#but i definitely lean towards everyone probably being in their early 20's.

[danieyells]

To be fair if he were committing to the bit of an underling, surely he wouldn't snatch alcohol out of his boss's hand and drink it himself? Not really good underling behavior lol. But I can definitely believe him being so done with Taiga he just. Doesn't think about it.

How old is everyone, really?!?!

Prefacing this with the information that the legal drinking age in Japan is 20 years old bc it's important.

OKAY so at first we were only shown that it's the third years who go to Rui's bar. This made me think, "Oh, I guess that'd make the third years a bunch of 20 years old, at the very least. So Darkwick is like a university?"

But then come Episode 6 and we were told that they don't actually serve real alcohol at Rui's bar. Not to mention we saw Ritsu getting fussy about a bar in the school grounds. This made me think, "So Darkwick is a high school? Everyone here is a minor?? Which is it???" (※To be fair, Ritsu was only fussing about the existence of a bar and not the possibility of underage drinking cmiiw)

And last, Episode 8. Here we saw Taiga ordering a martini一an alcoholic drink. And when Ritsu came to fetch him, he didn't scold him about underage drinking so that means Taiga is at least 20 years old (Ritsu warned Jin about Swords and Arms law when he took out his artifact so if Taiga really is underaged, Ritsu would definitely scold him).

But what caught me truly off guard is when Ritsu snatched the cocktail and drank it himself. Ritsu "Stickler for the Rules" Shinjo is drinking alcohol. There's a few possible explanation for this a) Ritsu is of drinking age; b) Ritsu is making an exception and broke a rule bc he's exasperated with Taiga (less likely considering how much of a stick in the mud about rules he is); c) Writer Team's mistake.

I'm leaning more to a), which means all of the first years is also at least 20 years old. That makes the second and third years in their early twenties. So Darwick is still a kind of university? Or does age isn't one of the parameter to enroll there?

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Request Statuses

Okay, said I’d do this yesterday, so here it is. I’m not naming who made what specific request here, whether anonymous or not. Just dropping them here so everyone can check on the status of their request.

If you don’t see your request here for whatever reason, please let me know!! I haven’t deleted any since I joined Tumblr, so there is always a chance that it didn’t go through.

I will update this regularly as statuses change; and when I update it, I will update the date next to the link in my Masterpost.

Created 30 Oct 2023

Updated 2 Dec 2023

Tongue Ring (Sanji x Reader)

Status: Accepted, actively in-progress

Only One Bed (Mihawk x Reader)

Status: Accepted, outlining, definitely NSFW and it’s also going to be hilarious

Marine!Reader x whomever of your favorite pirates would be more likely to seduce her to the dark-side.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, definitely going to be Shanks because he absolutely would a thousand times over.

Sanji x picky eater!reader x (possibly) Zoro

Status: Accepted, brainstorming may be more than one part but probably no more than three, definitely going the love triange route and including Zoro.

“Tell them you’re pregnant” story with Ace and/or Sabo

Status: Accepted, but delayed until I get further in the manga, bear with me on that. I will definitely be writing Ace once I re-familiarize with him. This is the first time I’ve reread the manga in probably ten years. I barely scratched the surface with Sabo last time I read, mostly only flashbacks, so I’m not yet familiar with him at ALL.

Headcanons: How the Straw Hats (East Blue crew in particular help each individual member cope/recover when something triggers them.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, may be a few

Sanji x secretly-a-princess!Reader

Status: Accepted, outlining, in development, will be multi-chapter, and there’s going to be a puppy for some reason.

Sanji x curvy!Reader headcanon

Status: Accepted, not yet in development

Too small, oneshot fic(s), Shanks x Reader and possibly others, NSFW

Status: Accepted, in development for Shanks, may or may not do Mihawk as well

Sanji x Reader with eating disorder

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, also researching because it's a subject that deserves to be depicted realistically

OPLA character x S/O!Reader who looks cute and bubbly but is actually quite strong.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, leaning strongly toward Zoro because I love the idea of him with a bubbly lil s/o

Headcanons (inspo from Because I Got High) where reader either gets too messed up from smoke/alcohol or side effects from something like anxiety meds, and character has to comfort/calm them down

Status: Accepted, planning to do Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk, and Buggy, got a little of it drafted out for Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk

OPLA!Sanji and/or Zoro x Reader; drabble on a reader who is older than them (mid 30s), who thinks she is “too old”

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, I’m in my early 30s so heavy relate

Mihawk x Reader; he meets a singer at Baratie and falls for her (likely being in denial over it)

Status: Accepted, not yet in development. Probably going to be a two parter at least, and also shamelessly throwing my own flair in because I sing/play guitar, so reader’s probably going to be a guitarist as well, as long as that’s cool.

General Mishanks request:

Status: Tentatively accepted, probably going to aim toward younger Mishanks (early 20s). I’ve only done one Mishanks headcanon re:how they first met/became rivals, so this is a little out of my ballpark, but I’m willing to give it a try. If I feel I can’t write it in a way that I’m satisfied with, I will let you know.

Comedic NSFW, Mihawk x Reader

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, already cackling like a witch standing over a cauldron over this one

IMihawk x Reader request, fluffy, Mihawk needing a bit of reassurance because he's a bit insecure of how tight Reader's friendship with shanks is becoming

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, will probably start outlining soon. Actually going have something akin to this a bit in my Mihawk x OC fic, Hearing Problems, but it's still going to be a couple chapters down the road before I get there, so this would be a good way to explore the idea.

Headcanons request for Shanks, Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk and Buggy taking Reader to a masquerade ball

Status: Accepted, going to have to study the fundamentals of masquerade balls a lil and decide how I want to go about this exactly. If it's okay a couple of the scenarios may be them meeting Reader AT the ball. Because I feel like Shanks would probably just gatecrash for the hell of it (he heard there was an open bar and just went for it); and the thought of Zoro getting lost and accidentally stumbling into a masquerade ball with no idea what's going on has got me 🤭

Shanks x Reader x Buggy, age gap, Shanks and Buggy get isekai'd into our world, Halloween vibes, further details here

Status: Accepted, early brainstorming stages, this just seems like it would be so much fun thank you 🙏

Mihawk x Reader, proposal

Status: Accepted, will be treated as a sequel to YSAM and Ten Years, details here

[slashssunglasses]

Mafia Slash- “Craving” P1

okay so the concept of “mafia slash” is something my friend Lily introduced to our friend group and since then we’ve all been building off of this, Mafia Slash will most likely appear several times here so be read ;)

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Slash: early 2000s end of snakepit- beginning of velvet remover Slash.

Backstory: (a/n I’ll do a full imagine solely on the origin story if y'all would like :}) 

Anywho, Slash was the most well known, ruthless, and feared mafia boss in the entire city- hell the entire state. His entire bloodline being gangster royalty. He never really wanted this life but after the tragic murder of his father his heart froze, a wave of pure power washing over him as he was forced to lead the “family business” at such a young age. You, see now you knew all about him, you’ve heard the stories, I mean cmon everyones heard the stories: the knives, the guns, the beatings…this guy enjoyed getting his hands dirty. It’d been rumored that Slash had been eyeing you but you never gave him attention, you didn't fear him. maybe it was because you knew he’d never hurt you. 

Unfortunately, your father-that bastard- used the common knowledge that Slash fancied you to his advantage when he found himself in some hot water with the Hudson family. It’s common knowledge that in the mafia life, fathers tend to offer their daughters as sort of “peace makers” the idea always disgusted you but you never thought that your father would be so quick to give you away like that, as if you were property. That fucking coward. But, a deals a deal, and growing up in this life you know that you never break deals, no matter how hard it’s gonna be or how much youre gonna suffer you never break a deal…especially with guys like Slash. It was done, as much as you hated it- you were now his. 

It’s been some time since you moved into the Hudson residence, Slash had been giving you your space because he understood how unfavorable it was for you to be forced into a relationship with someone you didn’t love but he was determined to make you fall for him and that you were. 

You’d never tell him of course.

 You slept in different rooms and you stayed away from his business even though you were quite used to it and even a little good at handling said business thanks to your father. You didn't think he noticed but he definitely did and it took every ounce of willpower to restrain himself from drooling right in front of you. Day and Night he fantasized about the business endeavors you’d go on, how good you were at talking your way out of things. Yet, you still had this sort of ‘dependance’ (?) on him, I mean you were one bad bitch- you did everything for yourself but you still found a way to make Slash feel like you needed his protecting or that you just needed him in general, no matter how hard you tried to push him away he still felt it, he felt that buzz in his tummy, he felt needed.

He thought you didn’t see him pulling knives and beating people up, he had this facade going on: the nice misunderstood gangster. 

Part of it was true-except the nice part, only towards you was he ever ‘soft’ and caring.  You were getting sick of him trying to act like he wasn’t evil, plus the months you’d gone without any contact other than your fingers and a few toys you’d manage to slip in. Boy oh boy, the more you were around him the more you wanted him, the more you fantasized about him using those same toys on you. It was becoming unbearable you held a grudge against him at this point. You didn’t want to want him! God it was just something abut the way he growled angrily through his teeth, laughed in the faces of petrified snitches, was just a scary guy but then would turn around and try not to stumble over his words when talking to you, he would rock on his heels nervously, he was a wreck! 

You enjoyed the power trip you got from having so much power over one of the scariest guys you’ve met. But you just wanted him to quit the act, show his true colors. What? Was he scared? Maybe then he’d know how it felt, you were scared a little at first too, living with a man in his 30′s while you were just starting to enjoy your 20′s. The hate bubbled into horniness but, you wouldn’t admit just how badly you wanted him, never! You did however watch from afar and look back on the memories your brain kept while you worked yourself on the silk sheets of the room you’d been living in. 

Riding the dildos suction cupped to the floor of the bathtub, spreading your legs under the faucet. like an animal in heat, you did anything and everything to get yourself off, the idea of it all being under Slash’s nose sent sparks of adrenaline through you. You smirked every time you two had a ‘lovers spat’ -as his men called it- because you saw his patience wear thinner and thinner each time, his desire to hide his nasty side evaporating. 

It was only a matter of time before one of you snapped 

You two had gone out for some business thing, you had no clue what it was for and frankly you didn’t care. All you knew was that you had to be done up real nice. You felt adventurous wanted to give yourself a little ‘foreplay’ beforehand by putting on the sluttiest lingerie set you owned. equipped with a garter belt, stockings, a g string, and transparent bra. It was beyond skimpy. You truly only wore it for yourself, and the idea that you’d have it on under whatever dress he bought for you for the night and he’d have no clue, was beyond thrilling. Gosh if he were to catch a glimpse what would happen? You didn’t even know. 

The night went by slowly so you decided to entertain yourself by actually speaking to the other people in attendance. A line of men drooling for you seemed to work. 

After finishing up another painfully boring conversation you slumped in your seat at the bar signaling for the bartender to bring you another whiskey. “On the rocks please” you sighed leaning on your elbow. “Whiskey? i’m sorry but you’re a woman?” a voice chuckled from behind you. 

You couldn't believe what you just heard. 

Turning your head around you scoffed, “and you’re clearly a misogynistic asshole. look at us both stating facts” you sarcastically smiled before turning back around

“No, I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that” the man chuckles awkwardly sitting next to you, “it was my lame attempt at a sarcastic joke” 

“Oh yes very lame” you giggle turning to face him, “sorry, usually I do see most of the women drinking the fruity cocktails” he awkwardly rubbed his neck, “it’s ok, don’t worry” you smile warmly. “Uh I'm Mike” he extended his hand out, “I’m y/n” you giggled. 

You two began chatting and hitting it off. 

He provided a tasteful change from all the boring drooling duds that usually attended these functions. You payed little to no attention to where Slash was and what he doing, you were too busy enjoying your time with your new friend Mike.  

“Who’s this honey?” You heard Slash’s voice perk up as you felt his arm snake around your shoulder. His touch burning your skin as you felt that thick sexual tension from these past few weeks resurface again. You tensed- an action that was supposed to keep you from melting under his rough touch. Clearly it didn't work since you could feel that familiar horny buzz in your panties. 

You looked at mike, absolute panic laced his face. 

“Oh uh, I’m sorry I didn't know I- uh ok” he scrambled away in pure fear. “Why would you do that” you jolted angrily out of his hold. Your arms crossed as you tried not to fall to your knees. God why was he appearing so sexy lately? “Why would you flirt with another man?” he snarled lowly, trying to contain his anger as to not set you off. He hated seeing you with another man, he wanted you to be his and only his. 

“I was not flirting” you scoffed, “oh yeah? I saw you, touching his arm and giggling. that man was drooling over you!” he whisper yelled, “he was?” you smirked, you did this as an attempt to make him rage, you were so tired of the fake face he put on, you wanted to see him get mad. He clenched his fists stretching his neck out, “what're you gonna do? you gonna beat him up?” you pouted, “no” he scoffed, “good. I didn't want him anyway, he was a coward. Pfft scared of you, scurrying away like a scared little mouse. I can’t with such wimps” you sighed walking away from him. 

You could feel his eyes burning into your back as you hips swayed, the clacking of your heels giving you a nice rhythm. 

Some time had passed and you were exhausted. You hadn't seen slash again for a while which normally wouldn't strike you as odd but for some reason you didn't feel okay about him being gone. On top of that you wanted to go home. Growling to yourself in annoyance you begin your trek to go look for him. 

Searching throughout the building, the front door, the bathrooms…nothing. 

Finally you exited through the back door thinking he probably stepped out for a cigarette or something. That’s when you were met with an angered Slash surrounded by his men. His fists flying up and down as he beat the absolute living shit out of some poor soul. His Blazer off, sleeves rolled up showing his tattoos, skin dewy with seat as he grunted between punches. Your brain managing to make the situation filthy.

It was then that you caught a glimpse of who he was destroying.

 Mike. 

“Slash!” you screamed and everyone’s heads shot towards yours. Mike was dropped onto the ground, his bloody face weakly crawling away. Slash stared at you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he panted. “I thought I told you to make sure she stayed inside” he grabbed one of his men by the collar

“Hey stop it!” you pushed him off, the men around you gasped quietly. “God you’re such an asshole!” you growled storming off towards the car. You didn't want him to beat someone who was innocent up, someone who didn't deserve it. You wanted him to be angry with you, that was the thrill you got, you enjoyed seeing him get angry at people who deserved it, although he was a scary guy he was also a just one. 

Slash couldn't help himself though, he wanted to make that guys face unrecognizable, he wanted him to be unable to attract anyone. 

He followed you towards the car. “Hey wait” he called out from behind you. Finally he grabbed hold of your arm right in front of the trunk of the limo you two had arrived in. “Don’t fucking touch me!” you ripped your arm from his, “I'm sorry okay, I don’t know what came over me” he sighed. The words flowed unnaturally from his lips, he was trying to keep the nice guy facade. 

“Oh my god give me a break already! Yes you do, you know exactly what came over you! Stop trying to act like this nice guy okay? Because I know you’re not” you yelled in frustration, all he did was shake his head. 

“Oh my god spare me please! I'm so sick of you acting like you’re this sweet guy. You’re a fucking pussy” you tugged on your hair. 

All of the sudden you were pushed against the car, Slash’s face close to yours, your noses touching as you felt the cool metal of his knife against your neck. “This is what you want? hm? you want me to hurt you?” he snarled tapping the cold blade around your skin. 

An orgasmic rush coursed through you as your adrenaline pumped, you could feel the blood speeding throughout your veins. Your breath shocks the flicked the knife back into the protecter. 

Once the blade was out of sight he pushed off of you. All you did was stare at him absolutely breathless. “Fuck you” you finally pushed him harshly, all he did was look back at you with that cocky grin of his, the one that would spread across his face when he knew he was winning. You didn't know what came over you but you grabbed him by his collar pulling him close to you as you leaned on the car. 

Your lips crashed in a desperate sloppy make out. You didn't care that you'd just caved, the way his hands explored your body overtop the tight black dress made your knees fall weak. 

You wanted him. 

You needed him.

 You craved him.

Your fingers tangled into his curls as you pushed his face closer to yours smushing your lips together as his tongue explored your mouth. Big ringed hands squeezing your lower back pressing you close to him. You could feel his hard pressing against your thigh. God you were soaked. The horniness taking over you, turning you into the filthiest woman he’s ever encountered. 

You pulled a hand away from his shoulders and palmed him through his pants. “This, this is what I do to huh?” you panted in between kisses as he groaned into your mouth. “Mm fuck” you whined as you felt him pulsate through his pants, “take me, take me home and do all the things you think about doing to me while you pump your cock, I want you be the big bad man you are” you whispered desperately in his ear as you stroked him through his pants. 

He looked at you with nearly blacked out eyes, full of lust, full of desire, he was like an animal in heat. “Take me home big guy” you giggled squeezing his muscles. 

“Fuck me” he growled grabbing you and throwing you in the car…

TO BE CONTINUED...

[allsassnoclass]

Hello everyone!  Today is the one year anniversary of my favorite fic I’ve written (so far), Puzzle Pieces!  I thought I’d give a full length director’s commentary to commemorate the occasion.

Spoilers for the fic below!

The idea for this fic stemmed from a few things.  I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of a soulmate au where colors appear on your skin when you first touch your soulmate(s).  I think I initially encountered this in a newsies fic that I’ve since lost track of that was heavily focused on platonic soulmates.  I liked this convention because the possibilities for multiple soulmates are endless and I like the idea of colorful splotches on people.  I also think that identifying soulmates via touch rather than the first sentence they say or some sort of other identifier gives a lot of opportunity for relationships to grow and develop before they know that they’re soulmates.  I am always a little bothered when soulmate aus have people fall right into a relationship and kissing and intense emotions right away when the two people don’t know anything about each other.  This seemed like a way to combat that a little, but I’ll speak more on that later.

The Beginnings

The first record I have of this fic is a message I sent to Helen on May 8, 2020.  The fic was very much only in the idea stages then, as I took over three more months to write it and wrote Too Close to See during that time.  A google doc for the fic wasn’t started until July 20, 2020, and it was titled “soulmate colors au.”  My method for writing is going in order these days, and for this particular fic there wasn’t a specific scene that I started with in mind.  I really was just going or it and making it up as I went, chugging along and seeing what happened.

The Colors

A pretty significant part of this fic is the colors.  When I figured out that colors would appear on people when they touched, I knew that figuring out who had what color would be very important.  Initially I was going to have each pairing have their own color (so for example cashton would both leave blue on each other but malum would both leave green on each other) but I quickly decided that I didn’t like that and that each individual should have a color that they leave, instead.  I sent a message to Bella asking what colors she thought the boys would be, but I can’t find that message anymore and know that while it was similar it wasn’t quite right.  Here’s some reasoning behind each of the boys’ colors:

Michael: I went with red not just because of the iconic red hair, but because it’s a pretty loud and brash color.  Michael (especially when he was younger) doesn’t really filter things, wears a decent amount of his personality on his sleeve, and first reaction that said red to me

Calum: Calum has always been forest green.  This is partially influenced by the empahty hoodie, even though it’s a bit brighter than the green in my mind for him here, but I also think green is a very dependable, stable color.  (I used that color symbolism in one of my fall out boy fics years ago lol) It reminds me of pine trees, and I think Calum can give off that same sense of reliability in weathering the seasons.  It’s a quieter color but can really pop next to another one.  It also worked out nicely that Calum and Michael’s colors were compliments

Luke: Luke gets gold because he is a sunshine boy!  Luke actually was the person I had the most trouble with, because I was flipping between gold, a lighter blue, or pink.  Pink ultimately was too close to red to make me be able to visualize what the marks looked like on each boy to my satisfaction.  It just looked ugly and clashing.  I went with gold because there is a lot of outward brightness in Luke.  He’s the kind of person where if he’s happy everyone else gets a bit happier, and gold also seemed fitting for the eventual shift into a rockstar and the amount of talent he has

Ashton: Ashton gets purple, but a deeper purple.  Dynamic but still relatively stable, has a lot of depth.  Purple is a secret color, but it’s still beautiful and it draws people in.  When I visualize it it ends up being a really dark shade, but in reality he’s probably more of a royal purple than a plum purple.  I feel bizarrely passionate about his color specifically.  I don’t know why that is.

The colors didn’t have any sort of influence on the fic, but they were deliberately chosen.

The World of the Fic: Chosen Soulmates

So here’s the thing.  I feel very strongly about love being a conscious decision that people make over and over.  It takes work.  It takes a deliberate commitment.

Soulmate aus kind of negate that.

So, how do you fix this?  Well, I did that by having these marks not necessarily indicate soulmates.  The way that the marks are described in the fic is that they indicate how easy it should be to love someone and how compatible two people are.  It doesn’t automatically mean that you’ll adore them forever and never leave their side.  You still need to put in the work.  (Luke shows this early on when Michael asks if he loves Calum and he says  “I don’t think I know him well enough for that yet.  I know I will, because the colors say it should be easy and I want to, but not like you do.”  He has made the decision to work toward loving Calum, but he knows that just having the colors doesn’t immediately make them love each other.)  In that way, it almost isn’t a soulmate au, at least not in the traditional way.  Things aren’t inevitable.  There is still an element of choice.

This was also shown with Ashton.  I don’t remember when I made the decision to give Ashton a Tragic Background with his dad, but I know it was relatively early because by the time I wrote his introduction I knew that would happen.  I wanted to give a bit more of a reason for his hesitation to let them touch him, which I was already including because Ashton has always been the least touchy of the band, and I saw this as another opportunity to show that necessity of choice.  It’s sweeter to me for the boys to choose each other rather than to just be stuck with each other, and if Ashton hadn’t actually been a soulmate of theirs then I wanted there to be the assurance that they could still love him just as much, because all love is chosen.

In the end, having a broken soulbond in Ashton’s past was a good way to accomplish all of that.  It’s heartbreaking to not be chosen despite the fact that it should be easy, but once Ashton accepts that Michael, Calum, and Luke are vehemently choosing him with or without the soulmark, it makes his acceptance of their love very sweet to me.  He’s saying that he trusts them to put in the work to love him.  The scene where he talks to Michael in the car and the scene where he accepts their touches and soulmarks are probably my two favorite scenes in the fic.

The World of the Fic: Touch

In a world where the first skin-on-skin contact can indicate whether it’ll be extremely easy for you to love someone, how common would touch be?  Would we greet people with handshakes still?  Would gloves be more common fashion accessories?  Would touching someone be a Big Deal?

Hence, the First Touch was born!

I figured that, with touch possibly being a lot more significant in this world, people would be a lot more careful about whether they make skin-on-skin contact.  Kids would be taught that it’s impolite to try to touch someone, to a more extreme degree than they are now.  Handshakes simply are not a greeting anymore.  Instead, sometimes the first contact people make is considered a big deal, seeing as it can indicate whether two people are soulmates or not.

I figured that Luke especially would enjoy important first touches, because he’s a sentimental sweetie.  Of course, his first touch with Michael ended up being special simply because it was with each other :)

This also let me really lean into Ashton being touch-adverse.  Now on top of not liking touch, he also has another reason to avoid it, which makes every cuddle moment after the first touch even better, because he’s definitely touch starved.  The band cuddles him so much once they share the colors.

The World of the Fic: Platonic Soulmates

Guys. GUYS. I love platonic soulmates. I love them a lot.  I feel very passionately about them.  Romantic love is not the pinnacle of human love, and as someone who cannot at this point see myself with a romantic partner I really wanted to ensure that platonic soulmates were a thing.  Given that information, it’s a no-brainer that I included them in this fic.  Part of the appeal of this type of soulmate au was that it gave opportunity for more than one soulmate and more than one type of soulmate.  As such, platonic, familial, and romantic soulmates could all be indicated by the colors.  I also really liked that there wasn’t any sort of differentiation between the types of soulmates.  One type of love isn’t hailed over the others.  It’s an even playing field here.

That was one of the things that immediately drew me to this type of prompt, actually.  I wanted to write a fic about Michael parsing through his emotions and figuring out what he feels for Calum.  The difference between platonic and romantic love has always been very interesting to me, because I find that the line can be pretty blurry personally.  The best way to do that was to give him a set of soulmates who he cares about equally but in different ways.  

The following excerpt really is the theme of the story to me:  “Calum is an old, comfortable sweater, but Luke is like a favorite pair of shoes.  They both fit him perfectly.  He feels more at home when either of them are around, and although the love he has for Calum is different, he thinks he could love Luke just as much.”  Each of us love everyone we meet a little differently, because everyone is a different person, but different doesn’t mean unequal.

While the fic is about Michael figuring himself out, it’s equally a love story between all four of them.  The moments where Michael finds out he’s soulmates with Luke and Ashton were just as important to me as the moment he and Calum get together, and I really wanted to be sure that each relationship had it’s time in the limelight.  That’s ultimately why the idea of puzzle pieces became a theme (that I added on editing).  I like the idea of all of them coming together to create something bigger than themselves.  They fit.  They click.  They are better for it.  The first time someone referred to this as an ot4 fic it threw me off, because only malum is romantic in it, but I really like that classification for it, because it is.

Asexual Representation (Accidentally)

I didn’t know I was writing Michael as ace until about 4 days before I posted the fic.

Looking back, that’s a little bit ridiculous, because I was brainstorming this fic for three and a half months and actively writing it for two before I realized.  I believe there was a conversation in the discord about ace rep in fics (Bella and I think Heath were part of it, I can’t remember any other participants), and I thought to myself “hey I’m ace and like ace rep, Michael in the soulmate colors au could probably be ace.”  Lo and behold, he already was.  All I had to do was add a few sentences and finish the fic (I hadn’t written the scenes in England yet).

My asexuality definitely influenced the way I had been writing Michael’s confusion over his feelings for Calum.  Part of the reason I myself see the line between platonic and romantic as so blurry is because I’m ace and so much of romantic love in media is tied in with sexual attraction.  When you don’t feel sexual attraction, that can get confusing, especially since most strong feelings of love are depicted to be romantic.

While Michael and I had very, very different paths to figuring out our sexualities, I drew on my own experiences of ace-ness to write him.  This was a bit more apparent in the sequel scene Bedroom Activities, but it ended up becoming a core of the story.  I genuinely don’t know how I didn’t realize that’s what I was writing.

As an ace person, ace rep means a lot to me, given how little of it is in popular media.  I’m glad I explored it so early on in my 5sos fic career, and I’m proud of this one.

Miscellaneous Things

The process of writing this story was, as I stated before, pretty linear.  I went from the start to the end without a lot of planning.  I specifically had no clue what was happening at the Hot Chelle Rae afterparty until it was happening.  The kiss came out of no where.  However, I want to point out that initially I thought this fic would be 8k.  It is now my third longest fic ever written.  I have never learned to correctly estimate how long a fic I’m writing will be.

I have a few various favorite lines, but one repeated theme I love is Michael craving Calum’s touch.  I say he’s touch-starved for him twice, once relatively early on and once at the end, and I love that Calum’s touch has been a constant for Michael.  They had their first touch accidentally and became best friends immediately in the way that little kids do, so Michael has always had him as a constant, tactile presence in his life.  That’s why losing him to Luke scared him so much and why then gaining Luke and Ashton as soulmates is so good for him.

I really like referring to Michael, Luke, and Calum as a triangle.  I first did it in this fic, but it’s now my tag for the three of them.  Idk I just like how equally distributed a triangle is, all sides touching, no one left out.

Branching off of this, one of my favorite lines is when Ashton and Michael do their first touch: “The dark purple reminds him of spilling grape juice on his clothes as a kid, and when he collapses into Ashton he feels like they could have known each other at that age, too.”  There is something so charming about meeting someone later and feeling like you’ve known them your whole life, and that was significant here because Michael has known Calum and Luke since they were younger (although Luke did come in the picture when they were tweens/young teens instead of kids).  I wanted to be sure that although Michael, Calum, and Luke are the triangle, Ashton is an equal part of their soulmate group.  He doesn’t have the same history, but that doesn’t matter because it feels like he does.

Luke’s obsession with soulmate statistics is a convenient plot device and partially a result of his mom being a math teacher.  Above all things, it’s a manifestation of his desire to be loved.  The guy just wants to be loved!!! and he wants others to be loved, too!!!

This is by far my favorite fic that I’ve written.  It’s not perfect (there are for sure two lines that I would change, and I think I could’ve done things differently with the very slight OCD I gave Michael that manifested in his hand washing), but I love it dearly.  It’s the type of fic that I would’ve loved to read, and the response to it has been wonderful.  Thank you to everyone who has read it and special shout out to everyone who has made it to the end of this very long director’s notes <3

[tirsynni]

no bc i thought about leon's family a lot and i have so much to say... buckle up.

first the basics:

a) he'd definitely live in the mid west, maybe ohio or illinois and they lived in the suburbs, nice middle class family.

b) he's the youngest child, two older sisters. no brothers, maybe a few male cousins around his age, but i think grew up mostly around women. there's certainly a theme in his life lmao.

c) now i can't make up my mind about his father. his mom is definitely there, maybe a teacher or something, i see his family being sort of known and cared for in their community, but i'm not sure his dad would be a cop? maybe an uncle. also was his dad even around? maybe he passed away when leon was younger and that's why he looks up so much to his uncle, since he kinda of stepped up and took on this father figure for leon and his sisters.

ok, now a little deeper into their relationships:

i personally see his family as very proper and correct but also really loving, in that old fashioned way. leon was the family's favorite, loved by everyone, and he wanted nothing more than to make them proud. i think we can see that a lot in re2- he's really bright eyed and a little naive (despite being 21, which is still really young but no longer a child), in the way that someone who was a little babied by his family would've been.

but then to add to that, he got drunk enough that he ended up late to his first day as a cop (not sure if it's canon, but it's pretty wide known anyways), so i see him rebelling a little against the way he was brought up and the vision everyone had of him, this bright, exemple child. i think during this time leon would have also been experimenting with his sexuality (i personally see him as bi, maybe leaning towards women more), but i don't think he came out to his family around this time yet.

then racoon happened. he was probably moved by the government somewhere else and then had to go through training and everything after he was swept into usstratcom. he was away from family a lot, but he tried his best to keep in touch with them, especially in his early 20's.

as time when on, the more missions he was sent to, the more traumatized he became (we all know this man doesn't go to therapy) and that for sure affected his relationships. the enthusiastic, bright eyed kid became this hardened figure and i think leon had a hard trying to fit in in his old persona whenever he visited his family. that probably created conflict, which was the last thing he wanted.

and i never thought about it, but now that you mentioned it, maybe he came out to his family during this time, but they initially didn't accept it as well as he expected it. i do think they were a bit conservative, especially the older people in his family, but they loved him a lot and despite not being the ideal scenario they would've accepted him in the end. i see his sisters being very supportive but still, not having full support from his family would've only added to the reasons he became more and more distant. so by his late 20's he'd call his family way less, probably wouldn't visit them unless he really needed to.

when he was 34 he joined dso so if he wasn't busy before, he definitely is now. working so close with the president made his made more known within his field of work so im sure he worried a lot about the safety of this family and people he cared for. during this time he completely lost/cut contact, both to protect them and because of how much had drifted away already.

Basically, he was late in the original RE2 because his girlfriend broke up with him and he got drunk. In RE2 Remake, they changed it to him being late because everything was going to hell and they contacted him and told him not to come... so obviously he ended up going, anyway!

Imagine him meeting with old family and friends and accidentally showing his skillset or some random newsclip escaping. Lol That would make reunions interesting.

Awesome ideas. I wish canon would give us a little more...

[rockthingsbymeg]

i’ve requested so much from you already but you’re my favourite writer right now and i love that you’re doing frisky fridays/smutty saturday’s 🤷🏻‍♀️ so kickin of this (very late) frisky friday or (very early) smutty saturday, how about a secret relationship with present day slash where there’s a bit of an age gap with the reader so they sneak off to hook up because they’re kind of worried about how their relationship will be perceived. if you’re not comfortable writing this, i totally get it💖

Don’t ever apologize about requesting things to me. It absolutely makes my day to know that someone enjoys what I write💛

(I’m going to say the reader is like, very late 20’s early 30’s because it gets kinda creepy to me if she’s much younger)

So, Y/N’s father worked as a roadie during the Not In This Life Time tour, and she took that as an opportunity to go with him and see what life on the road was like, considering she wanted a job in the industry herself.

She had been with her him, helping him make sure everything was in the right place for soundcheck when loud chatter coming from the sides of the stage caught her attention.

Axl, Duff, and Slash walked up to them, greeting her father, who promptly introduced her.

“This is Y/N, my daughter.”

On the outside, Y/N looked calm and composed. On the inside, she was losing her shit. They were Guns n’ fucking Roses!

When younger, Y/N had spent her teenage years listening to their music, either their work as a band or solo and had developed quite a crush on Slash.

Over the years it seemed to have died out a little, but now, standing by his side and observing his details closely, that crush came back a hell of a lot stronger…

Strong enough that he was the only thing in her mind for the rest of the day. Slash and the things she had dreamed of doing with him, to him, or have him do to her.

She could feel herself blushing while she now watched the soundcheck, imagining what those experienced fingers would be able to do to her.

“God. Stop thinking about that! ” She mumbled, moving her eyes to the other band members.

The rest of the days she worked with him had been torturous. Her dad had asked her to help around, and she would end up being the one to grab some coffee or water or whatever the band needed.

That meant that she had gotten to talk to Slash a lot more times than she thought she would.

She had done her best to hide the lust towards him. She swore she did, but somehow, Slash had caught up on the details, and that’s probably how they ended up in this situation.

Y/N had mentioned in one of their conversations that she’d always wanted to learn how to play guitar but had pushed that wish aside to focus on school and find herself a job. So Slash, being the amazing soul he was, offered to give her a few lessons.

They had been 30 minutes into the second lesson, and it had been going smoothly until they came to a transition between notes that Y/N’s fingers simply refused to make.

Slash smiled comprehensively when she let out a small, frustrated sigh. “Don’t think too much about it, it won’t help.” He said, setting his own guitar down and going to stand behind the chair she was in. He leaned down, placed his arms around her and his hands over hers, moving her fingers to the correct position.

They had both felt her body grow stiff and heard how her breath got shallower.

She could feel his breath on her neck, lips dangerously close to her skin, making goosebumps erupt all over her body.

“You’re okay, Y/N?” He asked, playing naïve, while he let his hands move from her own to her waist. It sure as hell didn’t look like a place where his hands would go casually, given the position they were in, but Y/N definitely wasn’t complaining.

She didn’t answer him though. Her head turned slightly towards his, her eyes searching his dark ones for a moment before dropping to his lips.

The only reason he didn’t immediately seize the opportunity was that he was afraid. Were the signs really there or was he just a ridiculously desperate old man in need of attention? If he wasn’t misreading the signs, how would people react if they found out? Would they have to sneak-

His train of thought was stopped by her lips on his. He immediately kissed back, moving his mouth in a slow pace, and opening it when he felt her tongue brush against his lips.

They kissed until the position he was in grew too uncomfortable. He broke the kiss and got up, pulling her guitar from her lap and dragging her to the couch he had been sitting in.

He sat down and pulled her to his lap, eagerly connecting their lips again.

“Slash? Where are you man, it’s time for soundcheck.” Duff’s voice echoed in the hallway, and they immediately sprung apart.

When Duff came in, Y/N’s and Slash’s lips were still a bit red, though hers were far more noticeable. The blond eyed them carefully, settling for giving his bandmate a questioning look, which Slash ignored as he picked up his beloved Les Paul and walked out of the room, telling Duff to hurry up for soundcheck.

Duff didn’t feel like he was in a place to judge, so he walked out of the room as well, leaving behind a breathless and extremely wet Y/N.

[…]

The sneaking around had been going on all the tour. She had traveled around with them and her father, and the escapes grew more frequent and more intense.

Intense to the point where Slash would get hard pretty quickly if she happened to be wearing something that hugged her body in all the right places. Like the leather skirt and the top she had been wearing for today’s show.

The clothes were not the most practical ones for a roadie, but she was well aware of the effect they had on the guitarist, so she made the effort to work in them just to tease him.

As the band got ready for that night’s show, Slash pulled her into his dressing room, pressing her up against the closed door.

“You look so good, baby…” He said, running a hand down her body. “Such a pretty little tease.” He groaned, attaching his lips to hers.

His right hand sneaked between her legs, cupping her warm pussy to find it bare.

“Such a dirty slut aren’t you, baby?” He smirked, pulling away from her.

Y/N smirked back. “All for you.”

His hands began to run up her arms until they tangled in her hair. “Can’t go on the stage like this can I?” He asked, pressing his hard cock against her thigh. “You know I’ll make it up to you.”

Y/N smirked before sinking to her knees.

[…]

With a post-show high running through his veins, Slash looked around for Y/N as soon as he left the stage.

He found her already waiting for him in his dressing room, fully naked.

“What would you have done if someone else walked in here?” He smirked, pushing her down on the couch and placing himself between her legs.

“I would have gotten us into a hell lot of trouble.” She smirked, spreading herself invitingly.

Slash chuckled before he lowered his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucked and nibbled until it was a shade of red he considered okay and then moved to the other one. When he was finished, his mouth began to leave a trail of bites until he reached her pussy.

There, his mouth quickly attached itself to her clit, sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck Slash!” She cried out, writhing pathetically below him.

He allowed her to move her hips against his face, chasing her pleasure like an animal in heat.

He brought one of his hands up and thrust two fingers inside her, making her cry out loudly.

“You gotta be quiet, baby. Everyone will know what I’m doing to you if you keep that up.” He said, moving his fingers over her g-spot.

“I’ll be quiet, Slash. I promise! Just please…” She begged, tangling her hands in his curls.

Slash smirked before moving his mouth to her body again. Her precious loud moans had turned into small whimpers and cries, with the occasional moan of his name slipping out.

He ate her out like she was his last meal, and not too long after, she was ready to cum.

“I’m cumming… Slash… Fuck!” She moaned, tugging at the strands of his hair.

The sentence seemed to fuel his fire. Redoubling his efforts, she soon cummed against him, no longer able to hold herself back and full-on screaming his name so anyone and everyone heard.

He gently coaxed her down from her high and let her tired body rest on the couch. He sat down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, opening his arms as soon as she moved closer to cuddle his side.

“I should get dressed and leave. Someone might come in…” She mumbled, looking up at his eyes.

Slash kissed her forehead. He wished they didn’t have to sneak around, but they didn’t want to have to deal with everyone’s judgment. “Meet me in the morning in my hotel room, okay?” He smiled, kissing her lips.

“Okay.” She smiled too, getting up and fixing herself up.

—

From the series of things that I write for Slash that turn out way longer than expected… Hope you like it and sorry for any inaccuracies/typos/mistakes 💛

Frisky Friday/Smutty Saturday

[seapandora]

Sunset

Steve Rogers x Reader, some avengers are mentioned

A/N: In my mind Endgame´s story for Steve never happened. He happily lives with the rest of the avengers all ALIVE (yes Tony I´m looking at you, and I guess Nat is in on it too). This is full of typos probably and I have yet to get grammarly but yeah, enjoy? I tried to write reader as nondescriptive as possible, but I might have messed up somewhere. Feedback is appreciated.

Warnings: 1 swear, fluff, angst, bland tbh

Y/N = Your Name (Doesn’t everyone know this by now?)

Y/N/N = Your NickName

Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

“I just don’t understand why you can´t give me my surprise now. My birthday was 10 days ago already, and I don’t want to wait any longer.” Steve said with a pout as he glared at Y/N.  They had been away on a mission with Sam and Bucky for the past two weeks and had only made it home the day before, still Y/N had totally seemed to have forgotten that Steve´s 102nd birthday was July 4th.

“Well, if you´ve waited 10 days then I´m sure you can wait another 5 hours” Y/N said and looked at their watch. They were getting annoyed with Steve, he had done nothing but bother them since they had gotten back from the mission. Y/N had planned everything already, down to the minute. They just wished Steve could be patient enough to enjoy dinner with the team. “You will get your presents and attention, I promise, but can you just wait until after sunset?” They asked and sighed.

Steve sighed as well but nodded. He could tell when Y/N started to get annoyed by his neediness. He opted to sit by the counter instead and just watch Y/N work on the dinner. They had taken full control of the celebrations, well the dinner. That was all Steve wanted with the family. Everyone would be there. Sam, Bucky, Tony and Pepper, and of course Morgan. Natasha would be there and so would Clint and his family, even Peter had promised to show up. Wanda and Vision would be a no-show. No-one was surprised. Wanda loved the team but her and Vision had just become parents and now had their little Max to take care off. They didn’t want Steves birthday dinner to be tainted by cries of an infant. Instead they would come over in a few days to congratualate the 102 year old.

His thoughts were interrupted by a furry creature who dropped their toy in front of Steve. It was the compounds dog, well technically he was Steves dog, but everyone in the compound had adopted him so now he was the compound dog. His name was Logan, yes after that Logan. “Whatcha say bud? How ´bout we go play while they make us food, sound like a fir deal after being alone for my birthday?” He asked the furry four-legged creature. “Oh my god Steve, I was on a mission, get over it. You have been away for my birthday so many times I don’t even think you know when it is.” Y/N exclaimed and slammed a spoon in the sink. “I´m sorry I had to save the world for once. And I´m so terribly sorry tonight is the only night in July we can see Jupiter through regular binoculars, and I´m sorry I wanted to make that a special deal to tell you how special you are to me and the others in the compound. But since it´s waaaaay too late to celebrate your birthday we should just cancel all that then.” They continued and tore the apron off themselves before leaving the kitchen midway through cooking. They walked past a frowning Bucky on their way out but didn’t acknowledge him.

“What was that all about?” Bucky asked Steve, who just stood there confused and a little terrified. “That was, using a modern term, me fucking up.” Steve mumbled and walked over to the stove turning it off. “Wow, there, language Cap.” Bucky chuckled. “You bothered them too much didn’t you? Do you have any idea how long they have been planning something like this for you?” He asked and looked at his best, but very stupid, friend. “Y/N talked about it constantly on the mission and were so excited to be home a day early to set it all up. Just go talk to them punk.” Bucky continued. “Okay okay, jerk. Take Logan out to play, alright?” Steve replied and sighed softly as he got himself together to talk to Y/N.

Steve walked out of the kitchen and towards the elevator. He and Y/N had been together for quite some time now and shared a floor. They had separate rooms but Y/N mostly stayed in Steves room. He kept their nightmares away and allowed them to sleep well. However, he had a sneaking suspicion Y/N would be in their own room now seeing as they were quite mad at Steve. The elevator ride was quick and Steve got out on their floor and headed towards Y/Ns door. He knocked before he slowly felt the handle. The door was open, as per their deal. No matter what happened between them they had an open door policy, although it meant something else for them than for the rest of the world. To them it meant that the other one would always be allowed in, whether it was to talk or to apologize. The other person however didn’t need to listen or care, it was just for them both to be able to apologize and talk.

Y/Ns room was spotless. They spent very little time in there. There were a few pictures on the wall, mostly of Y/N with Steve, Bucky or Sam. Steve walked over to the bed and sat down by Y/Ns legs. Their Y/H/C hair covered the pillow and Y/N was looking towards the wall. “I know you´re really mad at and annoyed with me, and I get that. I just want to apologize. It was unfair to you too stress you and push you. I don’t have any excuses. I missed you but that isn´t good enough. I woved to never hurt you and yet I did. I just hope you can forgive me and come watch Jupiter with me tonight. I´d really like the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but I wouldn’t want to do it alone or with anyone else but you.” He whispered. He wanted to touch them badly but he knew his boundaries. He knew Y/N would flinch away if he tried to reach out rght now. They needed to initiate contact after a situation like this, and even if that pained Steve, he respected it.

“All your pushing just made me realize that I´m never going to be enough for you Steve.” Y/N said and sighed as they curled into their pillow. “That’s where youre wrong doll, you´re mre than enough for me. You got me Logan, you make sure I eat, no matter if you´re home or not. You make sure I get my sleep, and you make sure I get time off to do things I like and to catch up with the new 20´s.” He said and frowned. “I wouldn’t be here today if it weren´t for you Y/N.” Steve continued. “Can we please go downstairs and finish up dinner and then I´m all yours for the rest of the evening. I don´t want to end the day without you.” He mumbled and moved over so he was kneeling on the floor besides the bed. Y/N nodded and sat up. They leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Steves lips. “Okay, but you better zip it mister or you´ll sleep on the couch tonight.” They whispered against his lips and smirked. Steve knew he was forgiven for now and he thanked god for it.

Dinner went on without a hitch and before Steve knew it was sunset. He grabbed Y/Ns hand and pulled them towards the elevator. Y/n smiled and followed Steve. They took the elevator to the roof and walked out into the setting sun. Y/N had decorated a small part of the roof with a few blankets and a cooler. Of course they had gotten them some snacks, and beer for Steve. They looked up at the sky and frowned. It was cloudy, it wasn’t supposed to be cloudy. How could they watch Jupiter if it was cloudy? They sighed and shook their head. “I´m sorry Steve, I read the news carefully. It was supposed to be clear tonight.” They mumbled, suddenly ashamed over their idea being messed up by natural weather. “Hey Y/N, we can at least watch the sunset together. Not just tonight, but maybe for the rest of our lives as well.” Steve said and moved behind Y/N to wrap his arms around them. Yeah he could definitely watch the sunset with them forever and ever. Jupiter could wait.

[inosuke-writings]

ahhh for the inosuke oneshot what about we have him and his s/o pull pranks? on random people? then like they come across this couple and theyre acting all lovey dovey kissing and what not and inosuke is just like yo...i want to do that with s/o.

ITS HERE AND HERE TO STAY!

while i didn’t follow your prompt fully (it took me so long i kind of forgot what it was halfway through lmao) i followed the gist of it? HOPEFULLY??

its’s like.. nearly 2k words im shaking i don’t think i ever wrote this much in my entire school career.

i hope? it doesn’t feel rushed? goodluck reading this!

(i do want to mention that since this was a oneshot i went out of my way and actually typed it properly with all the capitalisations needed)

also if you read my sneak peek you would realise that i changed the time of this- it was supposed to be night time but that didn’t go well with my plan

–

Inosuke x Mischievous!Fem S/O - Let’s Kiss [ONESHOT- 1.7k words]

[MODERN AU]

It was April’s fools, everyone who knew you were on their toes, aside from Inosuke- he was your partner in crime after all.

The thing is, that you’re rather mischievous, you loved pranking people, while you mostly did it for fun- you would always make sure the victim would get a laugh out of it too, if not, what would be the point of the prank then (unless the victim was Zenitsu). It was never your intention to hurt them, and while there were definitely times you went too far you’ve grown to learn to be more mindful. It wasn’t long until Inosuke noticed you either- always laughing and giggling while your peers were playfully scolded you. His eyes lit up like never before. All he knew was that you were friends with Tanjiro as he had seen you before with him.

Inosuke would always be having a blast with you- especially because you were a prankster and god he loved that.

You screamed chaotic energy, just like him.

Your name? Out of the question, he called you ‘clown’ before he found out what your name was. The two of you got to hang out more and be more close over the years along with Tanjiro, Zenitsu and more! Inosuke and you got along extremely well because of your mischievousness- almost too well, often, you two were called the devil duo despite you looking so innocent.

With Inosuke, you planned beforehand what kind of pranks you’d do for each, but didn’t actually prepare anything so instead you planned to meet early in the morning to buy some supplies.

“Where the hell is he?!” you grumbled under your breath as you looked over to your wrist eyeing your watch as you stomped your feet on the concrete floor.

Inosuke was late, and fashionably so. It had been over twenty minutes since you time you two planned to meet up, and he still wasn’t here.

“Sheesh.. Can he read time or not?” you sighed, crossing your arms in anger. However, you were quick to notice some loud footsteps and laughing in the background. 

‘It’s him’

“HyAHAHAHA! LORD INOSUKE IS HERE!” he roared as he ran closer to you.

Honestly, you couldn’t help but smile on the sight of seeing him with that stupid boar mask he loves so much, but you weren’t so nice to let him off so you gave a nice yet friendly smack on his back as you complained “You’re late! 20 minutes late!”, but he rebutted head-on, wasting no time “NO! You’re just mad early woman! Who the fuck wakes up at this time anyway?!”.

“Whatever you say..anyway, ready to go shopping, Lord-Insouke?” you smirked- if only you knew that it made him skip a heartbeat.

You and Inosuke slowly made your way to the city centre, getting lost a few times but getting back on track most of the time, you two bought most of the stuff you needed.

Ready to go back, you looked back at your checklist your eyes widen and your mouth drops as you realise that some of the stuff Inosuke was supposed to buy was missing. 

“Inosuke! We have to go back to the centre since you forgot three items! How’d you forget?”  

“Huh…? Gimme that!” he said as he snatched the paper off of your hands “Oh shit. I’m-”.

“C’mon, let’s go back- don’t worry.” you said as you grabbed his hands and dragged him with you.

 [TIMESKIP]

So, you got lost.

“It’s your fault Inosuke! This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t just run away all the time!” you lamented, “HUUH??! NO IT’S YOUR FAULT SINCE YOU KEPT GOING INTO EVERY SHOP IN EXISTENCE!” refuted Inosuke.

As the two of you walked into a rather shady looking alleyway while you bickered, you couldn’t help but become red at the sight your eyes had landed upon. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you were sure Inosuke was also pretty surprised as he suddenly stopped behind and his breathing quickened a little.

There was a couple, probably both around their early 20s, that, with their hands tangled with each other’s, kissing passionately, even though shortly, under the daylight.

The two of you just stared as they broke off and giggled innocently and went for round two. 

Quickly, you took Inosuke’s hand and ran off from the direction you came from- there was no way you would go through that path with those lovebirds standing in your way!

“OI! WHAT- WHERE ARE WE GOING- M/N!” he yelled but you ignored him. The two of you passed through a crowd of people, trying to get past through to another, hopefully, empty alleyway. Luckily, you noticed there was one of your left and you and Inosuke (since you practically dragged him with you) swerved right into its entrance.

Inosuke huffed as he breathlessly said “wha- what the fuck man? Why’d you run like that!?”. The instance he said that you felt your cheeks warming up- “w-well.. Uh.. the couple was k-kissing and- we shouldn’t pry.. You know..?” you managed to reply between your puffs.

Surprised by your shyness, he just stared at you as you were normally upbeat and witty, especially when you were alone with him. He was silently observing you- you couldn’t tell that though as he had the boar head-on so you just tilted your head and leaned a millimeter closer to him, questioning his silence.

But soon after that, two hands grabbed you by your shoulders, making the bags of goods fall to the ground, and pushed you to the wall- it wasn’t so forceful that it was painful, but damn did it scare the shit out of you.

“I-InosuKE? What are you-!?” you yelled a whisper, but he cut you off with another loud whisper; “I WANNA DO IT TOO! WITH YOU M/N!”.

“HUH?! W-Wait WAIT WAIT WAIT INOSUKE!!” you rebutted, your face became as red and as hot as a pepper, “DO WHAT EXACTLY ??”.

“Well, the kissy shiz DUH??” he replied obnoxiously, seemingly unaware of his words, but that was enough to make you shut up- you dropped your eye contact with him to stare at the dark concrete floor with wondering eyes and red cheeks due to embarrassment.

Honestly, you didn’t hate the idea of it but the two of you weren’t dating despite being so close. Everyone could tell that you had feelings for this stupid pig-head, he was your stupid pig-head, but Inosuke? How does he feel about you? There were times that Tanjiro and Zenitsu mentioned that he would feel giddier, more bashful whenever he was with you, but you thought they only said these things to make to feel better as you’d often think that he would never understand the concept of love- he’d probably think it’s some sort of weakness. 

But for him to so boldly say that we wanted to kiss you- it really messed with your head.

You were dazed for so long that you didn’t even realise that Inosuke took his hands off of you but the rustling of something caught the attention of your ears. Slowly you moved your eyes and head toward the sound.

Inosuke took his boar mask off- this time, the sun-kissed sky was upon the two of you. His face shimmered in the lighting- it brought his feminine yet sharp features even more than they already were. You were also finally able to see his face, and surely enough, he too, was red which would explain why he was so unnaturally quiet.

His emerald eyes slowly made their way towards you, they were looking shy and unconfident unlike his prior excitement.

“..Inosuke…” you mumbled in awe- he was actually serious.

He looked like a lost puppy, unsure of whether to continue or run away from his words.

“Do- Do you… lo-like me..?” you asked almost breathlessly, “HUH? What kinda question is that?! Of course I do?? What the fuck would i want to-” he cried out but stopped as soon as he realised that he just confessed to you in the most embarrassing way possible- he didn’t even mean to!

“I- Uh! WELL M/N! thERE’S NO WAY THAT YOU CAN RESIST THE GREAT INOSUKE CAN YOU? HAHAHa ha..” he said trying to change the conversation, but his awkward laugh didn’t help but to enunciate his own embarrassment.

God, what a mess he was.

“Y/N”

Him getting your name right made you look up towards him with wide eyes- my, what a mistake that was; his face was too close to yours, you had no room to move back.

“Y-Yes?” you yelped out as he stepped even closer, held your hand quietly and laid his face on the crook of your neck, unable to show his flushed face to you.

“Can we kiss?” he breathed shyly on your neck, yet the statement was daring as always.

A few seconds pass, they seem like hours for both of you.

He gently removes his head off of you, his hands still intertwined with yours, and locks your eyes on you.

You nervously nod your head as a response to his question.

He steps closer to you, releasing one of his hands from your fingers to cup your warm cheeks as you quietly close your eyes. As he leans in closer, you can feel his breathing become more and more irregular until he places his lips against yours.

The kiss was soft, almost childlike and innocent since neither of you did anything like this before.

It seemed like it lasted for eternity until he broke it off.

Neither of you spoke a word, but both of you looked at each other with shy eyes.

Your wondering eyes caught the plastic bag and his boar mask. Still blushing, you reached out for both and picked them up.

“Let’s… go back I-Ino-Insouke..” you stuttered, fumbling your words.

He didn’t say anything back, but he took the bag of your hands and walked back with his other, free hand in this pocket. You held the mask close to your chest as the two of you walked together, side by side, and it didn’t seem like either of you were ready to get rid of those rosy cheeks.

Needless to say, everyone was surprised and scared shitless that the devil duo didn’t do anything this year.

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

Beat that Record pt. 4

Title: “Beat that Record pt. 4″ (pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 22.057 Warnings: Explicit content, language, references to internalized homophobia

Notes:

me: *uploads pt 3 literal years ago* That is it! It is done! Enjoy! you guys: could you do a part where they beat the record? me: no also me: y e s

AO3

Isak is smart, okay. He knows that Even likes to joke that he’s a genius, but he’s got the grades, the inquisitive mind, and the ambition to show that he’s not really all that far off.

Being as smart as Isak is, he really should’ve figured it out, or at least figured it out a lot sooner than he actually does.

He should’ve known it would become a thing.

It starts – well. How it starts is quite well-known at this point. It’s how it continues Isak should’ve been paying attention to.

First it’s Jonas with the help of Magnus planting the thought in Even’s head that he can’t make Isak come untouched way too many times. Then Isak breaks up what very well could’ve been the next ‘moment’ like that when the boys came over to pregame.

And he’d really actually thought that was the end of that.

Isak is a goddamn idiot. An oblivious idiot. And hindsight is 20/20, after all, and it’s a lot easier to realize when Isak isn’t in the middle of having very great sex.

The next time it happens, Isak realizes now that he’s aware of its thingness, is at some house party the boys dragged Isak to, which means Isak dragged Even along so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone, and when the boys inevitably find someone to hook up with for the night he can just kiss Even. Win-win for everyone.

True enough, Jonas is the first one to abandon them, so Magnus is entertaining them by reenacting how fast Jonas moved when he found out Mia was at the party. Even’s laughing the most out of all of them. The vibrations of it feel nice against Isak’s back where he’s leaning up against Even’s chest, fingers curled in a loose hold around the arm Even has wrapped around his front.

Mahdi points out that not even Isak and Even were as desperate to get each other off as Jonas apparently had been. Isak punches Mahdi in the shoulder, his protests going unheard under all of their booming laughter.

He doesn’t mind too much, he finds, but still keeps up the pretense by scowling at all of them until Even has pressed half a dozen kisses to his cheek and promises that next party, they won’t even bother showing up because they’ll have started with each other so early they don’t make it out the door.

It’s enough of a promise to mollify Isak as Mahdi starts perusing over his options from the corner they’re in and Magnus bemoans how Vilde has an early workout session and also didn’t want to go to a party without the girls. Bringing Even had been a brilliant idea, Isak thinks, tilting his head back and stretching his neck out tantalizingly, knowing Even won’t be able to resist.

Predictably, Even presses his lips against his neck, just lightly moving his lips over the skin in a way more teasing manner than Isak had hoped for. He’s just about to see if Even wants to make something more out of it when Jonas comes bounding down the stairs and heads over to them straightaway.

His hair is tussled beyond compare, his lips puffy and his eyes a little sex crazy. There’s nothing subtle about him, and Isak can’t help but roll his eyes at him.

Jonas doesn’t even have the gall to be embarrassed about it, just flashes them all an obnoxious grin when Mahdi hoots and Magnus makes choked up laughing noises.

“Back already?” Even teases, presses another kiss to Isak’s neck before hooking his chin over his shoulder. It’ll do his back in if he keeps at it for too long, but Isak likes the feel of it so he lets him stay like that for now. “Don’t tell me that’s all the stamina you have.”

Jonas rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Isak almost expects him to stick his tongue out at Even because they’re both children, but he thankfully doesn’t.

Isak can tell Even is amused, though. Maybe he’d been thinking the same thing.

Jonas waggles his eyebrows instead. “Gave her a taste of what’s to come.”

Magnus wrinkles his nose. “You blue-ballsed her? Or – well – whatever the equivalent is – what is – what’s it called when you do that to a girl –“ turning towards Even until Isak’s glare makes him wrinkle his nose again.

“Nah,” Jonas shakes his head. “I gave her incentive to come home with me,” wiggling his goddamn eyebrows again.

Isak barks out a laugh that only intensifies when Even proceeds to wolf-whistle lowly and at the sight of Magnus still not getting it.

Jonas rolls his eyes. “I made her come and then told her all the times I’d make her come again if she comes home with me.”

“And just how many would that –“ Even grunts when Isak’s elbow firmly cuts him off.

Luckily, before Jonas can retaliate and Isak’s ass will take the brunt of it later, Magnus draws all of their attentions with an amazed noise. His eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Fuck’s sake, you’ve been gone for less than seven minutes!” Mahdi protests in sheer outrage. Isak bites down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“6 minutes and 24 seconds, to be precise,” Jonas grins cockily, waggling his eyebrows and dancing out of the way from the shove Mahdi tries to give him.

Isak isn’t interested enough to know if that’s impressive. He’s definitely made Even come in less than that, but he doubts the boys will think it’s the same. What he is interested in is making as much fun of Jonas as he can before Jonas makes his goodbyes and heads home with Mia under his arm.

What he should’ve been interested in was how glossy Even’s eyes had gotten, the same way as when he’s come up with a big project that he just has to start working on immediately. What he should’ve paid attention to was how important it had apparently been to sneak away to a bedroom right before they leave, Even sinking to his knees, his mouth touching only the tip of Isak’s dick, his fingers tapping impatiently against his hole, not pressing in because neither of them had the foresight to bring lube.

When Isak looks back at that night now, it really is quite obvious what had been going on. But Isak had been wearing his pink panties that he knows how much Even loves when paired with the grey sweater he got for him, which, coincidentally, Isak had also been wearing despite how the weather was technically getting a bit too hot for sweaters.

Even had obviously known about Isak choosing to wear the sweater out, but he’d only gotten a peak of the lingerie right before they’d met up with the boys. Even having Isak lean back against his chest pretty much the entire night was both to hide the half-chub he’d been sporting ever since, and to intermittently press his hips forward, grinding softly into Isak just to remind him of what was to come.

And the fact that what came to be got split up in two parts because, for some reason, Even just had to get Isak off in less than 6 minutes and 24 seconds, just hadn’t registered in Isak’s mind.

It hadn’t been obvious at the time – probably mainly because Isak’s legs were shaking too badly from coming so quickly, but also because Even had at least had enough class to not bring out a stopwatch and time just how quick they’d been, which Isak figures probably would’ve been the way he would’ve noticed over his brain shutting down temporarily. Isak didn’t notice at the time.

He also doesn’t notice it the next time it happens.

Or the next time again.

Or the one after that.

Doesn’t make the connection between Jonas talking about getting a girl off with his mouth with less than 15 strokes of his tongue and then Even eating him out that night.

Even wins with two broad strokes, four kitten-like licks, and one so deep Isak hadn’t been able to do anything but come, all of them paired with a few well-timed phrases that sent Isak’s blood hot and thrumming.

He doesn’t make any of the rather obvious connections that he definitely should’ve made, which is just ironic in hindsight, because one time Isak actually got rather close to calling it out without realizing it.

Being a third year isn’t really all that different from being a second year. Well, unless you’re Vilde, who seems to have an entirely different point of view, but to Isak it’s still just attending school, doing his homework, hanging out with his friends and missing Even terribly now that he’s at university and Isak is still stuck at Nissen.

Whatever, Isak reminds himself as he shuts off his laptop, says bye to Sana and rushes outside. The school year is basically over and then he’ll get to spend the entire summer with Even. Small words of comfort that don’t really help him right now.

The last bell has just rung and Isak is dying to get home already.

It’s just – it’s just that things are so good right now. Isak can’t remember ever having felt so comfortable in his own skin, so secure in his relationship. Even finding out about… about everything hadn’t been the death sentence Isak had feared, and thinking back on it Isak just feels stupid for having been so afraid of Even.

Sweet, beautiful Even whom Isak is in love with, who saved Isak and let Isak save him right back. Who is so good to him that walking out of the front door in the morning doesn’t feel like putting on a second skin more appropriate for what’s expected of Isak, but instead feels like himself.

Isak sees the boys loitering by the benches and changes his direction towards them.

“Halla,” he greets, smiling because he’s in a great fucking mood.

Both Jonas and Mahdi slap their palms against his, grinning back. Magnus, however, when Isak turns around to face him last, does not.

Magnus stares at him in a scrutinizing manner, and Isak would probably be feeling unease with it if it weren’t for how comfortable he is in his own skin, and how little it actually bothers him if someone were to say something mean and demeaning.

It still sends a little kick through his system when Magnus finally musters up the courage and asks, “Are you wearing lip-gloss?”

Isak is in fact wearing lip-gloss. Has been for the entire day, but maybe the shine only reflects in direct sunlight or maybe the boys really are just way too oblivious to have noticed on their own.

It’s probably because of Vilde, Isak thinks, that Magnus has gotten used to noticing the small details so he can give her a compliment whenever she tries something new. Magnus is great like that.

Jonas and Mahdi’s heads snap towards them, the both of them frowning nonplussed as they stare intensely at Isak’s lips.

Isak rolls his eyes at the two of them and doesn’t slow his gait to let them gawk. He has places he needs to be, namely home. With Even.

“You are!” Jonas exclaims, something akin to wonder in his voice that Isak tries not to flush over.

“And you even matched it to your shirt, man,” Magnus points out, because Isak had matched the light pink lip-gloss with the pastel pink t-shirt Even had surprised him with when the weather got too hot for soft sweaters. “What gives?”

“Så kjekk,” Mahdi grins, eyes gentle even as he ribs at him, “Guess Even’s getting his dick sucked.”

Jonas chokes – on the air, on his own spit, Isak doesn’t know, doesn’t care, because he’s too busy fighting off a laugh at Mahdi’s reference and instead fix a scowl at him.

Magnus is just gaping wide-eyed at him, then switching over to Mahdi, and back to Isak.

“Is that it?” he asks. “But I thought it was the red color that – is it really?”

“Is what really?” a voice asks behind them, and Isak knows that voice.

He still whirls around when the other boys do, but whilst they’re gasping at being startled – Jonas still mainly choking, but Isak’s willing to acquiesce to call it a ‘gasp’ because of best-bro status – Isak is already beaming and tilting his head back a bit so Even can kiss him hello.

“Hei!” Isak greets brightly because Even is here, arms around him and body warm against his, lips pecking softly so as to not ruin Isak’s makeup preemptively.

“Halla, baby” he says between pecks, smiling when Magnus can’t help but comment, ‘Oh my god, it’s Even!’

“What are you doing here?” Isak interrupts himself with another peck.

“Finished my shift earlier than expected. Figured I’d come say hello,” Even grins brightly, leaning down once again just because.

Even goes to greet Magnus next, like always with a quick hug and a bright smile, but Magnus must still be too wired from the lip-gloss and possible dick sucking Isak’s supposedly about to commence to not blurt out, “That Isak’s wearing lip-gloss so he can suck your dick?”

Isak does flush at that. God, they’re in public, very much in public on a route Isak has to take five days out of the week.

Even blinks, stunned either at the topic or the bluntness, maybe both considering. Isak almost thinks Even won’t answer, or that he’ll hit Magnus with a mini-lecture about the damaging side-effects of constructing ‘masculine’ norms that he’s been reading about in a pointedly plain view whenever Isak can see the screen of his laptop, that Jonas would probably be all for.

But then Even actually answers, and Isak isn’t even surprised.

“Isak doesn’t have to be wearing lip-gloss to do that, he knows that.”

It’s only made better by Even slinging his arm over Isak’s shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to his temple. Otherwise, Even could’ve definitely said goodbye to any blowjob for the rest of the month, or at least until Isak caved.

Mahdi snorts so hard his eyes water a little. Isak’s mild annoyance at the topic fades a bit with the good-natured experience of having fun with his best friends and man of his dreams.

“But what about the dark red?” Magnus asks again, like that’s something that matters. Isak rolls his eyes, but lets it go when Even squeezes his shoulder. “I thought – I thought the red was the point?”

Another eye roll, another squeeze, but neither of them actually get to say anything before Jonas cuts in.

“Any color will do, Mags,” he teases, reaching over a bit awkwardly so he can puff at him with his elbow. “It’s just easier to see when the color is dark.”

Magnus frowns, goes back to staring at Isak’s lips like he’s never seen anything alike.

He’s definitely seen the frown before, Isak guarantees that.

“See?”

“On your dick,” Mahdi interrupts, having enough decency to lower his goddamn voice. He might be Isak’s new favorite – or second favorite, if Isak includes Even. Even should always be included in Isak’s opinion, but absolutely no one could compare to Even, so maybe it’s not technically fair.

“Has Vilde never done that?” Jonas asks, and Mahdi is definitely Isak’s new favorite.

Magnus shares enough information already, and Isak’s fairly certain he’s also shared intricate details about Vilde’s mouth when he’d asked if Isak had had any tips or moves.

Isak had spent the rest of the lunch period throwing pieces of his raisin bread at Magnus’ face, awarding himself five points every time it made Magnus stop talking, and ten points if he could get Magnus to accidentally catch it with his mouth.

Magnus frowns and goes still, like he’s actually going through every single moment Vilde’s gone down on him, cataloguing each experience in order to remember if there’d ever been any colored smudges visible.

“I don’t know?”

Mahdi snorts again, though not as hard. “Trust me, you’d know. It looks like a damn murder scene happened on your dick whenever they wear red lipstick.”

Even knows better than to laugh. Isak will admit that it’s slightly amusing in this context, but when they’re actually in the moment and he has Even staring down at him like he’ll never witness a sight prettier than the one he’s looking at now, Isak knows that the red smudges left behind on Even and the way the color exceeds the line of his lips is one of Even’s utmost favorite things about Isak going down on him, period.

Jonas, however, doesn’t know better.

“Man, you’ve got it all wrong,” he slaps lightly at Mahdi’s arm. “It’s the best thing ever. You can tell afterwards how far down you could get.”

That Even does snort at. “I think that says more about your size than it does than it does about the other person’s… abilities.”

A+ for not being overtly crude. Isak might reconsider banning blowjobs for the rest of the month if Even keeps this up.

Jonas grins mischievously. He isn’t any longer on the list of Isak’s favorites at all.

“Well, that just makes it even better, doesn’t it?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ,” Isak grumbles. “I swear to god, if either of you whip your dick out for whatever measuring contest this is –“

“Why, Isak,” Even exclaims dramatically, “we’d never!” and presses kiss after kiss against Isak’s cheek until he drops the stink eye he’s giving all of them.

He doesn’t notice the looks the boys share with each other. He doesn’t notice the suspiciously timed make-out session Even initiates when they get home, because – well, Isak’s rather distracted when that happens.

He isn’t even thinking about the stupid conversation when he kisses Even’s jaw, his neck, tugging down at the collar of his t-shirt to get further down his collarbone, his chest. All he thinks about are Even’s groans, how riled up he feels, how much he wants to hear what sounds he can get out of Even with his mouth.

So Isak sinks to his knees, right there by their front door, pressing a single kiss to Even’s naval before he starts working on his belt and jeans and boxers and finally his cock.

“Baby,” Even groans when Isak licks at the tip, pops it into his mouth and hums pleased.

When he draws back, there’s already a light ring of pink as his lip-gloss had gotten smeared from the multiple kisses Even hadn’t been able to resist giving him.

“God, look at you,” Even says, mouth already running rampant as Isak’s tongue joins the game. “Most gorgeous baby in the world. Faen.”

Isak bobs down maybe halfway, tightens his lips and sucks as he pulls back, his tongue pointed so he can slide along Even’s slit.

Even hisses, one hand flying out in reflex and grabs onto Isak’s hair. He doesn’t squeeze, still isn’t too out of it to go that far already, just cards his hands through his curls and grabs a light hold if it.

It’s still enough to make Isak whine, to waver between wanting to press against Even’s hand and wanting to slide down, to let Even fill up his mouth.

He goes with the latter. Relishes in how Even is hot and heavy on his tongue, how he twitches whenever Isak does something particularly pleasing, how he’s able to keep up a steady commentary of how Isak looks, how he feels, how fucking lucky he is to have Isak.

Isak’s eyes flutter shut, and he presses himself down three-quarters of the way, holding Even there right at the border of being inside his throat until he finally pulls back, drawing in a large breath and swallowing heavily.

Even runs his fingers through Isak’s hair again. Isak twists sideways so he can nuzzle against his hand, then shyly peeks up at Even.

Who looks so fucking pleased and happy and in awe and seemingly can’t take his eyes off of Isak. He stops running his fingers through Isak’s hair, holds it there instead and guides Isak back to his cock.

Isak opens his mouth up happily, feels the head slide back inside then followed by the rest of the shaft.

And, again, Isak doesn’t notice. All he notices is the feeling of Even’s hand, big and warm and safe, pressing against the back of his head. Just a nice, soft, even pressure, and Isak slides down, down, down until he’s got all of Even inside him and he can just keep still.

His eyes flutter, his lips press against the soft skin of Even’s pelvis.

When he pulls back, coughing a little wetly as he gets his breath back, despite the light pink it’s still a very noticeable ring of color going smoothly all around the base of Even’s dick.

Looking back, Isak’s fairly certain the only thing Even and Jonas never did was having an actual dick measuring competition, because they’ve seemingly done everything else.

Number of times you can make your partner come. How quickly you can make your partner come, by hand, by mouth, penetration only. How desperate can you get them before they’re begging for release. How long can you keep them right on the edge. It goes on, and on, and on, and on. Isak can’t make it all out in his head, because they’ve clearly been subtle most of the time. It probably could’ve gone on for a long time before Isak started to suspect something.

But Magnus and Mahdi aren’t subtle, and Isak doubts Even and Jonas have gone through as much trouble to keep them from finding out about the thing.

Maybe Jonas and Even haven’t been all that subtle, either, and Isak’s just been oblivious or had his attention redirected – it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it isn’t Even or Jonas who explicitly let him know what’s going on, but Mahdi and Magnus who give it away by a complete accident.

It’s hot out, a proper summer’s day, and they’ve all taken refuge under a line of trees, hoping for the occasional blast of air to cool them down.

Isak’s wearing the pink t-shirt again, the material so soft he wants to squirm with it, and it’s a sure-fire guarantee to keep Even’s hands on him all of the time.

It’s nice – Even is a warm, weight pressed against his back as they lounge on the blanket Jonas borrowed from Eva, lying underneath a big oak tree that brings some shadow from the otherwise scorching sun.

Isak sticks his tongue out at Jonas when he throws some grass at them. As if he wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing if he had a girlfriend with him right now.

Speaking of girls –

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Jonas protests halfheartedly. “If any of us have it easy with getting girls, it’s Issy over there.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Isak deadpans, sending Jonas a mighty unimpressed look. “You know me, swimming in pussy.”

”Not with your ugly ass,” Mahdi kicks at him gently with his foot.

“Are you kidding?” Magnus yells out indignantly before Even can say anything. “Isak’s a pretty boy. Hands down. Anything else is a lie.”

“My pretty boy,” Even breathes into Isak’s ear, running his mouth gently along the curve of it just to make Isak shiver.

“Are you two seriously sexing it up over there?”

“Look, look, look! Another point to Even!”

Isak blinks. “…What?”

“That!” Magnus keeps pointing at Isak like that means anything. “You! He’s only said, what, a word and you already look completely fucked out!”

“It’s not exactly fair, though,” Mahdi points out, completely ignoring the way Isak is frowning at the two of them now. “Who is Jonas supposed to be making bedroom eyes at, me? You?”

“I’m a taken man, Mahdi, it would have to be you.”

“That wasn’t the point –“

“What?” Isak repeats, only to be ignored once again. It’s only Even’s fingers around his hip that placates him into not yelling louder at them.

“It’s not like it would matter, anyway,” Magnus says totally unhelpfully. “Jonas hasn’t got a chance.”

Jonas makes a disagreeing hum. “I could –“

“I’m telling you,” Magnus takes a swig of his beer, “you can’t beat Evak. You can’t. It’s impossible.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you and Vilde were cuter than them?” Mahdi calls out. Isak can see Magnus’ brain working as he tries to decide which is more important to him; his actual girlfriend or proving a point.

“I was wrong. The absolute wrong-est. Just – look at them, man!” his voice taking on a whine at the end.

Isak groans in misery at Magnus’ pointing. “Fuck off.”

Magnus frowns. “Although, the ‘Ev’ part of ‘Evak’ sure is a lot nicer than the ‘ak’.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“He’s such a grumpy boy,” Mahdi says, bypassing Isak to talk to Even. “You’d think he’d be in a better mood from all your winnings.”

“Alright, that’s it, time out,” Isak holds his hands up in a T. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Jonas snorts. “Isak, honestly –“

“The competition, or whatever you want to call it,” Mahdi says as if he’s indulging Isak by explaining something that has been going on between Even and Jonas. “You know, the sex thing.”

Isak blinks. The sex thing?

The boys are all in high spirits, but whatever expression comes across Isak’s face clearly shows that he is not, in fact, joking right now.

“You know,” Mahdi continues, a lot more hesitant, eyes flittering between Even and Jonas who look just as unsure of the situation. “Jonas brags about doing something with a girl, and then Even does it better with you.”

“I don’t brag –“ but whatever protest Jonas had wanted to make gets cut off by the choked-off noise Isak unwittingly lets out.

“Baby?” Even checks, but Isak can’t even look at him right now.

Magnus stares at him with the widest eyes possible. “You didn’t know?” he asks incredulously, then frowns inquisitively. “How? They haven’t been subtle!”

Mahdi nods in agreement as if, yeah, Jonas and Even have practically been screaming it to the world from a rooftop. “Especially that first time, remember?” he points out.

“What, coming the most times?”

Mahdi shakes his head. “No, the other time, the one at –“

Magnus snaps his fingers at him. “Oh, yeah! The, uh – what was it – coming the quickest, I remember!”

“Although,” Mahdi bobs his head, “should that even count? Getting a guy off in less than five minutes isn’t exactly a feat.“

“Excuse – hva faen –“

“Baby, are you okay?” Even asks him, causing Isak to whirl around so he can look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks Even, who honest to god looks completely perplexed at Isak.

“I’m sorry,” Even tells him, sounding like he means it. “I don’t exactly bring up Jonas when we’re having sex.”

Isak jabs his elbow in-between Even’s ribs gently. “The rest of the time, then.”

“I’m sorry,” Even repeats, not even mentioning the elbow. He just holds out his hand in case Isak wants or needs it. “I genuinely thought you knew. We haven’t been subtle about it.”

“Isak, unnskyld,” Jonas cuts in. “It was my fault as well, I kept goading him on. Don’t be mad at Even.”

“Oh, I’m plenty mad at the both of you,” Isak points out huffily to his ‘best friend’ and his ‘boyfriend’.

He isn’t, not really. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling as he lies back down next to Even, staring up at the tree branches blocking out the sun and the blue sky. He allows it when Even carefully sweeps his thumb across his elbow, and then uses his left arm, the one furthest away from Even, to grab on to his wrist. He drags it over his stomach, then slides his hand up so they can intertwine their fingers.

“It was just a stupid game, baby,” Even promises, moving his thumb in small circles across the back of Isak’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“No more,” Isak tells him, them, because Jonas was part of this, too.

Even shakes his head in agreement. “I promise.”

“Of course,” Jonas nods, apologizing once again.

Isak nods to himself once. “No more.”

OOOOO

One more, Isak thinks as he finishes his purchase.

The package arrives on the day of Even’s very last exam, which is just the most perfect timing and also very last minute for what Isak has planned out.

Maybe it hasn’t been entirely fair, Isak reasons. After all, Mia hadn’t stayed a constant and learning the body of someone new whilst exciting also meant a lot of work that, not necessarily, was a bad thing, but also was probably a setback for Jonas despite his seemingly thrilling repertoire.

Even already knew all of Isak’s body, probably had every single inch of it catalogued in his mind. He knows every spot, every place to press, press, press until Isak can’t think.

Isak knows all of those spots on Even as well.

Maybe this will make it all a little more fair, Isak reasons. He’s not exactly interested in making Jonas go steady with someone just for the sake of being able to compare him and Even, so a little taste of his own medicine might do Even some good instead.

It’s getting late in the morning by now, the sunlight barely held at bay by their curtains. The room is already light when Isak wakes up before Even, which isn’t a usual occurrence unless something’s wrong. Nothing is wrong right now, though, Isak has just got plans.

Even had finished his last exam of the year the day before and had stayed up a lot longer than normal in order to wind down. Isak had known that would happen, because it’s what happens every time Even has to take an exam, and so he had waited patiently for this day.

Isak twitches excitedly at his plan, at what’s about to go down, pressing his smile into the pillows as he tries to calm down a bit. There are a lot of things he needs to prepare before everything is ready, no use working himself up so soon.

So he stays in bed, just takes a minute to look at Even sleeping. God, he’s so in love with him, so much it sometimes hurts. His face is smoothed out, lips parted slightly and moving with each breath he takes, his hair flopping sporadically either against his face or the pillows. Isak never wants to stop looking at him.

It’s not about revenge, per se, it’s not mean-spirited. Isak isn’t actually mad with Even, he wouldn’t be doing this if that were the case. It’s more about showing Even that he can play too.

He sneaks out from underneath the covers first, carefully pulling himself off of Even to not startle him into waking up. Even lets out a small grunt, twitches worryingly and frowns at Isak’s absence, but he doesn’t wake up. Isak waits with a baited breath for the long seconds it takes for Even’s features to smooth out again and for him to settle down.

The air comes whooshing out of him once he does.

The bed creaks when he gets up – as it always does, as if it’s literally telling him to stay, stay, stay, but Isak’s a man on a mission, so he gets up as slowly as possible, making sure to keep an eye on Even just in case.

Isak gets up, Even doesn’t wake up. All in all, so far a success.

He grabs the lube off of the bedside table, reminds himself he needs to remember to bring it back, and heads into the bathroom. He’d made sure to store the package in the bathroom – in the cupboard behind everything else, because Even hasn’t learned anything of Isak previously hiding stuff from him and still doesn’t check the apartment for any out of place packages – so as to not need to shuffle around right next to where Even’s sleeping and supposed to stay asleep.

Isak wonders if Even is ever as meticulous when he plans out something like this for Isak, but then he realizes probably not. Even is spontaneous at the best of times, but in this particular context Isak figures it’s all a testosterone-driven competition between him and Jonas.

The bathroom light is unforgiving when Isak flips it on. He nearly trips over a stray towel left behind from yesterday before his eyes have adjusted, but saves himself by slamming his hands against the counter.

He holds his breath, tries to listen for any movement coming from the bedroom, his heart loud in his ears making it very difficult.

Nothing.

Isak exhales.

God, no wonder Even relies on spontaneity instead – this is stressful and Isak hasn’t even gotten started.

Right, game plan, what does he need to do. Lube needs to be one of the last things, the one before last as he needs to put the real surprise on after everything else to not mess it up. He’d taken a bath and shaved yesterday so as to minimize the amount of noise he’ll have to make this morning and risk waking Even up before he’s ready, so he’s already soft and smells nice, curls floofed up the way he knows Even loves running his fingers through.

So makeup should probably be first next step. Isak opens the drawer, grabs the light pink lip-gloss, the brown eye-liner, the eye shadow palette and the mascara, foregoing the blush. He won’t need it, he knows, he’ll be pink cheeked enough just by thinking of what Even will look like when he wakes up and processes what is happening.

He traces the outer edge of his eye with a dark nude and then blends it with a lighter color closer to his skin tone as he goes further onto his eyelid. The brush tickles against his skin and it makes lines crinkle from smiling in the corner of his eyes, making blending the colors in a lot more difficult than it needs to be.

Isak takes a deep breath in to keep from smiling and the resumes his work.

He dabs a nearly white color along his tear ducts and the middle of his eyelid. And then has to recreate the entire process on the other eye and try and get it to match. Perfect.

“Faen,” he swears quietly when the edge of the brush reaches out further than he’d intended, leaving a dark smudge on his cheekbones. “Fuck,” he repeats as he struggles to get a wet wipe out, wrapping it around his pointer finger and lightly wiping the powder off.

God, so much effort, Isak complains in his head. Well, not complains, really, because along with all the excess excitement of surprising Even, all of this still feels as thrilling and perfect as it always does, and Isak can’t help but be pleased when he looks at his reflection once he’s dabbed on the last of the eye shadow, just topping it off with the tiniest amount of glitter to really make it stand out.

It looks fucking good.

He traces the pencil along the upper curve of his eye, letting it push out in a small wing to accentuate his features. Then lets the mascara brush slide along his eyelashes with deep, deep blinks to make sure each lash is equally colored in.

The colored tip of the wand glides easily over his lips, leaving behind a light sheen of pink that Isak is careful to distribute evenly. Maybe lip-gloss isn’t the best idea when he’s going to have his lips wrecked for the next hour or so, but he likes the feeling of it and the look of it, and he knows what it does to Even to see him with the color smeared all over his face.

Alright, not bad, he admits to himself. Isak pouts his lips, observing his reflection as he runs his fingers through his hair, making sure to follow the curve of his curls near the ends. Even would definitely be pleased if Isak were to finish here, but he’s got so much more planned and he doesn’t want to stop yet.

Still, it is a bit weird having to lube his fingers up as he stands there, alone in their bathroom, only slightly aroused at the idea of what’s to come.

This isn’t really something he does without Even.

Not as in he feels like he shouldn’t be doing this without Even, not at all. It’s just that when it’s with Even, it’s always so, so good, like, absolutely mind-blowing that he just hasn’t felt a need to do it on his own and therefore never got used to it by himself.

It just – feels a little awkward. The lube is cold, and he’s only vaguely turned on.

He has done this before – not the part where he’s in the bathroom and Even is asleep in their bed and he’s planning the biggest surprise of Even’s entire life, but he has opened himself up so he could surprise Even when he came home. He likes the idea, likes knowing that he’s making himself wet and open for Even.

A thrum of heat rushes through his body at that thought, and then it feels easy enough to slip in a second finger.

Isak muffles a groan by biting down on his wrist. The last thing he wants right now is to accidentally wake Even up now that his dick has decided to be up. He’s put too much work into this already for it to be ruined prematurely.

He makes sure to not curl his fingers despite the temptation, focuses on just spreading them as wide as possible. He takes care to not rush through the process, but he also rushes through the process.

Deep breath in, and then he works in the third finger, making sure to exhale slowly so he doesn’t tense up inadvertently.

It’s not quite the same feeling as when Even does it; his fingers are longer and he somehow always knows how to move them in a way that’ll drive Isak the most insane, but the general motion is familiar, so Isak tries to keep his thoughts on that instead of how cold the tiles feel against his feet by now.

The excess lube pops weirdly when Isak pulls his fingers out. He knows Even would’ve giggled had he heard it, which is apparently enough that Isak’s cheeks feel flushed as he smiles stupidly at the sink.

He grabs the bottle, smears a little extra around his hole and just inside of it to be on the safe side. Then he washes his hands thoroughly and makes sure they’re fully dry before he opens the cupboard door.

He has to crouch down on the floor, the cold now settling into his knee as he tries to dig through the contents to get to the very back where he hid the package.

It’s not all easy – there’s the bottle of shaving cream Even uses, then there’s Isak’s lotion and a spare bottle of lavender body-wash, because Even had joked about it being the literal end of his life if Isak couldn’t get to feel pretty whenever he wanted to. So now, whenever Even does the grocery shopping, he’ll buy two bottles and Isak will tell him he’s a fool, and Even will tell him, ‘a fool in love’ in English and proceed to kiss any complaints Isak has straight out of his mouth.

Drawing the package is more difficult than it had been to reach his hand in; he’s careful not to accidentally have one of the corners of the crinkly bag catch on one of the bottles, causing a domino effect. Not when he is butt-ass naked, lubed up and with his face painted.

He sighs heavily once he’s got it in his lap, and then he spends a couple of seconds just running his fingers over the bag. It’s polyethylene so it just feels like plastic. He can’t feel the garment through it, all he knows is that it’s light, a lot lighter than he for some reason had thought it would be.

The adhesive makes the bag crinkle loudly enough that Isak winces in response. He can never tell if it’s better to rip it all off at once or if he should proceed slowly and methodically, taking care with each movement he makes. He winces as he gets another centimeter open, then tries for five all at once.

At least it’s a small package. It’s only one item he’s purchased, and the material is apparently easily foldable – that, or Isak will have very little to wear, or will at least be wearing something that covers very little.

It’s exciting, no matter what. Isak’s chest feels tight and his heart is pounding. He keeps wanting to laugh, for some reason. Nothing is particularly funny in that regard, but he likes this feeling, being so light like he could float to the ceiling. He can’t wait for when Even wakes up and sees him.

The last two centimeters. He pauses for a few seconds, tries to hear if Even’s moving about. He can’t hear anything through the closed door, though.

The clothing itself is wrapped in another bag, but this one is clear and hasn’t been sealed as firmly as the packaging had been. God, never mind that Isak’s heart is pounding, it feels like it’s stuck in his throat.

He can see the color, can see that it’s so pretty he could actually cry. It’s the lightest pink, just a bit pinker than a nude color, and it’s so goddamn beautiful, and Isak could cry from how well it matches his lip-gloss, honestly.

He nearly doesn’t dare open it. It looks so soft, so delicate, surely he can’t be worthy of touching it, but his fingertips are practically itching to get it in his hands properly.

He works it open even slower than he had the first bag, this time taking great care not for fear of being too loud, but from apprehension of accidentally ruining it before he’s had the chance to wear it.

Isak carefully folds a finger inside, feels the fabric slide against his skin smoothly, like he’s running his hand through a cloud. It’s slightly cold, probably from how light the material is. It’ll probably warm up once his body heat is transferred to it, or when he’s worked up a sweat as he’s sure he’s about to in a minute.

It practically glides out of the bag, the fabric alive and easily malleable, and then Isak is holding it in his hands, is holding it up, folded out and actually there to look and feel and wear.

The body of it is the light, nude pink that always serves to make Isak squirm slightly in his seat. The lace trimming is a lighter, creamy white that Isak had originally feared would make him look pale when he’d seen it on the lingerie website, but now that he’s holding it he can see that that isn’t the case.

It’ll be good – it’ll be perfect.

The lace runs along the waistline, transferring smoothly to the triangle-shaped cups. Isak carefully lets the tip of his finger follow the shape of it, running along the scalloped edge. Even the lace is as soft as the satin-like fabric.

Oh, yes. Isak can definitely play as well.

It almost feels wrong to put it on. Not wrong like everything had felt wrong at first, when Isak had felt wrong, but like it’s so much. Isak had never thought he’d wear something like this, that he’d want to wear something like this, but here he is and he wants.

He almost wants Even to be here, but that’s silly. He doesn’t need to hold his boyfriend’s hand to do this, and he also wants to surprise Even more than he wants someone else to witness this glorious moment.

It still takes a few more minutes before Isak’s worked up the nerve to get up off the floor. His legs feel like they’ve fallen asleep, and he’s colder than he would’ve like to have been.

He slips it on smoothly over his head, likes the way it folds over his body, how it settles along his waist, his hips, how the hem tickles his upper thighs. The chest doesn’t even bulge out oddly from his lack of breasts, just sits a bit loosely. He can see his nipples peeping through the see-through lace, knows immediately that Even is going to love that once he’s gotten over the shock of seeing Isak in a negligee.

God. An actual negligee. Chemise. So goddamn pretty.

Isak feels so goddamn pretty.

The bathroom door clicks open softly, the light pattering of feet tapping against the floor sounding at as Isak sneaks back into the main room.

He feels oddly exposed walking around like this, more so than he would’ve been had he been wearing nothing at all. Hearing Even’s deep breaths is calming, makes him feel like everything is okay and there’s no reason to be psyching himself out, not when everything is going so well.

Even sleeps on his back, too used to settling Isak’s weight on top of his chest to sleep any other way by now.

It had never been intentional on Isak’s part, but right now he’s terribly thankful for his clinginess as it makes what he’s got planned a lot easier than it otherwise would’ve been.

He places the lube onto the bedside table for easy access should they need it. Then he patters over to their dresser, carefully lights one of the matches he’d purposely left out for this.

The candle smells as good as ever, like freshly picked apples. It’s the same kind that Even had gotten him, a new one because they’d used up the old one but had gotten so fond of the smell, of what it meant to them, of what they’d started to associate the scent with.

It works now as well.

Isak watches carefully in anticipation, watches as Even frowns in his sleep, shifts slightly – not so much that he rolls over, just enough that he brings his right arm over his head, his legs spreading slightly. They’ve switched the duvet out for lighter, cooler sheets that are thin enough that Isak can already see the effect as Even’s subconscious registers what is likely about to happen as the scent spreads throughout the room, sees as he goes from half-mast to fuller and fuller.

Even groans in his sleep, shifts slightly again, unintentionally kicking the sheet lower and lower down his hips.

Go time.

Isak barely dares to breathe as he treads closer to the end of the bed. It creaks so loudly when he places his knee onto it, his right one next to Even’s left leg, that he’s certain Even will make an odd grunt and wake himself up.

He stays asleep, so Isak lifts his left knee onto the bed as well, on the outside of Even’s right thing, and then he slowly starts to crawl up, up, up, further and further. His breath hitches when he feels how hard Even already is against his inner thigh, almost praises that the sheet is still – barely – covering him up enough that he wouldn’t be able to accidentally feel the slide of the fabric against his skin. It’s bad enough that it feels torturously good against Isak, Isak does not need for Even to wake up too soon.

But now that Isak is settled with his thighs framing Even’s hips, just above where the sheet covers him up to and where Even is hard and temptingly perfect right underneath where Isak is sitting.

Even makes another sound, this time a lot deeper, his throat trying to figure out how to work after sleeping for so long, but nonetheless more pleased than anything. His eyelashes are fluttering, and this literally could not go any more smoothly than it is right now.

“Baby,” Isak says gently, placing both of his hands on Even’s stomach only to slowly, slowly slide them up towards his chest. “Wake up.”

Even groans again, but he’s shifting more, clearly on the cusp of consciousness. The sheets are wrapped around his thighs by now, and Isak wants so badly it hurts. He can’t remember the last time he was this hard – well, he can, every time, after all.

The hand Even had thrown over his head comes flying toward Isak now, landing heavily on Isak’s knee that Even immediately proceeds to squeeze upon contact. The relieved breath whooshes out of Isak – thank god he hadn’t accidentally caught the chemise and figured it all out in his mostly asleep state when he’d been flopping around.

“It’s morning,” he tries, a little louder this time. His thumb sweeps gently across a freckle. “It’s morning, and I love you.”

A pleased noise is rumbled from Even’s throat, so at least Isak knows he’s more awake than he was a few seconds ago.

“I love you,” the words are barely audible through the gruff of Even’s morning voice, but Isak knows what he’s saying. As if he’d ever be able to not recognize those three little words when they’re coming from Even.

Even cards his hand up Isak’s thigh, humming happily at having Isak in his lap.

“Baby,” he croons sweetly, eyes still shut, fingers trailing up higher and higher until, finally, he touches the soft chemise.

Even frowns. Isak’s heart feels like it’s beating inside his throat, he’s so close, he just needs to wait a few more seconds.

Even trails his thumb along the edge of the negligee, clearly mentally checking over that he does not in fact recognize whatever it is Isak’s wearing before he opens his eyes.

Now, Isak thinks, probably grinning like a lunatic as he raises himself onto his knees and then reaches behind himself to grab Even’s cock, holding it upwards to make the slide down easy and steady.

Isak whines when the head of Even’s dick pops past his rim. Even’s eyes are practically boggling out of his head, his mouth open wide as he stares at Isak incredulously.

“Baby,” he repeats, a lot more breathless and surprised, but still just as sweet. His hands clutch tightly onto Isak’s thighs, probably leaving behind white lines where his nails are scratching at him. “Baby, look at you.”

Isak hums happily as he slides down, down, down, tilting his head back and pushing his chest forward so Even can fully see his outfit.

“God,” Even mutters, hands grabbing onto Isak’s hips through the fabric. “Happy birthday to me.”

Oh god, the actual idiot. Isak can’t tell which is worse – that that is Even’s response to all of Isak’s troubles, or the fact that it actually startles a laugh out of Isak.

It tapers into a moan quickly enough once Isak’s cheeks meet Even’s hips.

“Such a dork,” Isak sounds more breathless than either annoyed or amused in his teasing. He swivels his hips in slow, slow circles, feels how he loosens around Even, how big he feels inside of him.

He makes sure to clench down when he sees Even open his mouth, because he is nothing if not petty. And this is his game tonight, after all.

“Baby,” Even moans in response, hands like vices but relentless enough to let Isak move as he pleases. “What – baby, what is all this?”

Isak hums, raises himself up just an inch only to sink back down again. It punches his breath out of his lungs, because, fuck, that feels good. The slide of it is smooth, and Even definitely feels much better than the three fingers Isak had worked inside of himself earlier in preparation, and he just loves this.

“What do you think it is?” he asks, a little bit because it feels like his brain has been fried, but also because he’s genuinely curious as to what Even would come up with.

“Uh – “ Even hesitates, actually trying to think, but then Isak raises up a bit again and he can see every thought Even has literally fly out of his head. “Summer – shit – exams are over?”

Isak shakes his head, draws up an inch higher and then stays there.

It’s torture, absolute torture, because Isak just wants to sink back down. Him pausing first makes Even think that something is wrong, Isak sees it as his eyes are frantically checking Isak all over before they settle on his face.

He raises an eyebrow in silent question. Isak hopes he looks suave as he grins and tells him, “Next guess.”

“Fuck,” Even groans, head tipping back against the pillows. He tries to push his hips up, but Isak follows the movement and only ends up sliding up another inch from Even’s efforts.

Just guess already, he begs silently, willing his legs to not shake just yet.

“Uh,” Even shakes his head as he tries to think, one hand carding through his hair as if to force his thoughts away from Isak literally on top of him. “I haven’t missed any anniversaries.”

It’s not a guess, so Isak doesn’t slide any further up at the wrong answer.

“You haven’t,” he confirms, just because he’s a nice boyfriend. But he also snorts, because no way would Even be the one to miss anniversaries.

“Okay, okay,” he takes in a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds before letting it out all at once. “I, shit, alright, I – have I said something that made you think about doing this?”

Isak slides up another inch, tries not whine when he has to keep still once again, when he is a little less full than he wants to be.

“Fuck,” Even moans in bemusement, staring up at Isak with wild eyes. “I need a hint, I can’t fucking think.”

Isak hums, swivels his hips again. It feels a little weird doing it when he hasn’t got all of Even buried inside of him, when he’s technically more so hovering in mid-air, but it makes Even lose his breath and composure that little bit more.

Giving Even a hint would probably speed up this entire process – depending on how generous Isak wanted to be with his hints. It’s not often Isak gets to see Even like this, though, as desperate as Isak imagines he himself looks a lot of the time because of Even.

“Have I –“ Even tries again before Isak has decided if he wants to comply or not. “Have I done something? Good or bad? Fuck, Isak, I don’t know –“

“I’ll give you a hint,” he decides on the spot, because he is impatient and he wants, and his thighs are too close to shaking for how early it still is.

Even is staring up at him with wide eyes, his hips twitching minutely as he tries to be good and stay still. His hands are on Isak’s thighs by now, rubbing up and down slowly and actually helping with the small tremors Isak is already feeling.

He’ll be nice with his hint, he decides, because, again, he isn’t actually mad at Even. This is Isak playing along, and it’ll only be much more fun once Even realizes what is going on.

So, naturally, the hint Isak decides to give Even is, “Jonas.”

“What?” Even’s eyes are comically wide by now, only accentuated by the frown on his lips as he stares up at Isak incredulously. “Isak, you know how I feel about talking about other –”

Isak grins down at him, rolls his eyes petulantly in a way he knows Even would’ve commented on had this happened under normal circumstances. “Your hint. It’s ‘Jonas’.”

Even blinks. His hips aren’t even twitching anymore, he’s actually lying stock-still, which only emphasizes how Isak’s thighs are actually trembling at this point.

He slides up another inch, to get Even’s attention but also to make him think quicker, damn it.

“’Jonas’,” Even repeats, actually cringing as he’s forced to think about Isak’s best friend whilst he’s inside of Isak. Best hint ever. “What the hell does Jonas – Oh.”

Oh. Isak hadn’t predicted this reaction from Even.

Even is looking softly at him, his hands now gentler than ever before on his thighs, running up and down almost as smoothly as the chemise of the nightgown feels against his skin. “Isak,” he says apologetically, “I really am sorry, I promise. It’s not an excuse, but I honestly didn’t ever imagine that you didn’t –“

Isak laughs. “God, Even, no, that’s not –“ Well, it is, but not in the way Even thinks it is. “I’m not mad.”

Even is still just looking at him, hands barely touching him as if he isn’t sure the touch would be welcome, looking so damn insecure Isak wants to lean down and kiss him were it not for the fact that he’s staying still right now.

“You’re not?”

“I’m not,” he promises. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I was. This isn’t what you’re supposed to do when your relationship hurts you –“ a positively hurt noise tears itself out of Even’s throat “– you’re supposed to communicate in those situations. This isn’t about communication.”

He draws up another inch to accentuate his point, clenches down when he feels that he’s a lot closer to the head of Even’s dick than he’d thought he was, not wanting for Even to accidentally slip out.

“It’s not?” Even asks, sounding breathless again and like he isn’t doubting everything in front of his eyes anymore.

“No, baby,” Isak ensures him, linking one of his fingers with Even’s before smiling devilishly at him. “This is about playing,” and then he sinks all the way back down again.

Even makes a noise like all the air inside of his body has been punched out of him. His dick keeps twitching inside of Isak, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does, and Isak can’t keep in his moan of appreciation.

“’Playing’?” Even questions, breathing hard and staring at Isak like he never wants to look away and lot like he’s barely able to pay attention to what he’s saying.

Isak nods, clenches down again just because. “Yeah. Playing. As in ‘I can do it, too.’”

Even is nodding madly, because, holy shit, yes, he absolutely can. “And, uh, fuck, what are the rules?”

Isak hums again, pulls up and goes back down quicker than before, then does it again. The tip of his dick already feels wet with pre-come, and he almost looks down to check if it has left dark spots on his dress, but the sight of Even is a much better view to be honest. “What do you think the game is about?”

Even groans pitifully at having to think again when everything in the world – i.e. Isak – is working against him, rendering him completely unable to focus on anything that isn’t his boyfriend.

“Is it – are you,” he tries, licking his lips as his eyes rake down over Isak’s form, groaning gutturally when he notices Isak’s pebbled nipples poking out through the fabric. “Isak.”

Isak forces himself to slow down. He only lets out a little, breathy oof when all his blood and body are doing is singing for more, more, more.

“Are you doing all of them yourself? All of the, uh, competitions?” he searches for the right word. “Are you repeating all of it on me?”

Isak wrinkles his nose. The scientific-part of his brain is thinking that that was a much better idea, because that is, after all, how you’re supposed to compare results, but this isn’t about comparing results, Isak reminds that part of him. “No.”

“Isak,” Even groans in defeat. “You are literally – fuck, look at you, baby. You’re so fucking pretty and you’re so wet and hot around me, and you’re making me think, baby, when I literally can’t. Such a gorgeous sight, I don’t think you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are right now, sitting there in that dress – fuck.”

The corner of Isak’s mouth twitches upwards. “So, does that mean you like it, then?”

Even just groans again in reply.

“The game,” Isak stresses, rising up again only to pause much to the bemusement of the both of them, “was to surprise you. I never expected for you and Jonas to go as far as you did, and you clearly never expected of me to do this.”

Even blinks at him.

So,” he pauses expectantly, “are you? Surprised?”

“I am,” Even agrees, sliding his hands up Isak’s thighs to get to his hips, slowly easing Isak back down with a groan. “I really am, I couldn’t even imagine the sight of you right now, wouldn’t be able to dream of it. Of course, now,” he grins, pushing his hips up when Isak goes back down again, Isak allows it magnanimously, “that you have provided me with this absolutely exquisite image, I hope to never dream of anything but.”

“Sap,” Isak complains, but not really. He could lean down to kiss Even quiet, but on the next push from Even’s hips the angle is suddenly just right and Isak positively melts at the feeling of it.

“Oh,” he breathes out, quietly, a lot more quiet than he usually is at the touch of Even’s dick against his spot.

Maybe it’s because this isn’t something they’ve really done before; not the position, but Isak directing the moves as much as he’s been doing this morning. It’s been fun, that’s for sure, and Isak will treasure the look on Even’s face as he tried to realize what was going on for a long time to come, but now that Even is helping him move, now that Isak’s bones feel like melted chocolate and his blood is sizzling hot, he thinks it might be nicer to let Even pull his load.

In a minute, he tells himself, spreading his knees a bit wider on the mattress so he can rise up and down in short bursts, barely losing the feeling of being so full for more than a second at a time.

“I don’t have to worry about any more surprises, do I?” Even asks him. “I can only take so much, baby. You’re going to kill me.”

Isak feels a lot like if anyone were to die right now, it wouldn’t be Even. “I want to come like this,” he tells him instead, “but that’s hardly a surprise, is it?”

Even smiles lazily up at him. His eyes are very dark. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love it. Because I do. I fucking love making you come like that.”

Isak loves coming like that as well, but he doesn’t get the chance to tell Even that as he’s got one hand leaving his hip, smoothing over the fabric and going up, up, up until he lands somewhere around his waist.

The warmth of Even’s hand feels distant underneath the coolness of the chemise, and Isak twitches and loses his breath from the sensation, his brain not sure what to do with the mix of signals.

Even’s thumb rubs soothingly along the bottom line of his ribs, but it only makes Isak whimper for a short second before he bites down on his lip.

“God,” Even breathes out, eyes going impossibly darker until Isak feels like he’s entranced by the look of it. “Baby, shit, want to make you come like this. Want to make you wet with it. You already are a bit, aren’t you, baby? I can see it on your pretty dress, so pretty, baby, where you’ve dripped with slick.”

Isak definitely whimpers at that, losing the rhythm he’d managed to build up for a beat too long. The hand remaining on his hip squeezes him comfortingly, slowly directing him back to it firmly, helping him tilt his hips right enough that the tip of Even’s dick slides against his spot when he pushes back in.

It’s like Isak is in control under Even’s guidance, where they get to share the reins, and it’s so much, it’s so much.

“Ev,” he whispers, nearly choking on his own spit when he tries to clear his throat. “Even, I’m so close, I’m –“

A whine slips out of his mouth when the hand on his waist slides up even further, the tips of Even’s fingers just plucking slightly at the strap of the dress, at the hem where it covers his chest, runs along underneath his arm.

Over the lace covering his nipple.

“Even,” he tries again, more petulantly, but also a lot more breathless.

“God, baby, me too,” Even tells him thankfully, eyes trained on where he’s got two fingers circling the pointed tip of Isak’s nipple, slowly getting closer and closer until he suddenly switches tactic and his thumb sweeps across the lace, dragging it against him.

“Even!”

“Fuck,” Even agrees, raising his knees until he can plant his feet firmly on the bed, pushing his hips up a lot harder, a lot firmer now.

Isak leans back against Even’s knees for support, to give his thighs a rest and his lungs a chance to get some air in them, but the change in angle just makes everything perfect. Synapses lightening up in response, and Isak keens with it.

“Baby,” Even pinches his nipple between two fingers, twisting it gently just once before he lets go in favor of returning to his grip on Isak’s hips, directing him all that more easily. “How fucking lucky am I. Look at you, baby, such a pretty thing, aren’t you, all decked out in lace and your pretty face colored in so nicely.”

Isak’s knees clamp together reflexively, stopped by Even’s body between them. The different movement from going up and down just accentuates how sore his thighs already are.

“God, I want to kiss you,” Even tells him, eyes now trained on Isak’s lips instead. “Would you let me? I’d ruin your makeup, baby girl, but I bet you’ll still look so pretty with that pretty, pink color smeared all over your mouth, wouldn’t you? It would get on me as well, you’d be marking me up.”

Isak should not feel as hot a surge rushing through his stomach as he does at the image of residue pink gloss all over Even. He shouldn’t but he does. He just feels hotter with it, and his dick twitches warningly underneath the fabric, the head of it dragging deliciously along the silk until Isak whines with it, almost curling in on himself.

It’s only Even’s grip on him and his hips now pushing up relentlessly that keeps him in place, making sure that Even’s doesn’t lose the angle that’s guaranteed to make Isak come a lot sooner than he’d thought he would be.

“You’re leaking with it,” Even tells him as if Isak doesn’t already know. “I can feel you, you know, every time you get so close you feel like it can’t possibly get better. It can, baby, I promise you it can. Just let me show you, please, let me make you come.”

“Please,” Isak begs, the world around him swimming, the only constant being Even, Even, Even. He clenches around Even, feels how he twitches inside of him, how big he always feels, and it’s so good and Isak is so, so close. “Please.”

“Baby,” Even coos, groans when he has to force himself not to come before Isak. “God, it’s not fair, baby, how you play. Can’t believe that is what I got to wake up to today. Fuck me.”

“Fuck me,” Isak rectifies, not even bothered when Even can’t help but laugh at that, because he immediately makes up for it by forcing Isak’s thighs through one last sprint, pulling him down when he pushes up.

“I already am, baby,” Even reminds him, barely sounding out of breath, the bastard. “Can’t you feel me? Can’t you feel me inside of you? God, I want to fill you up, want for you to be dripping with it, just as wet with it as you are now. Isak. Are you close?”

Isak can’t answer, but Even doesn’t need for him to.

“You are, I can feel it. I can see it on you, can feel it inside of you. You’re so good, you know, always letting me know how to make you feel good, even if you don’t actually say the words out loud. Love making you feel good, making you come. Always want to make you come, just, over and over again for the rest of eternity.”

It’s not fair, Even knows he shouldn’t be bringing up infinities or the universe at a moment like this, Isak is goddamn helpless to it in a moment like this.

He moans high-pitched and so deeply in his throat that it hurts a bit when he comes, jostled up and down when Even keeps moving inside of him, around him, still directing Isak along with it as he comes and comes and comes.

He’s floating miles above their bed right now, his body not remembering to breathe for how good everything feels. Even keeps moving to prolong everything, to make sure that it stays good when Isak can’t have a hand on him to help him along.

“Ev,” he whimpers with it, and that’s enough for him to feel Even fill him up in turn, moaning so loudly Isak’s dick twitches already, and that is definitely way too soon, fuck.

Even’s hips are still making small aborted thrusts when the sensitivity starts to kick in properly, Isak now back in his own body again, breathing harshly and body sore but feeling so good.

“Fuck,” he gasps, because it’s the only thing he can think right now, and then he bends forward, trying to get closer to Even’s face, tries to get to lie down on his chest. “Fuck.”

He hasn’t kissed Even all morning, he suddenly realizes, and he wants to rectify that immediately.

“Kiss,” he demands when Even tries to maneuver him back up to a sitting position.

The smile that breaks out across Even’s face makes Isak’s heart practically grow three sizes bigger.

“Baby,” he coos, properly this time, and then helps Isak push forward so he can rest his chest on top of Even’s, and then he can kiss him.

His thighs ache and it’s difficult to keep his balance like this. He’s got come cooling against his skin, making the chemise stick to his skin weirdly, and he can feel Even softening inside of him.

“Good morning,” he whispers against Even’s lips, then ducks down to kiss him again.

As far as morning kisses go, this one is a pretty good one.

“Best morning,” Even grins too wide to kiss Isak properly, but Isak’s laughing as well, so it evens out.

Even slips out sooner rather than later, the tip of his dick leaving a wet smear against Isak’s cheek in a way that definitely does not make his stomach clench hotly, and then Isak’s thighs literally cannot take it anymore, so Even helps him tip slowly onto his back over on the right side of the bed.

His entire body relaxes when his head hits the pillows, a content sigh leaving his body as he grabs onto Even to keep a hold of him in any way he can.

Isak feels loose-limbed and satisfied in the best of ways, still fighting to control his breathing, but otherwise totally relaxed. He isn’t even all that mad about the thing anymore – not that he had really been mad at the beginning either, more annoyed that this was apparently a thing he was unwittingly being drawn into.

Maybe he would’ve felt differently if it weren’t a thing Even was winning, which, technically, in turn means that Isak was winning. Or if Even had been sharing overtly personal details of their sex life with the boys, then Isak would’ve been pissed, but Even knows where the line goes – contrary to previous evidence.

Next to him, Even is staring at the ceiling like he’s having an out-of-body experience. Isak’s blood is singing in his veins, he’s still breathing too hard from the exertion.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Isak giggles.

“I can’t feel my whole body,” Even moans. “Holy shit, Isak.”

A flush predictably rises into his cheeks. It’s just Even – Even knows everything about Isak and would never judge him on anything, but he still feels the need to hide his face behind his hands.

“Hey,” Even says softly, twisting onto his side and folding his fingers around Isak’s wrists. “Baby, let me see you.”

Isak is still flushed, would probably be squirming at the feeling of Even’s eyes on his body, on his face, if it weren’t for how he still can’t seem to move his legs. He lets Even move his hands easily, though, but he doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Baby,” Even sing-songs, one hand cupping his face, his thumb sweeping gently along the line of his cheekbone. “Still absolutely immaculate.”

Isak knows he’s talking about his makeup, but that doesn’t make him feel any less squirmy. “Stop,” he whines, actually meeting Even’s eyes now. “I just came.”

Something in Even’s eyes go a little wider, a little darker. “You did,” he agrees.

Even’s hand rests heavily on Isak’s hip, warm and grounding. Isak’s skin prickles with sensitivity under the touch of it, his dick remaining half hard rather than softening up completely. Even’s thumb sweeps across the skin stretched taught over the hipbone, again and again in a rather hypnotizing manner.

In a completely hypnotizing manner, Isak rectifies, when he suddenly feels the fingers of Even’s other hand swirling softly over his hole.

It is reflexes that make Isak’s legs clamp shut, a slightly panicked, way too high-pitched noise coming straight out of his throat as he nearly flies up the bed.

“Shh,” Even shushes, keeps a hold on his hip to scoot Isak down the bed again, then hooks a foot around Isak’s left shin, the one closest to Even, and pushes against Isak’s right thigh with his hand to open his legs again. “Just making the clean-up easier, baby.”

“What are you talking –“ Isak frowns, not sure he’s understood what Even means, ‘making the clean-up easier’ when he hasn’t even gotten up to get a wet towel yet, and when Isak knows Even knows cleaning come-stains off of t-shirts or whatever article of clothing had been the closest is one of Isak’s pet peeves, but then Even’s let go of Isak’s thigh and is pushing his fingers against his hole again.

And then they’re slipping inside, easy as nothing, just a smooth slide in, two fingers at once, all the way to the knuckle until Even can curl them upwards.

His body unwittingly tries to squirm away, but he only manages to dislodge Even’s fingers for a second before they’re pressing back against his spot, unrelenting and unapologetic.

“You’re not, that’s not –“ Isak gasps, squeezes his eyes shut and fumbles with his hands to grab onto Even. “That’s not cleaning and you know it.”

“Au contraire,” Even says obnoxiously, like he should’ve been cast in an obnoxious, pretentious French film or French porno at the rate this is going, “I am making it easier.”

He pulls his fingers out to the first knuckle, then presses them back in, and Isak can feel the point Even is trying to make.

It’s not exactly uncommon that Even comes inside of him, it’s rather the norm. Isak can’t remember the last time they’d even went out and bought condoms, not since their test results came back, he thinks. They both prefer the feeling of Even being bare inside of him, and Isak likes how wet he feels when Even comes inside of him. The feeling afterwards isn’t as much appreciated, the come slowly sliding back out mainly just making him squirm uncomfortably.

Right now, though, he can’t tell if Even’s trying to push the come out of him or back inside of him.

“Can’t you feel it?”

Isak can, he can feel it. He can feel Even’s fingers inside of him where he’s still lose and wet, can feel the come bubbling out when Even presses in, only to be pushed back inside when Even swirls his fingers through it and presses back in.

“I feel,” Isak gasps when Even curls his fingers again, “how big of an asshole you are.”

Oh, he set Even up perfectly for whatever he wants to say, Isak can feel that and also see it with how much Even’s waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, if you want to feel something of mine that’s big you’ve got to give me a few minutes, sweetheart.”

Isak huffs, tries to shut his legs closed again, but it doesn’t work when his left leg is still held immobile by Even. “Can’t extend that to me, too?”

Even presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “But baby,” he coos, “you don’t need a few minutes, do you? Just look at that, already,” he nods down to where Isak’s already fully hard.

Isak thinks his dick is a traitor. A traitor that has some kind of a trained Pavlovian response to Even and Even’s stupid ideas.

“You’re all wet, baby.” Even’s breath is hot against Isak’s skin, and he can’t help but flail again, he can’t. One hand curls around Even’s wrist, the one on his hip, and the other flies up to catch a hold of the pillows. “Such a pretty sight, aren’t you. You can’t really blame me for wanting to make you come again. You’re so pretty when you fall apart for me. Pretty all the time, but you’re goddamn radiant when I make you feel so good you can’t help it. It’s just too tempting for me not to make you come again and again.”

At this rate, Isak probably won’t even need a few minutes to come, let alone calm down so the overstimulation isn’t too ‘too much’. By the feel of it, Even also won’t need a few minutes before he’s hard enough to fuck Isak again, going off of the warm weight Isak can feel against the side of his upper thigh.

“You just woke up,” Isak gasps, doesn’t even try to shut his legs again even though his reflexes are trying to tell him to, “and you’ve already had a fucking great orgasm. Isn’t it a little too early for this much energy? Why do this now?”

“It’s all about surprises, isn’t it?” Even grins, leaning in close to bite his shoulder lightly, just next to where the strap of the chemise is threatening to slide down. “That’s what you told me, baby, what the rules of the game were. But I’ll let you in on this surprise – should it count?”

Isak mmphs, bearing down on Even’s fingers to get him deeper. “What?”

“I surprised you the first time,” Even explains, “when I made you come five times. You hadn’t expected that. I definitely did not expect the absolutely gorgeous sight I got to wake up to this morning, faen, baby. So now we’re going to add our two surprises together. And that means deciding if this one should count.”

‘This one.’ ‘Add our two surprises together.’ ‘This one.’

Isak’s eyes widen when he realizes just what it is Even’s planning on doing. ‘This one’, as in this one. As in right now, with three fingers inside, making Isak come like this, with nothing else touching him.

“You’ve done that before…” Isak trails off, not sure what Even’s trying to lead to.

Even smiles gently at him. “I have, that’s right, that’s not what I’m asking, though. I’m asking if it should count.”

If it should count? Count with what? Isak frowns and looks up at Even for a clue. He finds it in his dark eyes, at the upturned corner of his lip.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh god.

“It counts,” Isak blurts out, interrupted by a high-pitched whine when Even drives his fingers in a little harder. “It’s only – untouched, it’s – it counts,” wanting desperately to get the message across.

If Even makes him come on his fingers and it doesn’t count, Isak will have to come seven times tonight if Even wants to beat the record of five with his cock only.

Seven. It sounds terrifyingly high.

“It counts,” he repeats, close to begging at this point. He can’t do seven. He could barely do five – six still sounds impossible. Even’s had him do five twice by now – the first time and then the night after the club. Isak hasn’t had the time to mentally prepare himself for now being like one of those nights, let alone a time of beating the record.

Even hums like he still hasn’t decided whether or not it should count, and Isak can’t, he can’t – he doesn’t know how to convince him it should count because he can’t think, not with how good Even feels, how great everything feels right now. He’s so close, Even just has to keep moving his fingers for literal minutes and he’ll come again, he can feel it.

But then Even pulls his fingers out, and the whine that leaves Isak’s lips is a completely involuntary action.

“Shh, baby,” Even shushes him, helps him turn over on his side, facing away from Even. He’s so close, fuck. “I’ve got you, you’re okay, you’re so good, so fucking pretty, I never want to stop looking at you.”

Usually, Isak might’ve sassily made a comment about just what view of him Even doesn’t want to stop looking at, considering he’s pulling his back flush up against his chest, but right now he’s so on edge he can’t think, let alone speak in full sentences or banter with his boyfriend.

“Let’s solve the issue,” Even suggests, and the next thing Isak registers is the head of Even’s dick sliding against his cheek before it settles against his rim. He presses his hips back, tries to work Even inside without needing Even to move. It wouldn’t have worked, but Even helps him along.

Isak’s heart is pounding in his throat, he’s so keyed up, feels frantic to get Even as deep as possible, to fill him up, to completely surround him, to be as close as you can possibly get. He keeps making these tiny, huffy sounds to communicate what he wants, what he’s feeling to Even without actually saying any words. He’s so desperate he doesn’t realize just how close he really is, doesn’t realize that all he needed was the tip of Even’s dick sliding along his spot to make him come.

He moans like he’s dying. It’s so much, he’s so sensitive, and it’s so soon after the first one. He’s barely had any time to breathe.

Even swears behind him, one hand clamping down on his hip, except the negligee is caught in-between and has his hand immediately sliding down to the crease between his groin and his thigh.

The fabric is getting stickier with each movement that makes Isak’s come spread. Isak feels it as it slides along his skin, getting stuck momentarily and occasionally. Even swears once again when he notices it.

“Baby, look at you,” Even groans, and Isak can’t.

His cheeks are burning. He came from just having Even slip inside of him, he can barely breathe. All he’s seemingly able to do is clutch onto the arm Even wraps around him as if he’ll float away if Even lets go.

“You’re like a living wet dream, you know that?” Even’s breath feels hot against the shell of Isak’s ear. All of Even feels hot where he’s pressed against his back, hips now moving back and forth. Isak feels hot. “So gorgeous, and wearing something like that? Baby. Can’t believe how good you look right now, how much it means to me that you’ll let me see you like this. Do you know how jealous other people would be if they got to witness you like this? Got to see how good I make you feel, but know that they won’t ever get to touch you, because you’re mine, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yours,” Isak agrees breathlessly, turning his head into the pillow, into the crook of Even’s arm that he’s managed to worm underneath his body and fold around him securely. He smells like sweat and sex and them and Isak feels completely dizzy with it.

“Mine,” Even agrees, “just like I’m yours,” and then they’re moving.

Not as in Even picks up the speed, but as in he starts literally moving them whilst he’s still inside of Isak.

Isak lets out an alarmed, choked up noise and digs his nails into Even’s arm as he feels his center of gravity shift from his side as Even maneuvers the both of them onto their knees instead.

The slick fabric of the negligee runs along the dip of his back, leaving where he’s spread open around Even exposed to the warm, morning air, especially when Even shifts his weight more firmly onto his knees, pulling back and leaving Isak’s back exposed as well.

It gives Even a better angle, makes him sink in deeper than Isak would’ve thought was possible, makes him feel full and desperate all at once and way too soon.

“Beautiful from every angle,” Even tells him, and Isak’s cheeks feel scorching at the thought of the sight Even must be looking at right now. “This dress looks so good on you, baby, such a lovely color. It matches your pretty, pink lips, doesn’t it?”

Isak doesn’t have any air left in his lungs, can’t even moan to let Even know how pleased he is that he likes the negligee, so he tries to clench down on Even instead.

It makes Even groan deeply in his throat, but it also makes him feel so much bigger inside and it makes Even’s hips jump unpredictably. When Isak’s dick jumps in response it hurts because of how soon it is, but he’s already filling up, so much hot blood being pumped around in his system, all of it gathering around his center.

Even folds his body back over Isak’s, his lips pressing small, biting kisses along the straps of the chemise. Isak knows he’ll bruise from it, but right now the sting of it just makes his entire body sing, and Even being so close just makes it feel like he’s so deep, getting deeper and deeper every time he grinds down. He’s just moving his hips in small circles at this point, probably knows what he’s doing to Isak.

Definitely knows what he’s doing to Isak, Isak rectifies, when at the next roll his dick jumps to full hardness in mere seconds. Isak keens into the pillow in response. When he’s stopped, he hears Even tutting softly at him.

“Can’t have that,” he says, one hand curling underneath Isak’s chest, the other over his stomach – far up enough that there’s no danger of accidentally touching Isak’s cock no matter how much Isak tries to jerk his hips to make it happen. “I can’t have you muffle your noises, baby, not when they’re as pretty as you are.”

Isak doesn’t know what he expects will happen, if it just means Even will lift him up far enough to remove the pillows or what. He hadn’t thought that Even would move them again, not already, but he is. He’s pulling back upright, but this time he’s bringing Isak with him.

Isak’s back is plastered against Even’s chest, held in place by Even’s arms. The lacey cups scratch against his right nipple whenever Even moves the arm he has folded around his chest.

Like this, Isak’s practically sitting in Even’s lap, and it’s so reminiscent of how this morning started out, but now Even isn’t underneath Isak between his thighs, and Isak doesn’t have the leverage to move, to direct the angle and speed like he’d had this morning. Even can do that now, is the only one out of the two of them who is able to do it.

Even tightens his arms around Isak, slides them a little closer to each other, and then he lifts Isak up, a couple of inches off of his dick, and then helps him move back down again.

It’s painfully slow, and the chemise is the only reason why they aren’t currently getting a rug-burn from their sweaty skin sticking together, dragging against each other.

“Do you know what this reminds me of?” Even asks him, teeth grazing the back of his neck with every word.

Isak can only shiver in response.

“The club,” Even takes pity on him, probably aware that Isak isn’t in a state to play a guessing game. “How I had you against me like this, how we were moving exactly like this to the song they were playing. I remember how many boys were watching us, watching you, watching how lewdly you were moving your body, like all you wanted was me inside of you, like I already was inside of you, and you were being a little tease, just keeping me warm, not enough to make me come.”

Fuck. Isak’s hand twitches. He wants to reach down and touch himself, but he’s already come twice, it’ll be absolute torture to get any direct stimulation when his entire body is already wrecked with sensitivity.

“What if we went back there like this?”

Screw this, Isak does not even need a hand on his dick, he’s so close to coming already. He just got fully hard again, how is this possible? How does Even make him this desperate every goddamn time?

“Just like this. Just you wearing your pretty dress, looking absolutely stunning. They’d be able to see everything, wouldn’t they? They’d be able to see your pretty nipples through the lace, how puffy they get when I’ve had my hands on them for the entire night. They’d be able to see your clit, especially once I’ve made you come a couple of times. You’ll get the fabric so wet from how desperate you are that it’ll be see-through, they’ll be able to see everything. They’ll be able to tell how good you can be, not needing to touch yourself even once, that’s how good I can make you feel.”

Even’s hands slide down further, settling on his hips so he can move him quicker, picking up the speed until he’s bouncing in his lap. It means Even can’t keep him as firmly pressed against his chest, so Isak tips forward just far enough that he has to support himself with just his fingers against the mattress. It’s difficult now that Even’s pounding into him as quickly as he is.

His dick swings at the next thrust, slapping wetly against his stomach, making Isak keen. It’s not enough, not enough to make him come, but it’s still too much.

And then it’s suddenly more than enough, because Even is pounding mercilessly at the perfect angle, is probably leaving bruises behind on his hips with the grip he has on him, the dull throbbing feels oddly gentle through the chemise, and all it takes is a word from Even, telling him how good he makes Even feel when he comes, and then he’s doing just that. For the third time this morning. A weak spurt that makes his entire body tingle, all the way down to his toes, and turns all of his limbs into jelly.

Isak tips forward, can’t even help it. His body feels loose and like jelly, and it’s difficult to control. The bed sheet will mean friction, but Isak doubts it’ll even feel good at this point. It’ll just be one more thing that’s too much.

Even manages to catch him, one arm around his waist and one big hand pressed against his chest, and he’s still not touching his dick. He lowers him down until he’s hovering over the bed, then slowly pulls out so he can turn Isak around.

The sheets feel heavenly cool against his back.

Even’s panting where he’s hovering above him, his dick red and so fucking hard, Isak can’t remember the last time he saw Even this hard. It must be painful at this point, holding back for as long as Even has, long enough to make sure Isak will come six times in a row.

He places his hand on top of Isak’s stomach, just holding it there, a warm, comforting presence. He thumb sweeps against the line of his ribs, then along the edge of the lace.

Smoothes the fabric down, lets the silk rest against Isak’s skin before rucking it all up again. The slide of it tickles, but Isak can hardly move let alone do something about it.

“Like this,” Even whispers, “I love it like this, when I get to look at you. I love looking at you.”

Isak can’t move, but he sure can squirm. His body heats up way too quickly at Even’s words, because Isak likes it when Even looks at him. He can literally feel his eyes on him, knows when he’s purely admiring him and when he thinks he looks cute and also moments like this one where Even’s thoughts are elsewhere in another place that also involves Isak.

He can’t concentrate when he can feel Even’s eyes on him.

Right now, they seem to be centered on one place specifically. The whiteness of the lace just serves to make his puffy, sore nipples from Even’s fingers earlier stand out even more. He bites down on his tongue in preparation of Even doing something, anything as he’s wont to doing.

Isak just hadn’t expected that that something would be two things at once.

Even’s already between his thighs, and Isak is so lose and open he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, but it still sends a shock up his spine when Even presses in, even as he goes about it kindly and softly enough that Isak’s oversensitivity isn’t protesting too much.

Normally, getting Even inside whether it be the first time or the second or the night of the night – or morning in this case – is enough to make something in Isak snap in the best way possible, but this time when Even’s hips are nearly pressed all the way against Isak’s cheeks, he leans down and gets his mouth along the edge of the lace.

Isak can see the traces of spit on his skin or remaining as dark patches as the fabric soaks up the liquid.

“Can’t believe I haven’t gotten around to tasting you yet,” Even murmurs, his lips moving against Isak’s skin in the worst tease possible, and then he closes his mouth around the bud through the lace.

Isak can’t describe the noise he makes. Can’t keep his body from trying to curl up, his knees drawing up high around Even’s waist when there’s literally nowhere for him to go for Even’s bulk pressing him down. It just makes it easier for Even to sink in those last couple of inches in one smooth go, which causes another array of noises to slip out of Isak’s mouth.

It’s so much. It’s too much. His dick is already trying desperately to get hard again, is succeeding in getting hard again despite how soon it really is.

“Three,” he mumbles through gritted teeth, not sure if it’s to remind Even or himself of it. It’s still then it hits him. “Halfway. Fuck, we’re only halfway. I’m going to die.”

Even laughs, his teeth catching against the lace. Isak whines.

“Imagine that eulogy, though,” Even points out, utterly annoying and so distracting when he decides to move his hips just so. “’Got dicked down so good by his boyfriend that he died right then and there.’”

“Shut up,” Isak groans, immediately wishing he hadn’t when Even decides to occupy his mouth in another way.

His body tries to curl in on itself, but it can’t, not when Even is covering him like this. It just opens his hips up wider, makes it easier for Even to sink in deeper and deeper until Isak physically cannot draw in another breath.

He wouldn’t be able to grab his dick like this even if he’d wanted to, so he busies his hands with Even’s hair instead, running his fingers through it until it stands up wildly.

“I’m serious,” Isak’s voice cracks when one particular movement sends him bouncing on the bed. His breathing is so goddamn loud and incredibly uneven. “Six – Even, I don’t think I can.”

He whines when Even pauses, stills when he’s only halfway inside of him. Isak tries to squirm further down the bed, tries to encourage Even to start moving again without saying anything.

But Even doesn’t start moving again. Not his hips, anyway, not the part of his body that Isak’s blood is begging for him to move. He does move his mouth away from Isak’s rather abused nipple, the cold air hardening the nub, making it a thousand times more sensitive than when Even had had his mouth on it as the wet lace drags across the peak.

“Isak,” Even shifts so he’s resting his weight on his elbows, bracketing Isak with them, making it so Isak has no choice but to look up at him. He makes sure to do it with dismay, though, at Even’s sudden decision of inactivity, even as it means it’s easier to catch his breath. “Do you really think we would be doing this, if I didn’t think you could?”

Something burns hot inside of Isak’s stomach at the words, at the thought that Even knows his body so well, knows his limits and where he can push, what is safe to do and what wouldn’t be. That he literally knows how to make Isak experience sensations he wouldn’t be able to dream about.

“N-no,” he stutters, not because he’s unsure, but because he wants.

Not that he hadn’t wanted it a minute ago, or the minute before that, or the one before that, or any of the minutes since Even had put the option out there for Isak to recognize.

There’s still a part of him, at the back of his head, gnawing at his brain that it’s impossible, literally impossible for Even to make him come six times, untouched or not, but it’s the same part that had said five times were too many times as well. It’s also very alike to the other part, the part that had told him he shouldn’t want to wear panties or makeup or to feel pretty, not when he was a boy.

“Isak,” Even groans, actually closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, as if he has to force his body down from the edge.

Isak places his hands gently around Even’s biceps, waits nearly patiently for Even to open his eyes again. He blinks innocently up at him once he does.

“Do you have any idea of what you look like right now?”

It immediately feels like a punch to the gut, because the implications of Even looking at him always serves to make him feel hotter than the sun.

“Of what you looked like just then? You got so tight around me, baby, nearly made me come again. And your eyes got so dark. Were you thinking about it? About how you are going to feel after six times?”

Isak forces his upper back up from the bed, has to hide his face away in Even’s neck, has to. He presses his nose into the sweaty skin, lets all of his senses be filled with Even, with safety.

Even lowers himself down further to make it easier for Isak, being careful to keep his hips and stomach propped up the entire time.

His hold on Even’s arms surprisingly make it easier for Isak to keep himself from scooting up the bed when Even starts to move his hips in short, hard jabs that make Isak’s breath hitch.

“How sensitive do you think you’ll be?”

This is torture, absolute and utter torture. Isak bites down on Even’s collarbone, but it does little to nothing to deter him.

“Do you remember how much it was after five times? How you could barely handle me holding you close?”

Isak does remember. He remembers how his body had been begging for Even’s touch, but at the same time had been so overly sensitized that even the sheets against his back had made him want to cry.

“How do you think you’ll feel after six?” Even wonders, then covers Isak’s mouth with his own as if he can sense just how hard and how much Isak is about to swear at him.

Isak can’t handle much coordination right now, is failing rather incredibly at moving his lips in tandem with Even’s, but Even doesn’t mind. He loves this, Isak knows, loves when he gets Isak like this, and he loves that when they kiss like this – if you can call it kissing – that it’s practically just a way for him to smear Isak’s lipstick all over his mouth, make everything look slick and shiny and Isak himself completely fucked out.

Even groans when he pulls back to see it. Isak’s hands slide down his arms to his elbows, to his wrist, then left floundering in the air as he tries to grab onto something tangible. He ends up with his fingers curling into the pillows underneath his head, and it’s not until he’s got a proper hold on them that he realizes he’s practically spread himself out for Even to look at.

And Even is definitely looking.

“God, baby,” Even says, awed. A hand sweeps against Isak’s side, making him squirm from sensitivity. “You’re so wet,” and Isak wouldn’t even know where Even’s talking about – if it’s his dick steadily leaking, or hole so full of lube and come – if it weren’t for Even’s blown pupils staring intently at where Isak’s dick is lying hard against his stomach with pools of cooling come. It colors the chemise darker where it touches, leaving it even further translucent than it had already been. Approximately the entire bottom of the front is at this point see-through, Isak’s dick fully visible, the fabric going as far as sticking to his skin, molding itself to him.

Another drop of pre-come blurts out of his tip. Fuck, it shouldn’t be this hot, Isak shouldn’t feel this close again already, but he does.

And even worse, Even knows he does, because he always gets that infuriating, smug look on his face, so goddamn proud that he’s gotten Isak to this point, that he’s made him so desperate, that he’s made him feel this good. Isak tries to scowl at him in response, but he can’t, not when Even is being so good to him.

Or the fucking worst, Isak changes his mind, because Even knows him, and knowledge is a powerful, dangerous tool that makes it possible for Even to say, “Just look at your clit,” and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that all Even has to do is say five words – one word in particular – and Isak is coming again. For the fourth time.

It’s a wounded noise that tears itself out of Isak’s throat. He’s definitely bordering the line between pain and pleasure by now, and this time he seriously cannot get any air into his lungs.

Even must be able to tell, because he slows down, doesn’t just continue as if Isak hasn’t come yet, or like it doesn’t matter if he has or hasn’t come yet, because he’s there for Even to make him come again and again and again.

Isak’s dick twitches violently against his stomach, struggling to get hard again.

“Four,” Even whispers, soft and sweet and almost overwhelmed because of Isak.

Four, Isak repeats in his mind, feels his heart tug oddly at the number. It had technically been the goal the first time, because that’s how many times Jonas had managed to make a girl come untouched, and then Even had just decided to up the ante on the spot.

He still remembers how he’d felt the first time; how his body had felt like molten lava, how he’d been swimming in what he’d thought at the time to be utmost euphoria, how he’d tightened up like a bowstring when Even had started to wonder about the possibility of a fifth time.

He remembers how it had felt when he’d dragged Even home from the club, when Even had made him come for the fourth time, sitting on one of their chairs whilst he was still partly dressed, sweating through the tight clothes. The material of his trousers had scraped against Isak’s bare thighs, had made everything feel like so much more from the pain until Isak hadn’t been able to do anything but cling to Even. He remembers desperately thinking, ‘one more left’.

Now he has to think ‘two more left.’

It’s a startlingly large difference considering how it’s only one number higher.

One number brings, apparently, a very large difference.

“You’re dripping with it,” Even’s fingers dance over the wet fabric, down, down, down, over his hips, digging into his inner thighs.

It should be biologically impossible for Isak’s cheeks to burn hotter than they already are, but the implications of what Even’s saying. That it’s not only because Even’s made him come four times, it’s also that he’s literally dripping with it, his body so desperate to get Even inside that it’ll do anything to make the process go smoothly.

Suddenly, Isak doesn’t feel wet enough. He wants to feel like he’s actually ‘getting wet’ down there, wants to be dripping with it, like Even had said he was, wants for Even’s dick, his pubic hair, his groin, his thighs to be shining with slick when he pulls his hips back.

He wants for Even to know, to be able to see and feel how much he wants him, all the fucking time.

It’s like Even can tell what he’s thinking, Isak only has to whine at him once before he’s reaching over for the lube Isak had left on the bedside table when Even had still been asleep. The lid pops open as audibly as ever, just the sound enough to make Isak clench down on Even reflexively in anticipation.

He doesn’t even pull out to do it, just pours the lube directly over where they’re connected and then fucks it into Isak with every thrust. The noises are positively lewd and Isak blushes a bright red, cheeks heating up at the sound and the feeling.

“So fucking wet for me,” Even mumbles, and Isak can’t tell if he’s talking about the pools of come cooling on his stomach, about his dick still steadily leaking pre-come and raring to go despite how many times he’s already come by now, or about where Even’s fucking lube and his own come inside of him, over and over again.

No matter what, Isak shivers with it, dick twitching and doing its best to fill up entirely despite being so spent. He can’t stop making small sounds every time Even moves, every time he breathes. He feels like he’s floating and the only thing that’s keeping him tethered to the world is Even.

“I wonder…” Even mutters to himself most likely, Isak barely catching the words and then taking a while to understand them. His brain feels like mush.

If he hadn’t already come four times, he probably would’ve had the capacity of paying more attention, probably would’ve figured it out when Even grabs hold of both his wrists with one hand, his now free left hand brushing over his cheekbone, following the line of his jaw line, his throat, the sweetheart-cut of the negligee, his sternum, his stomach, hips, upper thighs. And Isak thinks it’s just to touch, to get a better grip, change the angle, maybe, despite not needing it and knowing Even also knows he doesn’t need to.

But there are so many other sensations to pay attention to – Even inside him, around him, on top of him, the cool chemise against his skin making his body sing from too much stimulation – that he doesn’t pay attention to when Even’s fingers start to move up. Up along his inner thigh, up to his groin, up to where Even’s splitting him open.

When he does notice, he thinks that maybe Even’s just going to curl them around the base of his own dick to starve off his orgasm until he’s made Isak come again. He does not think that Even twirling one of his fingers around in the mess of lube of come leaking out of Isak, tickling the skin around his rim, has any other purpose than just to touch.

Even taps his finger against the top of his hole, right below his balls and perineum and above where he’s split open and being used. Isak bites off a whimper at each tap, breath coming out short until he can’t keep in the sounds.

And then, on the next thrust in, both so quickly that Isak doesn’t figure it out until it’s happening, but so slowly that he feels every single bit of it, Even slides his finger in alongside his dick, all the way down to his last knuckle.

The wail Isak lets out doesn’t sound human.

He’s floating, everything is so much and yet faded from around him. Isak can’t even feel his own body, can only feel Even where he’s spreading his thighs open and where he’s hovering above him and where he’s practically splitting him open with both his dick and a finger, curled expertly and torturously against the overstimulated, swollen nub inside of Isak.

“Alright, that was a bit mean of me, wasn’t it?” Even coos, voice soft and completely unapologetic. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay. Take a deep breath for me, it’s okay, you can stop crying now.”

Is he crying? He hadn’t noticed. Isak accidentally hiccups when he tries to let the deep breath out.

“There you go. God, what a sight you are. So fucking pretty,” and Even sounds… awed. And like he believes it.

Isak doubts there’s anything attractive about him right now. He’s sweaty and feels like someone has taken the inside of his skin and flipped it the wrong side out, he’s so overly sensitized. And if he’s been crying, his face will probably be red and blotchy.

Even’s hand is sticky where he’s placed it on Isak’s thigh. Isak hadn’t even noticed him pulling his finger out again. His dick is still inside of him, at least he hasn’t missed that much. He’s leaving a trace of lube on Isak’s skin where he’s softly, soothingly smoothing his thumb in gentle circles to help Isak calm down.

And then he naturally has to say something that will make Isak do the opposite.

“Can’t wait for the day where your body won’t be satisfied until you’ve come at least four times, where you’ll still want it, won’t stop wanting it even as your body screams for relief.”

Always want you, Isak wants to say, but he doesn’t have the air for it, can’t work out the muscles to do it with.

He can’t stop moving, literally can’t make his body stop shivering and shuffling. He’s thrashing so badly Even has to tighten his grip around his wrist and lean his chest down on Isak’s, keeping his lower half propped up awkwardly to avoid accidentally providing friction to Isak’s cock.

“Last one,” he gasps, reminds Even, he can’t even tell at this point. He has no idea how he’s managed to keep count.

Even cups his cheek in his hand, wiping over sticky skin from residue tears. He looks positively awed. “God, you’re amazing. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Isak is the lucky one, he wants to tell him, but then Even moves his hips in slow rotations that make Isak choke on his tongue and the words.

It’s so much. It’s so much. Isak can’t feel that he’s still lying on the bed, can only feel Even and the chemise somehow still able to slide against his skin, increasing every sensation by a thousand. He can’t tell if he’s hard yet or again or at all, can still feel the pleasure running through his body, feels how the sensitivity is making him cling to Even harder and harder.

Even, who is absolutely lovely. The loveliest person Isak has ever met, who is so unbelievably kind. He hasn’t moved away to get a better angle or better purchase on the bed or anything, has instead stayed down, covering Isak’s body with his own and has let Isak cling on to him as tightly as he wants to. Isak is sure that Even’s thighs must be shaking from the exertion by now, but he doesn’t complain, doesn’t say a word about it. Just keeps pressing tiny kisses to Isak’s hairline, his temple, the corner of his eye to lick away stray tears.

“Just one more,” Even reminds him, “then I’ll come inside of you again. Do you want that? Do you want to still be full of me once I’ve pulled out? Do you want to feel me inside of you, slowly dripping out?”

Isak whines, thrashes as much as he can underneath Even’s bulk, which isn’t a lot. His fingernails are leaving scratches down Even’s back in desperation. His body keeps telling him that this is too much, but his brain just keeps wanting more.

“One more,” he gasps, agreeing, commenting, he doesn’t know, he can’t tell.

He keeps making these tiny, little noises, he knows, because he can feel the vibrations of it in his throat, but the sound is distant, like it’s coming from another room. The only thing Isak knows with certainty is Even, so Isak opens his eyes – not sure of when he’d closed them – and focuses on Even.

His hair is curling around the edges from sweat and he is looking positively gorgeous.

He’s the most beautiful thing Isak has ever seen in this entire world. There’s almost something poetic in how he comes like that, looking wide-eyed up at Even in complete admiration of him as Even is carefully, methodically moving his hips in a pattern that should have him avoid coming before Isak has, but is also little enough that Isak still feels good from it, hasn’t fallen over the pleasure-pain edge to the bad side.

He comes with a hitched breath, completely dry, nothing left in his body to spurt out. His dick just twitches weakly against his stomach, barely anything more than half hard.

The noises come afterwards.

Isak keens. He thinks he might be repeating Even’s name, over and over again as if in a prayer, he can’t tell, can’t hear it over the many, many sensations his body is feeling, is trying to sort through.

The next thing he’s certain of is Even moaning in his ear, and after a thrust that had been harder than the previous ones Isak can feel him twitching inside of him, and then he feels a different kind of wetness inside.

If he hadn’t literally come six times already, he probably would’ve gotten hard from that.

God. God. Fuck.

Six times.

Six times. They actually did it.

“Oh my god,” Even gasps, still buried deep inside of Isak.

It’s starting to hurt by now. Isak tries to wiggle his hips to get Even to slide out of him, but he can’t move. He might’ve actually died after all, holy Christ.

He’s sticky all over, is practically leaking a mixture of lube and Even’s come, not to mention the many loads of come drying on his skin or already soaked up by the negligee. Isak will probably have to buy a new one, no amount of washing will be able to save that thing now.

“I love you,” Even tells him out of the blue, still inside of him and on top of him and starting to stick to him as well. “Do I tell you that enough? I don’t think I do. I’m so in fucking love with you.”

Isak can’t feel his toes. He can’t feel his legs; pretty much the only thing he can feel is where he’s still stretched around Even as he’s slowly softening inside of him and a few other parts of his body where he’s touching Even. He cannot move and he has precious little air inside of his lungs, and yet he’s so overcome with just how much he’s also in love with Even.

He’s chuckling with it, unsure of where he has gotten the breath to do it. It’s interrupted with a hurt, croaked hitch of air when Even is too soft to stay inside of him any longer, slipping out on accident.

Isak tries to work his thighs up around Even’s waist, tries to grab onto his arms, his back, anything to get him to stay where he is right now.

It’s painful, definitely way too many sensations and stimuli for Isak to handle Even being as close as he is right now, but the thought of Even pulling away, even if it’s just to lie next to him, is unbearable to handle.

“I love you,” Even tells him again, breathing a little steadier now, but Isak thinks his eyes may be wet. He can’t tell properly, because Even is too close, is too busy pressing wet, hot kisses against his temple as he tries to soothe him back to earth. “Isak, baby, with or without all of this, I fucking love you.”

Isak manages to turn his head far enough that he can press his lips against Even’s jaw. His slight stubble scratches against his lips when he starts to talk. “Does that mean you’ll buy me another negligee? We’ve ruined this one.”

Even laughs, a little too wet for Isak to believe he isn’t crying right now.

“Baby,” he coos, drawing back far enough that he can kiss Isak, again and again, tiny, little kisses that are bordering on too much still. “I’ll buy you hundreds, anything you want, it’s yours. And then I’ll make you come six times every single time you wear one. God, Isak, six times. I can’t wrap my head around it. Do you know how amazing you are?”

He feels it – six times, that is. And amazing, too, he thinks. It’s still too soon to be able to distinguish anything that Isak feels other than worn out, so he puckers his lips and waits for Even to kiss him again.

Even complies with a smile, because, of course he does. Just tiny, little pecks, nothing that actually requires for them to move too much, not even their lips.

It’s so good. It’s the best – or, one of the best things Isak gets to do with Even. Everything that they do is one of the best things Isak gets to do with Even.

“I love you,” he whispers, knows that Even will be able to hear him.

He expects to get another kiss, maybe another dozen or so. He does not expect for Even to pause, hovering over him, far enough away that Isak doesn’t have the ability to reach up and kiss him himself. He raises a questioning eyebrow instead, knows that even if Even isn’t kissing him, he’s still got all of his attention.

“Six times,” Even clarifies, except it isn’t clarifying at all.

“I know,” Isak says, a little too sassy for how worn out he is. “I was there. I’m very much aware of how many times six times are.”

Even shakes his head. “No, baby, six times. That’s more than five.”

Isak’s brain might not be the only one that’s melted during this experience.

Even’s eyes are a little wild, but there’s a teasing tilt to the corner of his mouth that Isak does not trust.

“We can’t high five as an answer when the boys ask what the record is anymore.”

Oh my god. Oh, my, god.

Even manages to keep a straight face despite the very something look that Isak is giving him. He sighs, world-weary and way too goddamn dramatic. “Well,” he draws out, “I guess we’ll just have to go for ten, two high fives.”

“Oh my god!” Isak can’t keep it in this time, pushing at Even with weak arms and legs to get him away. “Get off of me. Oh my god, I hate you, what the fuck, Even.”

Even is laughing, the bastard, the absolute idiot, Isak can’t stand him.

“You love me,” Even teases, already turned onto his side so he can kiss Isak’s cheek, his temple, his jaw, anywhere that he can get close enough to for Isak’s flailing arms.

“I’m leaving you,” Isak counters petulantly. “As soon as I can feel my legs, I’m leaving you.”

“You can’t feel your legs because I fucked you so well,” Even reminds him, voice suddenly an octave deeper. He’s so warm where his skin is touching Isak, even through the now ruined chemise.

Isak’s breath gets caught in his throat. He’s aching all over, his skin still feels like it’ll be preferable to just tear it straight off, Even shouldn’t be able to do this to him.

“I will fuck you up,” Isak threatens, but it comes out too soft, nothing like a warning at all.

Even looks at him particularly adoringly. “I’m already fucked up over you,” knows it means I love you.

Isak groans. He can’t even turn around to bury his head in the pillows so he won’t have to look at the deplorably loving look on Even’s face, the absolute sap.

“I can’t tell if I want you to never touch me again or if I want you to kiss me,” he tells him instead.

It’s not a lie, and it’s not even because Even is horrible and the most wonderful person Isak has ever met who says such stupid things. It’s because he can’t tell that he’s lying the right way around on the bed, can’t even tell that he is in fact lying on the bed. It’s because Even made him come six times in one go, and he literally cannot think because of it.

Even smiles at him softly, reaches one hand out and places it on Isak’s head, behind his ear, as if he’ll run his fingers through his hair. Isak won’t be able to handle that, though, not so many sensations as that’ll bring, and Even knows that, so he just rests it there, doesn’t card his hand through sweaty, golden curls. He does drag his thumb against the shell of Isak’s ear, just lightly enough that it doesn’t make Isak try to squirm away.

“Kiss you,” Isak decides before Even can suggest something else, like going to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, even as he’s already feeling his eyelids practically fall shut. “I want to kiss you.”

“Okay, baby,” Even says, slowly shuffling closer. “Just lie there. Be good, and I’ll kiss you. And if you fall asleep, that’s okay, too, baby.”

“Won’t,” Isak protests, wants to lean closer to get Even’s lips on his faster, but Even had told him to stay there and be good, so he does that instead. “I’m going to kiss you. I’m not going to sleep.”

“Okay,” Even agrees without a fuss, but Isak can tell he’s doing it just to placate him.

He doesn’t complain, though, because then Even is kissing him, tiny little pecks again, just lips dragging against lips.

Isak stays awake long enough that his body isn’t tingling with nerves anymore, long enough that he can handle Even gathering him closer, can handle being pressed against Even’s chest. It feels a little weird, and it takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for Isak to realize it’s because of the chemise keeping his skin separate from Even.

He falls asleep with his lips still pressed against Even’s.

OOOOO

“Who ended up winning the game, by the way?” Magnus asks out of the blue when Mahdi scores another goal against Jonas.

It’s just embarrassing at this point.

“Huh?” Isak wrinkles his nose. “They’re still playing. Are you feeling alright?”

Magnus rolls his eyes and bats Isak’s hands away as he goes to check his temperature. “No, not the match, the game. You know, between Jonas and Even. Who won?”

Isak blinks as Magnus’ words catch up to him. Then – “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Magnus.”

“What?” Magnus knocks his arms out dramatically, accidentally catching Mahdi on the shoulder. “Am I the only one who is curious?”

“Yes,” Isak grumbles as Jonas just laughs at him.

Magnus rolls his eyes at him whilst, deliberately this time, he puffs at Mahdi’s shoulder to prompt him to agreement. “Come on,” he groans. “It went on for so long, and now, nothing. I know nothing about Evak’s sex life anymore.”

Isak’s entire face is scrunched up at this point. “Just like you shouldn’t?”

“Lighten up, Issy,” Jonas’ elbow digs its way into the arch of Isak’s foot, not willing to stray his attention away from the screen for any more than that. “We’re just teasing.”

Magnus grimaces. “No, I genuinely want to know.”

“Magnus –“ Isak groans, but doesn’t get to finish his complaining for Mahdi breaking in.

“I had expected it would end in, like, some big finale,” Mahdi admits, tossing the controller at Jonas when his players on screen do a victory lap around the field. “Not as abruptly as it did.”

“Well, if you two hadn’t blabbed…” Jonas reminds them, laughing harder than Isak would’ve expected from someone who just lost a FIFA match to Mahdi.

“It literally wasn’t a secret!” Magnus points out indignantly, turning to Isak as if he expects him to agree.

Honestly.

He turns his attention back to Jonas instead when he realizes that that definitely isn’t happening.

“Are you seriously telling me you and Even haven’t worked out who is the winner?” Magnus asks Jonas who, thankfully, suddenly is very busy picking out a new team to play as.

“Bro…” Jonas starts, but doesn’t finish. That is why Isak knows Jonas is a traitor who has been conversing with Even over who the ‘winner’ is.

And now everyone else in the room knows as well.

Magnus squeaks loudly a little too close to Isak’s ear for him to not flinch away, jumping around on the bed, and Mahdi is clapping and shouting like a madman.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Magnus begs, belly-flopping onto the mattress that decidedly does not fit four fully-grown teenage boys. His torso lands across Isak’s legs, and Isak only takes mild enjoyment in the knowledge that it had hurt Magnus more than it had hurt him. “Jonas, tell me!”

“We know literally everything else,” Mahdi points out, and Isak’s cheeks do not heat up, they don’t. “Seriøst, just tell us.”

Jonas shrugs, but he’s laughing goofily, and Isak can’t tell if he’s looking over at him from the corner of his eye or if he’s looking anywhere but at Isak.

“It, uh –“ Jonas licks his lips. For every second he doesn’t speak, Isak’s heart rate spikes. “It really isn’t all that important.”

“Uh,” Magnus protests, “yeah, it is. Come on. Be a bro.”

Isak snorts and starts to push Magnus’ body off of his legs. “Stop. All of you.”

“I didn’t even do any-“ Jonas starts to protest.

“All of you,” Isak insists, curling his legs up when they’re finally free from Magnus’ bulk. “No more questions, no more inquiries, no more whatever you want to call it –“

He’s interrupted by the front door opening and Even yelling out, “Halla,” and giving Isak specifically a soft, “Hei, baby.”

He’s got his schoolbag slung over his shoulder and another bag in his hand, because today’s shoot required so many different tools Isak had lost count as Even had gotten ready this morning.

“Even, please,” Magnus begs, masterly avoiding Isak’s hands when he tries to shove him into the mattress. “Tell me who won!”

Even’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, a little bit of a shy smile slowly unfolding across his face. “What?”

“The game!” Magnus insists unhelpfully. “Who won?”

“They won’t tell us,” Mahdi finally tries to help, scooting forward towards the edge when Isak tries to kick out at him. “Who won, you or Jonas?”

“Oh!” Even’s mouth drops open comically in the perfect ‘o’-shape possible as he slings off his backpack.

Isak groans. “Do not –“ but he doesn’t get further than that before Even the name of the winner has left Even’s mouth.

“Isak,” Even replies without any hesitance whatsoever. He doesn’t even react when Magnus’ eyes go comically wide and Jonas goes a bit pink and Mahdi glances suspiciously between the four of them as if they’re setting up a prank.

“Huh?” Magnus asks, looking intensely at Even before his gaze switches over to Isak, then back to Even. “Huh?”

“The winner,” Even shrugs. “Isak won.”

“How?” Mahdi asks. “He wasn’t even aware of the game! He didn’t participate!”

“Well –” Jonas starts to object to just what degree Isak had been participating, technically, but stops when all he receives for his troubles is Isak’s foot digging into his lower back.

Magnus’ finger digging into Isak’s side draws his attention away from Jonas.

“What did you do?” he asks, poking him again before Isak can bat his hands away. “How did you win – what did you –“

“Magnus,” Isak interrupts, tone serious. “I am telling you right now, you do not want to know what I did.”

Magnus blinks. Blinks again. Then a wide grin splits across his face as he waggles his eyebrows.

“No.”

“Oh, come on, just one thing, just tell me one thing!”

“Trust me, man,” Jonas begins a new match despite no one holding the other controller. Hopefully this just means he’ll actually get to win for once. “I know the bare minimum, and I am telling you right now, don’t ask questions.”

Isak levels a glare at the back of Jonas’ head. He knows he’ll be able to feel it. “And you are to never repeat any of it.”

“Holy fuck,” Mahdi swears, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t believe – Jesus Christ.”

“Better start believing it, then,” Even says, finally putting down the last bag. “Because Isak won the game. But –“ he bounds over towards the side of the bed where Isak is perched up against the wall. “– in terms of real life, I am the obvious winner because I get to have this wonderful boyfriend –“

“Ugh,” three of the boys immediately groan.

For once Isak doesn’t complain. Mostly because he’s too busy kissing Even quiet.

“I’m also the winner there, though,” he protests, raising an eyebrow teasingly at his boyfriend.

Even only gets his mouth open before Mahdi interrupts. “If the two of you start some weird, lovey-dovey version of a 90’s chick-flick, ‘no, you hang up first!’ I will walk.”

“Okay,” Even replies, worming a knee between Isak’s thighs so he can tower over Isak. “More room on the bed, then.”

“Do not –“ Jonas warns, but he’s laughing, even as Isak manages to smash one of the pillows into the back of his head.

Even is the one who gets hit in return, but only because he’s hovering over Isak, covering his body so he can kiss him the way Isak particularly likes.

Yeah, Isak thinks as Even is laughing, pulling back so he can throw the pillow back at the boys. Isak really is the winner.

[annakie]

An Annotated Mass Effect Playthrough, Part Seven

List of Posts: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Wherein we... talk to the crew. I didn’t quite make it off the ship.

Still, a lot of words.

Aka the nearly All-Gif update.

Didn’t get a chance to play ME at all this week, so I’m going to spend a few hours this weekend (double-checking to make sure screenshotting works :p) and have some real updates later.

So making it back to the ship from Therum, it’s time to talk to the crew.  I maybe could have gone and talked to them after getting on the ship after the Citadel, but they don’t really have any unique lines then so, I usually wait til now to go chat.

First, let’s talk to Liara.

The thing that sucks about talking to Liara (or Kaidan, or Ashley, if you don’t want to romance them) is, you know, the accidental romance.  Making “picking the Paragon-place choices = romance by default with NO WARNING” design was very Not Good.  They fixed this in later games, well moreso in Dragon Age games than ME, (and Andromeda is done very well for this) but still.  In ME3, the BackOff mod does a great job of making romance dialog more obvious and intentional.  

Liara’s dialog choices I feel like are even LESS obviously flirting I feel like than Ash and Kaidan’s.  Honestly with Liara’s most of the lines can be read and even said aloud as friendship then BOOM, all of a sudden she wants a threesome.  I choose middle dialog options whenever possible with Liara just to avoid this.  I’m not interested, never have been, don’t want Kaidan to think he has any competition.  But seriously, it’s poor game design here that you literally have to be a jerk to a companion at some points to avoid having them think you want to bang.   God, half of the reason I’d love a remaster would be to hopefully fix shit like this to avoid some of the pitfalls.  

I hate that some people use this as a reason to dislike these characters more.  And I’ll admit, in my early days as a ME fan, I held it against Liara, too, until I realized how dumb that is.  I especially hate it when you get to the “confrontation scene” and people use Kaidan not wanting to be in a threesome as a reason to dislike him more?  It’s not a bad thing to want to be monogamous?  (And of course, it’s not a bad thing to NOT want to be, assuming everyone is open and OK about it.)

I just prefer to not get that scene at all now, and to avoid “leading anyone on” accidentally etc.  My Shepard knows early on what she wants, and sticks with him all the way through.

I was going to talk more here about my feelings about Liara in general but uh, I guess I’ll do that later.  This is already really long.

Here’s a great post about how to avoid romancing Kaidan while being rude as little as possible to him.  

Well since he’s right outside the medbay anyway, let’s go talk to the LT.  

Have I mentioned how much I hate the orange glow?  

So anyway, I thought maybe I’d talk here a little bit about Why Kaidan?

I will point out here that I am mostly a hetero woman, so my choices in video game romances lean towards men first, though I’m also very cool with doing non-m/f romances in games, and often do on subsequent playthroughs of games I love, but that’s almost never gonna be my primary romance.

I’d already mentioned my love for Carth Onasi, one of the most hated companions in video games, If You’re A Guy.

By today’s standards, even the Carth romance isn’t that great.  But at the time, it was the greatest romance I’d experienced in video games.  There were a few others that were really good -- Valen Shadowbreath in Neverwinter Nights: Horde of the Underdark was the other really great one, but we also got nightmare fuel like Anomen in Baldur’s Gate (though that gets better with mods + the final BG expansion) or just under-written characters or romances like Casavir in NWN2 (who was much better with mods) or hell, either of your choices in KotOR2 imho.  But I used to play KotOR over and over for many reasons, such as holy shit a Star Wars game(!!) and one where you can actually be a female main character AND has that great Bioware storytelling... but a big reason was Carth.  

A funny thing about Carth Onasi... if you play a male main character, you have a very different experience with Carth than if you play a woman.  And even I can agree that hoo boy Carth gets tiresome quick if you play a male, as a female you at least get to flirt and that calms him down and evens him out a lot. But the one time I tried playing as a male, I didn’t make it off Taris because.. yeouch I could actually see what the guys playing were so mad about.

But hey, that voice.  Raphael Sbarge, I love that voice.  So like I said early on in these posts, I immediately knew I was going to romance Kaidan the very second I confirmed he was romancable, before I even ran back into the ship and met anyone on the crew aside from Joker and Kaidan.

And... that only got confirmed more and more as I went through ME for the first time.  The character is smart, and capable, and respected you, and never questioned your command, but made his feelings pretty clear along the way.  He could be a little doofy but in an adorable way with some of the things he said, honestly there was almost never anything I didn’t love about this character.

I realized some time ago that I have a thing for the Paladin archetype personally. 

This is Casavir, from Neverwinter Nights 2, and in NWN2, there are two romance options for women.  An under-written Lawful Good Paladin in his late 30′s who is willing to buck his superiors to do what he thinks is right but also places you on a pedestal and holds back all his emotions.  He’s a romance option. Or....

Bishop, a chaotic evil ranger who insults you a lot, threatens to rape an NPC under your protection, and ultimately betrays you.  

Most people who played NWN2 seemed to prefer the CE Ranger.  I loved the paladin so much I wrote fix-it fic that I never have gotten around to publishing anywhere to retcon his terrible dumb ending.

There’s a fan-made romance mod that helps with the romances in this game, though I dislike a lot of what they did, ultimately I always use it.

In Dragon Age?

Ah yeah, the Templar-Warden.  Love him.  He does have that “Oh I’m so young and experienced tee-hee” thing going on that isn’t my favorite, (at this point mostly because I’m actually in my mid-40′s so uh, I’m just Old) but otherwise, yeah, love Alistair.

Dragon Age 2, I mean I usually romance Anders but... I’m not real excited about either him or Fenris, or even either of the ladies, though I have done Isabella’s romance (as well as Fenris’) and enjoyed it.  I’d probably romance Avaline (or Varric!), if she were an option.  But yeah, Anders mostly because he IS trying to do what’s right, even if he... well.  You know.  

But Dragon Age Inquisition?

Give me that Blackwall-angst.  That stoic guy trying to be a Warden who comes undone for you.  You’d think I’d go for Cullen, but hey this game gave us two paladin archetypes, though one is merely pretending, he still atones and becomes what he was trying to be, one way or another, if you let him.  I picked this paladin archtype first because I did not like Cullen based on interactions with him in DA1 & 2.  I like him well enough in DA:I but Blackwall is my guy here.

Out of all the many, many companions in SWTOR, who’s my fave?

If Aric Jorgan isn’t a Paladin-type I don’t know who is, especially since any romanceable Jedi are uh, all your female padawans (don’t get me started) until Lana (also female) comes along. 

Hell, in a very long-running 4e D&D game I played from around 2009 to 2014 where my character fell in love with our party leader’s son, married him and fought the final boss 4 months pregnant with our twins.  That character’s husband... was a paladin.  I mean look at this art my friend picked out for his character’s son:

I mean dang, who (of those who are attracted to men of this type) wouldn’t?

I always pick the Paladin.  The guy who is gonna Do What’s Right no matter what it costs him, the guy who’s gonna be loyal, the guy who may bottle up his emotions or keep them under control all the time but ultimately does what it takes to get the girl... that’s my fave.  And that’s Kaidan.

I will also say my second fave archetype is rogue-with-a-heart-of-gold, and that’s more of a Garrus or Varric (if only he were a choice!!! :( ) type.. aka my second choice in these games.

Well that was a lot more words on that subject than I meant to do, so I’m going to just say real quick here that what I love about this first conversation with Kaidan is that he’s already no dummy, he knows something is up, and warns you about it.

We’ll save talk about his backstory for another day.

Let’s head downstairs.

Yay for sped-up elevators!  What used to take like 20 seconds now takes like, four.

URDNOT WREX.

This another place where Shepard starts out just sticking their foot in their mouths completely.  I feel like this is something the game definitely has problems with here.  Shepard should know a lot more about the Genophage, like they should have about say, Spectres, even if the player doesn’t. So basically every response you can give to Wrex about the genophage and what his people are going through sounds really insensitive.  Comparing the relatively minor First Contact War with the entire galaxy more or less uniting to keep the Krogan from taking over after the Rachni war seems pretty dumb, and also like something Shepard should already know.

Loredumping on the Krogans a bunch with Wrex is necessary, but  I think it could have been done better.  Though I think there are a lot of questions about the Krogan and the Genophage that ultimately are important but go unanswered. I’m going to be honest, because generally I want my companions to be happy and ultimately I want the happiest ending I can get, I usually cure the genophage and leave Wrex in charge.  But also I don’t think that ends up with the happiest ending for the galaxy.  Everything about the genophage is terrible, how it works, how it was administered, what it’s done to the Krogan as a people, but let’s be honest, the galaxy will also be in huge trouble just from a resources perspective if each krogan woman can have hundreds (or even just dozens) of babies a year, who are gonna all live a thousand years.  There’s got to be a compromise that, eventually, hopefully Wrex works out if he’s alive at the end of ME3 or the council figures out with Wreav or whoever.  

It is kinda funny though that here, I basically met Wrex at C-Sec, told him I’d help him with Fist, sent him to my ship, and basically just kidnapped him to go help with the rest of the mission.  He wanted to be here, right?  I can only assume I’m paying him a lot.

Ashley!

I do love Ashley Williams.

I’m not going to turn this into a “Is Ashley Racist” thinkpiece.  I’ve read a lot of both sides of this argument and no, I don’t think she is.  Some pieces of her attitude do need to be kicked up a bit, for sure.  She’s got about the same issues with aliens as most of the species of the galaxy have with each other, which sometimes isn’t great, but she’s far from supporting Terra Firma.

She’s smart, she’s funny, a hell of a shot, she’s being held back due to her family name.  I would love for if someday a Wilshenko OT3 were possible.  I’d do that in an instant.  I despise the fact that you can only keep Kaidan forever if you lose Ashley forever, though I don’t see that changing even in a remaster.  Please Bioware, for the super ultra remaster?

I know I need to do another run through the game with Ashley alive. I don’t remember too much of what happens in ME3 when she’s there.

I also love that her story is so much one of family.  From her stories of her sisters, to the point that it’s her own grandfather’s legacy that’s holding her back.  She’s so grounded, she reminds us that there are civilians out there we’re keeping safe, a whole world we rarely see, up in space and in the middle of so much military conflict.

GARRUS.

First of all, whew Garrus looks amazing in the lighting and with the textures with ALOT/MEUITM.  Very handsome.

Interestingly, Garrus does not really loredump on the turians.  We absorb a lot of what we find out about the turians more naturally.  Garrus is more all about C-Sec and the general politics of the Council, of Spectres, of C-Sec.  Gonna be honest, I expected C-sec to play into the game as a whole a lot more than it did based on Garrus’ talks about it.  I mean it was always there, but Bailey ends up being the face of C-Sec 

Garrus’ Law vs. I Do What I Want attitude is a nice way to do a non-goody-two-shoes companion story without having to go evil.  I love that Garrus’ story kinda mirrors our own as players, how are we going to get things done?  Shove a blaster in people’s faces, accept collateral damage, and do whatever it takes to get it done?  OR play by the rules, compromise, and see if that fixes things.

The thing is though, Mass Effect actually is great at giving us the illusion of choice without making a huge difference in the end.  Like I mentioned before... not bringing Garrus to ME1 makes little difference in how he acts in ME2 outside of a few lines of dialog.  Lots of things are like that, like pick Ash or Kaidan on Virmire, and yes one is always gone, but 80% of the content is basically the same from there on out for either character.

There are games out now that do that choice better.  Pathfinder: Kingmaker is one I can think of.  Or Tyranny.  Things you choose can alter the endings of those games drastically, locking entire paths out of the game.  

I used to think that was what I wanted.  Until I played Kingmaker and locked myself out of things I really wanted without realizing it.  I stopped playing the game, sad that my LI dumped me and wouldn’t come back without reloading many, many hours worth of game.  Despite enjoying the game overall, I still haven’t gone back.  When I do play again, I’ll probably keep a lot of tabs open of walkthroughs and tips on how to keep things going how I want.  Kind of defeating the purpose of the game.

Anyway, I got super off track again.  The point is, Garrus is the companion that gives us the most Choice in who he is.  Which is cool.  He illustrates our Paragon vs Renegade dilemma.  And it’s neat that it does make changes in some of the things he says in the future, but overall, his story doesn’t change much no matter what you do (Unless you, ya know, get him killed in ME2).

And therein lies a problem with Mass Effect, and video games as a whole.  It’s neat to see the little changes, but it’s rare for anything to be an actual Big Change, because... that’s a loooot of work for a developer and how much more money is all that going to cost him.

At some point in the future I’ll point out how lucky we are for what we did get, though.

Heeeey it’s Chief Engineer Greg Adams!  I wonder how many people don’t even know he has a first name?  Anyway, thank you for your one short conversation in which you explain how the Normandy works (honestly, great job with explaining this, Bioware, even if the science is ???) and like three sentences on who you are.  Wasted opportunity to give you an actual character.  Glad you like Tali, though!  See you in ME3.

TALI!

Okay, I will totally accept that Shepard doesn’t know much past the basics of quarian society.  That makes a lot more sense than Shepards not knowing much about asari.  

The quarians are so much more of an original creation I feel like than a lot of what we’ve seen in the galaxy so far.  Krogan?  Basically Klingons.  Turians?  Space Romans. Asari?  Twilek/Space Elves but ALL Hot Ladies.  Qarians feel like something new though.

I mean, I guess before they had to live in suits they were pretty normal, but their entire culture doesn’t feel like something we’ve seen everyplace before.  I mean I’ve seen space (g-slur)  but, eh not really.  

And Tali herself is such a good character.  I mean, she does suffer a little from being Very Important with her father being one of five admirals in a population of six million people but, I’ll allow it.  Nobody else on the crew has Very Important Parents.  I mean Garrus’ father is a little high up in the ranks but that’s a non-factor, Ash’s grandfather was but he’s dead and never seen, Wrex’s father is a chieftan but none of those is central to their current story or as big as this one. I mean, Spacer Shep’s own mother is a captain of a ship.  Tali herself in-game isn’t that sexualized -- most of that was the fandom’s doing.  She’s young but also confident and has her shit together.  

She shoulda been a same-sex romance in ME2/3 though, damnit!

Joker. Is. Amazing. And uh, also shoulda been a romance option. 

Hey first of all, how great was it that they put in disabled representation in this game.  I have read a few posts on how it could have been better, and definitely agree, but it’s also been so important to have say, Geordi LaForge as chief engineer of the Enterprise and also Joker here, in space, being awesome on spaceships.  And he really earns his the right to his bravado in calling himself the best pilot in the galaxy.  

Also?  Casting Seth Green was such a great choice.  I couldn’t imagine Joker as anyone else.  I mean this is Bioware so we expect, and definitely got, great voice acting (except for... ugh you know, we’ll get there in ME3) but honestly Seth Green was a particularly good choice.  I don’t care that he’s covered with sixteen layers of plot armor, he deserves it.

He’s the companion that we don’t ever get to take in the squad.  (I mean, except for that brief amazing moment in ME2)

I only wish in ME1 he had as much to say as in ME2/3.  At least he gets cool snarky lines after all the major missions.

One last thing before we get off the ship for awhile, I love that the crew is actually comprised of both men AND women in ME1.  With different hairstyles and faces, and even skin tones.  It’s nice to see they didn’t just reuse the same guy over and over for the nameless NPCs.  

Well, I guess they get names in ME2. :v

Anyway, I would like to point out, that there are seventeen nameless NPCs on the Normandy.

Then there’s Adams, Tali, Garrus, Wrex, Ashley, Kaidan, Chakwas, Liara, Pressley, and Joker.

That’s twenty-seven people and eight sleep pods.  Let’s remove the aliens, who couldn’t fit in a sleep pod (Garrus and Wrex), twenty-five people.  Are there people sleeping in the sleep pods now?  There must be, right?  Everyone can’t be awake when we’re on the ship just because we’re there?  How does that math add up?  Who is sleeping where, HOW DOES IT WORK!?  

Well, that’s their problem. I got my own bed.  Kaidan can share.

Also just... don’t get me started on how stupid this is.  I mean it’s nice having a shop on the ship but... the justification is terrible.  We all know it.  He was counted as one of the 17 nameless, btw.

Okay well, I was going to get off the ship this update but this is already stupid long and honestly I don’t have too much more content to post so, I’m gonna go actually play this game!

[starryyastraea]

SHIP/OTP Questions for my main ships: Cambeck, Lunarie, and Camarie :) (because I am not sure which ships will end up canon y a y)

1. Who is the early bird/ Who is the night owl?

Valerie is definitely the night owl in every situation. She cannot fall asleep before 11pm, but even then likes to stay up. What do you expect? This girl stays up studying fairy tales and magic and then of course has to do all her school work at 1am. She’s a wreck.

Luna and Camden are early birds, and go to bed early. Do not understand Val’s need to stay up. Luna likes to get up early to work out and get ready for her day. She likes to be productive. Cam likes to watch the sunrise and gets inspiration from the early morning crap idk. He likes to be up and awake and ready. They both like to be awake before everyone else in the house and have alone time before they need to put on their ‘masks’.

Oliver is both? He likes to stay up late but can’t sleep in. So when he can, he naps during the day. Which he can’t. Get this poor boy some sleep, he's a mess. 

2. Who is the big spoon/ Who is the little spoon?

Cam is usually the big spoon and Val is the little spoon. He likes holding her and feeling like he can protect her, and vice versa. But sometimes, when Cam has had a bad day, he needs to be held. Val likes when she’s the big spoon because it’s when Cam is vulnerable idk words lol

Same thing here. Cam is usually the big spoon. Oliver would never initiate himself as the big spoon, but he wouldn’t turn Cam down if he wanted to be held.

LUNA IS A LITTLE SPOON LUNA IS A LITTLE SPOON SHE NEEDS TO BE HELD AND CUDDLED SHE IS A  B A B Y  HAH LITTLE BABY

3. Who hogs the cover/ Who loves to cuddle?

Okay so hear me out. They ALL love to cuddle. The most affectionate are Camden and Luna, then Valerie and then Oliver.

Val is a total cover hog, which is fine because Cam and Luna will just cuddle up to her and boom all is good.

Oliver. Will. Steal the covers. And when he’s sleeping he doesn’t care to cuddle. So Camden is lEFT FREEZING HIS LIL FACE OFF AND OLIVER DOESN’T KNOW NOR CARE BECAUSE HE’S ASLEEP

4. Who wakes the other one up with kisses?

Camden. Little kisses all over the face. With Val she’ll smile and return them, Oli will end up a blushing mess every single time.

If Val happens to somehow be awake before Luna? Like they both had a long night?? OOooffff. Luna is definitely that “Affection? Disgusting… Do it again” type of person so if Valerie ever woke Luna up with little kisses Luna would ACT like she hated them but they both know that's how she wants to be woken up for the rest of her life. Might do that to Valerie a few times and then deNY IT THE BRAT

5. Who usually has nightmares?

Honestly? Probably Luna. Her constant fear of wanting affection and attention keeps her up at night (Except not)

6. Who would have really deep emotional thoughts at the middle of the night/ Who would have them in the middle of the day?

B R U H. Valerie and Oliver would stay up late at night contemplating life and Camden would totally go along with it. 

Luna does her thinking during the day around people. That's how she realized she liked females and maybe being popular wasn’t really everything and woah no one has ever been inside and empty room….

7. Who sweats the small stuff?

Luna and Oliver when it comes to basic everyday things. They are worry warts, no matter how much they hide it. So poor Val and Cam need to tell them they’re doing okay and just. S t o p.

Cam sweats the small stuff when it comes to his partner. He’s a hopeless romantic and just wants his s/o to feel like the most loved and happy person in the world and constantly feels like he isn’t doing enough.

8. Who sleeps in their underwear (or naked)/ Who sleeps in their pajamas?

They all wear pajamas but if Valerie were alone on a hot night she would not pass up just her underwear and a giant t-shirt.

9. Who makes the coffee (or tea)?

Cam and Luna usually do since they wake up early, but Valerie always makes extra because she's a thirsty gal

10. Who likes sweet/ Who likes sour?

Cam and Oli are wholesome sweetie babies who love sweet.

Valerie likes both. She can’t choose just oNE …. :)

Luna likes sour things. Sour. That’s why she herself is so sour. She doesn’t like dessert-type food either. 

11. Who likes horror movies/ Who likes romance movies?

Camden is of course a sucker for romance movies, and so is Valerie. Oliver doesn’t mind them. Luna pretends to hate them and then finds herself up at 1am watching Hallmark movies. whoops

Cam is just a movie junkie and also loves horror. Val will watch them if someone else wants to, but does not go out of her way to choose to watch them. Luna and Oliver hate horror movies. Will not for any reason watch them.

12. Who is smol/ Who is tol?

Based off of energy, Luna and Cam have tol energy and Val and Oli have smol energy. Which works for their actual heights too… 

13. Who is considered the scaredy cat?

Oliver and Luna lMAOOOO poopy heads

14. Who kills the spiders?

Camden would kill it, but Valerie would take it outside while Oli and Luna are crying outside and planning on where to move. 

15. Who is scared of the dark?

Valerie actually is still scared of the dark...

16. Who is scared of thunderstorms?

Valerie and Luna. So they’re a mess together. Its… they need help… 

17. Who works/ Who stays at home?

Val, Cam, and Luna would all go out to work. And Oli is the homebody who just stays home/works from home. 

18. Who is a cat person/ Who is a dog person?

Oliver is a dog person.

Val likes both, leans toward cats.

Cam likes both, leans toward dogs.

Luna is not an animal person. Get them away from her. She won’t touch them. Gross.

19. Who loves to call the other one cute names?

VALERIE AND CAMDEN MOST DEFINITELY USE PET NAMES OMG KEEP THEM AWAY FROM ME EWW

Oliver might if he’s feeling confident. And we all know how Luna feels about affection. Gross 

20. Who is dominant/ Who is submissive?

Luna and Cam are most definitely doms. Cam is more like,,, a soft dom? Luna just. Dominant.

Val is a switch and will most definitely dom both Cam and Luna and even though they’re also doms it’s like,,, you can’t just dom dom Val, y’know? If she wants to dom she’s gonna dom

Oliver is a subby sub we all been known hes b a b y

21. Who has an obsession (over anything)?

VALERIE AND WE BEEN KNEW

Cam has an obsession with memes and his love

Oli obsesses over books

Luna is obsessed with herself whoops

22. Who goes all out for Valentine’s Day?

CAMDEN OMG HE WOULD GO ALL. OUT. FOR HIS LOVE BECAUSE ITS LOVE DAY AND HE LOOOOVES YOOOUUUUu

23. Who asks who out on the first date?

Cam always makes the first move

Luna usually makes the first move, but Valerie had to ask her on the first date because Luna is an idiot.

24. Who is the talker/ Who is the listener?

Cam is the talker and Oli is the listener. Obvi.

Cam and Val? Booooth. They both do both. Mutual loving relationship. They’re idiots. I hate them. 

Val will talk and talk and talk and Luna doesn’t listen unless it’s like a serious heart-to-heart. Luna doesn’t talk about her feelings and Val has to force them out of her.

25. Who wears the other ones clothes?

Ohmygosh Valerie wears everyones clothes regardless of who shes with.

When Luna/Cam see her in one of their shirts? They m e l t

Luna loves to dress Valerie up in her clothes

And Oliver likes to steal Cams clothes sometimes. He wouldn’t go out in public but Cam is just so much bigger than him so the clothes awh baby okay

26. Who likes to eat healthy/ Who loves junk food?

Valerie, Cam, and Oli all love junk food and Luna physically cannot down junk food.

Cam and Oli know how to eat healthy though

Valerie… she lives off of caffeine and potato chips she does not know what a carrot is. Like carrot cake? No? Then idk she dont know

27. Who takes a long shower/ Who sings in the shower?

Valerie does both

Camden and Oli take long showers

Luna is in and out. And somehow was able to effectively wash all her hair, clean and shave her entire body, give herself like a full facial and mani-pedi, buy a house, perform heart surgery, and like brush her teeth in like ten minutes.

28. Who is the book worm?

Oliver and Valerie lol

29. Who is the better cook?

Luna and Valerie cannot cook for crap

And Cam is better at baking...

Has Oliver ever even step foot in a kitchen??

...they’ll all just order takeout. for the benifit of literally everyone.

30. Who likes long walks on the beach?

Camden and Valerie would

Luna prefers to like,,, sunbathe. That’s the only reason to be at the beach lol

Oliver doesn’t do beaches.

31. Who is more affectionate?

Cam and Val and we been knew

32. Who likes to have really long (deep) conversation?

AGAIN. CAM AND VAL. IT’S LIKE THEY WERE MADE FOR EACH OTHER HMM

33. Who would wear “not guilty” t-shirt/ Who would wear “sin” t-shirt?

Luna- Not guilty, Val- Sin

Oli- Not guilty, Cam- Sin

CAM AND VAL ARE JUST SIN AHH

34. Who would wear “if lost return to…” t-shirt/ Who would wear “I am…” t-shirt?

Valerie and Oliver do be gettin lost tho

Need to be returned to Luna and Cam

35. Who goes overboard on the holidays?

omg Camden my boi. He’s just so excited and hyped. Also, his family is no help because they’re always going overboard

Valerie will also go overboard. But nobody beats Camden lol

36. Who is the social media addict?

Luna?? Have you met this chick??

37. Height difference or age difference?

Luna and Val have a three inch height difference (when Luna is wearing flats), and Valerie is older by like... two months

OKAY Valerie and Camdens height difference is 10 inches. awh. I’m a sucker for height differences look at themmmmm. And then Cam is seven months older

Cam is only three inches taller than Oliver :) And Cam claims the title as the oldest, being four months older than Oli

38. Who likes to star gaze?

Omh Camden is such a hopeless romantic and he’ll do this just so he can turn his head and see his love staring up with the stars in their eyes. Also so he can use dumb star related pick up lines on them

Valerie loves this! Look up at the stars! So pretty! She may not know anything about them, but she loves them!

Luna will join Valerie because yeah, they’re pretty :) And so is the cute girl next to her whoop

39. Who buys cereal for the prize inside?

.....Camden

40. Who is the fun parent/ Who is the responsible parent?

When it comes to parenting, Valerie and Cam would be a fun/responsible duo. They are both the good cop and bad cop. They know how to balance it, because they grew up with balanced parents.

Luna would be more responsible. She isn’t exactly a ‘kid’ person, and really didn’t have great parental influences growing up, and doesn’t want to have her child run off and be unsupervised/feel neglected like her

Oliver is in a similar boat. 

SO THANK GOODNESS FOR VAL AND CAM

41. Who cries during sad movies?

Omg I swear Camden and Valerie are like the same person it’s disgusing. Anyways. They.

Oliver may? Depends on how sad it is.

Luna has no emotions. Gross.

42. Who is the neat freak?

V A L E R I E omg she will clean up the smallest mess. Which is funny because you look at her and her bedroom and think she’s a mess herself which she is but she’s an orginzed mess

43. Who wins the stuffed animals at the carnival for the other one?

Valerie and Camden will be competitive and try to win each other prizes, but like, against the other? If that makes sense?

Oliver will gladly accept what Cam wins for him

When Val offers to win one for Luna, she’ll be like ‘ew gross I don’t want one of those’. Valerie gets one anyways, and Luna adores it anyways.

44. Who is active/ Who is lazy?

Honestly none of them are lazy per se, but the most active I think are Luna and Valerie. I mean, Luna is just an active, work-outy person. Valerie just cannot sit still for longer than three minutes. 

Camden and Oli like to relax from time to time. Just. Sit. Alone or with each other. 

45. Who is more likely to get drunk?

Luna and Cam (poor Valerie lol)

46. Who has the longer food order?

Camden!! This boy eats a lot!! And where does it all go?!

47. Who has the more complex coffee order?

Ohmygoodness Valerie. She drinks so much coffee, and her orders are always different and bizarre. 

48. Who loses stuff?

Oliver. Poor boy. Val misplaces things quite often, too.

49. Who is the driver/ Who is the passenger?

Camden is the only good driver here.

Between Luna and Val, Valerie drives but only because Luna refuses to. That does not mean she is good.

50. Who is the hopeless romantic?

The obvious answer here is Camden. He takes the cake for being a hopeless romantic. He loves the idea of love, and being in love. Having someone to love. Love. He goes over the top, stares at them, he’s just in love and isn’t afraid to show it.

HOWEVER

I think all of them, once in their relationship, shows how hopelessly romantic they are for their loves. That’s just what happens when you’re with the one.

lol. I know this isn’t like... how this was supposed to go but I couldn’t choose just one couple :)

[made-me-deep-blue]

Kamilah x Mc Amy is now a vampire and is married to kamilah then Adrian comes up with something that can make kamilah pregnant kamilah gets too excited she agrees to do it , so then Adrian injects kamilah and now all they have to do is get a moment alone together and then kamilah finds out she is pregnant and it’s a boy she gives birth to him and names him after lysimachus

hey there! thank you for your ask, hope you like it x

-

“So it’s just the same process as the last time?”

Adrian nodded as he pushed away from the seat and handed Kamilah the serum. Amy was bouncing her and Kamilah’s first child, Natalia, at her hip as she watched her wife and boss converse over the use of the special serum that Adrian and his scientists had worked on especially for the two of them.

“Let me know whether I would be an uncle again,” Adrian spoke as he embraced Kamilah.

“Oh brother,” Kamilah chuckled. “You definitely would be the first to know.”

“Nat,” Amy cooed, pointing towards Adrian. “Say bye-bye to Uncle Adrian, he has to go and work now.”

Nat waved shyly at her uncle, smiling cheekily with her growing pearly whites.

Adrian smiled gently, before waving back at the small girl. “See you next time, little one.”

It was a quarter past 2 am. Nat was being placed to sleep by Amy at her room, with the Bloodkeeper closing her door behind her back. She watched Kamilah swirl a glass of wine in her hand at the kitchen counter.

“Already bringing out the alcohol?” Amy smirked. “I didn’t take you for the eager one.”

“Oh, my love,” Kamilah sighed. “I can’t be a bad influence and drink in front of our 2-year-old daughter, who knows what will happen if she mistook this for blood?”

“You are already taking this motherly role like a natural, darling,” Amy mused. “If I told the 3 years ago-you about being a mother, she would’ve just given me the cold shoulder about this topic.”

The Egyptian shrugged, finishing her last bit of red wine. “I am biologically 30 years old, and I was working hard as my cousin’s nomarch during the war against Rome. I never really envisioned myself to be a mother someday, but I knew that my mother would have wanted me to take on that role for her own eyes to see.”

Amy leaned against the wall by the television. “Look at you, being all sentimental.”

“Must be the wine,” Kamilah’s body was instantly pressed against Amy’s, an arm braced against the wall and a free hand tucking under Amy’s chin. “And it’s telling me to tell you that I want you bad.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

It all started with a drunken kiss from the queen to her lover, to the domination in the comfort of their own bed. They climbed over hills and valleys, and reached the peak, before releasing themselves back into the plush pillows of their king-sized bed. The queen gently rubbed her abdomen, hoping for her wish to come true.

At the moment, Kamilah was staring at the pregnancy test, wrapped in a clean paper towel on the table. 

Was she dumbfounded? Awestruck? Speechless?

How about...all of the above?

“There are...two lines…” Kamilah’s line of sight moved towards the indication at the side of the screen.

The two lines on the top meant that the user would be pregnant.

“Oh, gods.”

The vampire clasped her hand over her mouth and quietly wept.

Not in tears of sadness, but the ones of joy.

Now, it was time to break the news to the family of her own: her beautiful wife Amy and her baby girl Natalia.

-

The sound of Natalia’s feet padding against the white marble tiled floors of Adrian’s office level could be heard as both Kamilah and herself walked out of the elevator, noticing that her wife’s receptionist desk was empty.

“Ah, Amy must be currently being held up at a meeting,” the vampire queen looked down towards her daughter, who had a tiny hand clung onto her pinkie whilst looking around her surroundings with curiosity. “Let’s sit at your mother’s desk and play some videos while we wait for her. What do you say, Nat?”

As if agreeing, Nat had already started tugging her mother towards her other mother’s desk, with Kamilah chuckling at that small action. After she took her seat, she lifted Natalia into her lap and pulled her phone out so that her daughter could view some of her favourite videos while waiting for Amy.

Not long after, the meeting room opened and walked out Adrian, Jax and her beautiful wife. Adrian and Jax immediately perked up at the sight of the toddler in Kamilah’s lap, slowly and briskly making their way over.

Amy heard the commotion and looked up from her phone, and her gaze softened instantly when she saw the two men playing with her daughter.

“Hey there, little one,” Adrian cooed. “How have you been, hm?”

Natalia looked up and beamed. “Gah!”

“Hey, don’t hog up all of the spotlight, Raines,” Jax grumbled. “At least give me a chance with this pretty girl, would you? I’m an uncle too you know, a Kamilah-certified uncle.”

Amy rolled her eyes as she strutted towards her workspace. “First of all, big guy, Nat is always open to anyone’s attention so clearly you don’t have to worry. Second of all, I think Kamilah might be feeling claustrophobic with you two crowding around so would you two please kindly move away from my wife and daughter?”

“How about… ‘my wife and my children’?”

The minute those words slipped out of Kamilah’s mouth, everyone froze, even baby Natalia watched her uncles and mother became frozen statues.

“Clearly there’s only Nat around…” Jax hesitated. “...unless…”

Amy turned to Kamilah, her eyes widened. “...holy, gods, you’re joking.”

The Egyptian shook her head, smiling gently as she placed a gentle hand on her stomach. “I’m not, Amy.”

Adrian clasped a hand over his mouth and turned to Jax. “We’re going to be uncles again!” Both men embraced each other in a tight brotherly hug.

The Bloodkeeper closed the remaining distance and pressed a slow, passionate kiss to Kamilah’s lips. They pressed their foreheads against each other, their breaths mingling in between. 

“Oh my god, Kamilah. I...I don’t know what to say. You’re going to be a mother...for real.”

“Yes, my love. Yes, I am.”

-

The early childhood memories of Kamilah’s past slowly faded over the years, as she remained in her late 20’s, after she was Turned. However, there was a certain memory that seem to always linger after being alive for a good 2,064 years.

Her mother, brushing her calloused hands against Kamilah and Lysimachus’s forehead in their small hut as they were slowly serenaded to sleep. Despite the fact that she had succumbed to sickness and passed away in her early childhood, Kamilah could still remember her mother’s voice clearly in her mind.

She wanted to be like her mother. So, she sang, or even hum under her own breath whenever she had the chance to. If anyone from her time knew her mother, they would probably notice the strong traits between mother and daughter.

Here she was, nine months later after the injection of the serum, with her second-born child. A healthy baby boy, who had both her and Amy’s significant traits: Kamilah’s tanned skin and defined eyebrows, with Amy’s light-blue eyes and thin pink lips.

“Did you come up with a name for him already?” Adrian asked, looking up from his phone on the couch from where Kamilah was lying in her bed.

Kamilah looked at Amy and Nat, smiling gently. “We were thinking...Lysim. You know, short for my late brother’s name, Lysimachus.”

“That’s lovely, teach’,” Lily sighed in adoration.

“Yeah, it does.”

Lysim gurgled, wriggling slightly in his blanket, before returning to sleep soundly, making everyone in the room chuckle softly.

“You’re just like your uncle, baby boy.”

[mythykl]

Akaashi’s x Reader *s/o being too self conscious*

I messed up w an Inbox request again tf. Well, this girl had asked me to write an imagine in which Akaashi’s s/o is is sorta shy, lacks self confidence, is extremely body conscious buttttt,,, our boi gives her a reason to cease doubting herself!

I hope you enjoy anon;))

ps. not my art

...

“Y/n.. y/n; are you even listening?” These words are enough to snap me out. In realization, my eyes dart across the road. We had already reached to my apartment. I look at Akaashi as we cross the road; it’s almost unbelievable to see someone so calm and composed while I’ve millions of thoughts running in my head.  

We hadn’t even held hands during the 20 minutes whole walk. I see him fiddling with his fingers in my peripheral view, yet bearing his expressions as poised as ever. In reflex, I quickly let go of my stiff posture and go for his hand while he’s taken aback.

It was already past 10pm when Akaashi and Bokuto at last decided to stop the practice, while everyone else had left 3 hours prior. Not that it matters; after what had happened today- I didn’t want to leave my boyfriend’s side. He makes me feel safe and accepted, thus, with no willingness to breakdown, I ended up bunking the remaining school hours and crashing at the gym; watching the team play. At my sight, Akaashi immediately came to inquire what was I doing in the gym; without giving any specifics or bothering him much, I just said that I wanted to be around him- for some reason and he should continue his practice. Again, no specifics.

Once in the building, our trip in the elevator was pretty awkward, Akaashi didn’t once glance away from his phone, furiously tapping his fingers on the screen, while I just stood there silently. A part of me told me that I should approach to him but I didn’t. What if he shouts at me, or just leaves me and walks away? Moreover, plans for tonight were decided since weeks, I have no intentions to butcher this. My parents are away, thus it won’t be much of an issue, as it was the last time when they had met my boy the first time. I chuckle at my thoughts, grabbing Keiji’s full attention now.

“I asked you for the keys.” He says blandly. Did he just repeat himself since I was zoned out? I fumble for my bag, take out the keys and hand over to him. Upon opening, I walk ahead, switching on the lights as he closes the door behind me.

“I was plannin’ on coming home early and cook your fav’ boiled rapeseed plants with karashi mustard dressing, but now we-” abruptly a hand placed on my waist turns me around and a kiss is planted on my forehead. Akaashi holds me tight to his chest as he hugs me. Drowned in oblivion, I couldn’t comprehend a thing. 

“You’re precious to me and I’ll do anything to.. Keep you happy. Or even protect you. Or help you. But you- you need to open up more. Something’s wrong, isn’t it? And you are acting unusual. I’ve waited for two days for you to pour it out, but don’t mistake my silence for my ignorance baby.”

Wait. what. 

That’s when I notice how much he had to lean to hug my petit self. Why do I have to be so tiny? My hair aren’t perfect, I don’t get the best of the grades, he never saw me more than a good friend until last Christmas, I’m not popular, I don’t have the sexiest figure and- 

And everything that those girls, his classmates, blabbered about me in the washroom is true. Even when I stood up for myself, for the first time since the last week when the nasty rumours started, I was just shoved off after being called a ‘skank’ and a ‘liar’ by the whole gang.

How pathetic.

“Why do you love me?” I manage to speak in the midst of getting choked on my tears.

I feel him smile slightly against my frizzy hair, “Well, to be honest, I’m not quite sure why. But maybe, it did start when you were talking with trees in my backyard after a stormy night a few years back, or when you experimented with some dumb egg mask which left an obnoxious sting along with some shine I guess. And-”

“Akaashi. I’m not joking. I’m feeling-”

“Miserable. Worthless. Sad. Lost?” Pause. “Bokuto told me, I know what my classmates bullshitted outside the girl’s washroom. Them cornering you and everything while I wasn’t around; that’s when Bokuto stepped in, didn’t he?”

Why the hell did Bokuto- this is not how I- 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” I reply. He lets go of the hug and strides towards the couch to sit. I shrug off, about to sneak away in my room or something when he says, “We are having a talk young lady.”

“Stop acting like my dad.”

“Oh, am I not?” The fuck- I start blushing like crazy all of the sudden, when he sighs. 

“I’m not even fully aware of these stupid rumours those girls have come up, probably with to pass their time. All I know from Bokuto is that one of them isn’t pleased by your presence in my life. Simply speaking, it pisses her off. It’s not like her opinion really matters to any of us, we both know that her calling you names and saying stuff-”

I interrupt him. “AKAASHI. YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW WHATEVER YOU ARE EXPLAINING TO ME? I know her verbal diarrhea won’t mess up your feelings, or-or what we have, but- but it triggers immense self-doubt in me. Those bitches told me to ‘get a life’ while those jerks can’t even get a decent wardrobe for themselves. Something like- I never saw you more than a friend until you gained popularity and- They made me feel worthless, that you don’t deserve some spindle-shank like me-”

“Pfftt~ spindle-shank? Vocab of the day hun’; but where did that come from? Do you think I’m not aware of your anxiety and nervousness. I see it all, your long stares at the ground while you are uncomfortable, or spacing out; even those silent conversations you have with yourself a lot, which the team thinks are creepy. But- when I asked you out, I’d already accepted you with all of your traits, good and bad, from the most weird to the coolest.”

He walks to me, holds my hands and continues, “If you didn’t notice, you just burned the shit out of those chicks while yelping about their nonsense. So you even pass the ‘funny’ category I suppose. Your body and mind, I’ve accepted everything and I want you to love and understand yourself the same way. You aren’t a bother to me, you’re the only one whose crap I love the most to handle.” That’s when you start laughing hysterically.

“What!?? Oh my-”

“No wait you wanna know more?” He suddenly lifts me in bridal style, “See I can lift you, your thinness has its own perks!” I slap him on his shoulder while he continues, “You bring the best in me. Your parents do the best, because of you. Your best friends are surviving, basically- because of you. Bokuto has started getting serious about his studies- because- I guess you told him that you’ll help him talk with his crush or something? Wait-”

This makes me laugh even harder and I just nod in response. He swirls me around the living room and at last places me on the couch, “The point is you’re fucking precious. Start acknowledging the fact that you keep people going- you keep me going. You’re not just something that happened to me but also a part of me. So fuck those unnecesary commentary. They are the ones who need to get a life- and - probably.. A wardrobe too.”

The speech was definitely touching, or more like ENCOURAGING. How does this fool knows me so well? While I brush my fingers on his neck, he kneels down and marches in for a kiss, which lasts extremely long.

Once it breaks off,  I say, “We can continue this after dinner; I’m hungry right now!”

“So- Ramen for milady?”

“Hai!!”

...

we love him. don’t we TwT;

[fandomfanficandmore]

The Promise (Warlock!5sos)

Another Coven Fic? You fuckin’ betcha! This is a short fluffy one, so enjoy! 

fandom: 5 Seconds of Summer

pairing[s]: Ashton Irwin x Ophelia Blackwell

Luke Hemmings x Salem Blackwell

warnings: Warlock! 5SOS, a proposal, lovey Ash, lots of celebrity mentions- try to identify all of them.

word count: 1.8k+

The sun was setting as the group gathered in the mountains surrounding the busy city. Once a week, usually a late Saturday afternoon, the coven of 13 met to practice and worship under their supreme- a woman named Ophelia.

She had just turned 20 when she was handed the title from the previous supreme, her mother Stevie Nicks. Ophelia and her sister, Salem, had been working towards becoming the coven’s supreme since they were children. They were born into the coven, their birth mother being one of the leaders before she was killed by a witch hunter when the girls were three. Instead of them being taken away from the coven, mama Nicks took them in and raised them as her own, teaching them all she possibly could.

Each girl had their own special powers, setting them apart from the rest of the coven. Salem was a telepath, able to read the minds of everyone around her, except for her partner, Luke. Ophelia, on the other hand, was a seer- someone who could see the future- and that made her the perfect candidate for supreme.

Unlike other covens, this one was filled with the celebrities most looked up to. The ranks included the likes of Brendon Urie, the empath, and Jack Barakat, the conjurer.

The coven, though small, was also home to the members of an alternative band known as 5 Seconds of Summer. Luke, Salem’s partner, was a necromancer while Ashton, Ophelia’s partner, was a traveler. Calum, on the other hand, was an elemental and Michael was an eclectic.

Fe looked around the group, all of whom were in the own conversations. This was her second meeting as supreme and she was still extremely nervous, even though everything had already been said and done.

“You did fine, Fe.” A voice inside her head made her jump. She cast a glance at her sister who smiled softly at her while playing with Luke’s hair as he spoke.

“Thanks, Sal.” She thought back.

Salem looked up at her partner, watching his curls bounce as he nodded at what Calum was saying, admiring the way the late afternoon sun reflected off of his hair.

“What are you looking at?” Luke looked down at her, his accent thick as he talked- as it normally is after he’s used his powers.

“You.” Salem purred, making him chuckle. He leaned down, peppering kisses along her jaw as if they weren’t being watched. Salem felt Calum walk away as she leaned into Luke, her eyes drifting closed.

‘Always one to put on a show, aren’t you?’ Salem’s eyes shot open, searching the area for the chocolate haired devil himself, Harry. He, like her, could read minds, and he definitely used it to his advantage when it came to her.

‘Shouldn’t you be off entrancing school girls or something?’ She responded, trying to focus back on Luke.

‘But what fun would that be when you’re right there, looking enchanting as always.’ She couldn't stop the annoyed groan that escaped her lips, causing Luke to pull away.

“Everything alright, love?” He asked, making her roll her eye. “Harry again?”

“He just loves these little head games of his.” She shook her head. “Anyways, we should go talk to Fe. She’s feeling lonely.”

Ophelia was standing by the fire, warming up when her boyfriend appeared next to her, her leather jacket in his hand. “My coat?”

“You were cold so I popped home and got it.” She took the coat from him before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Thanks, babe.” She pulled it on as her sister and Luke approached. “Hey guys.”

“Are you almost ready to go?” Her sister asked her, following up before Ophelia could get her thoughts out, “We have that dinner with mother in an hour, remember? You, me, Ash and Luke? We made the plans-”

“Before she went on the recruiting trip. Right. It completely slipped my mind.” Fe confessed. She had spent many nights after her appointment pacing, stressing and worrying about her new title, and because of that a lot of things had slipped her mind. She looked up at Ashton, who smiled softly at her before nodding. He couldn’t read minds like Salem and Harry, but he knew what Fe was thinking without her having to say a word.

“I’ll take her home and you guys meet us there when you finish up here?” Ashton asked the other pair who nodded in return. They knew Ophelia was the best in the kitchen and could whip up a full feast in 20 minutes with the help of her powers.

A second later, Ashton had his arms around Ophelia’s waist and in a flash, they were back at the Nicks house. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek as she moved to the kitchen, flicking her wrist to turn the house. She muttered a few Latin words under her breath as she washed her hands, all of the ingredients she needed making their way to the kitchen island.

“Do you need any help, Fe?” Ashton asked as she turned off the water, spinning around to face him with a tired smile.

“Could you get the table set, please?” She returned, watching as he smiled and nodded. Snapping his fingers together, the dishes began setting themselves at the table. She was reading through her old cookbook- a witches guide to cooking that mama Nicks had given her for her 10th birthday, finding the spells she would need to make the food.

Ashton walked to the record player, exchanging the old jazz record for Ophelia’s favorite, the old rock tune fading in through the speakers. He looked over at her, watching as she shut her eyes to listen, calming down before she started anything.

They had been together for over two years, having met when he was introduced to the coven by Harry. He first discovered he had powers when he traveled from one side of a couch to the other while on tour, and Harry happened to see it. As soon as they were off tour, Harry took him to Los Angeles to introduce him to the girls’ mother, Stevie, and explain what the coven was. He could remember seeing Ophelia walk into the room, her nose buried in a book, as a weird feeling rose in his stomach. He was sure it wasn’t nerves- he knew what those felt like- but he was sure it had to do with her, especially because Harry noticed that both had felt it. They later learned that the feeling was called the Divine, a connection between a powerful witch and warlock, who the spirits believed were meant to be. It was strange at first, as he was so new to magic and he barely knew her, but soon they both realized that it was in fact true.

Ashton watched as she began preparing the dinner, listening as she recited spells. Though they had done this many times together, he still watched as though it was his first time witnessing it.

Something that no one- except for probably Salem, he wasn’t sure- knew what was going to happen tonight. After countless nights of researching coven laws and traditions, he was ready. Ready to propose to Ophelia.

In the coven, when a warlock proposed to a witch, he must use a live vine from an ancient plant to signal life, commitment, and growth- both emotionally and spiritually. Both must wear matching rings until their ceremony, where the rings will be traded in for two silver bands forged in the fires of hell. Because of his career, Ashton also had two separate silver rings, nearly identical to the vines, that the pair would wear in public so as to not be questioned.

The front door creaked open, Ophelia’s mother floating in with grace as her bags made their way upstairs. She offered Ashton a soft smile before joining her daughter in the kitchen.

“How was the meeting tonight, Fe?” She asked, washing her hands.

“Good.” Her daughter nodded, the music stopping itself so they could talk without interruption. “Did you find any new-”

“No,” Stevie shook her head, her hair flowing behind her, “it’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately.”

“Well it is only early fall, so there’s still time.” Ophelia offered her mother a smile. “I’m sure we will find some soon.”

“Where’s your sister?” Ophelia closed her eyes before speaking.

“She and Luke stayed behind to replace the protection charms. They should be home now.” As she opened her eyes, she was her sister and her partner walking down the hallway, away from the mirror room.

-

It was nearing witching hour, the group of five sitting on the back porch. Floating lanterns illuminated the area, casting a soft yellow glow on everyone. Ashton fiddled with the vine in his hand, casting a glance towards Ophelia, taking a deep breath. Both mama Nicks and Salem watched the man with knowing eyes, Salem sending him a short ‘you got this.’

“Fe?” He cleared his throat, catching the attention of his partner who had been throwing a light sphere back and forth with Luke. “Can we talk?”

“Sure, Ash.” She nodded, moving to stand up, but he stopped her. He wanted everyone around for this.

“Don’t worry about moving,” he shot her a soft smile, “I want to do this here.” She cast him a confused glance, to which he returned a bright smile. “We’ve been together for over two years, Fe, two of the best years of my life. My life changed drastically when I learned I had powers, and I honestly thought my life would end, but then I met you. You showed me that my powers were a good thing, you taught me how to use them and you showed me that we could do this- together.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not very good with Latin, but Fe, negabit me tibi.”

Ophelia’s has dropped. Before she was made supreme, she had thought about this moment many times- she had seen it many times. She knew the future could change, but she hadn’t seen it happening like this. She was overwhelmed yet ecstatic. She knew Ashton was her soulmate- or as close to one as a witch could get- and she loved him so deeply. She’d always expected him to ask, but she never expected him to do it now, especially in Latin, the one thing she knew he still struggled with.

Looking at Ashton’s whose eyes were bright with hope, she nodded slowly. “Yes.” She watched as he slipped the vine on her finger, handing her the other to put on his.

Her sister was the first to congratulate her, pulling her in for a hug.

“Finally! I’ve been listening to his nervous thoughts for two days!” Salem thought, making Ophelia laugh silently. “Congrats sister.”

“Thank you!” She thought back, pulling away with a smile. Ophelia turned to her mother, who was finishing congratulating Ashton.

“My beautiful Ophelia.” Her mother called, grabbing her by the hands and pulling her forward carefully. She didn’t need to say much to show how she felt, so she just sent her a warm smile and a quiet congratulations.

-

tag list: @scribblesos, @damselindistressanu

[findingxace]

“26 going on 27…”

Future AU ~ Based off the line where LJ thinks about another time…”If only Peter and I had met when we were 27, that seems like a good age to fall in love.”

 ___________________________________________________________

Lara Jean is currently a working as a Publishers Assistant (because you know with those love letters how does she not grow up to be an author or something in that field)

Peter K has recently graduated from the police academy and is still a newbie on neighborhood patrol (this is based off the scene in the Netflix movie version of their characters where LJ almost crashes into Peter - the way he taps on her window seemed very police officer style…) _______________________________________________________________

If she had left the office just 5 minutes earlier she would have been home by now and not stuck in the light rain that was just starting to come down. It was a late September night and her car dashboard read the time was 7.48 PM in bright scolding numbers.

She was late.

Which was terrible because she was never late! She was always the first one to help set up for special celebrations, especially when it came to celebrating her Father’s birthday.

Kitty, her not-so-baby-sister, had already been texting her like crazy she had to mute her Iphone so the annoying text bings would not distract her from driving. Lara Jean had always been a cautious driver and drove 5 miles under the speed limit with seat belt always secure but when it came to running late or when the weather was bad - she was a complete mess. Now she was late AND it was raining - the combination was not looking good for her.

She blinked fast  not wanting to take her eyes off the road and was pressing lightly on the brakes as the window wipers pounded loudly in the background. She was just a few feet away from the vehicle approaching the stop sign, just a turn or two and she was almost home. She was trying to figure out if she was on Cherry street yet or in their main street when the loud annoying beeping came in throwing her completely off.

“WHAT THE --” she shouted.

And before she could think about it - it happened. She let the breaks go for just a second but it was too late - she didn’t realize how close she was until she heard the impact of her car.

CLACK!

In reality the moment only lasted about 3 seconds - it wasn’t that bad to the driver ahead of her it was just a small graze. But to Lara Jean she felt like she was watching all of this go down in slow motion and when her brain finally snapped from it she had pressed the breaks a second too late. The damage was already done.

She hadn’t even realized the tears were on her face until her hands flew up to her face mouthing OH-MY-GOD, and then she felt her face go red and damp in tears.

If she had to describe it into words it felt like someone had pressed pause in the middle of one of those loud action movies and then pressed play again during the exciting climax and action.

When she snapped back to it her eyes finally locked in on where the noise had originated - her panel in the center had come to life displaying a new text from Kitty: “Daddy, is here! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

When had her dad found the time to synch her Iphone to her car smart settings? She remembered having asked for this over a month ago thinking maybe she should just stick to the plain old GPS on her phone settings but he had promised her he would help her out with the bothersome task - but since she never saw her father poke his head to her car Lara Jean just assumed he had forgotten about it. Until now. He had accomplished this and with it had also synched her important text messages from family with it. Having muted her phone - Kitty must have figured she could reach her in her car.

Well it worked -- terribly!

Her hands had by now moved to park the car - knowing now she was going to have to exchange the drivers insurance information. She had only been in one other accident before when she was in high school and she had vowed to never experience this again. Well too late for that now. Her fingers were now rubbing her tears away and when she finally looked up she had somehow missed the part where with the rain coming down the driver in front of her had put his hazard signal up, had stepped out of the car making his way to her window and when she looked closer there was a small flashing red light on the roof of his car.

Oh no! She gulped.

The tall man was now tapping on her window. She waited just a second before grabbing any of her courage left that night. Then pressed the button to lower the window down, rain coming in and all.

“Evening ma’am.” His voice was soft but firm. No hint of anger - yet. She paused as she took in the mans off duty clothes but the navy blue jacket with his name stitched in was still pretty clear. “Good Evening….Officer Kavinsky.”

__________________________________________________________

He had just gotten off a late shift and if he was being honest probably wouldn’t have had to if he hadn’t volunteered to make a last stop at a house party, it was a noise complaint call. It hadn’t taken him long he had showed up, then in uniform, explaining to the homeowners and guests that they had to keep it down. Lucky for him it was two  young ladies maybe in their early 20’s that had answered the door - he flashed a smile and they were sold. They simply shock their heads and apologized.

“Yes, officer were so so sorry. Won’t happen again.”

With that he turned around and drove back to the station and clocked out for the night finally getting the chance to change into his civilian clothes. He drove a two seat black Kia but somewhere under all his spare dirty shirts and left over boxes from donut runs was an emergency siren when needing to switch back from Peter K to Officer Kavinsky.

He was still new to his role as officer and hadn’t really thought he would need it anytime soon. And that’s when the rain came tonight and before he knew it he heard the loud - CLACK too.

Secretly he was hoping to pull the bad boy out for something more dashing like a car pulling 60 miles an hour in a 25 mile speed zone. But never really thought he would need it for a simple fender bender. He pulled his car to a stop, parked it, and put the hazard lights on. He was tired, it was raining and that bump was going to cost him so he had to put his tough face on. Maybe he would be lenient - but he could already picture his mechanic giving him a harsh quote for the damage.

And then he was making his way over to the vehicle behind him and knocking on the window tinted glass - he was only able to see the silhouette of the driver so he couldn’t tell if they were male or female until the window finally rolled all the way down.

She was leaning towards the younger side, late twenties if he was being exact, actually toward his age so 28 if he had to take a wild guess. Asian decent - but he probably would never guess what part unless he asked. Long black hair tied in a tight ponytail. But her eyes it was kinda hard to tell what color because he noticed right away that she had been tearing up - she was embarrassed it seemed, but sometimes that feature could be mistaken between being tipsy is what he had been taught.

He wasn’t really sure if to address her as a Miss, so he always went for Ma’am it seemed pretty neutral ground.

“Evening ma’am.”

Her eyes blinked quickly as her eyes locked into his.  “Good Evening….Officer Kavinsky.” Her voice seemed so innocent and definitely not drunk - more hurt.

His reaction was confusion at first. Did she know him from somewhere?

“I’m sorry - have we met before?”

She blinked again. She was silent.

“No - but I mean your jacket…?”

“Oh right,” he looked down noticing his embroidered name, “thought I grabbed my other jacket before leaving the station.”

That seemed to change her expression from embarrassed to alert. This reaction was normal, came with the title. Then he realized she was waiting for him to continue.

“Right - so...I might be in civilian clothes but as you can see we’ve got a situation here.”

What? When he heard himself say the last words out loud he wanted to smack himself. She already addressed you as ‘Officer’ - why are you making this weird?

Yet she was following along. She nodded. “Yes...I understand.”

Ok great now focus Kavinsky - get to the point.

By now he was finally pulling out his official badge and displaying his identification as Officer Kavinsky. “I’m going to need to ask for your license, registration and insurance information - if I may.”

She just nodded quietly tears now drying up in her face. And then she quickly pulled out her wallet and handed everything he had requested.

He grabbed all the information with a stern smile. And his eyes quickly scanned everything over.

Lara Jean Song Covey.  Covey...Why did he recognize that name? Age: 27 - he had been close. When he got to her address he had the street name memorized - her neighborhood was actually one of his frequent areas he patrolled.

He took in her picture last - everyone’s license picture never did justice because DMV agents always captured people at the moments when their least ready to snap the picture. But this Covey girl looked like had been pretty ready for the picture and had a warm smile on her face, as if she were glowing. Not at all like the young lady who had bumped into her now. He knew he couldn’t say it out loud but she was very cute. Not sexy per say - but definitely cute.

He was looking over everything so carefully that he was almost surprised when she spoke.

“You’re wet.”

“Wait, what?”

Ok yea - she had really caught him off guard. Yes he found her attractive - but it felt like she was reading his thoughts.

“You’re getting soaked! Do you want my umbrella? I’m very sorry about all this and now I’m causing you to get wet.”

Well yes he was wet - but not that way. Get it together, Kavinsky - what’s going on?

“I uh it’s fine don’t worry Miss Song, I -”

“It’s just Covey,” their eyes locked, “Officer Kavinsky, right?”

The way she said his name, it just felt right. Now he was the one that felt embarrassed, what kinda charm did this girl have?

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for keeping you - I’m off duty for the night now but I’ve still got to report this unfortunately. If it’s alright I’ll take a picture of your identification and could you provide me with your best contact information?”

He needed to focus.

She nodded following along and provided him with all the information. He snapped the picture of her things and saved her number. Then handed her back her things once he was done.

“You haven’t been drinking have you?”

“No - something just startled me. I’m so so sorry.”

He nodded. “I believe you.”

She nodded again waiting, as if he was going to continue.

Her next words were barely a mumble but he caught them. “Ok, Officer - now what?”

He gave her a small chuckle.

“Don’t worry Miss Covey I’m not going to arrest you or anything. It’s just a fender bender - but I will be in touch so that means you can’t avoid me. I know where to find you.”

Her face almost made him laugh - but he couldn’t. It was a mixture between relief, worry and literally ‘oh shit’.

“Ok, I understand.”

“Ms. Covey?”

She was lost in thought and suddenly met his eyes again.

“Yes, Officer?”

“You may go now. But please - I beg of you drive safely.”

She finally gave him a quiet smile - not like her ID picture but almost there. Her car quickly came back to life and he motioned for her to continue ahead of him.

He watched as she cautiously stopped at the stop sign, put up her right turn signal and drove off.

Officer Kavinsky then ran back to his car, shut off the hazard lights and the bright light he had set on his roof and headed back to his house in the opposite direction. With his interaction from Ms. Covey still glowing in his thoughts.

[arcadeguk]

coterie

coterie; an intimate and often exclusive group of persons with a unifying common interest or purpose

prompt: “sorry i’m protective over the things i love” + “anyone up for tacos?”

pairing: mainly yoongi x reader, appearances from everyone bc i can’t help myself

genre: fluff, angst, dangerous situations (?) it’s a gang au u know what’s up

a/n: outro tear has me whipped and i couldn’t decide who i wanted in this au so it’s everyone. also i love me a badass female lead character wow i can’t wait strap in bitches

cigarette smoke swirls in gentle columns around your face, tickling your nose and trailing the curves of your cheeks. the air smells of leather, men’s cologne, and dark, amber-colored whiskey - the kind that makes your chest burn and heave, but it brings you one step closer to euphoria, to heaven, to bliss. the lights are slow, and fade in between all the colors of the rainbow, throwing fluorescent spots of light onto the shadows that stand, milling around the room. the figures fail to reveal people, better yet black outlines of who they are, with no color or detail - nothing specific to offer. every once in a while, a blotch of violet will drip down the shoulder of a stockbroker from wall street, who’s currently trying to land at least three girls at once. an explosion of turquoise dapples the face of a woman who looks much older in daylight, but tonight, the darkness and her painted face shave 15 years off her life, and she could almost appear girlish to the men who are too drunk to think of their families at home, of the lives they live from 9 to 5. no - here, now, they’re as free as they’re ever going to be - and they know it. so another shot is downed, another sleazy smile thrown, accompanied by a $20 bill, and the night starts (or ends) for yet another pair.

“so, run this by me again, is this a bar or a super secret sex cult? because, at this point, i’m not entirely sure if there’s a difference” you mention, turning your head towards jung hoseok, the secondhand man on this mission, all while keeping your eyes glued on the multiple scenes going on in front of you. hoseok squints at the same tragedy you’re looking at, and sighs, slumps slightly on the bar you’re both seated at, before taking a long swig of his rum and coke. “god, this place is really like a fucking trainwreck, you wanna look away but you can’t” he murmurs into the glass, before taking another gulp, eyes squeezed shut.

setting the glass down, hoseok pulls his sleeve up slightly to reveal an expensive looking watch - one that you can’t remember if he paid for or he stole - he was awfully nimble, having gone from stealing petty change to slipping rolexes off mens’ wrist before he was 20. long, thin fingers adjust the face, giving an open-mouthed sigh once he realizes the time. hoseok glances towards the ominous looking black door at the end of the bar, the same one your precious, darling, hardened gang leader boyfriend min yoongi had disappeared behind approximately an hour and a half ago.

min yoongi was a creature of the night, a beast to be reckoned with, the fear, and yet the pride, of korea. by the tender age of 21 years old, he’d had korea under his thumb, sitting fat and happy in his 14 room penthouse apartment in seoul. lazing on his throne, yoongi could just watch the other gangs (whom he fondly referred to as the “ants under his feet”), as they fought and battled for their dearest min yoongi’s attention, love, and most of all - money. yoongi, however, needed no more allies, as he had found his family early on in life, creating an invincible bond with 6 other boys, who hailed from all over the country, convening in seoul on one unfortunate night, when a parking lot arms deal had gone bad. namjoon described it simply as “right time, right place”. you had always chuckled at this - solid, sure namjoon, who’d nearly taken a bullet that night for a boy he barely knew - a scrappy young man from daegu who was determined to either watch the world burn or lead it as it crumbled. needless to say, the boys found yoongi’s charisma, drive, and steady leadership irresistible, and that’s how they all ended up where they are now - seokjin most likely hovering over a computer, eyes flickering from surveillance screen to surveillance screen, while yelling at jeongguk and taehyung “to shut the fuck up some of us are trying to work”. namjoon is probably buried away in his office, planning the next job, making sure it’s “even better than the last”. meanwhile, jimin, hoseok, yoongi, and yourself found yourselves at this disgusting bar (sex cult? 50 shades thing? really who knew), ordering drinks and occasionally checking phones, watches, exits, lookouts, and doors.

your story, however, had a little more flavor. the gang, the mafia - it went by many names, but to you, it was home. a long childhood floating in between houses and apartments and police holding cells had left you with a very particular skill set, one that wouldn’t be any use of you to you in the “real world”. after graduating, you found yourself in the shittiest apartment known to man, in the (arguably) worst part of town, beating the absolute shit out of douchebag men on the streets who had been wanted by some group for one thing or another, all while swiping their wallets in the process (for your trouble, of course). however, one night, while desperately strapped for cash, you tried your luck at one of the hottest bars in town, managing to convince the bouncer to let you in (you still thank that red bodycon dress everyday). there, you had spotted a certain min yoongi, who had at least 7 models dripping from his elbows, smiling and smirking his way through the evening, making sure each and every person there was aware of the power he possessed. it would be so romantic to say that your eyes locked from across the room, that in that moment, wordless “i love you”’s had been exchanged, and you saw a flash forward of your lives together - a wedding, children, a gorgeous house, with a golden retriever thrown in to boot. again, romantic. but no.

you’d tried to steal his wallet, nearly salivating at the sight of his silver piercings, thick wallet, the diamond cufflinks, and the numerous rings that adorned his thin fingers, fingers that wrapped around a shot glass so deliciously. moments later, you found yourself bloodied, panting, and pressed up against the women’s bathroom wall. firm hands held you in place, one on your shoulder, the other biting into the soft flesh of your waist. the cold metal of his rings cut into your skin through your thin dress, and the urge to rip them off his stupidly beautiful hands and run away with them possessed you. your hands gripped his bicep and shoulder, as you frantically tried to ignore the way his lean muscles rolled under your fingertips, how his body adjusted under the pressure of your hands, or the devilish smirk he threw you under the dim lights - brown eyes sparkling like a kid on christmas morning. he scanned you up and down as he panted, attempting to catch his breath, tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the blood that bubbled from his lip. once his eyes had finally risen, he’d thrown you another world class smile, and spoke, hot breath fanning on your face, “i like you. a lot. looking for a job? or is beating men to a pulp in women’s restrooms a full time gig?”

you had snorted at his offer, and adjusted yourself in his hold, debating between breaking free or grabbing his face to suck it off for all it was worth. “no need to be such a dick” you sneered at him. pushing him back off you again, only for him to try and pull you closer. he rolled his eyes, casting them heavenward before letting the most sarcastic of smirks grace his face.

“sweetheart, that’s the last thing i’m trying to think about right now.” when his eyes settle on yours for just a beat too long, you’ve convinced yourself of two things: he was most definitely made of pure marble, carved by the gods themselves and whatever he was selling, you wanted to buy 10.

jimin whining from behind you pulls you from your reverie, his high pitched voice reaching your ears, and you perk up to listen. “the fuck is taking him so long?” he grumbles, checking his watch yet again and anxiously looking at the door. “it’s yoongi, he’ll be fine” hoseok mumbles, slightly amused by the younger boy’s worrying. “he shouldn’t have gone in there alone, that was his first mistake…” jimin murmurs to no one in particular. “he’ll be fine” you reassure louder, more yourself than jimin, and hoseok throws you a tight smile.

calmness falls over the three of you, a bliss that is soon interrupted by shouts, yells, and yoongi’s hoarse, deep voice croak out from somewhere in the large room, “fucKING RUN”

what happens next is blur of fists, grunts, muffled curses and the sounds of guns being yanked out of holsters. you manage to land several good punches before you even get a look at yoongi - who’s bleeding heavily from one cheek, sporting the beginnings of a world class black eye under the other. your throat constricts ever so slightly at the sight of him hurt, but your heart swells with pride when he lands a well-aimed kick square on the crotch of a man wearing a finely tailored suit. screams and shoves from the crowd block your view of yoongi, and you find yourself fighting at least two men at once, although at this point, it could be be three. you slam one man’s head into the bar, only to turn around and cleverly block another’s suckerpunch. suddenly, there’s a blur of black hair, and your most recent assailant drops to the floor.

“i had that, dickhead” you chirp to yoongi, who turns around with a grin and gently runs a thumb over your bruised and bloodied eyebrow.

“sure you did, babygirl.”

“i’m sorry, did you not see how i practically threw that dude over the bar? i think his eyes are nestled somewhere nicely at the back of his neck now.”

firm hands are placed on your back, and push you towards a door, with a half-broken and dim EXIT sign hanging from the top of it. “stop flirting and let’s get the fuck out of here, hmm?” is hissed in your ear, and you can’t help but turn around and grin at the very obviously annoyed jimin, who’d tried so hard to avoid blowing the cover this whole time, only to have it all go completely to hell. jimin maneuvers you quickly into the crowd of people yelling and filing out, and occasionally glancing behind him to make sure yoongi and hoseok weren’t far behind.

stepping out into the surprisingly bright night after the near pitch-blackness of the bar has you squinting, but it barely takes a heartbeat for you to recognize yoongi’s decked out black mercedes, looking inconspicuous in such a wealthy part of town. reaching behind you, you grasp jimin’s hand and give it a quick squeeze, a gentle reminder to walk calmly to the car, sinking as far into the shadows of the street as possible. jimin clears his throat twice behind you, indicating he understood, and his slowed gait reminds hoseok and yoongi of the same thing. the most powerful gang south korea had ever seen, who’d just come walking out of a world-class bar fight that will most definitely make the 6 am news? no clue what you’re talking about, absolutely nothing to see here.

you pull open the backseat door, freezing once you hear the tell-tale sirens of seoul’s finest, racing to the scene after a frenzied call from a terrified bar owner. you hurriedly clamber into the back seat, face breaking out into a smile when taehyung shoots you a megawatt grin through the rearview mirror.

“your uber’s heeeeere!” he chirps in a singsong voice. he watches as the rest of the boys shove their way into the car.

“could have gone better?” he smirks, and jeongguk giggles from the front seat, an ipad illuminating his face. “you could say that” you murmur, as you scootch over closer to namjoon, who’s stretching and rolling his shoulders.

hoseok huffs as he climbs into the backseat and makes a noise of surprise when he sees namjoon sitting there. “my god, he lives. i didn’t think you existed outside of that closet you call an office.”

“hoseok, i’m about to smack that dumbass orange hair off your damn head.”

“oh, i’d like to see you try, joonie darling.”

“move, asswipes” yoongi grumbles, shoving hoseok and jimin to the absolute back row, while taking his rightful spot next to you.

“as much as i’d hate to interrupt the playful banter, we’ve got a problem here, boss,” taehyung says from the driver’s seat, directing his comment to yoongi but keeping his eyes fixated on a set of officers, who are walking all-too-calmly towards the parked car. “seokjin is looking for an open route, but the police have almost the entire neighborhood blocked off.” jeongguk says breathlessly, fiddling with the bluetooth in his ear, hanging on every word seokjin yelps into the headset.

“they’ve already set up a perimeter, jesus christ” jimin breathes, and hoseok snorts from behind you and coolly runs a hand through his orange midpart, “what a great night for them to finally do some active policing.”

“taehyung,” yoongi’s cold, calm voice murmurs from next to you, and you know the tone well. it’s the tone yoongi reserves for only specific occasions, for moments when he feels like he no longer has control over the situation. for moments when everything could very easily fall apart. for moments when all other variations of himself are dead and gone, when he needs to make a concise, smart decision, when he’s in pure damage control mode. “i don’t care if you have to drive through a fucking mansion and olympic sized pool. get. us. the. hell. out. of. here.”

taehyung swallows, and his hands flex as they grip the wheel. he slowly puts the car in reverse, and makes more room in front. the police officers pick up their pace, and one of them even has the audacity to flag your car down.

“hard right once we get down the street, then just gun it until we reach that weird strip club namjoon goes to. perimeter should end there.” jeongguk orders from the front seat, reading seokjin’s words verbatim. namjoon whispers ‘it’s not weird god” and taehyung gives a stiff nod. yoongi’s hand creeps onto your lap, and clutches your knee through your dress, and you can’t help but be surprised.

hoseok had said something interesting at breakfast this morning. yoongi had stumbled out of bed, sleepy and unusually clinging with you (especially around the guys). as he’d gone to take a shower, hoseok had casually mentioned the importance of you and yoongi’s relationship. and now you saw he might be right: min yoongi really was going soft.

“go now” jeongguk orders hoarsely, and taehyung slams on the gas for all its worth. the car lurches forward, and taehyung expertly hands the wheel, straightening the luxury vehicle in a heartbeat, and it’s screaming down the open road in a second. “police barrier!” jeongguk yelps, and taehyung sets his jaw, driving right through the wooden stands and police tape. yells and hollers of men are heard outside, and policemen scatter to their cars to begin a pursuit.

“lose them now, tae” yoongi orders, gripping the back of the passenger seat while checking over his shoulder at the army of police cars approaching. red, white, and blue light up the interior of the car, and illuminate yoongi’s creased brow. one hand is planted firmly on your knee, the other hovering just above his right hip. his fingers smooth over the cold metal of the gun, and yoongi makes a split second decision. he unholsters the gun, and you can’t help but snort.

“wanna piss them off even more, babe?” you question, unholstering your gun from the garter under your dress. “if yoongi isn’t actively pissing someone off, he isn’t having a good day” jimin mumbles, blowing his bangs away from his eyes as he cocks his own firearm.

“shoot out their tires” yoongi orders, and you can’t help but stare at him dumbfounded. “doesn’t that shit only happen in the movies?” you squeak. 4 years you’ve been with the boys, and this was most definitely the craziest night yet.

“we’re about to find out” yoongi grunts.

he leans out the window, aims and fires, blowing out the front tires of the first car. the car screeches, desperately trying to slow down, and ends up side-sweeping across the lanes, stopping several cars in its wake. leaning out the window, you, jimin, and hoseok follow suit, blindly shooting at the wheels in the darkness of the night.

the loud pops of gunshots fill your ears, the microphoned voices of policemen ordering you to “pull over, now!” sends a shiver down your spine. adrenaline courses through your veins, making you deaf and numb to the gunshots fired back at the boys’ car. you duck back into the cabin of the car, and grab another magazine to load into your gun.

you glance to the side, catching yoongi’s eyes as he looks down at you. he leans down to your level, and catches your lips on his, in a fleeting kiss that doesn’t last as nearly long as you wanted it to.

“having fun, baby?” he smirks, nudging your nose with his.

“being shot at in a high speed police chase in the dead of night, after narrowly escaping a potentially brutal bar fight? i’d say i’m not having fun, i’m having the time of my life.” you grin at yoongi, and his eyes soften ever so slightly, his face relaxing into a smile.

“we’ve got some distance between us and them, what’s the next move, boss?” jimin huffs as he crouches back down into the backseat of the car. the back windshield gives one final crack, before falling apart completely as soon as taehyung hits a bump. the glass shatters, covering everyone in the two back rows of the car. “as much as i’m sure you’ve enjoyed taking my mercedes for a joy ride, taehyung, i think it’s time we really get the hell out of here.” yoongi hisses towards the front seat, but the anger is all smoke and mirrors: he knows one glorious, exuberant fact: tonight, min yoongi, famed leader of the most powerful gang in korea, won.

taehyung responds with a tight chuckle - “got it”, and presses on the gas pedal even further. “quick left on the side street, another hard right on that sketchy alley, and we should be home free,” jeongguk dictates, and yoongi hums his approval.

seokjin’s face appears on the console screen, and jeongguk leans over, long finger stabbing the green accept button.

“now what the FUCK was that?” he screeches, voice high and tinny through the car speakers.

“just a detour, hyung” yoongi hums softly, turning to you with his scrunched up eyes and full gummy smile on display. half beat to hell and juuust escaping arrest, and yoongi still looks drop-dead handsome. how he did it was beyond you.

“well, the next time you sweet precious angels decide to take the scenic route, throw up a warning, hmm? i’ve been sitting here routing and rerouting you guys. do you know how many police radios i’ve been cracking into, playing through my entire “vines that keep me from ending it all” playlist? it’s a miracle they haven’t caught up to you guys, you really need to be more careful.”

“i’ll file that away for later, thanks. can you get us home now? also namjoon, you’re gonna have to pull whatever magic-trick-harry-potter bullshit you used last time that managed to convince that mechanic guy to fix up the benz without going through the legalities.” yoongi says, the adrenaline in his body finally melting into bloodstream. heart no longer pounding, veins no longer burning, yoongi can finally focus on more than one thing at a time, on the multiple boys and things that desperately need his attention. seokjin grunts his agreement, and hangs up, leaving the car in a gentle silence, cushioned by the blowing of wind through the windowless back of the car. some shuffling, an occasional yawn is the only thing that breaks the stillness. then, muffled from somewhere in the front seat, “anyone up for tacos?”

even from the bathroom, your senses dulled by the ceiling fan and thick air, you can hear yoongi’s huffs and yawns. you shuffle into the bedroom, half getting dressed and half watching him. yoongi stands in front of the bed, sighing loudly as he yanks his jacket and tie off, rolls his sleeves to his elbows, and kicks off his shoes. yoongi collapses onto the fluffy white cloud of sheer divinity, phone in hand, lips pouted as he flicks through emails and messages and timelines. you gently climb onto the bed, wearing your most beloved pair of pj’s - one of yoongi’s old t-shirts, and a pair of your fluffiest sweatpants. you settle into yoongi’s side, and he adjusts to accommodate you. you rest your head on his chest as he tucks an arm under you, involuntarily humming when he can feel the warmth of your body begin to seep through his clothes.

he turns his head to the side, planting a long, warm kiss on your forehead. “you kicked ass tonight” he murmurs, and you hum back, eyes closing too fast for you to even think about it. it’s only when yoongi starts drawing shapes on your back - little hearts, stars, “i love you”’s - that you realize how truly tired you are, how warm and comfy he is, and how there’s nowhere else in this world you’d rather be. “so did you” you whisper back, and yoongi smiles, the crescent shape of his mouth pressed to your forehead.

“thanks for always being there. thanks for always having my back. thanks for going with me on every crazy idea i have. i wish that tonight hadn’t been so...”

“intense? insane? adrenaline-inducing?” you finish for him, and he grins. the air between you two falls silent for a second, and the velvety darkness threatens to drag you even further down.

“just always wanna make sure you’re safe”, he murmurs into your hair, hiding his blushing red cheeks in the strands. “sorry i’m so protective over the things i love, i can’t help it.”

you hum, tiredness and warmth dragging you down to inky black sleep. “could say the same thing to you, babyboy.”

right now, yoongi’s sure of three things: he can’t handle that nickname, he’s most definitely about to cry, and he’s really going to marry you one day.

“and to think, so long ago, you were just a cute little thing in that tight little dress, hiding away in a woman’s room just hoping i would walk in.” yoongi says, eyes scrunching and mouth forming into a massive smile as he reflects back on the night.

“shut up, your breath smells like taco sauce and liquor.”

he leans down to leave a loud, wet kiss right on your lips, one that you can’t help but return to him tenfold. you break away, breathless, and take one long gaze into those yummy honey brown eyes

“oh, min yoongi, hoseok was right.”

he snorts, “about what?”

“you have gone soft.”