

He placed your hand against his dry cheek and continued to kiss it. You were his lifeline and he wanted to spend every moment with you.

[bandaigaeru]

song of the summer - bang chan

→pairing: ceo bang chan x gn reader

→genre: kinda strangers to lovers

→synopsis: he runs one of the biggest music companies in the country, yet he inducts you to help aid him and his friends, each of them deemed as representatives of the ‘big three’, for their next official comeback.

→word count: 12.5k

→ warnings: swearing, shitty father figure

i.

A single question hangs over the dim conference room you’ve somehow scored a seat in. Does the general public want to see 3Racha? Bluntly, the answer is right in front of you. Glowing against the whiteboard from the overhead projector, the carefully curated slideshow answers the rhetorical question.

One of the dance representatives from the back of the room twirls his pen between his fingers. Leaning back in his chair, he apathetically wonders aloud, “So it’s true, then?”

“What’s that, Mr. Lee?” the marketing representative, a Mr. Choi, holds his remote between both hands as he leans toward the table. The word ‘full’ dances across his face as he steps in front of the projector’s path.

“That they’re making a comeback. A full one?”

Mr. Choi nods, scanning the rest of the patrons’ reactions with squinted eyes as he says, “That would be correct.”

Of course, the three who would walk onstage and perform aren’t here. Mr. Bang is probably running around, abiding by his role as the professional CEO who never skips a beat. Regarding the other two, you’re not sure. They’re not as predictable.

The project is pretty tight in terms of what needs to be met. Summer is around the corner, and everyone and their mother will be fighting to hold that mere title of having the temporary greatest hit. When the general public awaits their yearly easily digestible, flowery songs.

“Keep in mind that we are all under Bang! Entertainment,” Choi remarks, clicking to his next slide displaying headlines questioning the company’s next move. “It should go without saying, but all eyes will be on us as the season turns.”

You stare at the bolded words, trying to digest each of them. Joining the company was likely the best decision you’ve ever made, outside of adopting a cat named Loba. When you got scouted as a producer, you were under a different company. Bang! offered a contract, but didn’t require an interview because they ‘didn’t want to invalidate or question a talent they’ve already seen.’

It was an ego boost.

“I’m sure you all know what your roles are in this,” Choi says, taking glances around the room to make sure each face isn’t lost or distant. This is 3Racha we’re talking about. Everything must be perfect.

You take a glance of your own. A few belong to the dance department, some to hair and makeup; however, you are the only producer here.

You raise a low hand to garner Mr. Choi’s attention. “Why am I here?” you subsequently ask, dropping your hand and crossing it against your chest as before.

“The team personally requested you,” he says.

Connections, you instantly understand. In a place like this, in a time like this, they’re a necessity. Nepotism is practically required in the world of music, hence why it sucks for most aspiring indie artists. You didn’t choose to befriend a guy who happens to be best friends with one of the big three here. So, you cast a blind eye.

It’s all a game of luck.

The meeting doesn’t run much longer. A concluding statement with hints of a threat if anyone messes up rings through your ears. A project end date of July 20th, when the album is supposed to go live. You’re not nervous, per se. Simply blindsided given the lack of information. What’s the song about? When’s the due date? Will 3Racha come to you first, or do you have to take time out of your day to the CEO’s harrowing office? The uncertainties aggravate the impulse of opening a new document on your computer and delving into your producer rituals. You can’t create someone else’s project out of blankness. And that irritates you to no end.

Someone throws their arm around your shoulder in an attempt to throw you off your purposeful stride.

“Congrats,” the belonger says.

You glance over to look, even though you know the voice well. He is your connection, of course.

“Thanks.”

Minho pulls you back to a slower pace. Familiar faces from the meeting pass you to the elevator, a majority in a meaningless chatter. They expected an appearance on this project.

“What are you doing tonight?” he finally asks, stopping altogether and dropping his arm from your shoulder.

You shrug, looking curiously at him. Minho’s not one to beat around the bush.

“Hypothetically,” he starts, “how would you feel being invited to bro night?”

“And actually witness you or Felix puke on the lawn instead of hearing about it? No thanks,” you scoff, making an attempt to abandon the situation by following the distancing crowd.

He grabs your wrist, spinning you back to him. “Please?” His eyes are pleading, glaring back at you like an innocent kitten.

You tip your head and sigh. “Why?”

Instead of cutting to the chase, he sucks in a deep breath and says, “I’ll pay you.”

An eyebrow cocks. Regardless of your amusement—a desperate Minho doesn’t appear often—worries consume you. “What’s up? Why are you acting like this?”

Wary eyes jump around the hallway before they land back on you. “Follow me,” he mumbles.

His steps are calculated as he guides you to the elevator and presses the floor his office resides on. The ride is silent, as is the walk down the hall. You step into the room first, and he closes the door behind him. Despite the urge to ask if he’s about to murder you, you bite your tongue and take a seat on his upholstered couch. Identical to the one in your office.

Gently, he lowers himself into his chair. A few minutes pass of you simply staring at each other. Nerves crawl up your spine and you disguise them with a snarky comment. “Are you going to tell me why you’re willing to bribe me into spending time with your friends?”

In the time he takes to respond, you think about how the only mutual friend you have is Jisung. Sure, you know everyone on a name basis; but it’s not like you’ve known them as long as Minho. He doesn’t have other, more qualified, friends to drag to bro night?

“Chan’s kinda in a mood right now,” Minho’s words are slurred by the breath he releases as he speaks.

“And?” you press.

“I want you to see it before you work with him. And for him to understand you in advance. Y’know. You’re a little,” he hesitates, “forward sometimes.”

You should take this as an insult, but you can’t because words’ owner knows you too well. Minho never speaks unjustly.

“Touche,” you nod. It’s better to own up to your flaws. If you don’t, that’s how you end up walking into a carefully curated narcissistic personality.

His features loosen as he presses his forearms on his thighs. “So. You in?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” you emit a wry laugh. All in one sentence, you’ve managed to prove his point. It’s simple, really.

“You see, I’ve already told the boys you’re coming. Either way, I would’ve gotten you to go. The only other option would have been to threaten you with a knife,” he admits. As you gawk at him in awe, realizing you stand in the same boat, a proud grin grows on his face. With time, you begin to mirror the ones you admire. Friends, for example.

“I think Seungmin will like you,” he adds.

“Why do you say that?”

All you know of Kim Seungmin is that he’s in the vocal department, along with his younger counterpart Yang Jeongin, and that he’s a menace. Minho’s words.

“You’re both evil.”

That’s the last straw. You stand up without a word and stomp for the door.

His laugh echoes behind you, striking a quieter one of your own. Still, you stay in character and slip out into the hallway. Minho has won too many of these scenarios.

ii.

Loba sneaks into the kitchen as you wait impatiently for Minho. Thirty minutes. That’s how late he is. You consider texting him, but acknowledge the possibility he’s stuck in traffic or something. Agitation tells you to do it anyway since he only lives two blocks over.

The orange cat paws at your calf for attention, momentarily distracting you as you set your phone down on the counter. Minho’s chat is wide open. She, too, finds excuses for him.

Her head nuzzles against your palm as you scratch behind her ears. She meddles successfully enough to trick you into feeding her a few treats. While you reach for the top shelf of your pantry, a pair of footsteps sneak up behind you. Heavier than Loba’s.

“Did the cat convince you to spoil her again?”

“Son of a-” you recoil, whirling around to greet the man, the myth, the late bastard.

The familiar appearance of a sly smirk, mischievous eyes, and an outfit that makes him look like a casual runway model, pierce your vision.

“You’re late,” you mutter, stepping past him and scooping Loba up. You rest her head on your left arm, cradling her like a baby. She tilts her head up to stare back at Minho. Traitor.

Minho grabs the bag of treats for you.

“Sorry, I had to pick up Jisung. He’s in the car,” his voice trails as he slips his thumbs between the plastic fold and focuses on opening the difficult seal.

“Damn it,” he curses. Karma arrives faster in deserving situations.

“It took you thirty extra minutes to pick him up?”

He deadpans, “You know he likes to be presentable for the boys.”

When you don’t give him the satisfaction of a single laugh, let alone a change in emotion, he whines, “Oh come on, that was funny.”

“You trick me into going to your stupid hangout, and now you have the nerve to show up late?”

He sneaks a few treats to Loba. “You’re really not mad at me right now, are you?”

“Irritated, at the least,” you admit.

“Well, then I’m sorry. Jisung got off late so I had to wait at Bang! for him.”

The words sink into your skin, but you don’t acknowledge them further. The anger fades on the walk down to the car, a great distance separating you and Minho. It’s practically dissipated by the time you climb into the backseat of Minho’s Kia Soul.

Jisung turns in the front seat and offers his hand at an awkward angle. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

You hold your seatbelt in one hand, accepting his with the other as you force a measly smile. “Same for you. Thanks for suggesting me to Mr. Bang.”

Confusion warps his face, twisting his eyebrows in a weird knit as he shakes his head. “It wasn’t me. Must’ve been Chan.”

Minho drops himself into the driver’s seat, suspending any further questioning.

Jisung returns to his original poise as when you approached the car. Eyes focused on his phone, actively typing something out.

You click your seatbelt into locking. An unnatural feeling plagues your gut. Mr. Bang wanted you on the team? It feels unlikely, but you know Jisung wouldn’t joke like that. Even if he were the type, his acting of unawareness gives away the truth.

Minho glances back at you in the mirror. “Ready?” he asks as his hand rests on the gearshift.

You press your lips into a line as you nod. “Mhm.”

You stare down at your hands carefully folded in your lap. For the first time since before producing, the itch to create is drowned by an intense, overwhelming brew of something lingering in your veins.

The expectation of you has pierced through the roof and is shooting out of the stratosphere.

Chan—Jisung quickly advised you to drop all formalities, so you’re rewiring your thoughts—has a home in Gangnam. Fitting for his status, but smaller than you expected. It’s still able to fit at least four of your apartment in it, though.

Jisung and Minho walk ahead of you up the stairs. The elevators in rich apartments on this end can only fit two people if you really scrunch together. What’s the money for, then?

“Today’s Monopoly night, right?” Jisung examines Minho’s side profile as he cautiously lifts one foot after the other. The stairs here are steeper than any you’ve seen. Hiking sounds better than this.

He hums in approval. “I guess we’ll sort teams later. We probably won’t live through the night with last week’s.”

A brash laugh escapes Jisung’s lips, subsequently echoing against the walls and bouncing back to your ears. “Right.”

You tune out their conversation for the rest of the climb, settling for watching your shoelaces sway with each step.

Jisung pushes on the door for the fourth floor, holding it open until you’re fully into the hallway. “Chan’s the second door on the right,” Jisung nods to one of the identical doors along the hall—appearing more expensive than your monthly rent with its rich stain.

Minho doesn’t bother knocking, instead opting for trying the doorknob. It allows access to the gigantic living space and the loud chatter previously muffled by walls.

You must be the last to arrive, but you probably could’ve guessed such.

“Hey,” Jeongin looks up from his conversation, inspiring a round of greetings from all the others.

“You all know each other enough so I’ll skip the introductions,” Minho glances between you and the group, starting for an empty end of the couch.

When Jisung follows his lead, you take a headcount. It appears everyone’s present except Chan—his birth name still feels awkwardly informal in your thoughts. You glance down the dark hallway to your right, counting one, two, three closed doors. Nature drags you into curiosity.

Seungmin, your alleged evil twin, waves you over.

As you take the empty spot beside him, he says, “Sorry, you looked a little awkward just standing there. Thought I’d save you before Hyunjin said something.” He shoots a pointed nod at the long-haired blond lounging between Changbin and Minho.

“Oh. Thanks,” you force a little smile that imitates gratitude. You didn’t feel awkward observing, but maybe your aura screamed otherwise.

Jeongin leans slightly over Seungmin’s shoulder with an inquisitive eye. “How did Minho convince you to come?”

“Blackmail,” you nod. Not attempting to summon a laugh, but managing so in the process.

“That’s Minho for you,” Seungmin tips his head in a slightly disbelieving manner.

“It’s okay, though. We’ll make tonight fun for you,” Jeongin raises his hand, and you meet it with a high-five.

Bro night might not be as bad as you thought.

“If only Chan comes out from his room,” Seungmin mutters, particularly to himself, as he leans his arm on the back of the couch and twists his body to look back into the hallway.

Questions. You want to ask them, but then Minho’s words return in full, blaring effect. Forward, he said. Meaning: blunt. In your face.

You bite your tongue. Redirect the temptation, you think, as your eyes scan the room. Admittedly, it’s odd seeing all these people away from their respective passions. However, Changbin’s phone is cradled in his hands, and his fingers are typing away potential lyrics. Felix, too, is hiding the fact his fingers are mirroring the directions of his recent choreography. Maybe passions are always a shadow of you.

“Should we just fix teams?” Minho says above the impatient silence.

“We can,” Hyunjin leans his forearms on his thighs. His hair falls in front of his shoulders like he’s some kind of Greek god.

“Team captains?” Seungmin asks.

“Let’s do the oldest of each unit, but since Chan’s God-knows-where, Changbin can represent,” Minho nods, glancing around for looks of satisfaction.

“Sure, rock-paper-scissors for who goes first?” Seungmin pushes a strand of hair out of his eye.

Short story short, Minho wins the first round with a victorious cheer of, “Easy!”

“You only say that because you know they always pick scissors first,” you accuse.

Minho points a finger at you, “Allegedly.”

You land a spot on Minho’s team since he got the first pick of the litter. Then, by Minho’s attempt at matchmaking, Chan lands on your team.

As you’re moving spots, you shoot Seungmin a sad, unmoving look.

He laughs, pushing you towards Minho. “Maybe next time.”

“What?” Minho glances between you. “Are you planning a coup against me?”

“You wish, Lee Minho,” you sigh, falling into the empty space beside him.

After a few beats of silence, for good measure, Minho leans down to your ear and says, “I told you you’d like him.”

“Yeah, he’s like a better version of you,” you turn to see the predictable look of offense on his features.

“Fine then, get Seungmin to drive you home,” he pouts, crossing his arms against his chest and pushing his back into the couch.

“Oh come on,” you nudge his elbow, laughing at his exaggeration.

You see a smile tug at his lips before he breaks, letting a chuckle break through his barrier.

In the remaining meantime that you wait, Minho calls dibs on the cat. Seungmin’s team claims the dog, with an offhand comment from Minho going, “You would choose the dog.” Finally, Changbin’s team chooses the hat.

“Is that a joke because you’re so short? So you can gain a few inches with the hat?” Hyunjin jabs.

Changbin reaches over the couch to try and hit him.

From this end of the couch, you can look directly into the dark, mysterious hallway. You watch as the second door knob slowly turns. You focus on it, and the shouting dispute fades out in your ears.

Chan steps out from the room, carefully closing the door behind him so as to not bring all the eyes on him at once. You fight your facial expressions to remain neutral as you take in his appearance—which is shockingly normal. Suits are his workplace fashion, and consequently, all you’ve seen him in. Now, he wears black basketball shorts and a black tee. His hair is even loosening into curls. Is this the same man who runs a massive music company? Are we sure?

His cover is blown the moment he steps into the light of the living room. Jeongin warily points a finger in your direction, “You’re on their team.”

Chan presses his lips into a makeshift smile as he approaches you and Minho. He pushes out a small ‘hey’ before taking his spot on the other side of Minho.

His reclusive figure makes your heart wrench. You wish you could have talked Minho out of going. To him, you’re just an outsider he has to put a front up for. But, the thing is, he isn’t trying to build a barrier. It appears that he doesn’t have any more energy to try.

You catch yourself staring when Minho nudges your knee with his. “You take the first roll.”

Collecting the die, you notice your hands trembling a little. Not good. You manage, somehow knocking Seungmin’s dog in the process. He feigns shock, whining in an accusatory tone, “You’re no different than Minho.”

The choir of laughter shuffles you back into reality when you glance back at your accused teammate, catching the look of the other. The corners of Chan’s lips are slightly turning up into a smile.

Whew. You’re amazed by the amount of relief that little smile gives you.

iii.

The game trails into the early hours of the morning, and a few times a boy will point at Chan and say, in an attempt to be lighthearted, “This is all your fault.”

To the dismay of the rivals, Changbin’s team manages to win. Jisung, a member of Seungmin’s team, flips the board twenty turns too late at the news. “This game is stupid!” he laughs through his words.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Changbin says as the money flutters to the rug beneath the glass coffee table. A cue for the group to laugh blinks above their heads, each varying in intensity. Hyunjin even claps a few times, for his vocal contribution pales insufficient.

Jisung slumps to the ground, “I know.”

Chan lifts himself from the couch to aid him with a lingering smile from all the laughs. As the night progressed, he seemed to slowly inch into his ‘normal’ state, as Jisung had referred to in the car.

Minho slips his phone out from his pocket. At the single-digit time, nearing close to sunrise, he heaves a sigh and pushes himself up. “Guess I should get you home.”

He extends a hand to help you up.

“You’re leaving already?” Seungmin asks.

“Uh, yeah. It’s like three A.M.,” Minho squints at him, turning his lit home screen at him for proof.

Chan snickers as he stacks all the thousands. “That’s early for me.”

See? He’s even making jokes now. This is a weird normal, considering all you know of him is his status, but admittedly better than whatever funk he was previously in.

“See you on Monday, I’ll just spend the night,” Jisung lifts his hand in a semi-wave.

Chan doesn’t protest. Instead, he looks up at you and sticks his hand up. “Can’t wait to work with you,” and smiles. Dimples indent his cheeks in a way that makes your stomach churn.

You take his hand and mirror his smile, though it’s rather genuine in comparison to the one you offered Jisung.

Minho has the decency to wait to call you out on it until you’re in the soundproof safety of his car.

“I saw that,” he says.

“What?”

“The smile. Don’t like Chan. That’d be way too awkward for me.”

You laugh, examining his twisted face of disgust as he starts the car. “Why?”

You’re not asking out of curiosity. You don’t like Chan, and you don’t see yourself liking him anytime soon. Or in the far future, for that matter. It’s just so easy to mess with Minho.

“Uh, my best friend dating my other best friend? That’s third-wheel central. I’m too hot to be a third wheel.”

Later, as you’re unbuckling your seatbelt to venture into the apartment building, Minho mumbles, “But, I mean, if you like him it’s whatever. I don’t want you feeling like you have to hide anything from me.”

You punch his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re getting all sappy on me again. You don’t have to worry about stuff like that, dude,” you frown. Above anything Minho can say to you, his insecurities taking over his words hurts the most.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say, then adding, “Unless you want to come over sometime this weekend. I’ll be home.”

He smiles, though you sense the differing thoughts behind his eyes. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you say before shutting the door.

iv.

In all the wrong ways, Monday comes too fast. Faster than you can process Friday night, essentially.

You try to scramble your remaining thoughts into order as you walk into the lobby.

Is Chan going to be normal today? Hoping so. Why was that relief so astonishing? Did Minho catch onto something-

“Hey, Y/N!” Jisung intercepts your thoughts.

Your eyes involuntarily widen as he pops out from seemingly nowhere. Your gaze drifts to his outstretched hands, offering you one of the drinks each brandishes.

“I didn’t know which you’d prefer, and Minho wasn’t awake so I couldn’t text him. So, I got coffee and tea.”

You take your pick and nod a ‘thank you.’

“How was your weekend?” you find yourself asking as he leads you to the elevator.

He shrugs, “I did absolutely nothing other than a brain detox for this project. You?”

Despite his back being to you, your chin twitches into a nod. “Same as you, pretty much.”

“I think Chan’s in a good enough mood,” Jisung glances back at you as he reaches for the up arrow on the elevator’s panel.

“Sweet.”

Minho is your gateway to an easy conversation. Of course, he’s not here, but you slightly wish he was. You’re forced to meander in an abrasive silence until the elevator takes you up to the eighth floor.

Eight, because Chan detests the idea of being too close to anyone. He doesn’t want his presence to divide anyone’s attempt at creating their best. An icon in distancing, Minho joked as during your first week under Bang!

Jisung sucks in a deep breath as he turns into a room whose door is partially cracked. “Here goes nothing.”

On the far side of the room is an L-shaped couch. Resting upon the vertical side as if he were in his own bed is Changbin. A laptop sits in his lap, closed, but his phone is inches away from his face as he types.

“It’d be more effective if you used that laptop,” Jisung comments, resting his drink on the coffee table and sitting by Changbin’s feet. Giving Changbin the perfect opportunity to wedge his foot between the younger’s ribcage. A cry of pain shoots out of Jisung’s mouth. Truly, he should have seen that coming.

“Dude!” he shouts, jumping to his feet and clutching his side.

“I told you not to mess with me,” Changbin’s eyes narrow into a warning gaze, but Jisung laughs anyway.

“You are not scary, bro.”

You start for the opposite end of the couch, pressing your back into the armrest as you watch the scene unfold. Cupping your drink with both hands, you’re unsure if the warmth stems from it or the sibling-esque fight before you.

Changbin slides the laptop off of his lap and pulls himself to his feet. He stands before Jisung, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Then, as his eyes flutter open, he brings his fists up.

“Come on. Fight me.”

Jisung takes a step back. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Changbin shakes his head. “I’m not.”

Jisung’s eyes flit around the room for help. It would be that when the muscle man wants to fight, the only person physically capable of pacifying him isn’t here. Pure, unadulterated luck.

“And when you break my arm, then what?” Jisung’s eyebrows raise in taunting interrogation.

“Then I break your arm? What about it? You can perform with a shattered humerus. Right, ace?”

By chance of a higher being granting Han Jisung a break, Chan enters his office with a manila folder in his hand. Only a few steps into the room, he has to halt. His hand finds his hip, releasing a big sigh as he clutches the folder. To no surprise, he’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit. Black, of course. But with a surprising navy undershirt, which you give him credit for.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to cause injury in my office? Can you imagine the lawsuit? Would you do that to your beloved friend?” he asks a stream of questions.

He seems relatively happy.

Changbin drops his fists to his sides, gaze dropping back to his abandoned laptop. He scoops it up before reclaiming his spot. To fully conclude the argument, he opens the laptop’s lid. “Jisung started it.”

The accused boy looks at Chan and silently pleads his case. His hands clasp into a prayer.

Chan waves him off with a smile and a breathy laugh before starting for his desk. He acknowledges you with a small raise of his hand.

“Ah, where to begin?” he asks, to no one in particular, as he tosses the folder onto his desk and sinks into his chair.

“Han, can you turn the projector on?” Changbin takes the initiative, reaching over the couch’s back to grab a white USB cord.

He does as told, warily trying to avoid another pseudo-fight, before rushing to the light switch and fading the room into a mass of darkness. Chan must not like having his blinds open. Black world he lives in.

Changbin’s screen presents against the vacant wall across from him. A pre-written document appears, with the title ‘TT Ideas’ and a dashed list. 1.5 spacing, you admire.

“Okay, I did my homework,” he sighs, dragging his cursor over the highlighted ideas for the title track. “These are my personal favorites, but I’m up to debate.”

Jisung shivers at those words. Debate. Meaning: duel.

In the darkness, Chan steps in front of you. He sits halfway between you and Changbin, resting his elbows on his knees as he studies the list. You notice that his lips pout as he focuses, and his eyes squint a little.

You shift your own attention, for you’ll lose pacing if you stare at Chan the whole day. Changbin has highlighted unrequited love, turning the aura of summer into a song, unique abilities, and simply ‘flexing our equities’.

“Yeah, I definitely think that last one will go over well,” Jisung sardonically comments.

Changbin sighs in defeat and drags his cursor over his beloved idea, hitting the backspace in pity, “I knew you’d say that.”

“Can you elaborate on the unique abilities?” you ask, quieter than anticipated but still reaching its aim.

“Not to tute my own horn,” Changbin starts, running a hand through his hair, “but we’re sought after. When people see our names on tracklists, they immediately know the song is going to be good. They don’t sit and wonder if they’ll be disappointed, because they know with 3Racha that’s unpalatable. Hell, I saw someone tweet the other day that their favorite artist was spotted here, and the fandom went fucking crazy.

“People know what they expect from us, and that’s excellence. We deliver. You can’t say the same for a lot of producers. Doubt is inevitable for a lot of them, even if it’s only personal.”

“Couldn’t have said it better,” Jisung smirks, leaning his extended hand out to Changbin for him to high-five.

“What if we did it with an,” Chan hesitates, tilting his head at the screen to try and ease out the right words, “unnatural sound.”

“An experiment no one else could attempt,” you mumble, not expecting him to hear. His head snaps over to you, snapping, pointing a finger, and nodding.

“Exactly.”

The boys look between each other, bobbing their heads in agreement. “We can do that,” Jisung grins.

“You know, I had a feeling you would say that,” Changbin slips his phone out of his pocket, swiftly unlocking it and opening his notes app. “So I’ve already written my verse.”

“No way,” Jisung cocks his head at him.

“Okay,” Changbin mutters, “I had verses written for all the highlighted ones.”

“You are insane,” Chan chuckles, but not in an insulting tone.

From here on out, it’s smooth sailing.

v.

Until Jisung pats the pockets of his jeans two weeks later. “Shit,” he mutters, glancing back at the elevator you had just come from.

Midnight was around the corner and Jisung had promised Minho they’d go see the late-night showing of the latest horror film.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He turns to you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “I think I left my phone in Chan’s room. I’m gonna be late. Minho’s gonna kill me.”

You cease his rambling by putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go get it. Just tell Minho to text me when you’re done so you can pick it up. ‘Kay?”

So what if Loba’s waiting for you at home, probably pawing at the front door and meowing like, “I’m hungry”? You have a profound soft spot for Jisung. And not because Minho threatened you if you ever showed any disliking. Plus, Loba’s spoiled in all other walks of her life. She can handle you coming home a little later than usual for one night.

He breathes a sigh of relief, looking up at the high ceiling in some kind of grateful manner. “You are a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you smile, starting back to the elevator as he continues his path.

The company is rather unsettling without its daytime bustle. It’s even worse on the eighth floor. A usual ghost-town, except with an increased darkness and an odd chill trailing down your back.

The hallways feel stuffy as you get close to Chan’s office, your gaze set ahead. A sniffling sound seeps into your range of hearing, though you don’t think much of it. You can get colds in summer.

Naive to think a man as esteemed as Mr. Bang would succumb to a measly cold.

As you sneak your head between the cracked door, placing your hand around its width and slightly pushing forward, the view sends your heart crashing into your stomach. Chan’s head is lowered, either hand cupping his head as incessant tears drip from his nose.

Awkwardly stepping forward, you clear your throat.

His glossy eyes, rimmed with red and slightly puffy, jump up to you. Instinctively, he attempts to discard the evidence.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he croaks, pulling his sleeve over his hand and gliding it across his damp cheek.

That’s something he could learn. If someone’s a witness, you can expect them to ease into questions. It’s only nature.

“Do you need a hug?” you attempt. Don’t be forward, don’t be blunt, don’t be mean. Minho’s reminder blinks across your vision.

He laughs, “Maybe.”

A pitiful smile creeps onto your lips as you step around the desk. Your arms link semi-awkwardly around his shoulders. He presses his cheek against your collarbone, silently crying a little. You take careful breaths, trying to stabilize your chest for him.

“Does anyone know?” Your hand rubs soft circles against his back. He shakes his head against your body. A small hiccup shakes his frame.

“You can tell me if you want.”

“I don’t want to burden you,” he manages through his tears.

You pull back a little for him to look at you. “I will smack sense into you if you say some stupid shit like that again.” In spite of his eyes crinkling into a smile—looking at you like you’re a childhood friend who he knows like the back of his hand—you try to recover. “I swear, you won’t burden me.”

He takes in a shaky breath. A blaring thought curses the forefront of your eyes. “Do you mind if we go to my apartment, though? I have a hungry cat waiting for me.”

Your arms retreat to your sides as he nods and drags the back of his hand across either cheek. “Yeah, no problem.”

You glance over at the couch, and the object of your mission stares back at you. For a second, you swear it’s glowing gold and screaming, “Your quest ends here! Bring me to my owner!”

You shuffle for the couch and scoop it up. When Chan looks at your hand in confusion, you offer, “Jisung left it. I’m the delivery service.”

“Right.” And he smiles. Comfort engulfs your body when you notice the flood has stopped.

Since you normally walk or ride the bus to work, Chan drives. His shiny sports car looks rather alien beside your used, well-used, car.

“I should warn you,” you turn to him as you push your key into the lock, “Loba’s a cuddler.”

“Sweet. I’d feel bad asking you for more hugs,” he jokes.

Sure enough, Loba is lying before the door. She scrambles to her feet and stares up at her guardian and the new intruder. Conveniently misplacing her cries for food, she scopes out the new man.

“What’d you say her name was again?” Chan asks, squatting in front of her and scratching behind her ears.

“Loba,” you say, opening the fridge to dish out Loba’s expensive special food. Adopting a cat with stomach issues, am I right?

“Loba?” Chan repeats, stifling a laugh.

“I didn’t name her,” you turn to him in defense.

Chan lowers himself, crossing his legs as Loba climbs into his lap. The love-hungry cat doesn’t even notice when you set her ceramic bowl next to her water station. She’s too absorbed in her newfound friend.

Rather than forcing them to relocate to the couch, you sit offset from them on the tile. Smiling down at the orange cat, you admit, “She’s not even like this with Minho.”

“Really?” Chan’s amused face stuns a vibration in your chest.

You appeal confirmation.

“That’s crazy. I’m a dog person, normally,” he coos down at the lovebug.

Don’t let this distract you from the task at hand, you remind yourself.

“So,” you drag. How do you say this without tempting the tears again? Admittedly, it would be nice if you had an ounce of insight. You’re walking into a minefield without a blueprint of where they lie.

Chan sighs, acknowledging his cue. “My dad doesn’t really like me all too much,” he wryly laughs.

“He seems stupid then,” you offer, not thinking further than trying to comfort him, “You’re very likable.”

“Thank you,” Chan drags his tongue against his bottom lip.

He continues, “Moreso, he dislikes his father. The one who skipped a generation when trying to continue his legacy. By association, I kind of take the brunt of it.” He looks at you through blurry eyes as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you were the only person who could have continued the company. Your dad seems,” you hesitate, “insolent. You, on the other hand, are an ace.”

“I try to tell myself that. He makes me go to all of his business parties to keep his reputation up, as well as mine in a way. You don’t want the broken family running a huge corporation,” he mimics what he’s been told.

“So you can’t tune him out,” you echo.

“Yep,” he drags the word out, prompting a heavy sigh.

“I’m not really good at the whole comforting thing,” you study the creases of your palms. “But I’ll say that you are, by far, the most amazing person I could work for. You’re really admirable. Plus, Minho really likes you. You’re kind of like the brother he never had.”

“God, you’re gonna make me cry,” he laughs, staring up at the light as he pulls a hand away from Loba to wipe at his waterline.

“I’m serious,” you chuckle. “Would I blow smoke up your ass if you’re crying on my floor with my cat in your arms?”

When he hesitates to respond, you do it for him. “The answer is no. I don’t even do that for Minho.”

“That’s comforting,” he admits.

“I’d hope so. Now, hand me your phone,” you stick your hand out.

“Why?”

“So I can give you my number. Text me if stuff goes downhill, now that I’m in the loop.”

He looks at you quizzically.

“What? Do you think I’m going to let you suffer in silence now that I know?”

He leans to the side, cradling Loba protectively, as he draws his phone from his pocket. Unlocking it before he hands it to you.

As you type in a new contact, you say, “Do you want something to eat? I can order a pizza.”

vi.

Unfortunately, peace is temporary. Always and forever.

When you enter Chan’s office a few weeks after the father debacle, prepared to start the official recording of the album as decided on the previous day, you’re met with two confused men. Admittedly, you’re a little late, but not enough for them to be lost.

Changbin looks up at you as you cross the threshold. “Have you seen Chan?”

You shake your head.

“Heard from him?” Jisung follows.

Again, you shake your head.

“Shit,” they both fall back against the couch cushions in defeat.

“What’s wrong?” The grip on your bag tightens. Despite your inquisitive words, your gut gives you a fair answer.

“We haven’t heard from him since five this morning,” Changbin looks at Jisung for confirmation on the details.

“No one’s seen him?” you follow up.

“No one. He won’t answer our group chat either.”

Your foot taps against the floor as you try to remain composed. He texted you last night about his dad’s upcoming gala but was sparse about details. Or about the fact he would straight up disappear. Obviously, you can’t offer this information to them. A promise is a promise, even if half unspoken.

“Should we work through it? Get his parts whenever he decides to show up?” Changbin speaks.

“We can’t exactly meander anymore. Tracklist goes out at noon,” Jisung shakes his phone as annoyingly clear evidence.

“And you still need to learn the choreo for the title track,” you add. There’s only a month left. You bite your tongue, allowing the pain to slightly calm you down.

“God, what horrible timing,” Jisung laughs, but no joy laces through his tone.

You point harsh eyes at them, heavy steps leading you to the microphone stand designated for recording. “Come on then. Let’s get ahead before we can fall behind.”

vii.

You leave work the moment recording is done for the day, a discovery pulling you from focusing on anything else. Chan shared his location with you a few days ago when he offered a reciprocal to what you’ve done for him. “So you can always find me,” he said via text.

Though not for the right purpose, per se, you’re going to find him. And when you do, you might have to smack sense into him this time. With love, you convince yourself as you pull up to the stadium.

Who in their right mind rents an indoor stadium for an evening party? Rich people, evidently.

You find Chan’s car, among its shiny counterparts, and park as close to it as you can. As you get out, you pull your phone out of your pocket and call him. Not expecting him to answer, honestly.

“Hello?” his voice penetrates your ears.

“I’m outside,” you say, fighting the heavy heartbeat echoing in your head. Your hands tremble at the thought of him here, all dressed up and acting like nothing’s wrong.

“What?” he mumbles.

You look up to the big screen above the gate. “Gangnam Public Stadium, right?”

The background noise slightly fades as he says, “Wait where you are, I’ll come meet you.”

“Parking lot,” you offer before he hangs up.

You step into the shade and lean against a brick wall.

Today’s one of the finer days of summer. It’s mid-June. The solstice is just around the corner. A light breeze brushes against your skin and gently ruffles your hair. It probably helps that you’re surrounded by wealthy cars. A mood booster, in a weird way.

Quick, heavy steps draw closer. You turn your head to the source.

Chan drops his hands onto his knees as he pants. “You shouldn’t be here,” he manages.

“You should’ve told someone why you wouldn’t be at work. We all have our regrets,” you nibble on the inside of your cheek as you stare at him.

“God,” he mutters, straightening himself before standing next to you against the wall.

“You’ll get your suit dirty,” you comment, but he doesn’t care.

“You should leave.” His eyes, heavy with an emotion akin to irritation and sadness, scan over your face.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me why you did this,” you stand your ground. Just like Minho would hate in a moment like this. “To get to a person, you have to ease them into it,” he guided at one point. Frankly, you couldn’t care less right now.

He avoids your eyes as he tries to flatten his staggered breathing. In due time, he composes himself and finally looks at you. His features have loosened, and you note his brow is no longer creased.

“I didn’t want to lose my cool in front of them,” he admits.

“Scared to?”

He nods. “It was scary enough having one person see me cry.”

The place between your heart and ribs begins to pulsate heat.It begins to spread across your bones and through your muscles. For once, you have to think about what to say next. You can’t be mad at him, for his reasoning makes more sense than it had before. God, this is irritating.

“Let’s make the song of the summer, then,” you reassure him with a curt nod. “Pull you out of this monster field around you and let’s make history.”

The dark surrounding encasing him cracks away as an unbelievable smile finds its place. One like you have never seen. One that pierces your heart with its joy. “Let’s do it.” And he drags you into a hug. Despite the roles taking a quick turn, you feel comforted. But he’s squeezing the life out of you.

viii.

You’ve done all you can do for 3Racha within the next week. The album is complete, as far as instrumentals and lyrics. All that’s left is promotion, along with all the theatrical elements left to be discussed. But that’s separate from you.

It feels bittersweet that it’s come to an end. You know that sometime in the future you’ll return to the studio with them, working alongside creative geniuses to invent a piece. Together. That’s the key. But it feels so far away.

You sit in your empty office, staring at the broad window as raindrops fall down the glass. Recounting the process in your head with distant gratitude. Title track: God’s Menu. You’re proud of it, viewing it as your child. Watching it grow into a real song, with real words and sounds attached to it. Wow. You catch a glimpse at the meaning of life as you watch two raindrops race down. It’s this: blossoming art from a tiny idea. Admittedly not entirely your own, but the principle remains.

The other tracks enlist an equal amount of precious memories for you. Late nights felt normal with the unreal energy coursing through your veins. You notice the products of effort as you consider all those extra hours. Admiration shoots through your body, leaving it numb.

It was all them, though, you acknowledge. You were only there as a caretaker, offering your own hint to mark the music.

3Racha is like a shooting star. It's fantastic, in a sense. Not everyone can say they’ve seen a shooting star in the same way not many can say they’ve witnessed the production process with three of the most talented producers in the game. They’re unreal.

A knock against your doorframe shocks you out of your thoughts. You drag your foot against the floor to turn your chair.

Chan, dressed in an outfit similar to that of boys’ night, awaits your attention. Sweat lines his forehead, glistening his skin. You can guess where he’s been.

“Hey.”

“I need your help.” His words were trailing your simple greeting so close you could say he interrupted you. Seriousness brings his face into a dimness, slightly intimidating you.

“With?” you prompt.

He leans against the frame with his arm, replaying his words in his head over and over before spitting them out, “I kind of told my dad I’d bring a date to his next party.”

“Oh?” you say, slowly realizing. “Oh.”

“Will you do it?” His features twist into a nervous reflection.

“Sure, if you pay for my outfit.”

You say this as a joke, but he fails to convey it this way. “Deal. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Does Loba need a cat tree by any chance?”

He doesn’t await your answer as he slips back into the hall. Was that conversation even real?

An indistinguishable whiplash conquers your body into a sudden realization. You turn to your desk, scooping your phone into your hands and texting Minho, beginning with, “When you see this…”

ix.

Certainly, Chan is a man of his word. From the mere month you’ve known him, you should have gathered this. But as you stand in his living room, decked out in some outfit he carefully chose for you, it blares against all of your senses in bright, evident clarity.

Minho’s message buzzes against your palm.

Lee Knows: Loba’s conked already, two minutes after she ate. Have fun ;)

You: Lol thanks again for taking care of her.

Lee Knows: Of course. Anything for my bestest friend in the world. Now, a night of yearning!

The only way to describe this feeling rooted in the base of your stomach are the words: raw emotion. It’s a cluster. Jitters mixed with a blend of uncertainty and a weird elation? To be fair, you are about to lie your way through expensive drinks and hors d’oeuvres. What even are those?

Regardless, one thing is certain. Minho was right. It’s...discouraging to admit. Frankly, you’d ignore it for as long as possible if you could. But adoration is difficult. In your face. Forward, some would refer to it as.

God, this is all Minho’s fault.

“Ready?” Chan’s shoes click against the hardwood as he departs from his dark hole of a room. He looks stunning, though his attire isn’t much different from his office wear. A small sign of rebellion appears in his appearance, which ignites a flame in your chest.

Chan brings a hand to where your eyes are burning a whole into—his hair. The curls are there, less accentuated than bro night, but evident. “Ah, I didn’t really want to straighten it. I’ve already had fried hair one too many times in my life.”

“It looks nice,” you smile. Your throat tightens as you swallow. “You look nice.”

“Same for you,” he allows a prolonged scan of you. Sheepishly, you do one of those cheesy twirls you always see in the romance movies before Prom night or whatever expensive evening the protagonists are attending. Sincerely, with all the love rampaging through your chest, you’re going to kill Minho for cursing your life like this.

He snaps out of his trance, starting for the door. “We should get going.”

Aside from the quiet hum of the radio, the ride to the venue is silent. It wouldn’t be complete without hitting every redlight, either. Jisung’s luck must have rubbed off on you when you had that group hug.

You sit at one now, red gleaming against your face as you stare out at the sidewalk vacant of pedestrians. No one’s even at any of the other lights.

“You okay?” Chan asks.

“Yeah,” you turn back to him.

“Good,” he nods, instantly averting your eyes.

Perhaps you should have found a way to decline. Even Loba would have been a better date option. At least she has chemistry with him.

x.

To no one’s surprise, the venue is huge. Potentially larger than the stadium. From ceiling to the carpeted floor, decorated properly with the black tie theme.

Chan reluctantly grabs your hand before you tackle the crowd. If you were cold, the warmth radiating against your palm is sufficient for heating the rest of your body. Unluckily, though, you aren’t cold. Your hand feels clammy in his. If he wasn’t attracted to you before, he certainly isn’t now.

You stare at your shoes as you follow.

“Just a heads up about my dad,” he glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re still there, despite the tether between you, “he most definitely thinks we’re dating, so be prepared for questions.”

“Oh great,” you mumble. How do you cure a lovesick heart? What an ambiguous question offering up to a plethora of potential answers. One incorrect answer, though: acting out romance. In real time, too.

“Sorry, I probably should have told you sooner. Kind of slipped my mind,” he squeezes your hand in apology.

Even when you break out into a free space, his hand doesn’t pull from yours. Instead, he slightly tightens the hold as he approaches an older man. Without any prior knowledge (ie. not Googling his dad after he cried on your kitchen floor over the bastard), you could guess this is his dad. They practically have the same face. Striking differences, however, given some context.

“Hey,” the man grins, eyes shifting curiously between you and his son.

You dip your head in respect. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bang.”

His hand claps your shoulder as you look up. “You don’t have to be so formal with me.” Silence hangs onto the end of his sentence as he glances at Chan for help.

“Y/N,” Chan offers. Your name sounds pretty coming from him.

“Y/N,” his father repeats. You want to sock him for saying your name.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Would have been nicer if Chan had given a little notice,” he laughs for you, alternatively offering a subtle, but not unnoticeable, glare to Chan.

Reflexively, your unoccupied hand clenches until you feel your nails pressing sharply into your skin. Discreetly, you nudge Chan’s arm with your elbow as a sign that you’re here. Slightly, his hand loosens in yours as his nerves slowly ease.

“Sorry, it’s kind of recent,” Chan laughs. His eyes crinkle into a faux delight.

“Of course,” his father nods. “Haven’t seen any articles about it yet, which is good. You might not want this being exposed to the GP.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Chan manages through gritted teeth, albeit hidden in a way only you could notice.

Then, as if the attack didn’t have a cooldown, he reaches up and tugs at one of Chan’s curls. “Your hair looks...interesting.”

It’s really difficult trying to remain neutral in the face of backhanded advice and compliments. Especially in front of this man, who shouldn’t even be given a title as esteemed as that. He’s scum stuck to the back of your old, rusty car that won’t go away in spite of however many power washes.

“Mr. Bang,” a waiter appears behind him, stealing his attention long enough for you to drag Chan in the opposite direction. He’ll find his way into a business conversation soon anyway. With no recollection of what he said to his son whatsoever. Considering his words will always stick with Chan, your face heats up.

You ignore Chan’s repelling tug, and his words that go in one ear and out the other. A hidden area near the bar is the only place where he has enough courage to stop you. But only because you let it happen.

“If we stayed there much longer, I would have caught an assault charge,” you huff.

“You handled it well, though,” he admits, “Even if you were about to break my hand.”

In the face of anger personified, he manages to smile and crack a laugh.

“Sorry,” you mumble, finally pulling your hand away from his.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, glancing back at the bartender serving an established looking woman a margarita. Likely strawberry from its tint.

You shake your head, “I’m good. Thank you.”

“Well, then, I’ll be back,” he reaches out to rub your shoulder before slipping back into the crowd. You’re jealous of the effect he has to just become invisible.

You pull your phone from its hidden spot and open Minho’s awaiting text.

Lee Knows: Has he made a move yet?

You: Why would he?

Lee Knows: Idk you’re kind of obvious.

Before you can answer, an incoming notification from Seungmin pops up.

Seungmo: Is it true that you like Chan?

Minho. Lee Minho. You grimace.

You: No comment.

Seungmo: Sweet. Jeongin owes me twenty bucks. But ew. Who would romantically like Chan?

The text really ties together with the barfing emoji.

“Who’s that?” the subject of both text logs peeks his head over your phone.

You snatch it back, instinctively turning it off. “Seungmin.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with him,” Chan observes, placing the black straw between his lips. His drink is also tinted pink, but not in a margarita glass.

“Minho built the bridge during bro night. Now we plot behind his back,” you joke, promptly making Chan choke. He coughs, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he sputters.

“Don’t do that when I’m drinking!” he laughs.

Your chest heaves as you try to stifle the laugh building up in your chest.

“Oh come on, you’re even gonna have the nerve to laugh at me?” he tips his head to look at your quivering frame. He finds this funny, but he can’t just not tease you. That’s not in the rule book.

“I’m not laughing,” you try to convince him, lips pressed into a fine line as quick breaths leave your nose.

“Right,” he rolls his eyes.

If he were being honest with you, he was doing this as a ploy to take your mind off of his dad. Honesty isn’t one of his finer points, though. So he stays quiet.

“Do you want a sip?” he offers the fruity looking drink to you.

“What is it?” you ask, but accepting the glass anyway.

“Just a strawberry mimosa.”

Again, if he were honest, he’d tell you he only got it to share with you. It was a shot in the dark, neutral enough. But, again, not one of his stronger urges. Minho would refer to this as him ‘making a move’, unbeknownst to you.

You take a quick sip. Humming in approval, you hand it back to him. “It’s good, I can barely even taste the alcohol.”

He fixes his hair absentmindedly as a passing conversation arises. Subject: Minho. Goal: offering both parties ammunition for his next offhand comment or prank.

“Did you know that Minho talks in his sleep?” you laugh.

Chan pulls at a curl, pulling it straight. “He seems like the type.”

You reach up and flick his wrist.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Stop thinking about what your dad said,” you scold. The nerves in your stomach dissipate as your hand ruffles his hair, fluffing it out. He looks more relaxed as you pull away.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t apologize, or I’ll punch you next time.”

“I can see why you and Minho get along so well.”

xi.

By the time you’re set free from the hell of socializing with all of Chan’s dad’s friends who last saw him when he was ‘this high’, the effects of the single mimosa wear off. Luckily for Chan, you drank most of it, so he’s set to drive.

“My feet hurt,” you complain. Maybe it would have been smart to break in the fancy shoes Chan invested for you before the event.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Chan asks, turning to you.

Against all voices inside of you screaming to decline, your pain receptors answer for you. “That’d be great, since you're offering.”

He bends his knees slightly and holds his arms slightly out. When you jump onto his back, he doesn’t even react.

“Do you religiously workout or something?” you joke, though true curiosity shines through your words. You’re pretty obvious.

“Duh. Every breathing moment I’m not working or crying over my dad. It’s a stress reliever.” Your arms, hanging from his neck, feel each vibration in his chest as he laughs.

As he readjusts his hands beneath your thighs, maintaining a steady hold of your body against his, your body grows warm and you can envision your cheeks glowing red. Minho was so right. And the field day he’s going to have with the upcoming weeks until the joke grows stale. You shiver at the thought.

“Are you cold?” Chan asks.

“Oh, no, I was just thinking about Minho.”

“Scary,” Chan mimics his own shiver at the mention.

You press your cheek against his shoulder, his steady steps drawing your eyes shut.

The silence you find is unparalleled to the one in the car earlier. This one is comfortable, homely even. So much so that you feel yourself fall asleep.

xii.

When you get to his apartment, he nudges your shoulder.

Your eyes slowly open, fighting against the dull light from the roof of his car.

“You can spend the night at my house. I’m not confident in pulling a sleeping body out of a car. Putting you in was hard enough,” he chuckles.

You manage a smile and hazily push the passenger door open. From the rest, your feet should be fine walking to the elevator (since there’s one less body than bro night, you’ll fit) and to his apartment. Still, he wraps his arm around your shoulders to steady you all the way up to his front door.

“I’ll grab you some clothes,” he says as you fall onto his couch. You didn’t acknowledge how comfortable it was just from sitting on it. Honestly, it feels like a normal mattress.

He returns from his room quickly with a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. Both black, as you could have guessed.

You walk to the bathroom and sleepily tug your fancy outfit off, careful not to ruin it. As you pull his shirt over your head, a rush of his cologne hugs you. You fight off the ‘I could get used to this’ comment that floats through your head.

You don’t remember walking back to the couch. But you remember Chan pulling a blanket up to your chin.

xiii.

Chan pokes your cheek, drawing you away from your precious dream of living in a cottage on the seafront—conveniently with him. You whine, pulling the blanket over your head in an attempt to ward him away. Dream Chan is waiting for you.

“Y/N, come on. You can’t sleep on my couch all day.” The worst part is: you can hear the faux pout in his voice. And potentially worse: you definitely could sleep on this couch all day if your life depended on it. Even if it didn’t, to be honest.

“Go away,” you grumble.

He sighs. His presence beside you disappears for a few moments, long enough for sleep to momentarily return. The bubble of peace pops eventually.

“Hey, Minho,” his voice returns, slightly muffled by the distance and the cloth pressed against your ear.

This is enough to spring liveliness into your bones. You sit up, hateful eyes shooting in the direction of the voice. When you see him laughing, his dark phone pressed against his ear, you reel. “One of these days, I’m gonna leave your company and then your stocks are gonna plummet,” you groan.

“Is that the best insult you can come up with?” he counters, dropping his hoisted arm to his side.

“I have more, but they're still closed off. You know, since you’ve rudely interrupted my sleep.”

“I’m sorry. Not really, though. It’s like noon.”

“And?”

“I can’t leave you here alone,” he laughs.

“What, do you have a date to attend?”

Awaiting his response, you reach for your phone on the coffee table. Two missed calls. A few Snapchats from Seungmin, likely pictures of his new puppy, but no matter.

“I wish. I have to meet up with Jisung. Pressing news he has to tell me, too confidential to be told over text.”

“He’s gonna confess,” you shoot him a look.

“Yes, because Han Jisung would be in love with me,” he starts for the kitchen. An extended arm pulls at the fridge, and he pulls two waters out.

“To be fair, if I were Jisung, I’d probably be in love with you,” you say, obviously without much thought behind it.

Okay. In your defense, you were a little too focused on reading Minho’s latest string of confusing messages. Trying to decipher the code, Chan’s response passes right through you like a ghost.

Lee Knows: Y/N you won’t believe this.

Lee Knows: Loba’s gonna be so happy.

Lee Knows: I know you’re probably cuddled up with Chan or whatever but call me ASAP.

Chan lowers himself beside you, tossing the cold water in your lap. He peeks over your shoulder. “Huh. That’s pretty much what Jisung said to me.”

“Why are you invading my privacy?” you glare at him, considering elbowing him precisely between the ribs. Ultimately deciding against it, of course. Through tense internal conflict.

“Really? You’re sitting on my couch, in my clothes, refusing to leave, and you wanna talk about privacy?”

Just because he has a point doesn’t mean he should voice it. Plus, he offered the clothes. And the couch for you to sleep on. It really just seems like a self jab to you.

“Should I call him?” Your finger glides across your bottom lip as you look at him for an answer.

“Sure, why not?” he throws his hands up in defeat. “Let’s see what Jisung and Minho have conspired this time.”

The ring echoing sparks a nervous pit in your stomach. You pick at the sticker of the water bottle. It feels like forever by the time he answers.

“Morning, sunshine,” Minho’s sweet voice reeks of sarcasm.

“You’re on speaker, by the way,” you close your eyes to avoid looking at Chan’s burning eyes.

“Oh perfect, you are too,” Jisung joins in, a dry laugh escaping his throat.

“We have some questions,” Minho begins, but fails to continue.

“Such as?” Chan prompts.

“Are you guys dating yet?” Jisung bluntly jumps to the case.

Your heart rams against your chest. That ‘yet’ tugs at your insides.

“Uh, no,” you draw out.

“The media sure thinks otherwise,” Minho jabs.

Chan’s already searching for the articles by the time you can react.

“Fuck.” He throws his head back against the couch in frustration, tilting his phone towards you so you can see.

CEO Bang Chan Lands a Date Weeks Before Comeback.

Bang Caught With Employee?

Bang Chan, CEO, Makes a Striking Appearance at Dad’s Gala.

“What? Did you really think there wouldn’t be journalists there? Come on Chan, do better.” You never knew Jisung had this cutting edge to him. If the words were aimed at you, you know you’d break down. It’s a miracle that Chan is this composed.

“Can you calm down? My god,” you say without realizing. “It’s not like we can’t fix this.” How, though, you ponder?

“If it makes you feel any better,” Minho reluctantly says, like this sentence could put his life on the line, “you looked cute.”

“Thanks,” you mutter. In any other circumstance, you’d be quick to mock him. Well. At least he’s not outwardly making fun of you. Another one of Minho’s late night insights seeping into your thoughts: see the positive.

A text notification drops down against your screen. Despite having the luxury of using his voice, it’s Minho.

Lee Knows: Would now be a bad time to out you?

You: Horribly.

“Well,” Jisung draws in a sharp breath.

“Good luck,” Minho finishes for him.

After he hangs up, promptly after letting you know he fed Loba this morning, you pick up the water bottle and place it against your cheek. The shocking chill redirects your nerves momentarily.

You try not to look at Chan, but you know he’s looking at you.

After a moment to catch your breath, he sighs, “I have an idea.”

It takes an effort to pull your attention to him. A war against yourself.

“Play along with me for a second,” he says, pulling his leg beneath him as he repositions himself beside you. Fully facing you, taking in your entire being—which doesn’t help your burning skin. You’d give anything to be invisible right now.

“What if,” he starts, “we go along with it?”

You laugh in his face. “Are you sure that wouldn’t blow up even worse? Imagine people finding out we faked it. That wouldn’t be good for you.”

He messes with his fingers, suddenly finding an intense interest in the linework of them. He rubs his thumb against the crease of his ring finger. “I don’t think anyone would have to find out it’s fake, per se.”

“How are you so confident?” You look at him in awe. Even when he’s spewing absolute nonsense and under pressure, he looks like a god. Calm as ever. It’s horrifying for your heart. And for common sense, but that’s not as important right now.

“I don’t think Minho would lie to me.”

“What does Minho have to do with this?”

His dimple shows itself as a measly smile crosses his lips. “He may have told me.”

Regardless of what he may have spilled, you know instantly. “You’re kidding me,” you huff. What was the point of his dramatic message, then? A distraction, maybe.

“I mean it’s okay. It’s not like it’s not reciprocated or anything.”

“You are unbelievable,” you shake your head. “How did you know and not say a single thing?”

His hands shoot up in defense. “To be fair, I didn’t find out until after you fell asleep last night. For the second time. He texted me with this whole ‘I know something you don’t’ facade. I wasn’t going to act on it until I had a stupidly romantic plan, but then this happened,” he gestures around the room, as if it’s the decor’s fault. He’s quick to add, “And I couldn’t do that as soon as they said anything about the articles. That’d kinda ruin the mood, don’t you think?”

So Chan’s probably not good with looking amazing under pressure—he very well could be, but you wouldn’t know that right now. Which slightly irritates you, but no matter.

“Well,” you sigh. “I guess that solves the problem.”

He nods, looking at you solemnly.

“Your dad’s gonna be pissed, though,” you comment, and he laughs.

“I know.”

Funny. As soon as the problem jumped at you, the imminent solution scared you just as fast. Your head hurts from the whiplash. That must be a pattern with him.

“You know what’s kinda perfect about this?” he says after a moment.

“Tell me.”

“We can write love songs together now. Isn’t that cool?” The sheer joy in his face shatters any aggravation left in your veins. A smile creeps up on you.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“And you’re madly in love with a nerd so I don’t see what your point is.”

You pull the pillow out from behind your back and chuck it at his head.

“Oh so you’re trying to kill your beloved love interest? Real classy, Y/N.”

“Please just shut up and kiss me already,” you lean over halfway and wait for him to meet you.

Kissing a major CEO doesn’t feel much different than kissing a normal person, but there’s a striking flare of passion to it. Maybe that’s a personal thing.

His lips fit against yours in a way that makes your soul instantly tethered to him. You hope he can’t feel your heartbeat against your lips, for it’s pulsing rather loud and antsy for you.

Chan radiates warmth in every piece of his body, extending all the way to his aura. If it wasn’t for your pesky lungs running out of air, you’d never pull away.

xiv.

In spite of his idea for a romantic confession going down the drain as soon as he decided to think one up, he makes up for it with incessant gestures. Bringing you snacks when he should be in meetings. Buying you sweets when you get stressed. Purchasing Loba a huge cat tree, even though she doesn’t need to be spoiled further. Spending the night at your house even when his is way more comfortable for the sheer reason that Loba would feel lonely.When you mention taking her with you, he’d say, “I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable with the new environment.”

He even postponed bro night because you got sick and wanted to be the one to take care of you.

You don’t need reminders that he loves you, but it’s all the while heartwarming when he says it.

Even now, with his arm wrapped around your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder, he’s thinking aloud in romance land. “What if we went on a vacation to France for Christmas? Isn’t Paris the city of love?”

You watch the TV, but his voice drowns out all of the dialogue. “I don’t know, Chan. Why can’t we stay here?” you shift in his arms to roll over and face him. This close, as you’ve grown accustomed to these past months, you can count all of his eyelashes. And you can see tiny freckles scattered across his cheeks. It must be an Aussie thing.

He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “We can stay here. I’m fine with that.”

Loba jumps onto the bed, her collar jingling with her sudden movement to warn you she’s arrived. You pull away from Chan a little to make room for her between you. “Here comes the princess,” you feign disappointment with a sigh.

She claims her spot between your chests and curls herself into a ball, burying her face in Chan’s chest. Per usual. She often forgets who feeds her around here.

“Anyway,” Chan leans over her, kissing your lips gently, “I’m okay wherever. As long as you’re with me.”

After a beat of silence, you cup his cheek delicately and say, “Let’s go to the moon.”

“Yeah,” he grins, “Let’s go to the moon.”

xv.

He leans over and presses a kiss to your temple, setting a bottle of water in front of you.

Jisung gags from across the room. “Get a room,” he complains.

“You are a grown man and you can’t handle a couple being affectionate?” Changbin criticizes. “Get a life, dude.”

“Yeah,” you chime in, “Just ‘cos you live a poor, single life doesn’t mean you can hate on us.”

“Jeez, I didn’t sign up for slander on this Monday morning.”

“You definitely asked for it, but let’s get to work.” Chan draws his phone from his pocket and prepares for the official meeting regarding 3Racha’s next comeback.

God’s Menu was well received from the public, sending Chan’s dating scandal into the shadows. Minho basked in the compliments on the choreography. Seungmin whined when no one on Twitter noticed he was the vocal coach—and Minho didn’t make it much better by rubbing his glory in Seungmin’s face every chance he got. And you couldn’t get Chan to stop showing you funny Tweets and praise for nearly a month. Likely longer.

Here you sit in Chan’s office at the beginning of the new year. A lot of things can go south during six months, but things can shoot north too. Generally, for you, it’s been pretty north.

This time around, Jisung has calculated his homework and broadcasts his thoughts onto the wall.

“I already know what you’re gonna choose for the title track, so let’s choose B-sides,” he adds the disclaimer before anyone can mutter a peep.

“I don’t know about you all,” Chan dips his hands into the pockets of his trousers and leans against his desk, “but I’d say I’m pretty confident in writing a love song right now.”

You groan alongside Jisung. “Stop talking.”

Here we go on the hunt for the song of the new year. Conquer the competition before anyone has a chance. Like you did in creating the song of the summer.

[bakugohoex]

PLS IM BEGGING YOU continuation of Jean x reader undercover in Marley ?🥺💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

part two: “this isn’t a date jean, we’re undercover”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: season 4 spoiler for the latest episode, fluff, language, nsfw (basically sex, some nipple play and just a lot of love)

word count: 2900+

a/n: so yeah, heres a part two for the one request i got nearly a month ago, i cant believe you guys liked part one so much, hopefully you all like this part as well

summary: in which you and jean spend the night together after confessing your feeling’s for one another, with a long night ahead and the raid on liberio beginning, is it really possible for the two of you to be together in this hell hole 

part one  | part three 

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist 

His lips re-attached to your neck, sucking and biting along the thin strip that he had previously licked. Eyes filled with lust, his body encasing your own, you bit back a moan but at the feeling of his lips and tongue swirling across the bruises made you whimper his name. He looked back down at you, your fragile messy state, your dress half off of you, clinging to your thighs, he couldn’t wait to rip it all off. Make you his, he watched you try to cover your face with your arms, but straddling your lap allowed him to grab your arms.

“You’re not hiding from me baby.” He whispered softly against your skin, the way his breath sent a shiver down your spine. He had grabbed your arms putting both in one of his roughened hands, you remembered the days you’d spend outside holding hands whilst walking around Marley for intel. How these same hands were holding your wrists to keep you in place.

He smirked looking down at your fresh sweaty face, “we don’t have to do anything.”

“No, I want too, we know what’s happening soon and I want to…I want to be with you.” You spoke softly and it was heaven to his ears. He looked at your face, the face he had seen for the past 6 years. The face he’d grown to love, grown to have wanted and now here he was after all these years, standing in front of the love of his life. Stradling her and he knew his 15-year-old self who had seen her fighting real titans would be jealous of this scenario occurring.

He captures your lips again; he brings you up to meet his own body. Your arms around his neck as you bring your body closer to his bare chest, you felt his back muscles tense under your fingertips that brushed along his nape. He was always so beautiful, so pretty, gorgeous even and he was yours, he was going to be yours. “I want to fuck you so bad, baby, I want to make you mine.” He whispered through the kiss.

You didn’t speak, instead stopping the kiss, he watched your movements, how you slid the dress away from your legs and tossed it to the wooden floor. You were bare for him, but it wasn’t like before, it wasn’t like this morning and how you had easily changed in front of him. This time there were underlining implications, this time the sound of the bra being unhooked occurred and the sliding of your underwear away from your frame.

This time he was ready for you, he was going to make you his. You were bare to him, lying sprawled on the bed with a seductive enticing look. He knew that you’d do anything for him, that he’d do anything for you even but in this moment, he wanted to fuck you dry. The pace of everything from seeing you vulnerable to now seeing you become his had been quick and he couldn’t wait any longer. He had waited 6 years for this, you had waited 6 years for this.

The sound of the belt being undone was the only sound and the shuffling of his trousers being taken off. You could see the bulge in an instant, your eyes flickering between him and the indent. Well Eren might’ve been right about the horse part but it defiantly wasn’t his face. You took a deep breathe, you had imagined of course, the little looks you’d given to see it, but it had always been a failed mission. But now here he was ready to give you something ever so perfect.

“I want it in me, Sir.” The sound of you calling him sir sent him into overdrive, your body was laid out just for him. For him to cum in and make you feel every part of his cock.

He watched how you were almost begging for it and he wanted you to plead to him, “beg for me.”

“Plea…please fill me up Jean, I want to feel you spilt me in half, please Sir.” The pleading nature and how your mouth was almost watering at the sight made the boy grin. It was feeding his ego well and he loved how easily you’d do anything for him.

“This might hurt.” He whispers softly, he moved to trap you in his body again, but this time he had pulled you forward, making him feel just how wet you really were across his cock. Your legs rested on his shoulders as he went down to kiss you, one finger softly skimming your clit up and down, feeling the slick across his fingers.

“Sir, please.” You whimpered slightly, the pain of feeling your legs on his shoulders but it became relieved as he bent down kissing you softly. But all you could really feel were his fingers rubbing through the slick.

He moved his fingers back out, making you come closer to his body, he could feel your much smaller legs across his shoulders make no impact having carried a lot heavier. But looking down at your face, your messy hair he just wanted to make you feel pleasure. “Suck.” He shoves his fingers down your throat and you moan at the taste of yourself, just as you began sucking on his fingers, feeling the sweat still from his fingers mixed with the saltiness of your wetness, a much larger moan came from your mouth.

His cock having slammed right into your walls, he felt suffocated himself between your tight walls but the pleasure of having your warm cunt around him made him love it. “You’re so tight baby, keep moaning for me.” He loved the sight of you moaning his name, moaning anything really, his fingers rubbed against your lips, encasing your wetness onto your pretty little mouth.

“Jean, fas…faster.” You whimpered, as he went back out and slammed back in going deeper and picking a pace. His veiny cock had felt like sheer heaven, the way how one of his hands grabbed your breast, playing with your right nipple with his index finger and how his other hand had grabbed the headboard.

His pace becoming even quicker as you felt all your worried disappear, all the fighting against titans and Marleyans were gone and all you had was Jean, your Jean inside of you. “Y/n…fuck, baby, you fe…feel so good.” He was breathless at each time he thrusted back and forth, you felt your leg fall off his shoulder, feeling him bring your body even closer.

“Jean, please, oh go…god!” You were a moaning mess and the feeling of Jean’s hand moving from your tit to your hand felt even better. It was a sign of love, a sign of a future, not just the war that was about to begin but the future you two would have together.

The headboard and bed shook under the thrusts, Jean’s fingers laced in yours as his mouth went to your hard nipples. He left a swirl of saliva around both before sucking on the left making you move your other hand in his hair. You could feel the knot in your stomach occur, the way your cum had built up inside and how it was ready to realise right on top of his cock.

He could feel your heavy breath through the room, his sucking stopping as he looked up looking at your dishevelled face. Your chest heavy from the quickened thrusts he had been doing, you looked down to meet his eyes and, in an instant, he let go of your hand and headboard and brought his hands to your face. Before bringing his lips back onto your own, it was soft, passionate even and it was a sign of your future and love.

His thrusts more stroppier as the kiss went on, your hands reaching his back, feeling his skin between your nails. He could feel the scratches and even then, he didn’t care because he was about to cum in you and make you his. “I…cum.” You could barely speak through the kiss, but he understood, and he gave a soft whisper through the kiss.

“Cum for me baby, be a good girl and cum on my cock show me your mine.” It was a praise you had been waiting for and in an instant your insides melted away as you could feel yourself gush across his lengthy cock. Mixed in was the feeling of Jean’s own cum which had filled you right up, he remained inside of you as you were both breathless, cum coming from your insides as it leaked onto the bed.

He finally looked up at you, his eyes soft and mouth wet after your sloppy kisses. He felt like he had won, that he had gotten what he came for in Marley even though you had been with him all along. He had achieved what he wanted from life, you.

He had slid himself out of you, standing up with his whole body on show. The darkness had erupted to fill the sky, the sound of Marleyans walking around was still evident but all he could think about was you. Finding some discarded clothes he wore them but still remained shirtless before picking you up in his arms, your bare body sprawled out for him and only him. Before helping you to the bathroom to let you do what you needed to do. He was soft with you, helping you down and bringing you clothes before leaving you.

He thought out about the earlier events of the day, “sometime soon is our time to act.” Your words remained in his mind, it was happening, he and the whole survey corps knew it. If he lost you…he couldn’t bear to even think about it, he felt the soft arms around his waist.

Your head against his scratched back, he grabbed your hands across his waist. Small circles from his fingers, he turned to face you. The dark moonlight coming from outside as he watched your small frame in his clothes. How you looked perfect in anything and how your soft smile would be the death of him. “I love you.” He confessed through a whisper.

“I love you too.” You spoke going on your toes to hug him softly, he grabbed you helping you to reach his shoulders as you were able to see the outside. The true horrors of what was behind the walls and how this might be your last moments of happiness.

The days were long afterwards, hard even, everything had began to set in and you both began to spend less time in the place on top of the shop, and more time in the abandoned building. Having contacted Eren, the day was today, and the plan was in full suit.

Jean and you had been quiet about this new love for one another but here you both were. Hand in hand walking through the festival, you looked around noticing some men in military uniform. One in particular you could never forgot, the one of the beast titan. Children swarmed them and the group definitely had no idea who you both were which was a positive.

Jeans grip was tight as he spoke to you, “we could always just settle down afterwards.”

“I’d like that.” You leaned into his body; it wasn’t like before when the fake relationship where you both were getting used to it. You both looked like a couple, you went behind the group, reaching to pay for some candy apples.

“Here, let me.” A man with a pushed back undercut grabbing the candied apple for you.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you went to pay for it, Jean having let go to wait and watch the interaction.

The man stops you bringing out his own money, “I’ve got you.”

“I could…”

He interrupts you; you noticed the armband indicating he was a subject of Ymir, a Warrior who had inherited a titan, “don’t worry about it.”

You smiled at him, taking the candied apple. “Ooo does little Porco have a crush.” The youngest girl mocked Porco and you couldn’t help but smirk before leaving the scene. You knew in a matter of minutes Reiner would come back, the boy you had spent three years with would arrive and you and Jean would be in the shit.

“I don’t like how he’s looking at you.” Jean muttered watching you bite in the apple, the candy sticking to the side of your face.

“This isn’t a date Jean, we’re undercover.” You repeated the words you had said on the day that your relationship had bloomed and you both could still overhear the group with the add on of Reiner.

“I’ll take you on a proper date later then.” He spoke confidently, always having wanted to take you on a date back on Paradis Island.

“What before we raid Liberio or after?” You tease the boy.

He grabs your hand tighter making you look at him, “I should fuck that attitude out of you.”

“Mm I’d like to see you try.” You chuckle as you paid no attention to Jean who seemed to crave all of you at the moment. Not a good time when the raid was occurring in less than three hours.

“Porco has a crush.” The girl repeated to Reiner, both you and Jean listening from a lot further behind. Could they speak of something more interesting than Porco’s interest in you. Jeans grip had tightened but he knew that it was all for the mission at hand.

“I do not, I was being nice.” Porco remarked back.

The group of kids turned to the boy before laughing as if he was joking, “who pays for some strangers food.” A boy with glasses said, you recognised the boy next to him, the blonde hair being something Eren had said in the letters, the boy who was posting the letters in the first place. Falco, the boy who would wield the armoured titan after Reiner.

“She may have been a bit attractive but that was all.” Porco had moved the conversation on, and you both listened in.

“Don’t pout, he isn’t my type.” You mutter to Jean who you could almost feel the anger rush through him.

“I don’t pout.” He muttered holding your waist and leaning against you to listen.

“They aren’t speaking about tonight’s events so they must not know themselves what that Tybur guy is saying tonight.” You both began walking away, having received no information but more contact with them instead. You continued eating the candied apple right through to the base.

“Stop for a food break Y/n.” Levi rolled his eyes, already in the new survey corps gear.

Rolling your eyes, you had bought another candied apple on the way back and took it from your other hand. “Here, try it.” You pushed it the captain, who look horrified but took it anyway, not thank you, but you didn’t care.

“Y/n…” Sasha whined waiting to see if she got any food.

“Yeah, yeah don’t worry, Jean has more food.” Sasha in an instant ran towards Jean as if he was her God. He looked however frightened as fuck at the hungry girl ready to eat his arm off. Whilst the two of them were fighting you were met with the change of clothes.

The black with your ODM gear and spears, it was a lot, villainous even. Something that was long awaited and a change from the dresses you’d been wearing. You felt the material in the small side room and saw the blades you hadn’t wielded since you left the island.

The cold grip felt like a long memory away, the fighting against titans, the snap of their necks bringing them down. It was a distant memory and now you were fighting humans again, real humans.

Dusk began to set as you sat around, Yelena having already left to trap Porco and Pieck away. You stood around, the new clothes around you and the plan ready to occur. The cloak that covered your body felt refreshing, it reminded you of home, your family back in Paradis. It might've been hell but with without it all you wouldn't be here with Jean. You looked at Jean, he was talking to Connie about something but as soon as his eyes laid on you, it warmed. Whatever Connie was saying had been ignored as he watched you, both of you knowing this could end badly.

“Let’s go.” Hanje had arrived at the door and the sound of her dismissing everybody to the respective areas had occurred. You and Jean were lucky enough to have stuck together with his own band of people to control.

Jean and you stayed low on the building, watching the Marleyan soldiers watch Tybur, Jean looked at your delicate features, how you looked exactly the same as you did the day you two met. He softly touched your cheek, “whatever happens, promise me we’ll see each other again after this.”

“I promise.” You nuzzled your cheek into his rough fingers.

You both stood up Lord Tybur’s speech was ending, the confession of the truth behind King Fritz and why Titans had remained on Paradis island for these years.

“…that our war with the forces of Paradis Island begins now!” His last words the sound of Eren’s attack titan spewed out from the building, a shock running through everybody’s faces, rubble falling everywhere at the now discarded building. Eren’s roars boomed through the now ruined stadium and you and Jean were finally met with the boy.  

go back to part one | proceed to part three here 

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[wheresmybuckyhoes]

Game Night

Summary: Bucky and you are basically enemies. That’s the only word you can think of to describe it. What else would it be?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, unprotected sex (do not do this irl), smut, slight angst

I really love a good enemies to lovers at the moment and wanted to give it a go. Let me know what you think. As always, enjoy! xx

‘How about truth or dare?’ Wanda suggested innocently, earning her a series of exasperated groans. You threw your head back in playful annoyance, a drawn out ‘Wandaaa’ leaving your vodka - tasting lips. ‘I meant more like monopoly, or something a group of horny teenagers wouldn’t play’ Tony sighed, throwing back the last of his whiskey, followed immediately by ‘Steve it would mean so much to me if you would get me another bottle of this’.

Meanwhile, you noticed the one and only piece of shit Bucky narrow his icy blue eyes at you from across the table you were all crowded around. You mimicked his expression before turning towards Wanda as you rolled your eyes. You could practically feel his eyes delving deep holes through your back. ‘I say we play. I’ve had at least...’ at this point you held up your hands in front of your face as you counted on your fingers like a dumb child, Wanda raising her eyebrow. ‘...like at least, enough shots to be drunk so I won’t remember this anyway’ you shrugged as you reached for the bottle of vodka only for Sam to pull it just out of your reach. ‘Sam...’ you tried to bargain but Tony’s loud voice cut you off as he spoke, cradling his 4th glass of whiskey delivered so gracefully unto him by a frowning Steve. 

‘As the leader of this group of fucks, I decree that I go first. Capsicle, truth or dare’ he asked pointedly, gesturing to Steve with his glass. ‘You guys are so immature...truth, if I must’ he replied gloomily, taking a tender sip of his orange juice. ‘Are you a virgin?’ he simply asked, earning an uncontrollable giggle from you and Wanda. Before Steve even opened his mouth, Tony added quickly with a smirk ‘a virgin is someone who has never fucked anyone, by the way. Oh, and fucking is what you want to do to y/n. I know you don’t always know all the current lingo, old man, but...’ Steve answered quickly before Tony could continue embarrassing him, and you choked on the wine that had magically appeared in your hand. ‘No, Tony. I’m not, and I’m going to bed’. Steve got up and straightened his shirt, placing his glass gently on an Avengers branded coaster, heading out for the night to his floor of the compound. You didn’t notice the slight frown which flickered over Bucky’s face as you kissed Steve on the cheek as you said goodnight. But you also didn’t notice Tony and Sam fighting over the last bottle of whiskey, so who can blame you.

You played a few more rounds of truth or dare as the night grew dark and the others grew tired. After the first few rounds Sam and Tony got up and left, soon followed by Wanda who was drunk beyond words. You hugged her affectionately before helping her to the elevator and going back to sit down. You forgot Bucky was there.

You groaned dramatically as Bucky smirked at you, collapsing dizzily onto the leather couch and tipping the last bit of vodka you had retrieved from Sam’s grasp down your throat. ‘Fuck off, Barnes’ you seethed. ‘Don’t you have some people to kill?’. He chuckled to himself, pushing himself up from the floor to stand up and cross his arms. ‘Don’t you have some validation to seek from literally everyone?’ he taunted, staring your right in the eyes. You looked down. The bitch knew very well you only wanted validation because when you were trained in an abusive institute not so different from hydra, the only thing that kept you alive was their validation, and he knew that he could get under your skin with ease. But you refused to show it. You looked up and found his opal eyes again.

‘It was my turn, wasn’t it? Truth or dare, asshole?’ you asked, chucking the empty bottle of vodka at him. He caught it swiftly with his vibranium arm, walking over to you and leaning down to place the bottle beside you on the couch, face inches away from you. ‘Dare’ he whispered, leaning back and moving to stand in front of you. He smelt like burnt marshmallows, fiery whiskey and rain. You mentally slapped yourself and reminded your brain how much you hated him.

‘I dare you to stop being such a little bitch’ you stood up, staring up at him with flames in your eyes. ‘Maybe if you didn’t act like such a brat all the fucking time, I wouldn’t have to be’ he mocked, tilting his head to await your reaction. The sheer amount of hate your felt for him at this moment, together with the large quantities of alcohol running through your veins, gave you a dangerous confidence boost. ‘Maybe if you weren’t a little pussy who lost his arm and sanity to some weird scientists because he fell off a train, knew how to fuck let alone talk to girls and didn’t make every single person who he meets want to run away and scream, I wouldn’t act like a brat all the fucking time’. Well shit.

You were breathing raggedly, chest rising rapidly up and down, hands balled up in two tight fists by your side. Bucky’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, a flicker off hurt passing over his handsome features. He shook his head and sighed. ‘Shouldn’t have said that, y/n’. ‘What do you mEEEAAN’ you yelped as he moved to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, as if you were weightless. You kicked him in the chest, hard. ‘Put me down right the fuck now Bucky before I...’ he reached his room and threw you down on his bed, shutting the door behind him. ‘Before you what, hm? Because let me tell you something, darling. I think you don’t hate me. No, you just know I don’t want to sleep with you unlike Steve, Sam and Tony and it hurts. It hurts your precious little ego. But if it stops you from acting like a little bitch all the damn time, I guess I can fuck the bitch out of you’ He climbed onto the bed, as you crawled back, until your back was against the headboard and you were cage in between the wall and the super soldier in front of you. ‘Would you like that, doll?’

You gulped nervously, averting your eyes only for Bucky to grab your chin both roughly and gently at the same time and lift your head up so you were staring him in the eyes. ‘So now you go all quiet on me’ he taunted. You could hardly breath. Your mind was telling you that you hated him with all your heart, but your heart was telling you to get this man’s dick inside of you. Before you could silence the tell - tale beat of your heart, Bucky leant in and kissed you roughly. Your body relaxed into the kiss, and your hands subconsciously flew up to tangle in his chestnut locks. He was actually a really good kisser. You pulled away. You reached a hand out to unbutton his jeans, but Bucky caught your wrist. He chuckled to himself, metal hand gently wrapping around your throat. ‘So now you want me to fuck you? Thought you said I didn’t know how?’ he asked as a small whine escaped your throat, feeling your core burn in desire. You furrowed your brows and frowned at him. He squeezed at your neck. ‘Use your words, doll, or I’ll just leave you here as the pathetic mess you are’ he threatened, eyes clouding with lust and desire.

‘Holy shit Bucky, just fuck me already or fuck off’ you cried out. He didn’t need telling twice. He released your throat, using both hands to undress you in an instant before removing his own shirt and jeans. He hooked a finger in the band of your panties and slid them down your legs, over your heels and onto the floor behind him. He took a moment to gaze longingly at your naked and vulnerable body, muttering an almost inaudible ‘beautiful’. All that was left between your pussy and his dick was the boxers he was wearing. As soon as he took them off, your eyes widened, and you felt your cheeks redden. ‘That’s not going to fit’ you said, a sort of breathless whisper.

Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply and sliding his tongue into your mouth. You almost screamed when you felt his fingers encircle your clit, moaning into his mouth. ‘I still...fuck...hate you’ you grumbled as you felt his hard on brush against your inner thigh. He rolled his eyes as you did earlier, dipping his head slightly to kiss your neck, expertly sucking on your sweet spot, marking you up with hickies. He slowly inserted a finger, followed shortly by two. They only slightly stretched you out, and you clawed at his back as he moved them faster and faster, curling them slightly to hit your g - spot. ‘B...Bucky, I’m gonn... gonna cum’ you moaned, pulling his head eagerly as you kissed him desperately. Bucky kept up with his rapid pace, bringing you right to the edge. You felt the pleasure build up and up until you were ready to cum, and that is obviously when Bucky decided to pull his fingers away completely. ‘What the FUCK’ you screamed, sitting up in surprise, legs squeezing together from the sudden lack of friction. He covered your mouth to silence your cries, and leaned in real close. ‘If I give you the most mind blowing sex of your life, and I stop treating you like a piece of shit, will you stop acting like a bitch?’ he asked, pushing you back down onto the bed, removing his hand when he was done talking. ‘For fucks sake Barnes, yes. Fucking yes. Now please fuck me’. you whined.

‘It would be my pleasure’. He slammed into your now lubricated pussy, stretching you all the way out. It burned, but at the same time it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. Not a single man you had ever been with had been this big, but you wouldn’t want Bucky to know that.

He moaned in your ear, causing you to clench down hard, and Bucky started to thrust quickly chasing his own orgasm. He continued to circle your clit with his thumb as he slammed into you over and over and over again until he had you chanting his name like a prayer along with a generous string of obscene curses. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders to angle himself so that he was repeatedly hitting your g spot and your orgasm finally hit you like a truck. ‘oh SHit Bucky fucking christ holy fucking shit’ you gasped out as Bucky thrusted deeply into you, cumming deep inside. You felt your legs shake as your eyes rolled into the back of your head in ecstacy, Bucky’s hand finding your mouth to at least try to quiten some of your moans. Although he had stilled inside of you, filling you to the brim, he continued to rub at your clit as he worked you though your orgasm. Your mind was filled with ecstasy and you could see stars. You both came down from your high eventually, Bucky collapsing in a sweaty heap beside you.

He pulled you into his body protectively, feeling his softening dick rest against your back. His arm was secured tightly around your waist, and you felt your heavy eyes shut as his warm breath on your neck comforted you. ‘Still hate me now?’ he asked, kissing the top of your head gently. ‘I’ll consider tolerating you for now. Ask me again tomorrow night’ you giggled sleepily in response. ‘Why tomorrow night?’ Bucky whispered as he also felt his own eyes close, a wave of exaughstion sweeping over his muscular body. ‘After we fuck again, of course, and again the night after that, and the night after that, and every night after that.’

[kevindayisafrog]

More Kevneil because someone asked for comfort after the Foxes lost a game (asked on Insta)

TW - anxiety

Kevin threw his racket onto the locker room floor and fumbled to pull off his helmet. “How did we lose that?”, he turned to face the men on his team, all tired and sore from the game, scowling at their exhausted faces, “we had the game in the fucking bag and then they rinsed us. Did any of you even try?” If looks could kill, Kevin would’ve been torn apart from every possible direction in the room, his skin boiling off from the heavy glares he was receiving. “Maybe you should look closer to home with your blaming, all I had to do was push them back whilst you got it to goal”, Matt growled slamming his duffel bag onto the bench, “but you couldn’t get past them. So if you need to blame anyone, it should be yourself.” Kevin made to argue back but Neil grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tugged it hard. “It’s not worth the fight”, Neil whispered before turning to address the room, “we did good tonight, we just need to practice harder and we’ll get them next time”. Matt smiled at Neil before scowling over at Kevin, “that’s why Neil is gonna be Captain and not you. It’s because he’s actually a human being who cares about us, unlike you who only cares about your ego and stupid game”. Kevin bit his lip hard and grabbed his clothes, stomping away to the showers as Neil tried to defend him.

He slammed the stool door behind him and turned the shower onto the hottest temperature, relaxing as the burning of his skin distracted him from his thoughts. He tried to clear his mind but the water wasn’t hot enough to muffle Tetsuji’s words: “you’re a disgrace to this sport. You will not eat, will not sleep after that performance. Your mother would be so ashamed”. Kevin let out a low frustrated growl and kicked the back wall of the shower. “You’re going to break your toe, dumbass”, Neil muttered nonchalantly, slamming the stool door shut behind him. He undressed slowly and pushed Kevin out of the way to get under the water, “we’re allowed to lose games, you know, we’ll always win the next one”. Kevin rolled his eyes and tried to pace but the stool walls were too close together and he suddenly felt claustrophobic. “We could’ve won easily but instead we fucked it up and looked like rookies on the courts. The first years could’ve probably handled that game better than we did”, Kevin sighed and dug his palms into his eyes, trying to block his memories from replaying. “You’re overthinking it, no one cares that we lost, not even Coach. So get over it, we’re going to win next weeks game and get back on track”, Neil rubbed shampoo into his hair and looked up at Kevin who was glaring down at him. He stepped into Kevin’s space and gestured to his hair, letting Kevin wash his shampoo out for him in a way of distracting him from the night’s game. “We need to hurry up and get on the bus so I can tell everyone how they can improve for next weeks game”, Kevin ran his fingers through Neil’s wet hair until the last of the shampoo was out and reached for the conditioner. “Maybe wait until Monday’s practice to give them feedback, they won’t be in the mood”, Neil closed his eyes as Kevin massaged the conditioner through his hair. “Why? It’s better to tell them now rather then later so they have more time to improve”, Kevin frowned down at Neil, “yes or no?” He waited for Neil’s nod before he placed light kisses all over his face, taking extra care when kissing his closed eyes. Neil opened his eyes slightly and pressed a small kiss onto Kevin’s wrist before pulling back and looking up into Kevin’s eyes, “I know that you mean well when you give feedback to the team but they won’t appreciate it right now. Your advice can come off as..how should I put it? Snobby? Harsh? Bitchy? I don’t know, but it never comes out how you want it to and I don’t think that annoying the upperclassmen is a smart idea right now”. Neil waited for Kevin’s response and just when he thought he wasn’t going to get one Kevin cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders defensively, “you tell them then, they like you and you know how to word things”. Neil blinked up at Kevin and frowned, “I don’t know, let’s just focus on getting back”. Kevin hummed in response and turned his back to Neil to wash himself.

“Well that went well didn’t it?”, Neil smirked as he unlocked the dorm door and let Andrew, Kevin and Nicky in. “Fuck off”, Kevin muttered, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag down by the door. “I told you they wouldn’t be happy with your advice”, Neil took his own shoes off and left them in the middle of the floor. “Fuck’s sake, runaway, move your fucking shoes”, Andrew shouted after tripping over the shoes on the way to the kitchen. “Can we all chill out? Let’s watch a movie”, Nicky tried to smile and grabbed a Disney movie, “Tangled anyone?”. Andrew walked back through with a pot of ice cream and kicked Neil’s shoes at the wall before going into the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. Kevin slumped onto the couch and rubbed a hand down his face, letting out a tired sigh. “I’ve never watched Tangled”, Neil offered to Nicky who was stood desperately by the TV. “Neil?! That is blasphemous!”, he placed a hand onto his chest and let out a dramatic gasp before crouching down and placing in the DVD, “you’ll love it, even Aaron likes it”. Kevin groaned and hung his head against the back of the sofa, staring up at the dark ceiling. Nicky pressed play and snuggled into the corner of the couch, hugging a cushion close to his chest. “Yes or no?”, Neil whispered close to Kevin’s ear. Kevin grunted in response and sighed softly before muttering a ‘yes’. Neil hesitated before curling up into Kevin’s side, relaxing as Kevin wrapped his arm around him. Neil looked up at Kevin’s frown and sighed, knowing that he was overthinking tonight’s game, “you did great tonight”, he whispered before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek, settling back down and watching the movie. Kevin looked down at his little Neil wrapped up beside him and let his shoulders sag. He knew that he was still going to push himself in practice next week, but tonight he’ll let himself relax. They’ll always have next week to win and get back on track. He pulled Neil closer and pressed a kiss into the long mop of hair before closing his eyes and letting himself sleep.