#every time i think about them its just them being disgustingly cute i need them dead so bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

callmewrinkles3 · 3 months ago

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Electric touch - BF x Fem!OC

Summary: All Blake wanted was to drag his best friends out for a night to have a couple of drinks and take their minds off the shitshow that was the last year. And then he met the love of his life. The continuation of this little drabble.

Warnings: Alcohol, talk of sexual situations, Dan and Em being disgustingly cute, a lot of swearing because that's Charlie.

Words: 7.2k

A/N: Hello kiddos! Its been a while, we know. We're gonna be back with more later, but meanwhile a little surprise. This is probably a one-time-only kind of thing inside this mess of a universe we created. But the important part its we're posting it but its totally dedicated to the sweet @a-distantdreamer. For reading every single thing we make and being the sweetest, AND because its her birthday. Have a happy happy one, darling Georgia.🫶🏻🥳

The warm December air didn’t help, but it wasn’t the reason Charlie felt like her skin was on fire. The summer sun may have set even though it was still warm, but each of her nerves was ablaze thanks to the cute, tall man standing right beside her. Blake was still blushing because of some signal that Daniel - holy shit it was Daniel Ricciardo - and Em made at him as he walked her out the front of the bar. Charlie couldn’t help but grin as she looked at him.

She knew it wasn’t normal to feel like that three hours after meeting him but she couldn’t help it. He was handsome and sweet, an absolute gentleman who was funny and smart, and the sound when he laughed was quite possibly her new favorite thing in the world.

He was adorable and all Charlie wanted to do was grab his cheeks and press kisses against his entire face. The few drinks she had weren’t enough to give her the courage to do it. She was on the sober side of tipsy, and she’d never forgive herself if she ruined things. Instead, she decided to stay on her side, waiting for Blake to give her a sign to act.

While waiting for her taxi, they stood there, Blake's hands in his pockets, while Charlie played with one ring on her finger, trying to ease the tension that was starting to build up between them.

“I have to say again, I’m so sorry about Em. I didn’t think she’d do that. Honestly, I don’t think she’s ever done something like that in her life.” Charlie smiled at his words, looking up at his glasses-covered eyes.

“It’s fine. Really, it is. I didn’t dare to come across to talk to you if she didn’t tell me to do it. I should thank her again. I should send her flowers or chocolates. Or both.”

“I… I mean I wasn’t gonna do it either. I saw you turn down the guy who walked over to talk to you, so I didn’t want to suffer the same fate if you were just here to relax”. This time it was Charlie’s turn to blush. She had no idea Blake had seen that. The main reason why she said no to the other guy - Hunter, with a shitty mullet and an even worse pickup line - was because she couldn’t stop stealing looks from Blake. She didn’t think he’d been doing the same to her.

“Oh, he was just some cunt. Not a good one either. And he wasn’t as cute as you.” That final drink she nearly didn’t have finally took effect at the wrong time.

“How long did the taxi driver say he’d be?”. They were on the outskirts of Perth, far enough out of the city that you had to ring individual drivers.

“Like fifteen minutes? I guess it’s a busy night. You can leave if you want. I’ll be fine.”

She was never one to lie. It was something she hated, but that night she did it without shame. The night was not a busy one, even though it was so close to Christmas, but Charlie needed an excuse to spend more time with Blake. Em and Daniel had been sweethearts and disappeared to give them alone time to chat and get to know each other. However, her coworkers were still there. Having her first kiss with Blake in front of the people she would see in less than nine hours was something she did not want to do, so she ordered her taxi to arrive twenty minutes later. If the lie was taking her to hell at least it would've been worth it if she got to kiss the cutest man she ever met.

“What? I won't leave you waiting here alone. I'm not hurrying. I was just curious.”

"If you say so," she smiled, feeling both embarrassed and excited at the same time. "Okay, this is quite awkward because I was planning on saying that I had a really good idea on how we could entertain ourselves for the next fifteen minutes, and then I was planning to try to be all smooth and clever and kiss you at the end. But I think it wouldn't work because you're too tall and the romcom-style moment has been ruined because of my poor shoe choice this morning. And that last drink was not necessary.”

Charlie knew she wasn't drunk. She was far from drunk, but she shouldn't have accepted that last beer. Or maybe it had been an excellent idea because, despite the embarrassment, it had given her enough courage to say something. She wouldn’t have done it otherwise. She wasn’t some shy and retiring woman but Blake made her nervous. His cute smirk from across the bar and Em’s “he thinks you’re cute” made her afraid of ruining whatever that could be.

Everything turned into nerves when Blake moved and stood right in front of her. Suddenly the world moved in slow motion and went silent. No cars drove past in the street, no people walking by or music coming out of the bar. The only thing that existed was Blake looking down at her smiling as he took his hands out of his pocket.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Going out that night with her coworkers after an exhausting day at work, rejecting the other guy, and accepting Emma’s drink and offer. Everything, even the outfit she wore, made sense somehow. She shouldn’t have been in that bar. Her coworkers considered going to another place, but the one they chose was closer to their workplace, so it was faster and easier. It was all destiny.

What was most ridiculous was the fact that Charlie wasn't looking for anything or anyone at all. She was fine on her own. After her last relationship and the way she ended it, she decided it was okay to be alone. Sometimes she missed having someone to share things with and hug her, but she was okay. She kept telling herself she was fine until she saw Blake coming in. It was a cliché, but she stopped listening to what her manager said the second he walked in. Blake’s smile was the only thing she could think about. But then she saw Daniel Fucking Ricciardo walking behind him. Charlie suddenly felt her chances falling to zero so fast it was heartbreaking. She looked away so fast it was ridiculous.

Even with that, Charlie couldn't stop herself and looked his way every few minutes. She tried, heaven knows she tried, but it was impossible. He was too handsome. His smile was just as beautiful as the rest of his face, and his glasses made him even cuter. The moment she realized her hope was gone, she drowned her sorrow in yet another drink. That's why she thought it was a joke when Emma presented herself and brought her a drink. It had to be a joke. It felt like a joke. Something like that couldn't happen to someone like her.

It was a miracle, but it happened. It all led to that moment. It all led to Blake holding her cheek and waist. Every single thing she did that day took her to Blake looking down at her eyes looking for permission so they could finally kiss. Charlie had no idea if magic existed, but she could swear that's exactly what she felt as their lips touched. At thirty-four years old and after too many heartbreaks and bad experiences, Charlie didn't believe in butterflies anymore. She understood perfectly well the reason why a person felt butterflies inside their stomach. She knew it was dopamine in the body. She also knew it was norepinephrine in the central nervous system and hormonal changes. Her PhD in Psychology said she had memorized it all by heart, but that night she couldn't care less. That night, as she kissed Blake, Charlie swore the butterflies were as real as she was.

If someone had told her that same morning that she was going to end the night in the arms of a cute man with glasses while kissing on a sidewalk, she would have laughed because it was ridiculous and impossible. That's not how her night was supposed to be, but it was perfect. Her hands were placed on his chest and around his waist. As he touched her cheek, his arm wrapped around her body and held her close. Charlie wanted to stay in his arms forever. Their lips were locked, their noses touched, and their heartbeats rushed together. It felt like a dream, that's why she was going to do everything in her power to feel his smile against her lips forever.

He tasted like beer for the last ones they had. The two of them smelled like alcohol, but Blake also smelled like the finest perfume that a person could find anywhere in the world. There was also a softness to him. Everything about him was soft, from his kisses to the way he stroked her skin with his finger. Suddenly, there was something there telling Charlie that he also wasn't trying to ruin the moment, which made Charlie smile right there against his lips right as the first kiss ended and the second kiss started. She wanted to do that for the rest of the night. She wanted that for the rest of the year. She wanted to kiss his lips until she knew every part of his face thanks to the closeness of their bodies. She wanted to kiss him until their lips forgot what it was like to have anyone else touching them. She wanted this to be more than just a kiss.

She wanted this to be more than just a kiss and for one night.

"Is that what you had in mind for your rom-com moment?" Blake asked, still smiling down at her. She smiled back, her heart skipping a beat. Blake leaned down and kissed her again before she answered.

“Yup, exactly that one."

“You’re a smart woman, Charlotte."

Her shoulders shrunk as she joked, "I have a PhD, so I kind of know what you mean." This time Charlie was able to gather the courage to get on her tiptoes, hold his neck, and steal another kiss, which was a statement of how much she enjoyed it. “I don't usually do this, but I am just going to go for it and ask you 'cause you don't look like a psycho or a serial killer. Plus, you're a very good kisser, so do you want to ride in the taxi with me and come to my place with me?" Once the words were out of her mouth, Charlie wondered where that came from. She was never one to ask a guy to take her home with her but those brown eyes behind his glasses were messing up with her.

“Didn’t you say you have work tomorrow and that’s why you were leaving?" Shit. He was totally right.

“Maybe? Ugh. Being an adult sucks. But I can call in sick?” There was a terrible internal struggle inside her. Head versus heart. Responsibility against everything Blake made her feel and all the things her body yelled at her. The rational part of her brain told her to do the right thing and act like an adult. Meanwhile, her heart told her to go with it and enjoy a night of fun. It should be a no-brainer, but her head was empty as Blake kissed her head.

“You’re not calling in sick, Charlie” Blake replied, reaching for her hand over his chest to tangle their fingers.

“Why not? ‘Hey, sorry I can’t go today, my legs turned into jello. It's because of a cute guy from Sydney’. See? Easy”

“Charlie…”

"C'mon, don't ruin the fun. I mean, unless you don't want to do it. That's fine too, in that case, but I thought-". The feeling was like a bucket of cold water falling over her head. As soon as she realized that Blake was saying no to her, it was like receiving a kick in the stomach. He was respectful and sweet, but it was a no. She was told no softly, but when she heard it, she wanted to hide under the covers of her bed, hoping that the time would go back so she could fix it.

Charlie knew it was impossible to do something like that, so she just let her hand fall from his waist, shyly stepping back and away. It was just one little step and they were still against each other and holding hands, but it felt like an ocean got between them. Despite her knowing that it was all psychological, Charlie felt as if she was the smallest woman ever and she hated that feeling.

When she moved away from him, Blake stepped forward, closing the distance between them as soon as she moved away. It was the kiss Blake gave her in her hand that kept her calm. She didn't know how he knew, but it was enough to keep her grounded and stop her from spiraling. "Hey, no, Charlie listen, there’s nothing I want more than to go home with you right now, but just- Let me do things right, baby. I really wanna do this properly.”

“You just called me baby and I’m not supposed to beg you? And what do you mean by proper?”

It was probably the puzzled expression on her face that made Blake smile, but that was enough to make her relax again as he explained himself. “Let me take you out for dinner tomorrow. We do a real date like normal people do. I pick you up, open the door for you, all that."

Charlie felt small at first, but as soon as she heard his reasons she felt ridiculous. She wanted to slap herself because she was just making assumption after assumption. Blake wanted to do things right and take it slow while she just wanted to rip his clothes off. She was a complete mess and really shouldn't have drunk that last beer, but it was too late for regrets.

“Looks like I found the last decent man on earth. Are you real or an alien, Mr. Friend?” Charlie joked, finally relaxing again enough to touch his cheek as she asked that ridiculous question, making Blake smile.

“Is that a yes to my invitation?” he wondered as he turned his head enough to kiss the palm of her hand.

“I don’t know. Are you skipping my question because you’re an alien?”

“Are you skipping mine because you’re an alien?”

“Fair enough. I go out with you if you promised to be human”

“I promise I’m human” Blake insisted, and the smile on his face and the kiss he gave her earlier was more than enough to convince her of anything at all. “Tomorrow night then?“

Charlie didn’t answer with words. She just nodded, going back for another kiss. She couldn’t even think about moving away, especially not when his thumb found its way under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine as he stroked her waist. As revenge for what his fingers were doing under her shirt, Charlie made it easy and simple and decided to run the tip of her tongue over his lower lip.

At that point, she knew it wasn’t gonna change his mind, but at least she was happy to get one deep breath and a groan from him. “Are you sure you don't want to leave your decency behind? I won’t get offended. I’m leaving mine by asking you twice. I never do that, so it's a big deal. I mean, this is the nicest way I’ve ever been turned down but maybe I can convince you.”

“I’m not turning you down, I’m just inventing an excuse to see you again. And if tomorrow goes half as well as tonight, then you're not heading home alone.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mr. Alien Friend”

“It’s not a threat, ma’am, it's a promise. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up.”

“Fine. If I tell you to pick me up at 7 can I kiss you till 8 and then we do dinner?” Charlie asked, half joking and half serious, feeling more and more comfortable every second she spent in his arms. That’s why she decided to get even closer, hugging his neck and running her fingers through his short hair. She kept giving him short, soft, loving kisses. It wasn’t about convincing him anymore, it was simply she was addicted to it.

“You’re making it hard for me on purpose, don’t you?” Blake asked, placing their foreheads together. Charlie could see all over his face how he was trying to keep his composure. She couldn’t blame him for failing as badly as she did.

“That is the best and most awful innuendo ever.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!"

“I know. But still, it was fun." It wasn’t a great joke, it was just a silly funny comment, but both of them laughed at it. Charlie had no idea last time she had that much fun with someone, especially not with a man. It was easy to be with him, just like it was easy to smile at his contagious laugh. “Shit, I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“I don’t either. But less than twenty-four hours and I’ll be at your door.”

“That’s a lot of hours, Blake."

“You’re gonna be sleeping and working most of them, so it won’t be that terrible. Any food you don’t eat?”

“I’m okay with anything. But I also really like tall cute guys for dessert, especially if they have glasses." Charlie joked, tapping carefully the bridge of his glasses. And there was again, the cute, shy smile that made her lose notions of the time and date. She was very close to forgetting her own name and didn't care.

“I think I know someone like that” Blake whispered, trying to act as mysteriously as possible.

“Wait, is it human or alien?”

“A werewolf”

“Dirty. I mean I don’t mind scratches or bites so it's alright. Shit, that was a lot”. Charlie couldn’t help but giggle at her own stupidity. She was so ridiculously into Blake that she lost track of what she was saying. All that added to the alcohol in her body and how good Blake smelled made her head turn. She was so damn embarrassed that all she could do was rest her forehead against his chest for a moment. She returned to reality when Blake laughed and kissed her head.

“It's not a lot, I’m just taking it as a promise for tomorrow. We settle for tomorrow at 8 then?”

“I thought we said 7?”

“If we spend an hour kissing we won’t make it to dinner, Charlie”

“7:30 is my last offer or I’ll go out with that werewolf friend of yours, babe”. That was the first time she was calling him babe and it felt just as right as when Blake used that nickname for her. It just felt normal to say it. It felt even better to look up again and see the look in his eyes and how his whole face lightened up when he heard it.

“7.45. Thirty minutes with you and we’ll skip dinner. Fifteen is cutting it close.”

“Fiiine. I’ll put on a dress and heels so we don’t break our necks when we kiss. And to play footsie under the table. Just please don’t let me be overdressed.”

“I won’t. And I can't imagine you looking bad.”

“You haven’t seen me at 6 am without coffee or makeup. That's the most horrible Charlie of them all."

“If we’re awake after 6 tomorrow I’ll tell you how beautiful you look."

“You’re a charmer, aren't you?”

“I’m gonna ruin the charm by saying I think your taxi’s coming”

She couldn't believe her fifteen minutes were over. It felt like a lifetime had passed, but at the same time, she didn’t have plenty of time. She didn’t hug him enough. She didn’t steal enough kisses. She wanted to stay in his arms and make him blush for her silly comments. She got fifteen minutes but wanted fifteen hours. Damn, she wished for fifteen lifetimes.

“Nah, tell it to go away” she complained, hiding her face again in his chest as Blake squeezed her waist tighter. “I said fifteen minutes, not fifteen seconds.”

“We’ll get more than fifteen minutes tomorrow” Blake promised, kissing her head again, which was enough to leave her favorite new place to hide. “Text me when you get home safe, alright?"

Charlie hated the second his hands let go of her waist. She hated not feeling his fingers carefully stroking her waist, slow enough to not pass a limit in something so new and fragile. She hated moving her hands away from his neck and how her body wasn’t against his anymore. But as she lost all that, she saw his hand grasping hers, looking at their fingers together. Charlie might hate losing all that, but she loved the new feeling of their hands fitting perfectly together.

“You want a pic of me in my PJs with it?”

“You’re gonna kill me. Text me, yeah?" And that was their goodnight kiss, just as a heartwarming as all the other ones, but that one felt like a promise. That one was the simple promise of more coming tomorrow, which made Charlie smile wider against his lips.

“I will. See you tomorrow. Have a good night. Even if it's without me” she joked, hearing the goddamn taxi finally park right beside them.

“You too. See you tomorrow."

****

The smile on his face was impossible to hide. He knew that. He was well aware of it. He didn’t want to hide it at all. He was even sure his face would hurt after smiling so much, but he couldn’t care less, not when that just happened. That silly happy smile would stay on his face forever and he wasn’t willing to fight it, not when Charlie put it there. If he had it his way, he would keep it there forever, just like he wanted to keep Charlie forever.

He couldn’t believe what had happened not even five minutes earlier. It felt like some kind of romantic book Em read on planes and long car rides. It was one of those meet cute things his best friend used to talk about and Blake was convinced it could only occur in silly Hallmark movies and books. But then it happened to him. From all the people in the world, the universe chose him to have the meet-cute moment. The gorgeous brunette by the bar decided to speak with him among all the guys at the bar. Then she decided that she wanted to kiss him. Him. And if that wasn’t enough, she agreed to have dinner the next day, which was almost impossible to believe. It was so illogical that Blake couldn’t stop staring at the street until the taxi that took her disappeared from his view. It took him another couple of minutes to stop it and go inside and back to his friends.

“I was gonna ask how it was but you've a pinkish gloss on your lips” Emma smiled, pointing to her lips as she looked up at Blake.

Blake had no idea which color it was, but from that night it was his favorite one. All he knew was that it tasted like cherries, which paired perfectly with the fruity drink Charlie drank earlier. But nobody needed to know, at least not yet. He thought for a second about denying it, saying he didn’t have anything on his lips, but there was no point. It was ridiculous to do it when the smile was still there, making it impossible to hide.

“So you closed the deal?" It was Dan who finally asked the important question while Em offered a napkin. Blake grabbed it but left it on the table as he sat down, not wanting to erase Charlie’s memory from his lips.

It was strange, but Blake somehow understood why his two best friends kept secrets about everything in their relationship for so long. A couple of kisses with Charlie and he was determined to keep it secret forever. He didn’t want to say anything about the butterflies and the nerves in his stomach, about the way he felt alive again, or the way he wanted to cry with happiness when he finally kissed her. He wanted to keep that night for himself forever.

“We’re having dinner tomorrow night," he confessed, blushing like a nervous kid.

“Let's go!” Em exclaimed, giving Blake a high-five to celebrate the good news. After his wife, Dan did the same thing. “That's my boy!”

“Alright can we go home now? I gotta see where I’m taking her tomorrow and I really wanna freak out in private”. It took his friends only two seconds to grab their things and get up, all while Dan started to throw options about nice restaurants he could take Charlie to, and Em told him options about what he could wear. Blake smiled even more, but this time because he was thankful for his messy favorite couple.

****

Six years of knowing Blake, and Emma could swear she had never seen him that nervous. She had seen her best friend under insane pressure and terrible stress, but never as that night, especially not for a woman.

He was a mix of a nervous breakdown and a giddy mess as soon as he woke up. There was an unusual smile that Em called “The Charlie Effect” because it only appeared when she texted him. Every hour or two his phone would buzz and there it was, Blake looking at his phone like a lovesick puppy, smile blasted on his face in such a way it was contagious. But as Charlie was back in a meeting or a session, he would turn into a nervous break again.

Blake looked terrified as he wore and changed another shirt. The previous ones were not good enough. One was too formal, the next one wasn’t casual enough, and the next one was too casual. He wanted to look perfect, and suddenly all his clothes and even the shirts he bought that morning weren’t nice. Not all the shirts in the world were good. He was so nervous he was doubting about every single choice he made in his life, but especially about his clothes and the restaurant he had chosen for that night. Dan recommended something quite private, small, and not as fancy as the Michelin stars restaurants they had been eating in luxury hotels. It was obvious from kilometers away that Charlie wasn’t that kind of woman. The last thing Blake wanted to do was chase her away by picking the wrong restaurant or doing the wrong thing. His final decision about the restaurant was made when Em said she liked the one Dan suggested, and if ‘I don’t like fancy stuff’ Em thought it was okay, then it was good enough.

After that, Em solved the issue with his clothes. Like a mum helping her kid pick up the right clothes for prom, Em helped her best friend, telling him to go for a blue shirt and some black pants. It was chill and classic and he looked great in blue. But even after that, he took another twenty minutes to get ready, which for Blake was an eternity. Whatever he was doing in the bathroom and the bedroom was worth it because when he came out he looked flawless.

“Timmy, tell me the truth. How do I look?” Blake asked, standing right in front of Em who was sitting on the couch, book in her hand as she waited for Dan to return from taking a call with one of his mates. Not that Em couldn’t listen, but Dan just didn’t want to bother as she read one of the critical chapters.

“You’re the most handsome man in the world after my husband. You really look great, Blakey. If you change again I swear I’m gonna hit you” Em joked, saying the last word with a straight face before she smiled at her friend once again. “I know you’re nervous but stop it. You look breathtaking.”

“Don’t lie to me”

“I’m not lying! C’mere. C’mon! Come sit with Aunt Emmy." It was a couple of pats on the couch and then Blake did as he was told. He sat right beside Em and she hugged his arm as she looked up at him. “Drop it. Whatever it's in your head just say it cause it won’t help if it’s eating you”

It took Blake a few seconds to say it. He took a deep breath before letting the words leave his mouth even if it hurt. “What if it goes wrong? Or if she doesn’t like me at the end?”

“B, darling, you know she likes you. I mean, you already kissed."

“I know. And I like her, Tim. But what if? Like- Ughh she’s so damn beautiful and smart and funny! How does she like me? What if she was drunker than she thought and now she doesn’t know how to say no to hanging out? Or if it's not the same as last night?”

Em understood perfectly where all those fears came from. Nobody could blame him, especially not Em. She's been through that in her relationship with Dan for years. She still found it difficult to understand how her husband loved her. But on the other hand, she couldn't understand how someone wouldn't want to have a date with Blake. No when he was the greatest friend and one of the best men of all time.

“You’re handsome, smart and funny. I know you’re nervous but it's gonna be alright.”

Before Em could finish showering her brother with compliments to boost his confidence, they heard a loud whistle coming from the other side of the room. Em couldn’t help but smile when she saw Dan standing there, looking straight at them.

“Ohhh he looks handsome!”

“See? Told you! You look great!” Em smiled, looking between both men, searching for help from Daniel.

“You ready to charm Miss Charlotte?” Dan asked, sitting on Blake’s free side. There was no way he could escape between them and that's what they needed.

“Shut up, cunt.”

“I think she’s already charmed” Em singsonged, kissing Blake’s cheek before he ran from the couch, leaving Em the space to snuggle with her man.

“I think I should go. Don’t wait up. Y’know what? Just don’t wait at all.”

“Do you have condoms or do you want some?” Dan joked, making Blake freeze in his spot and Em laugh maybe too loud for their own good. Coming from them it was probably the most ridiculous joke they could ever say, so the three of them laughed and smiled unnecessarily loudly.

“You telling me there’s condoms in this house? That you have condoms? When was the last time you touched one of those?”

Em and Dan took a moment to do basic math. The first time they slept together was in 2018, Em knew she hadn’t slept with anyone since 2017, but she never asked Dan if he did after they met. He always said he couldn’t stop thinking about her from the second they met. However, she couldn’t blame him if he had been with someone before them. It would be weird if he didn’t. Em was fine with not knowing names or seeing pictures.

“2017?” Dan asked, kissing Em’s forehead before she nodded in agreement. Something as simple as a kiss and a number cleared one of her doubts in a second. “And nah we don’t have”.

“That’s what I thought. Okay, I’m out." He kissed Em’s forever and ruffled Dan’s curls before grabbing the keys of the car he rented -because yes, Blake insisted he wasn’t planning to pick Charlie up in Dan’s pickup truck- and checked again his phone was in his pocket. Em couldn’t help but smile as she looked up at Blake, hoping he would finally get some happiness he deserved. As Blake was almost at the door, she noticed his green backpack sitting on the other couch next to her.

“Hey, your backpack!”

“Why would I need my backpack?” Blake asked with the most confused look on his face. He has his keys, phone, and wallet. Em figured the smart man had condoms somewhere in one of his pockets, so he was oblivious to why Em mentioned his backpack.

“I put clean clothes for you there, dummy. I know you won’t be back for the whole weekend so I figured you would need it. At least to come back dressed." Em made it sound like the easiest explanation in the world, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal. For her, it wasn't. All she did was grab a nice pair of shorts, a T-shirt, socks, and the newest underwear she knew Blake had. Eighty percent of the time Em was in charge of their laundry, so she knew which clothes were older, even in Blake's suitcase. She might have also thrown there a spare deodorant, a toothbrush, and a box of condoms, but she wasn't gonna say a thing about it. She wanted to keep the secret and wait for Blake to find out.

Em thought Blake was gonna say she was insane for doing such a thing. After all, she wasn't his mum and he was a grown-up adult who could take care of himself. She just wanted to look after her best friend and give back some of the love, care, and affection he constantly gave them. Blake knew that was Em's way of showing her love, so he walked back, grabbed the backpack, and pointed straight at her. “I love you."

“I love you too. Go be happy!" Em exclaimed, a smile on her face as she saw Blake leaving the house and Dan yelled to him, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!".

****

He shouldn’t be that nervous. He couldn’t be that nervous. Charlie was just a girl. He hung out with girls before. He did it a hundred times. It wasn’t his first date or anything. At that point in his life, it felt like his first date was centuries ago, but somehow that night was like it again. He had the same excitement and nerves he had when he was a kid in Sydney. The only difference was that this felt final. He has dated girls before, but never experienced anything like that. None of them felt like Charlie. None of them made him forget his name instantly like she did. None of them felt like home, which was insane but true. Kissing Charlie made him feel like coming home after too much time away. It was like heaven even when he knew she could take him down to hell in a second. Being honest with himself, he couldn’t care less. He would gladly go to hell if it meant kissing her again.

He wanted nothing more than kissing her again. He wanted to taste her cherry chapstick again. He wanted her hands against his skin and her body near his. He wanted to feel her smiling and be the one begging for her to take him home. Because he regretted not going home with her. He couldn't stop thinking about it the whole night. He couldn't erase from his mind her beautiful face begging him to leave with her. He couldn't stop thinking about how he should have said yes to that and to every thing Charlie asked of him. He should have gone home with her, but instead, he listened to his decency. All he had in return was a night of terrible sleep while he missed her.

As he drove around Perth's familiar streets, Blake kept thinking about what Em said to him. It was gonna be fine. Nothing pointed in the opposite direction. There was no reason for their date to go wrong. There was no reason, but anything could happen and he didn’t want to think about it. He just couldn’t, that’s why as he drove, he decided to call the only person who could calm him again.

“You got lost or you already miss me?”

“Tell me again it's gonna be fine?”

“Oh Blakey. Umm- Oh, I know. Hey, remember when we were sitting in the airport flying to Nice? I didn’t want to go and you promised me that no matter what happened it’d be terrible not to go because I’d never know what happened."

"Of course I remember." Some things weren’t easy to forget in life. Em holding his hand for dear life was one of those. How hard she tried to keep tears from falling was another on the list. But nothing was as terrible as seeing her eyes. She seemed lost. She looked like something had broken inside her. It was nothing but the shadow of the woman she was, but Blake needed to take her to Monaco. Maybe it was the most disastrous decision of his life, but he needed to take her there to face her biggest fear. Blake had no idea how it worked. While it felt like a miracle at the time, he came to understand her point months later.

"That’s you right now. This will work out, B. I promise. You just need to enjoy yourself and text me in the morning so I know you’re alive.”

“You know I fucking love you, right?”

“I know. You told me five minutes ago. But I love you more. Now take a deep breath, okay? Just like you made me do it that day. Do that and remember it was alright for me, so it's gonna be more than okay for you."

“Thanks, Emmy.”

“You know you’re the only person except Dan, his parents, and the kids who can call me that?”

“I know. Means a lot.”

“I know, silly. Now go get your girl.”

“She’s not-“.

“Shush. You closed the deal last night. Go get her, make her officially your girl. I’m fucking exhausted of all the testosterone, I need another girl on my side.”

“She told me she loves Taylor...”

“Blake Francis Friend, if you lose her I will destroy you”.

“If I lose her I will let you destroy me. I feel like the two of you will terrorize me and Dan.”

“What a shame, not like the three of you have done that to me for years!”

“I’ll apologize to you again when I see you. I think I’m outside her apartment so I better leave you. Love you, Timmy.”

“Love you more, Blakey. Have fun!”

****

The second Blake told Charlie about dinner, she knew what she was going to wear. She knew the little black dress she bought months ago without reason suddenly had a reason to hang in her closet. The black, short, very sexy halter dress was gonna be her ally that night. It was classy, not showing anything but putting her legs out there so his imagination could do the rest. If she was lucky she was gonna convince Blake to just have her as entrance and dessert, and then they could order something on her list of favorite places near home. The problem was what to wear under her dress. She was divided into two bralette bras, a regular black one that was serious but sexy, or a lace lavender one that was cute as it could get. Charlie wasn’t one to compliment herself, but both of them looked gorgeous on her, doing wonders for her boobs.

She needed that night to work. She knew she shouldn’t put all her expectations on a man she met in a bar the night before. She was a grown-up woman who knew better, but damn, she needed it to work. She needed it because something inside her yelled Blake was the right one. She always trusted her gut and she had a really good feeling about it. She wanted that and Blake almost as much as she wanted to call her sister-in-law for a brief pep talk saying it was gonna be fine. Two minutes on the phone with Katie and she could convince her that it was going to be fine. But Charlie didn’t want to make the call. For some reason, she wanted Blake for herself. She didn’t want anybody giving their opinion on the matter. She didn’t want anyone to say it was good or wrong. She just wanted to kiss him again in peace, understand he was real, and then go from it.

“Just chill the fuck out, kid. It’s gonna be fine” she told herself as she looked in the mirror while doing her makeup. She didn’t want to put too many products on her face, trying to make it appear natural. If her wishes came true in a few hours, she would be on her knees for him, so she didn’t want to look like a complete disaster with her makeup all over the place.

Her makeup wasn’t such a big issue. She did it fast and it looked good and simple, but her hair was another story. So used to have half her hair tied up and half down or in a ponytail for work, she didn’t want to do that for her date. She wanted something simple and cute to go with her dress, but her hair refused to behave. And updo looked weird. The ponytail didn’t look nice, and she couldn’t find any cute accessories to keep it up, so she decided to let it fall on her back. As she brushed her hair hoping not even one lock would be out of place, Charlie couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was. Not only did she know Blake wasn’t going to care about how her hair looked like, but she also hoped he would make a complete mess out of it.

After the realization hit her she decided to sit down and wait for his text saying he was outside waiting for her. She spent a good part of the last three hours pacing the floor of her apartment. When she wasn’t showering or getting ready she was just walking from one point to another, praying to whatever was out there to not let her ruin it. But then she was tired of walking, so she sat down, double-checking everything in her purse before heading out.

But then at exactly 7:40 and five minutes earlier than they said, her phone finally buzzed, making her jump out of her seat with a smile on her face as she read a tiny “Outside!” that just made her run.

#call it what you want fic #ciwyw media #blake friend oneshot #blake friend imagine #blake friend fic #blake friend fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #formula one fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic

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nobloodshed101 · 1 year ago

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My opinion on the fell Poth / Poth stans. [½]

[trigger warning!!: pedophilia, my own opinion.]

Btw if you don’t like this don’t read because this isn't a place supporting these ships, no one's making you read this, or anything so please fuck off if you just going to just bitch.

For this blog, I'll be discussing the ship Poth. Of course, you can ship it but don’t make it weird.

By weird I mean by nekophys idea around the ship, which is just disgustingly weird, by that I mean.

When nekophy made goths design childlike, their excuse of this was because goths parents were geno and death and that means goth doesn’t age physically, even when nekophy says goth was 20 the character looked like a toddler. They could have easily made him look his age and only stopped at 20, not to mention that raven [aka goths brother] somehow doesn’t age physically like his brother and look his age.

between the art of palette and goth it made it out to look like a pedophilic ship. Which some of stans from Poth supported the idea. [also being that half of Neko Phys fans were children which this creator basically broadcasted this adult-child relationship.]

The fandom is far worse though, the fandom has either over sexualized the two Indvidual's or making them very awkward and out of canon, the Poth ship was felt more forced than anything. There was no character growth between them or having it feel like there was any love in it.

Of course the friends to lovers trope isn't bad at all, unless you know how to do it right, the dynamic ship between palette and goth was just dreadful and at times annoying, at times during these interactions it felt like palette wasn’t INTRESTED in goth like goth had feelings for palette- it seemed so one sided even if you switched the roles. though still the fandom still starts to force these two together just because they were ‘cute’ which is an idiotic reason, and plus makes no sense if you ship two fictional characters because they’re cute or seem like good friends.

Not to mention how out of character the characters were, and how they made palette this big Zaddy alpha and goth a softie uwu little omega needing protection all time, it was so uncomfortable and mind draining that makes the ship very toxic in a way, it makes it feel like it's just two other people and not the original characters.

I get in every fandom there will be bad stans but that doesn’t excuse half the shit they did and traumatized some minors while doing it and shows them that some of the dynamics between these ships are considered ‘okay’ just because it was drawn cute.

Some of Poth stans are just toxic in general, they don’t care for plot or morals only that they get their ‘omg so cute gay softie stuff!’ which a horrible mind set and for another failure ship I'll be discussing and the 2nd part in this which is about fell Poth and might be a little longer, but back to topic.

This mentality must stop cause it's just sickening at this point how long this ship has grown and not in a good way at all, also being that the two characters can't love someone else but that certain character, its normal to ship a character with someone ese who you think is compatible for each other.

But of course, there's those type of people who think their entitled to others ships and say that character you're shipping with a different character with is wrong just because they aren't with their character, they think is better, for an example ill show a demonstration here with person A and person B.

Person A: “oh wow! I like these two characters together better; I like their dynamic better.”

Person B: “you can't do that!”

Person A: “why?”

Person B: “because I don’t like that ship dynamic and mine is better and yours is poopy and dumb >: {“

Do you see what I mean here?

You of course could have your opinions and all, but you shouldn’t force or attack someone else for not having the same opinion as you.

And that’s another thing from fandom! They are very quick to judge someone or something if it doesn’t match their ideal of a certain subject.

Not to mention goth after these past YEARS hasn’t got any lore or growth from nekophy, he was just left at a dust shelf and let her fanbase do what they please with goth even if it morally wrong, I think nekophy should just give up on ownership of goth already by how little care their character is receiving or attention.

And by that, I mean to someone who will have head canons and lore for goth and have him be not so robotic.

But of course, you may have your opinions on this matter. I'd love to read about it in the comments from your perspective.

Okay Cya bye <<333

#long rant #my opinion #fell poth is canceled #undertale #undertale au #nbs!rambles #palettesans #gothsans #rurikroller #lotus afterdeath #poth #fell poth

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casspurrjoybell-29 · 11 months ago

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Forging Ties - Chapter 36 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Duran had neglected to ask where Fanner was working these days but he wasn't worried.

If there was one thing every single person would know, it was where to find the person who could save their life in an emergency.

Libby ended up being the first person he came across, leaving The Spire just as he passed it.

She stopped and gave him a sunny smile, her cheeks dimpling.

"Good morning, Duran."

"Good morning," Duran said.

"I was going to be surprised that you remembered my name but then I remembered you can read my mind."

"You know, that's not actually that helpful for names. Most people don't think about their own name very often and I can't just go riffling around in your head and find whatever I want."

"Well, then I'm flattered that I was memorable, I suppose," Duran said.

"Can you point me towards where Fanner is working these days?"

"I'll walk you down myself. I was heading by that way anyway," Libby said as she started walking down the road that led from the base of The Spire towards the town.

"How was your adventure?"

"More eventful than you'd think for less than a week away," Duran said, skimming over events in his mind and trying to avoid thinking about the more salacious moments to try to give her an overview of what had happened more quickly than he possibly could have with words.

Libby smiled as she watched Duran's face.

"This world is beautiful, isn't it? I've been alive longer than anyone has a right to and there's still so much wonder and discovery. I'll have to make time to meet with your new friends. They seem like an interesting group. And Skye... Nim and I aren't close but of course I was aware of him and his story. I'm so happy he finally found what he's been searching for this whole time."

"Yeah. I thought this was just going to be a bit of fun and space to clear my head but the whole thing ended up being really important."

"But you did clear your head as well and that's also important."

"Well, it was important to me, anyway. I don't think my self esteem is that great but I have to be me for the rest of my life regardless, so I'm going to take care of myself."

"Hmm, I like that," Libby said, offering Duran another smile.

"Anyway. Here we are."

The small, single story building they'd stopped in front of looked no more notable than any other.

In the splendorous shadow of The Spire, the simple wooden structures that made up the small town seemed rather underwhelming.

There was a certain appeal to that, though a sense of homeliness.

"Thanks," Duran said.

"I'll put in a good word for you if you ever need a healer."

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

She gave Duran a wave.

"Bye."

The door creaked on its hinges as Duran pushed it open and stepped inside, startling Fanner out of Yore's arms.

They'd been standing in the middle of the room, hugging one another.

They were such a disgustingly cute couple.

Duran was happy for Fanner but he couldn't imagine wanting that for himself.

He honestly wasn't sure what the difference between a healthy relationship and co-dependency even was.

"Sorry," Duran said. "Bad time?"

"No, no," Fanner insisted as he stepped away from Yore.

"I just wasn't expecting you so soon. I know I might have made the situation sound urgent but you can take a day off to rest if you want to. We can manage for another day, I'm sure."

"I'm fine," Duran said.

"I'd rather just get stuck into things, honestly, especially since I don't even know where I live right now. That makes going home to rest a little difficult."

"Things are a little crowded at the moment," Fanner admitted.

"Well, okay. Your job is fairly relaxed, anyway. I usually have three two hour appointment slots a day with an hour break between them, though sometimes I'll have two or even three appointments in one slot if they're only small things."

Duran nodded.

"Sounds simple enough."

"We'll talk more about the system later but mostly right now all I need is someone to sit behind this desk," Fanner patted a large, solid wooden desk.

"And keep anyone who comes in from interrupting me while I'm working. Also, um, if any of the people I'm healing cause any trouble but mostly they're really nice. I just..."

Fanner shrugged.

"You never know."

"Well, I own two knives now, both stolen, so I'm well prepared."

Yore gave him a warm smile.

"I'm sure it won't come to anything like that. As Fanner said, people are mostly very nice but it's stressful for him to be left alone with strangers. Just having someone here who he trusts is what really matters."

"You can read if you want to or bring in other tasks you can do at the desk," Fanner said.

"I don't expect you to just sit there and twiddle your thumbs all day."

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davnittbraes · 2 years ago

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I’m Here

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,546 and every single one of them is pure, unabashed self-indulgence

Warnings etc: reader is described as being in a long term previous relationship, smut (piv, unprotected, oral f!receiving), angst, fluff, description of disgustingly cliché meet-cute, established relationship, mentions of past abusive relationship, anxiety, big beefy cuddly dogs, light BDSM, breathplay, like HEAVY breathplay to some people, physical restraint, Dom/Sub dynamics, Soft!Dom Marcus, Sub!Reader, Praise kink out the wazoo

Notes aka Writer’s Plea For Mercy: This was supposed to be a ~200 word drabble, then I mentally vomited some paragraphs onto a page as part of my attempt at working through some life shit and here we are. GIF chosen because those GODDAMN HANDS STARTED THIS WHOLE THING.

You shut the lid of your laptop with a little more force than necessary - not enough to get IT pissed off at you, just enough to satisfy your urge to shove the memory of that three hour long meeting-that-could-have-been-an-email out of your mind for the rest of the night.

You definitely didn’t want to be thinking about work right now.

Because Marcus was coming over tonight.

Your handsome, sweet, caring boyfriend Marcus.

A silly, girlish grin steals over your expression before you can stop it.

You’d just went “official” with Marcus last week, after the two of you had talked about how amazing the last couple months had been. You’d met at a café - a stereotypical meet-cute that you were only a little embarrassed by, both for its eye-rolling cheesiness and your role in the entire thing.

You had been on the phone, negotiating a contract and had accidentally grabbed his coffee when it came up. He had chased you down, there was an awkward exchange and you’d apologized profusely. But you’d run into him a couple more times after that and eventually neither of you could ignore the mutual attraction. A few dates had gradually turned into spending most nights and days off together and eventually both of you had realized you had no interest in seeing anyone else right now.

So, now he was your boyfriend Marcus.

Your heartbeat does a little skipping series of flutters and you huff in amusement. It seems so silly, reacting this way at your age, but really, you’ve never felt this… light, before. Being with Marcus is so comfortable, so effortless.

So vastly different from your previous experience.

After twelve years of trying to make a toxic marriage work, you had finally seen it for what it was and filed for divorce. Now, two years later, ink dry on the divorce papers and several therapy sessions giving your step a little more confidence, you’re finding out what it means to be in a healthy relationship with someone, and you’re practically giddy with it, despite your efforts to stay level-headed.

Which is all well and good, but you know what’s best. You shouldn’t dive right into another serious romantic relationship, not after the last one. So you’re moving slowly with Marcus, keeping a little bit of yourself in reserve, just in case.

Including your… proclivities.

Your nose wrinkles in sudden self-awareness, idly sifting through your thoughts.

Marcus is a sweet guy. The definition of sweet. Tooth-rotting, saccharine-sweet. And so kind, and understanding, and supportive - he’s been your rock over the last couple months, making sure you don’t get too lost in your work, sending you silly cat memes throughout the day, patiently listening to your venting about your issues with work and family with genuine sympathy.

The exact opposite of your ex-husband, who was usually too wrapped up in his own shit to have any clue what was going on with you.

Marcus has been exactly what you need in your life right now. He’s happy to move slowly, too, having just got out of a cancelled engagement and a failed marriage before that. His own therapy sessions had taught him to find validation in himself and not others, allowing him to ease into relationships instead of immediately going all in. In fact, you had been seeing each other for three weeks before you had sex, even though you had definitely wanted to before then, and only held back on mutual agreement.

A little frisson of arousal wends its way through your core, remembering that night.

God, what a great night.

You’d been practically swimming in your panties after lusting after him for weeks, and fuck, did he ever make it up to you. There were still parts of that night that were blurry, you’d come so many times they all just ran together at one point. He was amazing, the perfect mix of attentive and confident, and of course, his signature sweetness had your heart squeezing tight in your chest.

Sitting back in your chair, you tap your fingertip against your laptop thoughtfully, your nails clicking on the plastic.

Yeah, the sex is great. Some of the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, actually. And you definitely don’t want to give that up. You don’t want to give Marcus up.

But.

There’s that little part of you, the part that you’ve shoved away deep down, never allowing it to see the light of day, hidden behind a queasy feeling of uncertainty. It’s a part that wants a little bit more, a little harder, a little rougher. A part that you’ve never shown anyone, for fear of ridicule.

Also for fear of how far you would let it take control.

But after your divorce, after realizing how much of yourself you had pushed aside for the sake of keeping your ex-husband happy, you had realized… maybe you wanted to see. Maybe you wanted to let that instinct take over, and see what it felt like, with a partner you could trust not to shy away from it.

And sweet, sugary Marcus?

Marcus, who presses soft kisses along your temple as he undresses you? Marcus, who holds you gently while he carefully pulls pleasure from your body? Marcus, who murmurs tender admirations into the crook of your neck as he slowly slides inside you?

There was no way he’d be into that. And you’re not willing to bring it up and risk scaring him away.

You’ve survived this long without giving that more… intense part of you any satisfaction. Maybe right now you need to focus on just being happy, and not worry about the future. You don’t need to give in to that darker side of you to enjoy sex, and you definitely don’t need it to be happy with someone.

And you are.

You’re happy.

That silly little grin curves your mouth again. You try to temper it with a healthy dose of easy, girl, taking it slow, remember? but you can’t help it when your phone buzzes and you see it’s a text from Marcus asking how your meeting went and saying he can’t wait to see you tonight.

Ok, so maybe a giggle even slips out.

But you’re happy.

Standing up with a purpose, you look around your office.

And why shouldn’t you be? You had worked hard to get here, almost a decade’s worth of toiling to prove yourself, shoving your way into your dream job and succeeding on pure determination and skill. With some sweet-talking to cover up the simultaneous arm-twisting, yesterday you had finally earned your spot in a role where you could make an actual difference.

Which was exactly why Marcus was coming over tonight. He wanted to celebrate your promotion by making you dinner, and even though you had protested at first, he’d won you over with a little sweet-talking and arm-twisting of his own.

He’d been getting better at that, talking you into letting him do things for you, but it was still weird to you. For pretty much your entire life and certainly your entire marriage, you had been extremely self-sufficient, independent to a fault. You never asked for help unless you truly needed it, and had exhausted all other options. You didn’t exactly hate people doing things for you, but you did feel a sort of guilty about it. The thought of putting someone out, making someone feel obligated to do things for you made your stomach turn.

But it was deeper than that, too.

The possibility of liking it when people do things for you, maybe even growing to need it, was terrifying.

Your life had been full of abandonments, let downs and disappointments. You had learned not to rely on anyone but yourself.

But sweet, kind Marcus, with his adorable dimpled grin and warm brown eyes and soothing voice…

Sighing in a manner that you refuse to label as “dreamy,” you head out of your office to the bathroom for a quick shower before Marcus arrives.

Sure, Marcus had wormed his way through the tiniest of cracks in your defenses. Which was fine, as long as you were aware of it. And, of course, made sure that’s all you allowed him.

***

A polite rap on your front door snaps your attention from the kitchen counter you’re wiping down, and you only have a split second to register the sound before all hell breaks loose.

Two hundred pounds of canine in the form of two bull-mastiffs tear through the house toward the front door, your shouted command to calm down lost amidst the scramble of large paws on the floor and deep, rumbling barks that echo throughout the entryway.

“Seriously guys, calm down.” You make your way to the door, weaving in-between the masses of brown fur and beefy muscle. “Fred, Ginger, hush, go on, get out of here.”

The dogs reluctantly obey, even if only enough for you to open the door.

Marcus.

Warm brown eyes and a dimpled smile fill your vision, and you pause for a moment to take in the sight of him, dressed in blue jeans and a dark red henley that does all kinds of wonderful things to his chest and arms.

Meeting his smile with one of your own, you lean a shoulder against the door-frame, feigning nonchalance while your heart flutters with excitement. “You know you can just come in, you don’t have to knock.”

His grin widens. “I like to give the welcoming committee a chance to feel important.”

As if on cue, the dogs squeeze past you and out the door, immediately swarming Marcus, tongues lolling through big grins and tails thwacking against his legs. You snort softly in amusement as he leans down to scratch them both behind the ears, one at a time since his other hand is holding a bag of groceries.

“Here, let me.” Stepping forward, you snag the handle of the bag from his fingers. “Better come in or they’ll have you trapped out here all night.”

He steps into your space, hand cupping your jaw and tilting your lips up for a kiss. It’s gentle and sweet, and so quintessentially Marcus - as is the mischievous twinkle in his gaze when he pulls away. “There are worse ways to spend my time.”

Your hands drift up his chest, feeling the warmth of him underneath his shirt. “Like this, you mean?”

His mouth curves in an answering smile as he pulls away to look at you, brown eyes warm with affection. “Not even close.”

“Such a charmer.” You press another quick kiss to that boyish smile before turning to step back inside.

His chuckle of amusement as the big dogs try to weave between his legs follows you through the house and into the kitchen.

Setting the bag down on the counter, you start parceling through the groceries, avoiding his gaze. “So what are we cooking?”

“‘We’ are cooking nothing. I am cooking dinner while you relax.” He slides closer to you, arm looping around your waist and tugging you gently away from the counter.

You hold your ground, planting your feet. “I can help. You don’t have to -“

His lips suddenly press to yours, soft but insistent, and you’re temporarily overwhelmed by the feeling of Marcus, warm and broad and steady, mouth moving oh-so-sweetly against yours as he chases the whimper that squeezes from your throat.

Suddenly he’s pulling away and your hands grasp at his shirt on instinct, tugging him back. Your eyelids drift open and you catch the smirk on his face, and realization clicks. “Distracting me won’t work.”

“I beg to differ.” His fingers curl around the nape of your neck, tilting your head back so he can trail his lips over your jaw, pausing to press a kiss just below your ear, and you stifle the sigh of pleasure that slips from your mouth.

The curl of his lips on your skin tells you he caught the sound anyway.

His hand on your waist slides up, thumb brushing the curve of your breast, but you resist the urge to arch into his touch. “If you keep this up neither of us will be cooking tonight.”

He huffs softly against your neck. “Fair enough.” Pulling back, he meets your gaze, playful smirk replaced with open earnestness. “Let me make dinner for you. Please.”

“I swear, you’re one second away from actually pouting.”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to sit down for once.”

You roll your eyes, smiling at his determination. “Fine. I won’t help with dinner. Compromise: I’ll get the dogs set for the evening while you cook.” He opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “That way we can just relax after dinner, maybe watch a movie?”

The slight narrowing of his eyes means he sees your diversion, but after a moment he relents, hands smoothing down your back as he shakes his head. “One of these days I’m going to convince you to let me take care of you like you deserve.”

A sharp twinge of guilt and shame stabs through your stomach, nauseating, and you shove it deep down as you step away from Marcus. “And one of these days I’m not going to cave to those puppy dog eyes of yours.”

His begrudging chuckle follows you as you head toward the patio door to let the dogs out, their heavy paws scuffling along behind you.

***

Dinner was delicious, the movie an old favourite that allowed the two of you to chat quietly about your day without missing anything. Marcus had tucked you into his side as soon as you’d sat down, his presence warm and steady through the night, his hand casually stroking the curve of your waist. Fred sprawled at your feet, snoring softly, and Ginger took her usual place when Marcus was over, curled up on the cushion next to him, big, heavy head lying in his lap as he scratched her favourite spot, the divot between her eyebrows.

It was a perfect night.

Except for the anxiety fluttering in your stomach.

Marcus had let you help clean up after dinner, at least. But you still felt bad - he didn’t have to cook. You liked cooking, and you really liked cooking for other people. It felt good to take care of others. You’d done it your whole life, it was a well-practiced habit, one you felt comfortable doing.

The anxiety is still buzzing under your skin as you get ready for bed, pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and a loose tank top, then a chime from your phone catches your attention. Skimming through the long list of notifications, the last one catches your eye, and you open the related email.

“Are you kidding me?” You grumble at the phone screen, thumbs already typing out a reply.

Marcus walks into the bedroom carrying the bag he uses for overnight stays at your house, pausing as he takes in the expression on your face. “Everything ok?”

You sigh, quickly flipping over to your calendar on your phone. “This supplier is saying they can’t fulfill our last order, so they’re canceling it. He wants to book a meeting to discuss, I’m going to have to pull up his contract and - shit.”

The block of time the supplier proposed shows out of office in your calendar. Vet Appt.

“What’s up? Anything I can do?” Marcus sidles closer, furrow forming between his brows.

You groan in frustration. “The dogs have a vet appointment for vaccine booster shots at the same time the supplier wants to meet. And apparently that’s the only time he’s available, he’s traveling the rest of the day.”

Marcus shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. “I can take the dogs. They’re pretty comfortable with me.”

“No, it’s fine.” You start typing out a reply to the supplier asking that he free up his schedule more to resolve this issue, gaze focused on your phone screen.

“I really don’t mind. I’ve got a light day tomorrow, just paperwork to close up a case.”

Your thumbs fly too fast over the keyboard and you have to backspace to correct a typo. “It’s fine, I’ll handle it.”

“Hey. Let me help.”

His voice is quiet and polite but it snaps through the tension you’ve been holding on to all night, and it pours out of you, clipping your words sharply. “I said it’s fine.”

You growl as you make another typo, throwing your phone on the bed in frustration. Marcus watches you, something unreadable in his expression, and for some reason that just irritates you further.

Crossing our arms in front of you, you give him a leveling look. “You knew what my work was like when we started dating. These things happen, and it’s my responsibility to figure out how to make it all work.”

His eyebrows flick up, obviously taken back by your tone. “I know. I’m just saying I can help.”

“I don’t need your help, Marcus!” Inwardly, you cringe at the volume of your voice. It’s too much, too different from his gentle cadence. A little voice whispers that you’re being unfair, lashing out at him, but you can’t stop yourself. “I’ve handled everything in my life just fine up until now, and I can handle everything moving forward.”

The furrow between his brows is back and he shakes his head once. “I know that. There has never been a single moment of doubt in my mind that you can’t handle anything that’s thrown at you.”

His soft tone of admiration is jarring, a clear contrast to your sharp, heated words that throws you off balance, and you can only look at him in silence as your thoughts race to find footing again.

He watches you for a moment, that warm gaze contemplative. “You are the most capable person I’ve ever met. To deal with everything that’s on your plate and still have the capacity to care as much as you do - it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

He pauses, a faint flush pinking his cheekbones. “I’m… I’m in awe of you. I know that sounds cheesy but I really can’t think of any other word for it. So please believe me when I say I didn’t offer to help because I don’t think you can do it yourself. I know you can handle everything. I guess I… I hope you know that you don’t have to. You can lean on me, if you want. I’m here.”

I’m here.

Two words, softly spoken, land on your skin with the delicacy of a butterfly.

And send a shockwave through your entire system.

I’m here.

You know it’s true. From the moment you met him, he has been. His presence has been a constant, even when he’s not physically with you, whether it’s a warm smile as you tell him about your day or a quick text message saying he can’t wait to see you tonight. He’s here, supporting you, making you feel special, making sure that you’re taking care of yourself.

I’m here.

Never once has he given you reason to doubt the truth of those two words.

Even now, as you childishly take your frustrations out on him.

Even as you hold him at a distance that keeps him safely outside of your carefully constructed walls. The walls you built after too many people had hurt what’s inside, used you until there was nothing left, took what they needed with no regard for what little they were leaving you with.

Marcus never takes from you.

Marcus only gives.

Something cracks inside you, and a flood of emotion catches in your throat, brings tears to your eyes. He sees it, concern twisting his expression, hands lifting to reach for you before they pause, unsure of if you want him or not.

And oh god that hurts, the thought that he doesn’t know, doesn’t know how you feel about him.

How you feel right now.

Three quick steps and you’re on him, hands cupping his face to draw his mouth to yours. His startled sound gets lost in your kiss and his arms come around you, steadying, as the two of you sway with your momentum.

It feels so good and perfect and he feels so good and perfect and you press yourself tighter to him, some wild instinct trying to mould your body into his, needing to be as close to him as possible. Needing to show him that you don’t want to push him away, despite what you might say, that you want him right here with you.

An instinct that almost instantly flares into arousal, heat sparking down your body to settle between your thighs. Your hips move with it, seeking friction, seeking more of him, pressing into his.

He groans, low and rumbling, sliding a hand up your back to curl around your neck and tilt your head further back, giving him better access to delve into your mouth, pulling a keening whine from you and taking it into himself.

His hand shifts and his thumb suddenly rests over your racing pulse and your thoughts are flooded with something, a thick haze that erases all logical thought, allowing that instinct you’d felt a moment ago free reign to lock onto your awareness.

Panic floods your thoughts and you shove it away, recognition flickering with anxiety.

It’s that instinct, that part of you that you’ve pushed away for so long, afraid of what it meant.

The part of you that wants to let someone else be in control for once.

Then his thumb gently brushes over the throb off your pulse, soothing, while his long fingers hold your head firmly, and you don’t want to resist anymore.

It takes barely a thought and the thick haze swarms over your awareness in full.

Everything else fades away and you can feel only him, his palm on the curve of your lower back, strong and steady. His broad chest pressed against yours, warm, solid. His mouth expertly pulling pleasure from your lips and tongue, stoking the heat of arousal in your core.

His long, thick fingers curled around your neck, holding your very heartbeat in his hand.

Him him him Marcus -

You want this. You want to feel this, only him.

It takes a couple tries to get your body to obey, to pull back from him enough to speak. “Marcus.” Your voice is high and wavering in the air between you. “I-I need…”

Too many words, too many things you could say next but can’t, your tongue frozen to the roof of your mouth.

Your gaze lifts to meet his just as some kind of understanding flashes across his expression.

Those warm brown irises grow darker, almost black, bottomless.

He sees you.

And you should be terrified of being so exposed, but all you can think about is how much you want him to know all of you.

He tilts his head a little, watching you closely as his thumb presses ever-so-lightly over your pulse, his breath catching when your eyes widen and your hands clutch at his shoulders, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. “What do you need, beautiful?”

He knows.

You can hear it in his voice, see it swirling in those deep brown eyes.

The last frisson of logical thought left in your mind tries to panic.

But the haze on your thoughts doesn’t care.

“Don’t hold anything back.” You lean into his grip, pressing his thumb even tighter to your pulse, heart skittering against it.

His warm baritone drops even lower, rasping down your spine, holding a note of something you haven’t heard in his voice before.

“Do you know what you’re asking for?”

Something that calls to the thick haze that’s settled over you, something that tells you even if you don’t know the answer to that question, he does.

A moment of stillness, just his gaze watching you, just your heartbeat pounding in your ears and against his grip.

You swallow hard, throat flexing under his hand. “Show me.”

He looks at you for a long moment, searching your features for any sign of hesitation, brown eyes meeting yours once more to read the certainty there.

Then he moves.

It’s lightening-fast.

One moment you’re standing and the next you’re face down on the bed, his hands on your waist, pressing you firmly into the mattress.

The air leaves your lungs in a rush and your fingers claw at the blanket, trying to ground yourself, a dizzying wave of arousal coursing through your body.

“You want me to show you, huh?” Marcus leans over to murmur into your ear, making sure you hear his every word, trailing his fingers down your back as he speaks. “You want me to show you what I’ve been thinking about since I first saw you? Standing in line at the café, listening to you talking on the phone, so focused, so confident, insistent on getting what you wanted. God, it was so fucking sexy. Then you turn around and this perfect ass -” his hand suddenly squeezes the plush flesh, fingertips digging, sending little stabs of pleasure-pain straight to your core. “- is right there in front of me, and all I could think about was how it would look bouncing on my cock.”

Fuck.

The dampness between your thighs grows, a warmth that makes the cloth of your underwear stick to your folds.

Your thoughts move sluggishly, words trying to make sense of instinct. “Please, Marcus.”

“Please what, baby?” His voice is gentle, coaxing, even as his hand on your ass grips tighter, tiny pinpricks of pain making you squirm.

Frustration worms its way through the haze. “I-I don’t know.”

“Beautiful girl, doesn’t know what she needs but knows she needs it.” He shushes you softly, relaxing his grip and smoothing his hand over the stinging bruises. “You said you want me to show you, and I can do that. I can show you what you need. But you have to do something for me, ok?”

He presses a tender kiss to your temple, gently tilting your chin up over your shoulder so he can meet your gaze fully. “I need you to use your words, especially if it ever gets to be too much. I know it might be difficult in the moment, but you’re so strong, sweetheart, I know you can focus enough to tell me to stop if you want me to, at any time and for any reason. Can you do that for me?”

You swallow against a dry throat, push the word out. “Yes.”

He smiles, eyes dark and full lips curling. “Good girl.”

The praise shoots through the haze and that primal instinct inside you preens, making you whimper at the fresh wave of arousal, back arching your hips higher as your fingers curl into the sheets.

His smile grows, eyebrow quirked. “Oh, did she like that? When I called her a good girl?”

You huff against the mattress, thighs squeezing together as your core throbs. Oh god why was that so hot? Him talking to you in the third person? “Yes, I like it.”

Out of the corner of your eye you watch his gaze track the movement and then he shifts down the bed, out of sight again. “Are you wet for me, baby?”

“Mmmph.” Your hips lift off the bed instinctively, body trying to supplement where your voice can’t.

“Use your words.”

Oh fuck -

The soft note of command in his voice makes the haze of your thoughts pulses and words burst free, fall gasping from your lips. “Yes, oh god I’m so fucking wet for you, please Marcus -”

He growls - growls - and suddenly his hands are tearing your shorts and underwear off and the sting of the fabric scraping down your legs with the harshness of the movement only amplifies that primal instinct to feel more.

Then his hands are lifting your hips and pushing your legs so you’re kneeling on the bed, his movements just as sharp and fast as before, and you’re gasping into the sheets at the feeling of the cool air swirling over your wet cunt.

He hums behind you. “Mmm, look at you, all spread out for me.”

Those big, warm hands cup your curves, steady on the sensitive skin where your ass meets your thighs, and he clicks his tongue in mock sympathy. “Poor girl, beautiful pussy is so fucking wet you’re dripping.”

His thumbs glide up to press and pull you completely open, and you keen, senses overwhelmed, vulnerable. He chuckles softly and you feel your inner walls flutter at the knowledge that he’s enjoying this, just watching you like this. “Look at you, clenching on nothing. Need something to fill you up, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” Fuck, you can’t even talk, you’re so turned on, you’ve never felt so much before.

“Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ll fill you up, nice and full, but I’m going to taste you first.”

Before his words can even sink through the haze of your thoughts his tongue is laving over your entrance and your hips twitch with a wave of pleasure, the hot wet muscle gathering the slick that’s formed there and flicking inside for just a second before disappearing, leaving you panting.

You hear him swallow and moan at your taste, and oh god that’s hot.

His tongue glides down to your clit, swirling lightly, over and over at a pace that instantly steals the breath from your lungs.

Pleasure builds, your core clenching, back arching as your body begs for more, and he moans into your cunt, open-mouthed and breathy, and the feeling of warmth ghosting over your slick folds makes you writhe on the bed, shuddering cry muffled against the sheets.

Over and over his tongue works your clit, pulling it into the wet heat of his mouth and flicking tight circles as he suckles, drawing your pleasure higher and higher.

Then his arms are curling around your thighs to hold you in place and his tongue is rolling against your clit and his nose is brushing against your entrance and your orgasm is right there, blindsiding you, yanking you closer and closer to the peak as his tongue presses over your clit and flicks hard and you’re crying out wordlessly as you fall -

His hands grip you hard as your hips flex, the deep groan rumbling from his chest vibrating against your pussy and shoving another wave of pleasure through your body.

You whimper and claw at the sheets until finally it releases you, leaving your limbs quivering, your cheek limply pressed to the mattress.

There’s one brief moment, one breath to fill your lungs, for the world to start to reassemble around you and then he’s shoving his cock into your still-fluttering cunt, straight to the hilt.

The force of his thrust threatens to push you across the bed but his hands grab your waist firmly as he pulls out, only to immediately shove forward again, driving his cock deep. A strangled shout stutters from your throat, lips mouthing at the sheets.

He holds your waist with one hand while the other slides under your tank top, up your back and down again, caressing the curve of your hip. “Fuck, you look so good like this. Does it feel good, beautiful?”

You almost choke on your own words as he thrusts into you again, the zipper of his jeans - fuck, he’s still fully clothed - biting into the sensitive skin of your ass. “Y-yes.”

“Do you like it when I fuck you like this? Bend you over and fuck your pussy as hard as I want?”

The haze of your thoughts throbs as he takes up a rhythm that has the edges of your vision going dark. The entire world narrows down to just the feeling of him inside you and around you, the sting of his thrusts against your ass and thighs, the not-quite bruising grip of his hands on your waist, the blinding pleasure radiating from his cock as it glides over some spot deep inside you again and again -

Then suddenly he stops.

Your entire body shudders hard, cunt clenching around his cock, begging for friction. You whine into the sheets, a garbled questioning sound, your thoughts reeling at the shift.

His hands smooth down your back, soothing, voice firm. “Answer me, baby. Do you like it when I fuck you like this?”

That instinct, the haze that forces your focus to only Marcus, seems to speak for you, pushing words from your mouth, rough with need. “Yes I love it please fuck me like you want to -”

He groans, picking up his brutal rhythm. “Good girl, such a good girl for me.”

And then your words are lost again, all senses blinded by pleasure.

His cock drives through your core and every thrust feels like he’s punching into your fucking soul and then his hands are pressing down on your shoulderblades, forcing your back to arch even more, tipping your hips at a sharp angle and the head of his cock hits that spot inside you and you’re coming again -

And again and again and again -

You don’t stop you can’t stop it’s just wave after wave before one let’s go another begins and -

He picks up the pace with one-two-three quick, deep thrusts and pleasure explodes across your vision, white noise flooding your ears, inner walls pulsing around his cock over and over and your lungs scream for air.

A split second, a flash of time, you hang there then you drop and your awareness falls back into your body.

You’re moving slowly, his hands guiding you onto your side as your limbs continue trembling with aftershocks.

He slides behind you, warm and steady along the length of your frame, one arm curling underneath your shoulders to pull you close and the other tucking you into the curve of his body, his hand splayed just under your collarbone.

Your body obeys the silent command, drawing a deep and shuddering breath, gasping and choking like you had stopped breathing for ages.

The white noise ebbs and you hear his voice, quiet and unfaltering, right next to your ear.

“Breathe for me, sweetheart, nice and slow, just breathe and relax.”

The haze of your thoughts follows his instruction, focusing on expanding and retracting your lungs, bringing your heartbeat down to a reasonable pace. His hands never leave you, one resting over the centre of your chest, while the other strokes your temple, his arm cradling your head.

Finally your limbs relax, fingers uncurling from where they’ve fisted in the blankets so hard they hurt. You focus on feeling him behind you, the softness of his shirt against your bare shoulders, the rough denim of his jeans against the back of your thighs, the faint, steady warmth of his breath on the curve of your neck.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Are you with me?”

“Yes?” The word falls from your lips, rough and strained.

“Good girl.” The soft chuckle makes you smile, belatedly hearing the uncertainty in your own voice. His hand suddenly leaves your chest and cups your pussy, making you start, the heat of his palm a shock to your oversensitive flesh. “I think you need to come like that again, hmm?”

Your sluggish thoughts register that he’s asking a question. “Can I?”

“Are you asking if it’s possible? Or asking for permission?” He rises up on an elbow to look down at you, keeping your head nestled on his forearm, his dark gaze a hypnotic mixture of amusement and lust. “Because the answer to either question is ‘yes.’”

Your whimper is caught by his mouth, his lips coaxing yours open to slip his tongue inside. The taste of him floods your senses and your entire body arches toward him, needing to feel him.

He groans at your movement, hand between your thighs gliding up your body to curl around your neck, leaning slightly on his forearm, pressing your chest down just enough to prevent you from moving.

The sensation is overwhelming, a shiver runs down your spine and your breath stutters against his lips.

He pulls back just a bit to look down at you again. “You need this, pretty girl? Feeling me on you, my hand on your throat like this?”

His hand on your neck squeezes once, a barely-there movement, and a white-hot thrill shoots through your body, throbs in your core. “Y-yes I like it.”

“Hmm, I think it’s more than that.” He whispers as he trails kisses down your jaw. “I’ve seen it, sometimes, when I’m fucking you just a little rougher, something in your eyes that begs for more.”

His tongue laps at the skin of your throat right over your fluttering pulse. “A part of you that needs this.”

The hand squeezes again, for longer this time, and for a moment you can’t breathe, can’t move, frozen, and then he loosens his grip and oxygen is rushing through your system with a flurry of endorphins and cortisol as your fight or flight instinct flares into action, tensing every muscle.

But Marcus is right there, long fingers moving in soothing strokes up and down your neck, lips pressing tender kisses over the bridge of your nose and cheekbones.

Endorphins win out, sweeping you away into the warmth and security that he’s layering on your body with his gentle touches. Your hands clutch at his arm, holding tight, your breath coming in quick pants that almost sound like whimpers to your own ears.

His voice is soft, gentling yet direct. “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes are shut tight and it takes effort to open them, the haze on your thoughts delaying any communication with your body. But you want to obey, to be good for him, so you slowly open your eyes, meeting his gaze above you.

Something like awe forms on his features, an open amazement, as his hand strokes up to cup your jaw, fingertip brushing along the corner of your eye. “God, look at you. Absolutely perfect. Just… lovely.”

He dips down to kiss your forehead gently, runs his nose down along yours, his words brushing over your parted lips. “My lovely one.”

Something twists in your chest, turning and turning until it’s knotted around your heart and it hurts but it feels so good at the same time. A broken cry is pushed from your chest, sounding something like his name and a curse and a plea all at the same time.

His lips meet yours briefly, a reassuring kiss followed by a soft susurration, his hand returning to your neck, a comforting weight. “Tell me what you need, lovely one.”

Tell me what you need.

What do you need?

The haze of your thoughts narrows, sharpens for just one moment.

And you know.

You know what you need.

What he’s been trying to show you.

It’s this.

This state of hyper-awareness that allows you only to feel, all logical thought locked away behind a fog of pleasure.

There’s nothing else here, no problems to solve, no one who needs you to care for them, no one here to take from you.

It’s just you and him - Marcus, the shield protecting you from everything, the guiding hand showing you how to achieve perfect bliss, how to find pleasure in only receiving.

Marcus, who now holds your life in his hand with a tenderness that speaks to how aware he is of this responsibility, and that sincere, open gaze that tells you he will never break your trust.

Slowly, but with no hesitation, you curl your fingers around his wrist, pressing his hand tighter to your throat. “You. I need you, like this.”

He leans down to rest his forehead against yours, taking a moment to simply share your breath before kissing you oh-so-softly. “Good girl. My beautiful, smart, strong girl. You have me.”

Your heart throbs and your eyes sting with emotions you’re not ready to name.

He shifts, hand on your neck moving to grasp your thigh and lift up, baring your cunt to the cool air of the room. Your breath hitches in anticipation as he lines up, the head of his cock brushing along your soaked folds, catching on your entrance, then he’s pushing in, a slow, relentless movement that instantly has your legs trembling.

It’s a moment that seems to stretch forever, your entire body strung tight, focus centred on the split of your inner walls around his cock. And the whole time he’s watching you, those burning-dark eyes just inches from yours, gaze flickering over your features, noting every pull and crease and twitch as your expression shifts to one of pure need.

Finally his hips are flush with your ass and he pulls you back a bit more so your weight rests on him, your head tucked into the curve of his arm, his hand on your thigh gliding up until your knee is hooked over his elbow. You squirm helplessly, stretched open and pinned in place, stuffed full of his cock.

The need to move claws at your skin, threatens to bring tears to your eyes, so you squeeze them shut to stop it. Your thoughts are spiraling, frazzled, near panic, and you don’t know why, the sensation of being pulled open and vulnerable overwhelming and you can’t -

Then his hand glides up your chest, fingers brushing the curve of your breast over your tank top, the motion pulling your knee even higher until his fingers curl around your throat and there that’s it yes -

The weight of his hand, warmth of his palm on your racing pulse, smooth calluses on his fingertips along the sides of your neck.

It anchors your thoughts again, pulls you back into place, and the haze settles, firmly shutting out any anxiety.

Your eyes drift open, meeting his gaze. He’s still watching you, assessing, as if he knows what just happened inside your own mind, as if he can see the moment you let the haze take over once more.

His mouth curves into a gentle smile, full lips pursing slightly. “That’s it, keep your eyes open. I want to watch you feel this. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” The haze speaks for you again, firm and confident.

His thumb strokes over your pulse. “Good girl.”

He moans softly at the subsequent pulse of your cunt around his cock, a thrill of pleasure coursing through your core at his praise.

Then he starts to fuck you.

It’s an unending series of long thrusts that drive deep, with a snap of his hips that punches up into you, setting every nerve in your body afire, shoving little whimpers from your lungs and sending starbursts across your vision as the slick glide of his cock spreads your cunt deliciously.

Words fall from your lips among the choked sounds. “Oh god - I - so good - don’t stop please - don’t -“

“I’m not stopping until you come. Wanna feel you flood my cock.”

He pants above you, voice rough with the effort of his movements and his own pleasure, and that instinct inside your thoughts preens, knowing you are the reason.

It spurs on your own pleasure, climax rising quickly, and your hands fly for purchase, one gripping the forearm of the hand on your throat and the other reaching up to find his free hand. He grasps your fingers, twining them with his own, holding your joined hands just over your shoulder.

A jagged moan rips through your chest - the contrast is devastating, this tender embrace and the soft open-mouthed kisses along your cheek as he fucks you roughly, cock spearing hard and deep and hitting that spot every time, pushing your pleasure up and up and the hand on your throat tightens just a bit, pressing just so along the sides of your neck and your vision blurs until all you can see is those dark eyes that see all of you.

His words float through the haze. “You’re gonna come so hard, I can feel it, can see it. You’re gonna come like this, spread open on my cock, pinned down with my hand on your throat, and you’re gonna love it, aren’t you? Come for me, my beautiful, perfect girl.”

Your orgasm crest, sparking all along your skin and tensing in your muscles and you’re suddenly untethered, floating in that haze, needing an anchor to pull you back and keep you safe and you call out -

“Marcus - “

He doesn’t let up, fingers flexing just a little harder on your throat, cock splitting you over and over as his words sink deep into your soul. “Let go, lovely one. I’ve got you.”

His grip on your throat slackens and oxygen floods your lungs and -

You come.

Hard.

Harder than you’ve ever come in your entire life.

Every muscle seizes, ripples, spasms, your heartbeat rushes in your ears, and for a moment you can almost hear his, his pulse, throbbing against your neck through his hand and against your inner walls through his cock. Your awareness flares and envelopes him until all that exists and has ever existed is just him and you, singular and eternal.

Then the release snaps you back into your body.

Marcus shudders, corners of his eyes tight with concentration, thrusts faltering as your pussy throbs around his cock, squelch of it filling the air. “Fuck, so good, so fucking tight -“

You want him, all of him, need all of him.

“Marcus please -“ your fingernails scrape along his skin as you try to tug him impossibly closer, words lost in your own pleasure spiraling upward again.

Something almost possessive crosses his features, gaze growing somehow darker, and he leans over you, hand shifting to cup the back of your neck and tilt your face up to look at him as he drags his cock in and out. “Want me to come inside you, pretty girl? Fuck, you know how much I love that? Filling you up, watching me drip out of you?”

Your fingers curve around his shoulder, looking up at him with as much sincerity as you can muster, voice wavering as he pulls out only to push back in with a snap of his hips. “I love it, too, please, I need it, need you -“

“Oh, fuck, yes you do, don’t you?” A shiver runs along his shoulders and he drops his forehead to yours, dark gaze completely filling your vision. “Come with me and I’ll come inside you, lovely one.”

The haze of your thoughts ripples, throbs, exalts.

You lift a hand to his face, cupping his cheek, holding him right there with you, his breath and his sounds of pleasure mingling with yours as they grow louder and faster, rising with your orgasms until yours breaks, cunt clutching and gushing around him and he cries out, thrusting home once-twice more before burying himself deep. All you can do is hold on tight, fingernails digging into his skin, riding the wave of your pleasure with him, that primal instinct shouting with joy as the warmth of his spend floods your core.

There’s a moment of calm as your heartbeats sync and your breathing starts to regulate, and you look at him, emotions too deep and weighty to name filling your thoughts, amplified by the haze that still envelopes them.

He looks back at you, those same emotions reflected in that dark, beautiful gaze.

For a moment it’s just the two of you, in the entire universe, a moment too big to fit in the space between you and yet somehow it does, squeezing into those cracks in your walls and curling around that part of you that’s been hiding for so long.

Then he’s moving, carefully pulling out of you, shushing your soft whine at the sudden emptiness with a kiss.

For a brief moment you panic, overwhelmed with the need to be close to him and your arms wrap tight around his shoulders, drawing him back.

He huffs gently into the curve of your neck. “I’m just going to grab something to clean you up.”

You make a wordless sound of protest, pulling him back down to you, and he follows, turning to roll onto his back, an arm curving around your waist to tug you into his chest. Gratefully, you tuck your head under his chin, curling your limbs around him as tightly as possible, pillowing against his broad chest.

His heartbeat thrums under your ear, keeping time with the smooth strokes of his hand up and down your back, the small circles of his other hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing your neck occasionally.

It’s safe and warm and… like home.

The haze of your thoughts flutters, starting to dissipate. Not yet, don’t go yet, I don’t want to go back to… to…

The tears that have been hovering behind your eyes since the moment Marcus laid his hand on your neck finally catch hold, pooling behind your closed eyelids. You try to swallow them back down but it’s useless, you’re still too open, too raw.

Two teardrops fall onto his chest just as you fail to hold back the sob that’s burning in your throat and his hands pause their circling path.

“Hey? You okay?” His voice is so soft, murmuring against your hair.

You try to answer but only a whimper comes out, more tears squeezing onto his skin.

His arms pull you in tighter, lips pressing kisses to the top of your head. “Talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?”

The sob finally breaks free, and you turn your face into his chest as if you could hide from it, wrestling your voice under control. “Nothing, I’m fine, it’s just -“ you sniff back another onslaught of tears, the haze of your thoughts making all these emotions seem so much bigger, so much more.

Then his hand is cupping your face, gently shifting you to look at him, and there he is, those beautiful brown eyes warm with concern, with care, for you. “It’s ok, just breathe for a minute, all right? Focus on me. I’m here.”

I’m here.

Those words again.

You meet his gaze, letting yourself fall into it, into the feel of his hands holding you steadily. Your body moves to obey him, lungs filling, shifting into a calm rhythm as you focus on the one thing anchoring your thoughts, guiding you back to yourself.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Marcus.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Marcus.

Slowly, the haze begins to pull away, the last of it evaporating with the sweep of his thumbs brushing away the tears from your cheeks and the caress of his fingertips along your jaw.

A smile suddenly breaks through your tears, and it feels like the sun itself is warming the inside your chest. “You are, aren’t you?”

His brows pull together slightly, a little crease of confusion forming between them. “I’m what?”

Your hand cups his to your face as you turn to plant a gentle kiss to his palm, your eyes steady on his. “You’re here.”

Understanding flashes across his face, and he smiles in return. “Always, lovely one.”

*****

Next: Affirmations

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal

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snappleapple · 4 years ago

Text

their favorite types of kisses

people in this - dream, georgenotfound, sapnap, wilbur, punz, jschlatt, awesamdude, quackity

headcanon!

the most disgusting fluff i’ve ever written

warning - cursing, i think that’s all but if there is more please do not hesitate to tell me :)

word count - 2k

a/n: okay okay, i might’ve lied earlier about that being my last post but this was short and easy to make which is why i would like to feed my readers this early haha. anyways, enjoy and please disregard the errors in this post, i hate proof reading anything lol. also, i’ve been very indecisive on the title and i might change it later and ooh, my masterlist will be made soon. i’ve just been feeling very unproductive these days. also, please put in requests, i am so bored and dumb therefore there are no ideas in this brain. and if you’d like a part 2, i might add more people for the part 2!anyways, peace!

dream -

i get the feeling that dream’s favorite type of kisses would be cheek kisses

he just likes to watch as you struggle to reach his height

“aw look at those little legs do their thing.”

ends up with you not giving him his kiss

and mans becomes SO pouty

“y/n…come on. don’t be this way.” :(

if you don’t kiss him on the cheek, will also become SO clingy and whiny

“why won’t you KISS ME!”

clenches his fists and stomps away like a teenage girl during puberty

slamming the door to your room

so then you have to go and give him all the kisses he wants

his face is slammed into your pillow

you sit on the side of the bed and pet his hair

leading him to stare up at you with puppy dog eyes

“i will give you all the kisses you want. so stop being so pouty, you big baby.”

will literally leave zero feet of space between you and him

taps his cheek to tell you he wants kisses

when you go on dates, will literally make you stand on your tippy toes to get his kisses

does not bend down at all and actually lifts his head higher to tease you

in other words, clingy but rude hoe

george -

george is a classic romantic

he loves just lip kisses

pecks or lingering ones

he doesn’t care

mans don’t need too many kisses

nor does he need to be too clingy

total opposite of dream and sapnap *ahem clingy ahem*

if he wants a kiss,

he will come over to you and get it

doesn’t get pouty if you’re busy

just waits patiently

doesn’t enjoy it when you interrupt him when he’s streaming so you do your own thing

when you’re watching a movie with him,

he will literally only stare at you with his cute smile

and listen to your every criticism of the movie

he likes to just peck your lips whenever he feels like it

and you’re just not surprised anymore

just likes to stare at your lips whenever you talk

overall, is very sweet but not to an extent with showing affection

sapnap -

omg

sapnap just vibes with neck kisses

it tickles his neck and he loves them

giggles when you pepper kisses along his neck and flushes a deep red

“y/n. stop.” giggles between each word

but when you do, becomes the saddest person in the whole world

“i was joking.” :(

when he’s streaming and he begins to miss you

would leave his room and find you just to get a kiss

just like dream, would get angry if you give him no kisses

“GIVE ME KISSIES!”

very amusing for you

and you love to tease him

“i don’t want to give you kissies.”

continues to stare at you with a large frown until you give in and give him kissies

lsg supremacy but i’ll get into this later hehe

you better give him kisses or you’ll be dealing with a very sad sapnap

sadnap :(

wilbur -

wilbur, wilbur, wilbur

what can i even say

total nose kiss guy

i bet he’ll boop your nose twenty four seven

asks stupid questions just to get your attention

“y/n?”

“yes wilbur?”

“is a hotdog a sandwich?”

“why-“

“boop.”

“did you just say boop while you booped my nose?”

if he’s streaming and you bring him a snack

he will hold your face still and leave kisses on your nose

not too clingy but not too distant

likes to be just right with you

if its snowy outside and your noses get red

makes dumb jokes about he is rudolph and you’re mrs. rudolph

just a lot of smooches from wilby

takes you to a lot of hidden cafes in the city

and while you read, he balances his head on his palm, staring at you in admiration

if you’re insecure about your nose, you legit can’t be around wilbur because he will go on a tangent about how beautiful it is

substantially, soft boy hours all day bro, besides when he gets mad then you leave the hormonal man tf alone

punz -

i don’t see a lot of punz on tumblr so here we go

punz loves hand kisses

not to an extent where he has a hand fetish

god no but just like

when your holding hands, he’ll occasionally pull your hand up to his lips and leave a kiss

lots of hand holding

and i mean lots

constantly gets mad fun of for being a simp but ignores those comments because he genuinely loves you so much

likes it when you play with his hair and messing it up

also likes to compare hand sizes with you

always has a hand on your thigh or your hand in his whenever he is driving somewhere with you

even when you go on dates, always holding hands

no matter how sweaty your hand gets, he will hold on

sometimes if he holds on for too long, you have to tell him to let go

“punz, my hand is super sweaty. lets take a break from the hand holding.”

would flat out decline so you would have to pry your hand out of his

he would also love it when you would kiss his hand

makes him feel all polite and precious LOL

would also wrap his pinky along yours when you walk together

he once came with you to a family gathering for christmas and was so SHY

shy boy held your hand for security while your younger siblings made fun of you

afterwards, when you were under a mistletoe, he kisses you on the lips before kissing you on his favorite part of your body,

your hand

c!jschlatt -

jschlatt is a whole mess

the first time you met, he confessed that he would hate you for as long as you lived because you made fun of his boots

now he says he still strongly dislikes you but you’re more tolerable

doesn’t like it when you make him soft and HATES it when he blushes

“why must you do this to me, mother nature?”

also “hates” it when you even touch him because he “hates” you

when he actually confessed to you that he liked you with his grumpy usual grandpa voice,

you kissed him on his forehead, after he bent down of course

he is an actual giant and threatens to squash you like an ant if he feels the need to

is an absolute monster to you but loves it when you kiss his forehead because it makes him feel secure and loved

likes to watch the wind blow through your hair and mess it up but gives you his hat because he like you being “all pretty and shit”

gets SUPER jealous when you hug children

like for example, when you went over to a family gathering at his house, his cousins came up to hug you

and when you let go of the child, the man child comes and lugs you over his shoulder

gets yelled at by his mom and gives her a sheepish smile before rolling his eyes and throwing you down on the sofa set next to him

his mom doesn’t approve of the way he treats you but you tell her its fine because he’s cute

when you are far from any type of civilization or in the safety and solitude of your own home, he wants kisses on the forehead

pointing up to it and bending down so you could reach it

“y/n, i only love you because of your forehead kisses.”

“you only love me for my kisses?” :(

“mhm.”

actually feels slightly bad

“and because of your personality.”

“thank you-“

“shut up. we don’t talk about this.”

in conclusion, give him his forehead kisses or perish

awesamdude -

sam just adores it when you give him jawline kisses

not because it’s basically the only place you could reach but because it’s a sweet gesture

sam is all about sweetness

i mean have you even seen this man on his stream

he likes to watch you while you have conversations with your friends

not in a creepy way but more like an adoring way

cause man does he love you

i mean not only does he love you but his whole family does

and when you’re alone with sam, you love to bury him underneath all of your love

“i love you sam!”

“no i love you more y/n!”

“NO i LOVE you more!”

“NO i LOVE you MORE!”

“SAM NO. I LOVE YOU MORE!”

“okay thank you sweet pea.”

leaving you a bit confused but happy that he accepts your love

when you cuddle, omg

he never stops peppering kisses all over your face and vice versa because your relationship is disgustingly fluffy

when he lends you one of his sweatshirts, you sure as hell better wear that shit out or else (i am leaving a blank threat here)

sam loves technology but you guys sort of have a system

a system that involves mailing each other love letters rather than texting them

you guys also go on a ton of walks just about anywhere

hand holding is mandatory even though you probably look like a child compared to him

just give sam lots of love and in return, you’ll receive lots of love

quackity -

mans cannot leave you tf alone

likes to do ANYTHING freaky around you

“i will follow you to the ends of the earth, mi amor.” or

“ayy, back off.” if anyone gets too close to you

messes with you twenty four seven and makes it his job to drive you insane

plays horror games at two in the morning for fun

and when he gets scared, hides in the safety of your arms

“mi amor. i’m scared.”

“shut the fuck up and sleep, alex.”

“okay.” shuts up quickly and snuggles deeper into the crook of your neck

loves you so deeply but HATES your cat

“look at that little dumb thing stare at me. you got a problem bro?”

your cat also HATES alex

scratches him all the time and hisses at him

if you think sapnap is babie, wait till you meet alex

“y/n he bit me!”

when you glance down, you don’t even see a scratch

“kiss my boo boo.”

wtf

“what boo boo? there’s nothing there.”

gasps as if you offended him

“this boo boo that your el demonio did to me.”

this man will do anything to get boo boo kisses

istg, you once found him provoking your cat to get some scratches

in alex’s mind, ouchies = kisses from y/n

always has ouchies from god knows where and shows it to you

even though you find it annoying at first, you grow used to it and it sorta becomes your thing with alex

alex is babie and you need to take good care of him :)

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midnightdevotion · 2 years ago

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Bumps and Bruises

Prompt: Character B going in for a kiss but they bump into character A’s head and then they can’t stop laughing, character A is confused because they had no idea character B was trying to kiss them.

Pairing: Rooster x Reader(wife) F Reader

a/n: aaaaah! I won’t lie it has been a hot minute since i have written anything and I went with the first idea that came to mind. I really hope you enjoy it!

Being married to Bradley was as easy as breathing. That man made you feel like you were the most valuable thing he had ever laid eyes on and while you adored him for that, you also felt your awkward self multiply by ten every time he laid soft eyes on you with a sweet little smile. He likes to poke fun at how awkward you are, or stare at you longer than necessary because it makes you ramble.

Sitting in the hard deck you watched as Rooster and Hangman played pool. Grinning at the way roos would rile hangman up and vice versa.

“Wow, just when I think you two can’t get even more disgustingly cute” you turn your head to see Phoenix. Grinning back at the brunette “what can I say I like seeing roos let loose”

“Okay that’s it we are getting you drunk” Phoenix groans, laughing you watch as she motions for penny to pour you some shots. Penny more than obliges even volunteering to take a couple with you two. Both her and Phoenix know that you aren’t shy when the alcohol gets in your system and they want you to let loose and party tonight too.

You are on your third shot of the night, all within twenty minutes. Making a face as you put down the glass you laugh “man these never taste any better”

Phoenix who clearly has had more to drink then you starts giggling, at what you don’t really know but you are feeling lighter and you know that will be you soon too. You get up a smile on your face as you suggest dancing together, hearing a shouted back yes you both head to the makeshift dance floor. Logically you know any dancing you and phoenix are doing looks absolutely sad. However, with all inhibition out the door you don’t find it in you to care.

Grinning you glance over to the pool tables again only this time to see rooster watching you, smile on his face as he watches you let loose. Alcohol or not there is nothing that stops the effect that man has on you and you feel the heat rushing up your neck. You find yourself being pulled off by phoenix again, who has more shots in mind.

You are buzzing, but five shots in just a couple hours will do that to you. The night feels like its just beginning, and rooster just unplugged the juke box to sing his great rendition of Great Balls of fire. Normally you shy away from being up front with him and the rest of the pilots during this, because you feel so awkward. Tonight though, you let phoenix pull you up with her and start shouting the lyrics with them. Towards the end of the song you can’t find it in you to focus on the words, instead just watching rooster belt out the lyrics that mean so much to him.

He’s absolutely glowing tonight, tan skin, brilliant smile, sparkling eyes. You couldn’t look away if you tried to. As the song ends, and the juke box gets turned back on you find yourself being pulled again, this time by rooster. You can tell he has also had a lot to drink, grinning and carefree as he is feeling.

It’s about an hour of drinking and dancing with rooster before you feel the need for some fresh air. Social battery running low, and rooster even in his inebriated state knows you well enough to know you need a break. He grabs your hand and you two head outside.

Sitting in the sand next to the love of you life, you can’t help but grin because even if you battery is drained you feel nothing but energetic with him trying to tell you about constellations. You wouldn’t ever admit that you know he has no idea where the constellations are as he points in the wrong direction for Orion’s belt.

Whether it be the fresh air or sitting down that tricks you into thinking you’re less drunk than you actually are, you try to lean in to kiss him. Only to be rudely awakened when your head hits roosters head. The first thing you see when you move away enough to see his face is pure shock and it sends you into a laughing fit. You are holding your stomach laughing so hard you can feel some tears escape your eyes, when you glance back over at rooster you just see confusion laced in his eyes and it only makes you laugh harder. It takes five minutes for you to get yourself in control, only small giggles coming out now.

“darling you wanna tell me what that was all about?” rooster questions laughter in his voice, because while he may be confused your laughter is contagious.

You have to force out your reply as you think about the events all over again

“I was-- I was trying to give you a kiss-- and I fell” with this new information rooster is laughing just as hard as you were and you can’t help but join him.

“You know you don’t have to fall for me every time you wanna kiss right?” He’s grinning at you and you can’t help but think that while you might not have to, you certainly do fall for him every time you kiss. Both of you are just looking at eachother grins wide and eyes sparkling.

“here honey, let me help you” Roos whispers before grabbing your cheek and brushing his lips against yours. You two don’t have long to revel in each other before Hangman gets every one to whistle at you too.

“ready to head back in?” rooster asks, you grin at him knowing that he would stay out here all night if you needed.

“absolutely babe, lets go kick some ass at pool” and that’s what you guys did.

Tags: @rosiahills22

#top gun #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster imagine #top gun maverick

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 4 years ago

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how to fake date your best friend | jake sim

✰ summary: the rules were simple -

pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only

no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure

and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love.

simple, right?

well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules.

and to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. members of enha!]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers

✰ warnings: cursing, high-schoolers doing dumb highschool things, underage drinking (pls don’t actually do any of this irl), jake being a certified simp, it’s LONG (i’m so sorry), cheesy kithes bc im a sucker for kithes ( ˘ ³˘)♥

✰ wc: a whopping 9.5k

✰ a/n: it’s finally finished :’)))))) it ended up being much longer than i wanted but i had so much fun writing the characters that i got carried away lolol anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy it,,,i got a little unmotivated during the process bc i didn’t know if it was good or not but here it is heh (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

Tuesday, December 8th

Jake Sim lives a simple life.

He likes to think he leads the normal, stereotypical life of a teenage boy. Has decent grades, plays soccer after school, skateboards around the neighborhood, has a best friend who he’s desperately in love with, and has a stable group of friends.

Okay, maybe not so simple, because this boy would physically launch himself to the moon and drill at its surface to collect moon dust for you if you asked him to––despite his deadly fear of combusting in outer space.

But that fear doesn’t even compare to his worst one yet: not having you in his life.

And so, he decided to just repress any and all feelings he’s had for you ever since he discovered them in middle school, when he realized he hated seeing you go to the eighth grade dance with a date––that wasn’t him.

He decided that he wasn’t going to risk losing a life-long friendship over some dumb, teenage boy feelings.

They were probably powered by his testosterone anyways. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He’s totally not in love with you.

So yes, he lives a pretty normal life. Every day is the same as the last, and tomorrow will be the same as today. But he likes it like that––he doesn’t want anything to change.

Especially not now, when he finds himself content with every aspect of his life (okay maybe except for his history grade, god, does he hate history).

So, it catches him off guard when you arrive at the group’s usual lunch table, located outside in your school’s courtyard, looking as excited as ever.

Jake’s the only one at the table so far. The remaining usually showed up late––Heeseung spends his first half of lunch tutoring freshmen for community service hours (but the poor boy has no idea what he’s doing), Sunghoon is probably stuck in line in the cafeteria again (he always forgets to pack his own lunch), and Jay is...well actually, no one ever knows where Jay comes from. He’s a special one.

It catches Jake even more off guard when you skip over any greeting a normal person would give, and start speaking at one hundred words per second.

And that catches us up to the present.

“Y-You want me to what?” Jake’s stuttering as you stare at him with your hopeful eyes from across the lunch table.

Despite the expression planted on your face, which screams your excitement for your “brilliant, amazing, genius, Einstein-could-never” idea (or whatever other words you used to describe it––Jake can’t exactly recall the specific terms you used, they all came out of your mouth too fast), you don’t respond to his question of bafflement. You continue to stare at him, awaiting his response. Jake could compare the look on your face right now to a puppy looking up at its owner, eagerly waiting for a treat. You know, tongue out and all.

He swallows the lump that’s lodged in this throat (is that the sandwich he’s having, or his nerves?) and continues to give you his look of confusion laced with a nervous smile because surely, you’re joking.

You grab what’s left of your sandwich from his hands and take your own bite. Somewhere in between you arriving at the table and now, Jake’s managed to steal the sandwich you brought today. You did make the best chicken sandwiches, in his defense.

“Well? It’s only for the week! And I promise you, after one week, if nothing happens––if he doesn’t make a move or anything––I’ll move on from him like you’ve been telling me to.” Your words are muffled from you savoring your sandwich, or what’s left of it anyways. (Mental note to self: don’t share your lunch with Jake ever again.)

When Jake still doesn’t respond (you’ve truly gotten this poor boy paralyzed), you find it as a sign to continue.

“I think it’s the perfect plan. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be like the universe is telling me to finally move on, right?”

Wrong.

Jake has been encouraging you to move on from your crush because well, if we’re being honest here, he selfishly wants you to himself. Even if it wasn’t romantically.

Preferably, he would kill to get to be the one who holds your hand in the hall, call you cheesy pet names, post disgustingly cute couple pics for the ‘gram––but for the sake of potentially ruining his relationship with you, he’ll just have to settle with the role of being your best friend.

(And he’s totally fine with that! Totally. Yup.)

But he didn’t think that you moving on would only be a mere possible outcome (that may not even happen!) from whatever this stunt is you wanna pull.

Said stunt: Pretend to date one another and hope it catches the eye of a certain someone you have your eye on: Park Sunghoon.

Ah yes, Park Sunghoon. The previously mentioned one who’s probably still in line waiting to get his lunch as we speak.

Park Sunghoon, the tall, kind, intelligent, charming young boy that everyone knows. And if anyone didn’t know him, they most definitely knew of him. He wasn’t hard to miss in the halls; everything about him just radiates perfection.

If you plucked a random high-schooler from the halls of this school and interviewed them on the Park Sunghoon, they’d say you’d be lucky enough if the quiet boy so much as sparked a conversation with you, even if it was about what last night’s chemistry homework was.

Well if that were true, then you and the rest of the boys would be considered lottery winners.

How that happened, how the four of you dysfunctional beings earned his friendship, the world may never know. However, Jake is fully convinced that this was the universe’s way of playing a cruel joke on him.

For as long as Jake could remember, it’s always been just the two of you. You and Jake. Jake and you. (With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, of course, who came along in middle school)

In fact, your earliest memory of Jake was when he peed his pants in the kindergarten during nap time. You would know, you had the privilege of sharing a sleeping mat with him that one fateful day and in result...let’s just say the smell didn’t wear off from your clothes until a week later. Five-year-old you didn’t forgive five-year-old Jake for the longest time.

And since then, you’ve been attached by the hip. And Jake liked it like that. Jake didn’t need anyone else in his life (with the exception of Leila) if he had you. He had found his home within you, and he didn’t plan on sharing his space anytime soon.

Nevertheless, the universe had a completely different idea for the two of you.

Sunghoon came into the picture last year, towards the end of the school year. Despite being the new kid, he found his way into your cherished friend group and naturally, the five of you grew as close as friends could be.

That was the problem. Jake wanted to hate Sunghoon, to despise him for being the one that you had heart eyes for, but he couldn’t.

Not only was Sunghoon one of Jake’s closest friends, but he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group. After you, the three chaotic boys were the next most important people in Jake’s life.

And so, we have the typical love triangle plot that every coming-of-age movie follows. Of course, this is all unbeknownst to you––you may be intelligent and a people-person, but oh boy can you not see the heart eyes your very own best friend has for you.

“It’ll be easier than you think, really! Look, we can even set boundaries or rules or whatever,” you propose, as if you’re trying to get him to sign a contract.

Rules to a fake relationship? We’re not living in a Netflix romcom, are we?

“Okay rule number 1: it’ll only be for a week and a week only, rule number 2: we don’t have to do anything too couple-ly like...” you pause to wonder for a second.

“Like PDA or anything! You know, unless we really need to convince him,” you casually add. When he responds with radio silence and stares at you with absolute concern painted all over his face, you cough. “Jake, I’m joking.”

Right. Of course. Obviously.

“And of course, just try not to fall in love with me, it’ll be hard, I know,” you send a playful wink his way.

Too late. Turns out it’s not that hard. Jake would know.

Jake continues to stare at you in hesitation. Yeah, you’ve had your fair share of crazy ideas (that Jake always find himself agreeing to––the poor boy just can’t seem to say no to you), but fake dating you?

Jake is sure he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without slowly destroying himself. He’d just have to say no, he’s sure you can find someone else to do it for you.

Yes, that’s it, just say no.

Jake has to keep some of his pride in tact.

Jake does not say no.

He doesn’t know what went wrong. His mind said one thing, but his words said another.

To be fair, Jake’s actions have always been influenced by his heart, not his brain, anyways. And when it comes to you, you bet it’ll be coming from his heart.

So here he was now, under the stare of three equally shocked and confused guys across from you and him at the lunch table, your fingers intertwined with his.

Just a few seconds ago, you had spotted the rest of the lunch bunch approaching the table, and you quickly grabbed Jake’s hand and scooted in closer to him.

Now here you were, explaining to your friends of your sudden relationship.

Jake is too zoned out to even physically pick up your explanation. Something along the lines of "we’ve been dating for a while but didn’t want to tell you guys yet." From the feeling of your hand clutched tightly into his and your body right up next to him, his mind was short-circuiting.

How is he supposed to last an entire week of this if he couldn't handle innocent hand holding? Hand holding? God, what are we, back in the fifth grade?

Two minutes into this scheme and Jake's mind has already downgraded itself to a fifth grader's.

Jake mentally scolds himself for giving in, this was not a good idea.

It takes Jake approximately 12 hours to conclude that this stunt of yours may, actually, be a good idea. He knows this because approximately 12 hours after the events surrounding lunch, he receives a text from you:

y/n [12:03AM]: thanks again for doing this for me jake

y/n [12:03AM]: ur actually the best

y/n [12:04AM]: ew ok that was cheesy but really i owe u a big one <333

Following your thread of texts is a really close up photo of you widely smiling into the camera. A smile so big, Jake’s convinced your face was probably in pain after taking that picture.

Anyone else might’ve thought the photo looked borderline insane but because Jake’s Jake, aka a simpᵗᵐ for you, he comes to the conclusion that it’s singlehandedly the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the entire world.

After quickly saving the selfie into his phone, Jake tells himself that maybe this won’t be a bad thing after all. I mean, anything that makes you smile like that meant it has to be a good idea, right?

Spoken like a true simp.

Plus, dating you––fake dating you––is pretty much the same as it was before. He already spends most of his days with you to begin with. Now, it’s just with added displays of affection. For show, obviously. Obviously.

And look, if Jake will never get to actually be with you, then he’ll take what he can get. And if that meant fake dating you, well, he reasons that it’s better than nothing at all.

Wednesday, December 9th

Jake’s playing with the rings on your right hand and you’re in the middle of dramatically telling the lunch table about the infuriating Karen you had to deal with at work the other day when Jay comes up with a grin you all know a little too well.

“Okay that grin means one of two things: you finally grew the balls to ask out that poor girl you’ve been teasing all year or you have something planned that we won’t like,” you interrupt your story when you catch Jay’s sly expression, evoking a chuckle from Jake, who’s now found a new distraction with the bracelets perches on your wrist.

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask her out. It just so happens that she’s currently ‘in between boyfriends’ whatever that means. Ouch, by the way,” Jay feigns hurt from your comment by clutching the area above his heart through his shirt. Ever the drama queen. “But yes, I do have something planned. And no, it’s not a bad idea.”

Jay squeezes his way in between Sunghoon and Heeseung from across you and begins to pull out his own lunch. Everyone’s eyes follow him as he settles in because as bad as his unknown idea may be, you’re all still curious on what this boy has to say.

“Well are you going to elaborate or...” Heeseung speaks up for everyone after you all mentally debate one another through darting eyes on who’s going to have to bite Jay’s silent bait.

Jay then forcefully sets both hands on his table, which elicits a little jump from you as you go for a bite of your sandwich. Adorable, Jake tells himself.

“My parents are out of town this weekend. We all know what that means...”

Yes. We do know what that means. The four of you have seen this scenario play out many times, a little too many times for your own good.

This meant one of Jay’s infamous house parties that he always throws whenever his parents go out of town. And because his parents are hot-shot CEOs of an important company whose name you don’t remember (it’s nothing personal, your brain can only handle so much information and this physics exam you were studying for took up 90% of your brain capacity at the moment), they’re out of town often.

And along with Jay’s parties comes chaos. Lots of it. And that’s because...well, it’s safe to say that despite the many school-wide presentations the police officers of your school have held in the auditorium on why you shouldn’t drink underage, Jay’s parents’ liquor cabinet always seems to find itself missing many a few bottles after each party. But we don’t talk about that. Shush.

Almost simultaneously, everyone at the table lets out a groan, much to Jay’s disappointment.

“C’mon guys! It’s been a while since anything’s fun happened to this school, think of all the sad students in that building right now,” he extends a finger whole-ass arm and points at your school, “who are in dire need of fun and a little...” he punctuates his sentence with the hand motion of chugging down a drink, followed with a gulping sound elicited from his tongue clicking.

You roll your eyes along with everyone else. Don’t be like Jay, kids. Listen to those police officers.

“Jay, it’s midterm season! I have an exam on Monday and I definitely do not want to spend the nights before wasted,” you give him an apologetic look. As crazy as Jay is, you do feel bad nonetheless. The boy just wants to have fun.

Your response is followed up with similar comments from around the table.

“I’m helping y/n study”

“I have an important skating performance on Sunday”

“Uh...my hamster died?” (ok Heeseung panicked, don’t blame the guy)

Ignoring that last excuse of an excuse, Jay continues his debate nonetheless. “Just come for the sake of it! No one’s saying you have to get wasted. Pleaseeee for me?”

Jay throws these parties so often, you’re not sure why he’s so set on making sure you’re all going to be there. Well, I guess who wouldn’t want their closest friends to be at their own party?

That and, Jay needs to make sure his friends are there to stop him from doing anything stupid. We all know this boy has had enough embarrassing moments to last him a lifetime.

Everyone at the table gives each other the same hesitant look. Heeseung is the first to give in, “Oh fuck it. Sure, count me in.”

Jay’s fist pumping the air before turning to Sunghoon with the most hopeful eyes.

Sunghoon simply sighs in return. “Alright okay, I’ll bite. But if you vomit on my shoes again, I’m out the door.” Jay’s finger is automatically drawing a cross over his heart as a promise to not ruin Sunghoon’s Nikes again.

He then looks to you with puppy eyes.

You, who's already staring back at Jay with a stoic look in your eyes, are stubborn and (unlike the previous weaklings) are not as easy to convince. And somehow, this began an unannounced staring contest between the two of you, a contest to see who would budge first. This isn't an uncommon occurrence between you and Jay, but the rest of the boys are still on the edges of their seats watching this duel.

Jake casually wraps an arm around your shoulder and you’re brought in close, but still undeterred from your death-stare match with the boy across from you.

If it’s not obvious enough, Jake’s really gotten into his role of being your boyfriend, despite it only being 24 hours since he last froze at your touch. Character development, you’ll give him that.

You almost forget he’s faking it for a quick second. And for an even quicker second, you imagine he wasn’t faking it. And you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach at that thought.

Weird.

You mentally shake the thought out of your head. Priorities first, aka, beating Jay in this staring contest.

“Fuck,” you stutter when you finally blink, admitting defeat to a grinning Jay. “Okay, okay, I’ll THINK about it. I’ll let you know.”

Not exactly the answer Jay was looking for, but he’ll take it. Better than a no.

He turns to Jake next, knowing there’s no way Jake will turn down a party. Just like Jay, the boy loves himself a good party.

But–

But because Jake would take your physics exam this Monday for you if you asked, because Jake would bungee jump in the Grand Canyon without a safety net below him if you asked, because Jake would fake date you to make your crush jealous for you if you asked, he doesn’t hesitate in his answer this time around: “Same as y/n, I’ll let you know.”

Jay looks at Jake. Then back at you, who he’s still clinging onto like a koala to a tree. Then back at Jake. “You two are gross. Admittedly cute. But gross.”

You look up at the boy next to you to see him already grinning at you.

For the first time today, you find yourself agreeing with Jay.

Admittedly cute.

Thursday, December 10th

You are having a bad day.

You’re having the mother of bad days.

Not only is it midterm season, but you still have all your regular weekly assignments to finish before Friday hits. So as a natural-born procrastinator does, you stayed up all last night trying to get a good amount of work done because what’s better than cramming all your work the night before it’s due? Doing it two nights before it’s due.

Well apparently it wasn’t such a good idea. Because now, here you were, frantically throwing on whatever articles of clothing you find nearest to you because you slept through all your alarms.

You’re lucky enough to make it through your school’s doors right as the second bell rings, even if you did look like you just walked straight out of a zombie apocalypse.

You’re not so lucky when you find out your first class of the day, calculus, had a pop quiz. A pop quiz on the only unit you just happened to know absolutely nothing about.

To top things off, you forgot to pack your lunch during this morning’s frenzy, meaning you’re automatically stuck sharing with Jake.

And because his mother started making him pack his own food out of a lesson of responsibility (she said something along the lines of: “Jake, you’re about to be in college and you don’t know how to pack a decent meal”), he only has a plain PB&J sandwich and a pack of Scooby-Doo gummies in his bag today (because newsflash, he still doesn’t know how to pack a decent meal).

Not that you could care less at the moment, you were too preoccupied with catching up on your assignments to even eat. And if any of the boys noticed your zombie-like state during lunch, they did a good job of not mentioning it. They knew better than to bother an irritated y/n.

Somehow, you make it through the entire school day and your after-school meeting for environmental club (save the trees!) in one piece. As you finally walk out of the school building, you exhale, automatically feeling lighter. At least the hard part of your day was done.

Now you just had to wait for Jake to finish soccer practice, which usually ended around the same time as your club, and he can drive you home, where you can continue being irritated with your day in the privacy of your own space.

You wait on the steps of the school’s entrance, waiting for a smiley Jake to come around the corner as he usually does at 5:30pm every Thursdays.

Yes, a smiling Jake is exactly what you needed to make your day ten times better, you conclude.

As if on cue, you hear a ding from your phone.

Jake [5:30PM]: ugh coach is extending practice for “team bonding”

Jake [5:30PM]: idek what team bonding is

Jake [5:31PM]: you ok if i cant drive you today? ://

It’s as if the universe decided to use you as its punching bag today.

You physically let out a distorted groan, not caring if anyone who happened to hear you thought you were a creature from out of this world, as you send him a text back.

y/n [5:32PM]: it’s all good lol have fun with tEaM bOnDiNg

Things were not all good. But no matter how upset you may be, you weren’t going to project your negative vibes onto Jake’s naturally positive ones. So you get up from the stone steps and begin your dreaded walk back home.

It’s freezing out. You should’ve known better to just throw on a hoodie and call it a day when it’s the middle of December. But then again, you figured by now you’d be in the comfort and warmth of Jake’s car and presence...not walking home in these freezing temperatures.

You think about Jake and how he’s probably currently suffering from not only his team bonding exercises (but really though, what are team bonding exercises?), but doing them in this weather as well. The poor boy.

You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by the sound of a car engine from behind you. When you don’t see it pass by you and instead hear it pull over and park next to the curb of the sidewalk you’re currently on, you automatically deduce that this is it, this is my time, I’m about to get kidnapped by whoever it is behind me but y/n, you should probably turn around and check first before you drive yourself insane in this inner dialogue.

You turn around and squint into the front window of the car. If it were a kidnapper, this is exactly what your mother told you not to do. Her exact words were: “Run, don’t look back, and scream bloody murder.”

Good thing it wasn’t. Just an innocent Sunghoon waving his hand at you, motioning you to get in.

“Sunghoon?” You approach his car and stop at the passenger side’s open window.

“y/n! It’s freezing out, I’ll drive you home c’mon,” he nods his head towards the passenger side door.

Well, how could you say no? Sunghoon owns a nice car. Like a nice car. Like car-seat-heaters-that-make-you-feel-like-you’re-physically-melting nice. Beats getting hypothermia outside, right?

“Why are you going home from school so late?” You ask as you settle into his car, instantly melting at the touch of the aforementioned heated seats.

“Debate club, actually. Decided I needed another personality trait other than ice skating,” he starts the engine and begins driving towards the direction of your neighborhood.

You laugh at his comment, you didn’t peg him as a debate kind of student. Quiet Sunghoon? Debate club? If 2 plus 2 is four...

“Hey, I don’t call you the Ice Prince for nothing! Also, don’t forget your other personality trait: forgetting your lunch every day.”

Sunghoon quickly glances over at you to send you a dirty look (because eyes on the road, kids!), which you return with a cheeky grin. “Need I remind you that was you today?”

“Touché,” you click your tongue.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the faint sound of Sunghoon's music in the background filling in the quietness.

You’re humming along until Sunghoon breaks the silence, “Did Jake get stuck at practice again?”

You don’t know why, but you swear you feel your heart beat faster at the mention of Jake’s name. No, that was always there right? Because you were with Sunghoon...your crush..obviously. Obviously.

Ignoring the feeling, you turn your attention towards the boy driving you.

“Oh yeah, something about team bonding. How’d you know?”

“Eh, I just figured since he wasn’t driving you home like he always does.” He turns into your neighborhood.

You nod at his answer.

“You two make a good couple.”

You whip your head at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“It was about time, really. You two have been ogling at one another for so long, Heeseung, Jay, and I almost placed bets on who would be the first to make a move.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, casually going on about how you and Jake make the cutest couple he’s ever seen.

You're frozen, unsure of what to think, let alone say.

You think to two days ago, when you started this entire fake relationship because of the very boy driving you home right now. The same boy who's complimenting you on your fake relationship. The same boy who's supposed to be jealous over that said relationship. The same boy you’re supposed to be crushing over.

But now...only a mere 48 hours later, you were finding yourself okay with the fact that he was happy for you. And for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you liked Sunghoon in the first place. Not saying he isn’t one to be crushed on, I mean, look at the guy.

Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you didn't feel nervous or giddy or..anything at all when you got into the car with Sunghoon. At least, not until Jake's name was mentioned. That's when you felt the butterflies. At the mention of Jake.

Jake.

Weird.

But before you can come to a conclusion on why you're feeling the way you do, Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts.

"Well, we're here! Say hi to your parents for me," he pulls into your driveway as you're still collecting your thoughts.

You give him a quick thanks and one last wave as you enter the front doors of your house.

Seeing that your only solution towards confusing feelings meant distracting yourself, distract yourself you did.

Even if it meant distracting yourself with your piling assignments.

The next time you look up from your work, it's suddenly way past sundown and a heavy storm has taken over. You’re surprised it hasn’t started flooding yet with the amount of rainfall you were hearing.

You check the time on your phone, the bright 8:16PM on the screen illuminating your dimly lit room. Seeing that neither of your parents have yet to be home from work, it looks like you were going to have to settle with some instant ramen for dinner tonight.

As you trudge down the stairs of your home, the sound of light knocking against the front door catches your attention. It's been a long day y/n, you're probably hearing things, it's definitely just the rain.

Nope. There it is again, but much louder. Much more urgent.

You contemplate any and all potential disasters that could happen from answering the door. Only a crazy person would be willing to go out in this hurricane-like weather to be frantically knocking on your door.

And so, you assume it has to be some psychopath trying to get into your house. Yes, there’s definitely no other logical explanation.

You scramble around your living room, looking for the next best weapon to defend you. Resorting to the flower vase your mother keeps on the table next to the front door, you hold it out in front of you, as if you're waiting for the door to burst open.

The knocking continues, gradually getting louder. You mentally curse at yourself for dropping out of the taekwondo class your dad signed you up for when you were younger.

Vase in hand, you swing open the door and brace for–

"Jake? What the fuck? Get in here, you're gonna get sick!"

You’re suddenly aware of how stupid you look, holding a light pink vase with a couple of orchids as your only form of self-defense...for it to only be your own best friend. You immediately put it back on the table as Jake quickly rushes past you and into your humble abode.

You close the door behind you and turn to face the soaked boy.

“I come bearing gifts, also known as take-out and hot chocolate from that one cafe you love. Also my company, if you’ll take it. I had a feeling you weren’t having the best day today,” he’s simply standing there, holding up a large brown paper bag in one hand, and a deliciously smelling cup of hot chocolate in the other, but you’re looking at him as if he bought you the Moon.

You stare in awe at the angel of a boy in front of you, silently thanking the stars for gifting you this amazing human being as your best friend. You don’t know what you did to deserve him.

You give him a soft smile. “Jake, you didn’t have to. It’s practically a shitstorm out there,” you cock your head towards the window, showcasing the downpour of cats and dogs outside. Jake stays by the entrance as you go down the hall and through your house’s linen closet to find a spare towel for the drenched boy.

“Nah it’s no big deal, really. Just fulfilling my duties as your loyal boyfriend,” he grins, even though you can’t see him. He likes calling himself that. Your boyfriend.

Jake continues to shake his messy hair to get the excess rain off, giving a mental apology to whoever is going to have to mop up the puddle forming on the floor due to his unannounced visit. Probably you.

Jake hears you laugh down the hall. “You’re really invested in your role, huh? Keep this up and you might actually trick me into believing you’re my actual boyfriend.”

Actual boyfriend? Jake likes the sound of that. Maybe he will keep this up then.

Jake doesn’t have much experience in acting, unless you count that time he played the role of Town Villager #3 in the third grade play, so he never found it as one of his interests. But playing the role of your boyfriend was one he was willing to fulfill for the rest of life, even if it was just for show.

Jake doesn’t respond to your comment, he’s instead self-aware of his blushing cheeks, thankful that you’re too busy rummaging through your linen closet to take notice.

“Plus, you didn’t have lunch today and I had feeling you were going to be too caught up in your work to feed yourself anything other than instant ramen,” he sets down his gifts to you on your living room’s coffee table as you come around the corner, fresh towel and new set of clothes in hand.

His eyes fall on the familiar looking pair of sweatpants and hoodie resting on the palms of your hands.

Hm. A little too familiar.

Then, it clicks in his head.

His eyes narrow at you as you giggle at his reaction, “Oh, so it takes me getting drenched in the rain for you to finally return my clothes that I’ve been missing!?”

“Hey! I’m not returning them, simply loaning them out to a friend who’s in dire need. You basically gifted them to me the second you left them here months ago.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Love you too,” you toss the clothes at him and take a seat on the floor around your coffee table, prepping the table with the boxes of Chinese food Jake supplied.

After Jake changes into the stolen dry clothes, he takes a seat next to an already-eating you at the coffee table.

“You. are. my lord and savior Sim Jaeyun,” you’re saying with your mouth full of fried rice. You sigh from satisfaction and rest your head against Jake’s shoulder as you continue chewing. He grins as he helps himself to his own serving of fried rice and orange chicken.

You look up at him from your spot, “How was team bonding today?”

Jake groans in response, clearly annoyed. “Stupid. I don’t get how doing trust falls and pyramid building is going to get us any closer. If anything, I almost FELL off that pyramid today!”

You don’t know why, but you find yourself admiring him and his soft features as he continues to rant about one of his teammates, specifically, the one who almost dropped him.

The way his messy hair, unkept from the rain ruining it, almost covers his eyes (but you tell yourself you like it this way, it looks more natural on him), the way the corners of his lips are always perked upwards (even when he’s ranting), the way his eyes sparkle whenever he’s truly passionate about whatever he’s talking about, the way his eyes look at you like–

“Stare much? Look, I get you can’t resist my good looks but at least be subtle about it,” he smirks at you as he takes another spoon of rice.

You break out of his trance and scoff at him.

“You’re cute when you rant,” you nonchalantly say as you move from your spot to mirror his actions and add more rice to your plate as well. Jake’s stills at your sudden comment, unsure of how to respond. Lucky for him, you’re distracted by the mountain of food on your plate to even notice the blushing mess of a boy next to you.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Or else I’d deck you right here and now for ditching me after school today.”

Anddd there goes the moment. Leave it to you to follow up a compliment with a threat of violence.

Jake finds it cute anyways. He always finds you cute.

Jake narrows his eyes and lightly shoves you before an apology is written all over his face. “Sorry about that by the way. I feel awful about making you walk home when it was freezing out.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Sunghoon gave me a ride, actually. Did you know he does debate? I guess you learn something new everyday,” you ramble, unaware of the boy next to you getting tense at the sudden mention of the other’s name.

Up until now, Jake’s completely forgotten about Sunghoon's involvement in this entire scheme. In fact, the past 48 hours with you have felt so normal, so comfortable, he almost forgot about the deal in the first place. “You think he has any clue?” Jake suddenly asks, referring to the plan.

You immediately know what he’s referring to, as Jake practically worded out your very own thoughts.

You shrug. “Not a single one. We’re practically William and Kate in his eyes. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m too distracted by my exams right now to care.”

Jake feels guilty for being satisfied with your answer. He’s 100% sure that if convincing Sunghoon took you two an entire lifetime of fake dating, he’d be all too willing to do it.

“Go to Jay’s party with me tomorrow,” he abruptly says, catching your attention as your mouth is stuffed. Cute.

He pokes your cheek. “It’ll get your mind off of work and plus, what’s more convincing than showing up to a party with your amazing boyfriend?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Jake doesn’t know where he gets his sudden surge of confidence. But he does know he loves calling himself your boyfriend...even if it’s for the time being.

Rolling your eyes and swatting his poking fingers away from your face, you ponder on his suggestion.

“You mean my annoying boyfriend,” you stick your tongue out at him. Jake takes a mental picture and hopes it never leaves his mind.

“But I guess you could be right. Maybe I can clear my head for the night before I study my ass off all weekend.”

Friday, December 11th

The party does not clear your mind.

If anything, it gives you enough headaches to last you at least until the end of high-school.

You come to this revelation as you and Jake approach Jay’s home, a luxurious mansion sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with similarly luxurious palaces, located in an equally luxurious neighborhood.

You come to this revelation when you can already feel the pounding bass of music as you walk up Jay’s driveway.

You come to this revelation when, not even two seconds after entering Jay’s front doors––

“You’re here!” A buzzed Jay shouts at the two of you, causing the both of you to contemplate your past choices that brought you here today. Jay definitely isn’t straight up drunk yet, but Jake still makes a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Just in case.

The blonde-haired boy is quick to hand over two red solo cups of god knows what, to which you and Jake immediately put down on the nearest table after Jay walks away to greet the next incoming guests (you know, to not hurt his feelings).

You and Jake are lucky enough to have been around Jay and his parties long enough to know that going all out at these parties will not be pretty the next morning.

You cringe at the memory of last year, when you had to suffer from possibly the worst hangover of all hangovers after one of Jay’s parties. Jake will never let you forget how miserable you looked the next morning. His camera roll’s album titled “y/n blackmail pics” can vouch for that.

“Remind me again to never listen to you,” you almost have to shout at Jake over the thumping music. Jake laughs at your comment and tugs at your hand as he begins entering the house.

The two of you do your rounds of greetings to the people you know...and random underclassmen who you swear you have never seen before but somehow made it to this party. You’ve always questioned how Jay’s invite list worked. Maybe there isn’t one. That would explain how it looked like someone announced Jay was giving out free Teslas and the entire school got hold of the news.

“Thank god you guys are here,” you hear a voice come from behind the two of you as you guys leave the main room to enter the house’s smaller, but just as luxurious looking, den. You turn to see Heeseung with Sunghoon following closely behind, trying his best not to get swept away in the crowd of people.

The den is where you usually stayed during these parties. It’s not like there are rules of where people are allowed to party, by any means, but it’s like how a high-school’s cafeteria worked. There’s a mutual silent agreement of where everyone goes, and the den is where the party host and his friends went.

“Okay, is it just me, or is tonight’s party just a little...too..much?” Sunghoon asks as the four of you take your seats on the main couch of the room. Jake’s quick to make space for you next to him as you go to sit, but to his surprise, you find your home right on his lap.

“You said be convincing right?” you say into his ear as you settle yourself. Right. That’s totally why. Because you had to go along with the ruse. Obviously.

You shift a bit so you’re more facing sideways, not blocking off Jake’s line of vision as the boy himself is..well, calling him a rag doll might be excessive.

But he’s sure he looks like one right now, having lost all senses in his limbs, leaving him frozen underneath you.

Jake Sim is the epitome of politeness. He was raised in a family that taught him how to respectfully greet others, how to always offer food to others before eating it himself, how to properly treat a significant other. As a result, Jake grew up to be one of the sweetest, kindest, purest people to ever walk this earth.

(Relatively speaking, the earth is large, but so is Jake’s heart.)

But human-beings aren’t perfect, they must have a balance. A balance of pros and cons.

Sure, he can’t pack his own lunch and sometimes forgets to water the little succulent you gifted him that’s currently seated on his window sill. Sure, sometimes he’s too sweet for his own good, you know, like willing-to-be-your-fake-boyfriend too sweet. But aside from the minor details, Jake Sim doesn’t have many cons, no.

But he sure can be awkward.

And so because Jake Sim is sweet, kind, pure, and awkward, he is unsure of what to do with himself when you’re seated right on top of him.

As if you could read his befuddled mind, you take his arm that’s resting behind you to wrap around your waist as your support as you throw one of your arms around his shoulder. And throughout this entire adjustment, his widened eyes are staring right at you.

Bless this pure, pure boy.

Also bless the position you’re in, blocking the two other boys from directly seeing Jake’s face. Because if they were to catch glimpse of Jake’s expression right now, your cover might be blown, just like that. You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon are distracted by another classmate who came up to them.

“Relax,” you sweetly laugh, cupping his chin with your free hand and lightly squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so adorably awkward.”

Jake pouts at you. “I am not awkward!”

“Right, and I’m totally dating you for real,” you playfully whisper at him, eliciting a poke at your waist in response.

Twenty minutes of people-watching-aka-“who do you think is gonna pass out first?”-from-your-spot-on-the-couch later, the four of you draw your attention to the rowdy party host you all have the honor of calling your friend––aka Jay��–dancing (that is, if you call wildly swinging your limbs in all four directions dancing) in the middle of the den.

"Oh god, look at him," Sunghoon voices from besides you.

Heeseung's already filming the moment on his phone. Ah yes, technology. The best thing to ever happen to drunk teens' friends.

"He's so wasted," you throw your head back as you let out a laugh. “We should help the kid out.”

Poor Jay. He's not gonna hear the end of it after tonight.

"I don't know why he thinks these parties are such a good idea when he knows how trashed he's gonna be when he wakes up," Jake says, his hand naturally squeezing your waist as you giggle at his comment. "And how trashed the house will be."

Jay slumbers over to where the four of you are seated, and abruptly stops right in front of the couch.

"My best friends!" Jay happily cheers. “Having fun?”

“Watching you? Always,” you say to the boy who’s squeezing into a seat between you and Sunghoon, as if the small couch wasn’t already suffocating enough (and that’s with you on Jake’s lap).

“But for real though, you should probably lay off the drinks for now,” Heeseung insists. “For all our sakes.”

Sunghoon nods along and grabs the cup Jay’s currently nursing and sets it down where it’s out of Jay’s reach, much to his dismay. But the disappointment quickly leaves the dazed boy’s head, as his attention is now directed towards you and Jake.

“Well if it isn’t mom and dad,” Jay turns to face you and Jake, certainly amused by your seating arrangement.

“You know–” Jay points a finger at the two of you. “For a couple that’s certainly close, I haven’t seen you two kiss.”

Jake is immediately coughing, certainly not expecting that to come out of his friend’s mouth.

“Okay and your point is?” Jake frowns at Jay. If Jay wasn’t tipsy, Jake would’ve smacked the back of his head by now.

“I’m just saying...” the blonde responds, both hands up in the air as if Jake is accusing him of something, when in was, in fact, the opposite. “But nevermind, Jakey boy here is probably too innocent for such nonsense anyways.”

Yes, it’s confirmed. Once Jay sobers up tomorrow, Jake is driving over to his house (even though it’s a good ten minute drive from his own) just to smack him.

“What do you mean I’m too–”

Jake doesn’t finish his sentence. In fact, Jake doesn’t even remember what he was going to say.

Jake doesn’t think nor feel anything else other than your lips planted on his.

You’re pulling him in close, your hands cupping his face as his own are twitching on your waist, his mind flustered. You move your hands from his face to his neck, to which Jake immediately relaxes at.

Sure, you two are in the middle of a dumb high-school party, one filled with pounding music and shouting teenagers, but right now, in this moment, Jake can only feel you. And he doesn’t want the feeling to ever stop.

When you part, Jake’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, his own parted in shock. He thinks he might pass out right here and now. He thinks his heart might explode right here and now. He thinks he might lov-

“Happy?” you turn to a satisfied Jay, ignoring the looks of amusement from Heesung and Sunghoon besides him.

“Well,” you pat Jake’s leg as you get up from your spot. “I’m gonna get us some drinks. Punch only, of course.”

Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk away, his face tinted pink from the adrenaline of it all, his heart racing.

Jake thinks back to three days ago, when he told himself that this idea of yours was going to be all fine. After all, it was only going to be for one week. Afterwards, he can move on with his life as if nothing happened.

But fast forward 72 hours later, 72 hours after you and Jake started this act, 72 hours after Jake told himself it’ll be all fine, Jake knows he was poorly mistaken.

Because 72 hours later, in the middle of a party that reeked of the combined smell of alcohol and sweat, Jake knows one thing and one thing for sure.

He never wants to move on from the feeling of being with you. He never wants to move on from this.

From you.

He’s screwed.

Saturday, December 12th

When Jake wakes up, much later than he intended to, on Saturday morning, the first sensation he feels are his tingling lips, still in disbelief that they graced your own last night.

The second sensation being his pounding mind––it’s running through ten million thoughts at a time, telling him no last night wasn’t a dream.

Third: his heart beating so fast at the thought of you, he thinks he might beat out of his chest.

And fourth, a buzzing noise.

Jake blindly flounders his arm to the table beside him in hopes of finding the origin of the annoying sound, aka, his phone.

After knocking down multiple miscellaneous items on his nightstand (he makes a mental note to clean his room later), he successfully retrieves the item of search.

Jake squints at the bright screen, mind still cloudy from a mix of 1) being half-asleep, and 2) still processing what happened the night before.

y/n [11:10AM]: r u awake yet?

y/n [11:22AM]: imma take that as a no

y/n [11:35AM]: lemme know when ur up

jake [11:44AM]: just woke up sorry

jake [11:44AM]: are you okay? what’s up

y/n [11:45AM]: r u busy?

y/n [11:45AM]: kinda wanted to talk abt smth

jake [11:45AM]: uh well no im still in bed lmao

y/n [11:46AM]: cool im outside your door

Jake’s eyes widen as he processes your last few texts.

Talk? Outside his door?

Jake’s heart is nervously pounding as jumps out of bed and quickly puts on the first plaid flannel he finds. He scrambles to his mirror and gives his reflection a quick run-down.

He’s sporting your his favorite hoodie underneath the flannel that’s long overdue a wash and his tousled hair has seen better days, but he couldn't care less.

Before his mind can catch up to his actions, he’s rushing down the stairs, skipping two at a time and to this front door. Because he didn’t want to keep you waiting? Because he was too excited to see you? Maybe a mix of both. Definitely more of the latter, however.

He quickly runs a hand through his hair to try to fix it up as much as he can, to no avail, before opening the door to reveal you, sitting on the steps of his front porch.

“y/n,” he’s breathing heavily as you turn to greet him with your sweet smile he didn’t even realize he was missing. Is it possible to miss someone overnight? Jake concludes yes, it definitely is.

“Did you run down here or something?,” you question his out-of-breath state, a teasing tone laces the tip of your tongue.

“Or something,” Jake mutters as he closes the front door behind him to join you on the steps when you make no sign of moving. “Have you been out here all morning?”

“Not allll morning. I had a feeling you’d sleep in so I came around the time I first texted you. Would’ve knocked but didn’t wanna bother your family,” you hum, keeping your eyes trained on the peaceful scenery around you.

You’ve always loved Jake’s neighborhood, it brought you a sense of peace, a sense of home.

Or was that because it reminded you of Jake?

“You could never be a bother,” he quickly rebuttals as he takes his seat next to you on the steps.

You respond with a soft smile before turning your attention back to anything other than the boy next to you. Your mind seems to be lost in its own thoughts, Jake can tell by the distant look in your eyes.

The sound of birds chirping in the distance fills the silence that falls between the two of you.

Any other day, Jake would love this. He savors every second he’s with you, even if it’s just pure silence.

But this silence was different. It wasn’t the usual comforting, warm silence that the two of you share on a typical day. This one held tension, tension so thick that Jake doesn’t know where to begin thinking.

But here’s the thing. Jake doesn’t think.

Not when it comes to you.

He takes a deep breath. Rubs his hands together. Pats them on his lap. Turns towards you.

“Look, I-”

“I think I might like you.” The words come out of your mouth so fast, Jake’s positive he heard you wrong the first time around.

He whips his head to meet your eyes, your own already staring back at him, your bottom lip nervously tucked under your teeth.

“No, I––I do. I know I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job right now,” the words are all of the sudden tumbling out of your mouth as if your brain flipped a switch and isn’t able to turn it off. “In hindsight, I should’ve known better to fake date my own best friend. But these past few days made me realize how much I love being with you. And not like how I’m always with you 24/7 before this entire thing started, but being with you. I even started getting that weird, bubbly feeling in my stomach every time I so much as heard your name. And then last night at the party, I realized afterwards that I wouldn’t have kissed you if some part of me didn’t see you in that way. Even if it meant Jay would’ve been on our asses all night if I didn’t. So yeah.”

You finish with a deep breath and look up at him to meet his widened eyes. Silence.

Jake thought he was braindead during last week’s history quiz. Jake thought he was braindead when he had to cram a semester’s worth of chemistry content the night before his exam. Heck, Jake thought he was braindead when you first told him about your idea of a fake dating him. But no, this is braindead.

He’s finally hearing what he’s been dreaming of for so long, and of all times, now his brain decides to shut off.

“Are you..uh..are you gonna say anything?” You’re nervously fumbling with your hands, desperate to distract yourself with anything else apart from his silent stare.

"Why are you sorry?" Jake says before his mind can think of anything else. He doesn't pay attention to his thumping heart that's one look-from-you away from exploding right then and there. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you took the words right out of my mouth.”

Now you're staring at him with the wide eyes, the words processing in your mind.

Jake realizes he's waited too long to do this. A few years too long. He also realizes he shouldn't have put on that extra layer of a flannel. The nervous tension created by the two of you was suffocating enough, and being outside under the bright sun didn’t help.

"I like you too. God y/n, I like you too so much," Jake doesn't even care if his words are all sorts of messed up right now. He just needs you to get the idea. "I have for a while now.”

You let out a relieved sigh, ecstasy rushing through your blood. “Really? I think I have for a while too. I’m so stupid, it took me so long to realize it. It didn’t hit me until I realized how I felt around you, compared to the guy I’m supposed to actually have a crush on.”

Jake lets out a laugh, the tension immediately dissolving. “Hey, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon, I don’t think we’d be here right now.”

“You’re right, I’m too oblivious and you’re too awkward to actually make a move,” you wink at him. If his heart wasn’t fluttering at the sight of you, on his porch on a Saturday morning, confessing your feelings to him, Jake probably would’ve lightly shoved you away.

Instead, he’s turning to you with the most endeared look on his face, and you’re blushing underneath his gaze.

“What? Stare much?” You giggle, quoting the boy himself as you shyly duck your head to avoid his stare.

Jake gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards his, and before you can process what’s happening, he suddenly meets your lips with his own, closing the gap between you two.

Jake thinks if the ground underneath him right now decided to open up and swallow him whole, he’d die happily.

Jake smiles against you, feeling comfort in ways he’ll never be able to achieve without you.

Your hands instinctively find their way into his hair, as one of his rests below your ear, thumb softly caressing your cheek, the other pulling you in by the waist. He’s naturally leaning into you, gravitating towards your warmth, unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach.

He doesn’t think the feeling will ever go away.

When you pull away to catch your breath, you rest your head against the nook of his neck, basking in his presence as his arms both find their way around your waist. You sigh in pleasure.

“Remember at the beginning of all of this, when you told me ‘Just try not to fall in love with me?’” Jake gently says. Jake feels the slight nod you give against his shoulder as you hum in response.

Jake whispers two more words into your ear, filling you with happiness and warmth you know you won’t be able to find through anyone––or anything––else.

“Too late.”

✰ if you made it ‘til the end, ily :’)))))

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tinygameroom · 3 years ago

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Interactive Fiction to Look Out For On Itch.io

itch.io is a trove of interactive fiction games, visual novels, and kinetic novels of all types, and I’ve run into a good handful that I think are worth highlighting (and playing again myself!)

Many of these I haven’t finished yet due to the sheer amount of content or because I went for the ending I wanted straight away, but I’d love to finish them thoroughly and perhaps review some of them in the future.

A couple notes! First, it’s been a while since I’ve played some of these games, and some of them I haven’t seen all of the paths. I try to give warnings where needed, but my warnings might not be complete as I don’t know absolutely everything in each game. Please check the games’ pages and look after yourself!

Secondly, many of these are available free, and some are for sale at a low minimum price, but I encourage you to supporter the writers, artists, composers and developers in any way you can, whether that’s giving them a follow, donating, or just leaving a nice comment. Supporting indie creators is a huge part of what this blog is about so give back to those who create things you love! Now let’s get into the list!

Visual Novels:

Hikeback is a horror visual novel about hitchhiking, time loops, and murder. It gives a lot of incentive to keep playing and replaying, as the story advances almost every time you start again, with new choices and details being revealed as it all unravels. This game is incredibly engaging and beautifully written, and lives up to the promise of time loops and meta game mechanics. I recommend this for anyone who wants a good spooky, existential story. Be warned of loud noises, jumpscares, glitch effects, blood and violence, abuse, and themes of self harm, suicide, and depression. The itch.io pge has a list of content warnings as well as a full spoilery breakdown of warnings if you need them. You can find Hikeback on itch.io here!

Nothing to Say is a Visual Novel dating sim where you go on a date with Zoe, a girl you really like. The only problem is you’re very, very nervous. In this smart little game, you’ll be limited in how many letters you can use to express yourself, and you’ll have to unlock further dialogue options by getting to know Zoe, being honest with her, and being cute together. You’ll only earn letters from dialogue options once, encouraging you to explore more dialogue each playthrough until you get all the options to fully tell Zoe how you feel. Nothing to Say is playable here on itch.io!

Text-Interactive:

The Three-Body Problem is a queer romance interactive fiction about celestial witches living in a dark, magical wood when they encounter a young stranger. It features a nonbinary character, a potential polyamorous relationship, and healthy dom/sub dynamics. I found this story sweet and charming, with likable characters and pretty, easy to follow story writing. The Three-Body Problem deals with themes of abuse in a compassionate manner, and is in large part about healing and finding people with whom you are safe. I recommend it for anyone wanting a nice queer romance read with fantasy elements. Watch out for themes of abuse and sexual themes. You can purchase The Three-Body Problem on itch.io here for $5 or play a free mobile version from Wattpad!

Raik is a deeply Scottish fantasy melded with reality. You play as a young woman dealing with anxiety and stress trying to make it through her day, while a fantasy world unravels around her. This story has layers, and all of it is beautiful. The portrayal of anxiety is poignant and real, and the writing is gorgeous. I don’t want to say anything else to spoil it, but this game is fantastic. I recommend for anyone who likes to daydream. Please be warned of themes of anxiety, stress, and panic attacks as well as some fantasy violence. You can buy Raik here on itch.io for 3 GDP (or more! Please support the author!)

Space Frog! (I saw a lunar eclipse) is a story of a frog in space. He’s a frog and he’s in space! This is a cute, short interactive fiction with low stakes, no worries, just cute adventures of a frog in space. You can direct frog as he travels and learn more about him. It has adorable illustrations and clickable text that reveals extra flavor information. I recommend to anybody looking for a smile. You can play Space Frog here on itch.io and also download a zine of the game for $2 or more!

Floor is a text-interactive game about lying on the floor. You can lie on the floor, and you can get off the floor. What you do next is up to you! This is a short game with no real stakes, just real life boredom and activities. It may evoke feelings of loneliness or disappointment, but you can also just have some hummus. Floor can be played here on itch.io!

Apple Spice Pancakes is another short game about making pancakes with your sweetie! It’s entirely wholesome and adorable. The game text is all dialogue - the dialogue you read is from your partner, and your choices are your real-time responses to them. You can help them design your perfect breakfast while being disgustingly cute. Apple Spice Pancakes is available here on itch.io!

A Witch’s Word is a romantic text game where you have made a deal with a witch, offering her your firstborn. The only problem is you don’t have a child. Or a partner. The witch is here to help. Explore three potential relationships as your witch continues to introduce you to new sweethearts, trying to find someone who you are willing to love and who is willing to give up your child. And if you don’t want any of these people the witch offers you... maybe play the game anyway. See what can happen. A Witch’s Word is available here on itch.io!

Other:

Novena is an interactive poem! It’s a pixel art game that you navigate around, interacting with parts of the environment to read through the poem, which is about the ocean, and wishes, and expectations. And compassion. It has absolutely stunning visuals and music, and the poem makes me cry each time. Be warned of some really heavy feelings, but it will do its best to comfort you. The poem takes about five minutes to read and is here on itch.io waiting for you.

I hope a few of these games are of interest to you and that I’ve inspired you to support these great indie developers! If you wanna support me and see more articles and reviews on indie games, or encourage me as I learn to make my own, you can follow me here and on itch.io and support me with donations on ko-fi! Please reblog if you like this article, since tumblr will make it very hard to find with all these links. Have a great day and play some good games!

#indie games #interactive fiction #visual novels #game recs #itchio #itch.io #interactive text games #interactive games #interactive text #indie game dev #horror games #romance games #dating sims #gaming #video games

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fangirlishing · 3 years ago

Text

just for a laugh

fred weasley x fem!reader/oc extract from my fic just for a laugh

word count: 4k

content warning: 18+ ONLY; nsfw smut; unprotected sex; kissing; dom/sub vibe but they’re also switches; praise kink; begging; teasing/a little derogatory fun; nipple play; penetration; its their first time <3; fingering; blowjob; this is just pure filth.

I pulled Fred down into me, showing him that I was here for him. With this action cementing my permission, he wasted no time in easily picking me up by my waist. I jumped on instinct, coiling my legs around his toned torso. Our lips remained tangled in a mess of emotions as Fred slowly walked us over to Percy’s bed.

He practically threw me down into the plush mattress and I released a nervous giggle as I bounced lightly upon my landing. Fred, however, wasted no time joking around as he crawled on top of me and brought our lips together again.

In this new position, his thigh pressed greedily into my core, shocking me back into a state of delirious pleasure. Laughter wiped from my face to be replaced with thundering desire.

I tried to control the urges that were building up inside of me but, as his hands snaked under my shirt, I knew it was a futile goal. I moaned pleasurably, the sound muffled by his mouth which openly kissed mine.

A filthy smirk coated his lips as he trailed his fingers further up my chest. My breath hitched slightly as his calloused touch inched close to my breasts and my body reacted on instinct, rolling upwards into his strong hands with pleasure. My body and mind working together in tandem as both craved more from him.

His lips detached smoothly from mine as he whispered close to my ear, “you wanna take this off for me?” His hot breath set my neck ablaze and I almost let a moan spring free at such intimacy.

My eyes were wide but maintained my feverish desire to please him as they became darkened with a lust deep enough to match his. Without thinking, I pulled the pyjama shirt over my head and chucked it across the room.

For the first time, Fred looked upon my naked torso. I writhed a little at his analytical gaze, even his eyes on me was enough to send me toppling under waves of pleasure. On some level, he knew I'd left myself naked for him. I'd hardly admit it to his face, but, his joking seduction at dinner had coerced me into leaving myself completely naked underneath my pyjamas as I hoped, a little romantically, that he might finally act upon the tension building between us for weeks.

“Good girl,” he hummed filthily, drawing me up by my neck to reconnect our lips as a frenzied reward.

As our lips entangled, his hands returned to my bare skin which glistened for him under the moonlight peeking through the dark we were engrossed within. I began to whine upon his lips as his fingers purposefully avoided the places he knew I needed him most, thrusting my chest into his touch to show my impatience.

With such a display, he bit my lip painfully, dragging it out teasingly as his sultry eyes met mine before letting my lip snap back into place.

“Do you need something, darling?” He asked innocently, but his eyes challenged me as they smirked whilst looking upon the lustful cracks his taunting fingers caused to spread across my skin.

I whined softly, hoping no one could hear me as pleading begs fell from my lips almost as if magically coaxed out by Fred. I wouldn't put it past him but I knew I was under my own spell, enchanted by the red-headed treat towering over me.

He cast a wordless charm around the room before he spoke again, “you want me that badly?” He snickered, eyes still focused on assessing my body as if it was a half unwrapped gift ready for his final, jarring tears to whisk away the wrapping that contained me.

All I could muster was a nod as his fingers tantalisingly stroked down my sides, “dirty girl,” he chuckled teasingly in my ear before placing his open lips on the hidden hickeys that dotted my neck and chest, courteously of our moments of previous frenzied pleasure at Hogwarts.

He bit a few of them, laughing more as he watched me jolt with pleasure. It felt wrong to hear Fred talk to me in such a way - like this was all just some fantasy I’d cooked up in my dreams but, as I felt his tongue drag across my skin, I knew how real this was and I could no longer deny the pleasure that shuddered up my spine.

My hand slid into his hair instinctively, gripping it softly as he travelled his way down my body. I relished at how close we were, I could almost feel his heartbeat racing alongside mine as his strong beater figure pressed against my perky, bare chest.

“How much have you imagined this, darling?” He quipped, drawing himself back up to drown me in another of his captivating kisses as I whined in his mouth.

“Too much,” I gasped, opening my eyes to watch him smirk down at me, “probably every night.”

He moved close to my mouth again, hovering over it as he whispered, “what do we do in your head?” His voice screamed control but it wavered as he, too, struggled with his pleasures.

I felt it grow below, undulating into my still clothed skin to remind me that I was not alone in this longing. We had indulged ourselves too quickly for Fred's liking and, so, he drew us out longer with such questions. Perhaps he wanted to avoid the conversation we were due for as long as possible but, with his hardness pulsing into my thigh, rubbing slightly, I didn't care.

I flushed excessively in the dark room, distracted by my racing thoughts. He chuckled throatily in my ear before kissing my neck once more. “Is it that dirty, love? So bad you can’t even tell me? I promise it’ll stay between us,” he pressed a soft kiss upon my lips, staring me down as he regained control, knowing that I was fully encased under him.

“Its…” my thoughts were interrupted as he tweaked one of my nipples teasingly, I glared down his innocent disguise as I continued, “it’s embarrassing.”

He laughed again, kissing the centre of my chest, right between my breasts which heaved with desire, “that’s cute, love. How ‘bout you tell me one thing we’ve done in your head and I’ll tell you something I’ve thought about in return?”

“You-you’ve-?” I stammered, causing him to smile more.

“Of course, but I won’t say anything until you speak up.”

A lump formed in my throat as I sifted through all the fantasies my brain had conjured throughout my infatuation with Fred. Some were innocent - like going on picnics or wading through a pond and splashing each other with water whilst we laughed - but some were disgustingly perverse. Some I could hardly voice to him because I knew they would grant him much too power over my body and mind.

“One time I-“ I began, clearing my throat before I darted my eyes away from him as embarrassment roared through my veins, “I imagined you rewarding me for doing well on an essay,” I mumbled, turning my face fully away from him and shutting my eyes so I didn’t have to watch his provocative gaze as I lay my mind bare alongside my body for him.

His mouth came to hover next to my ear, “and how exactly did I reward you?” A sly kiss was placed just behind my ear which curled my toes and fluttered my breath.

I whimpered, unable to utter the words to him.

“Alright, darling,” I could hear him smile softly, leaving behind our game for a moment, he continued, “no pressure, I promise,” his hands rest comfortably along my sides, “how can I make you feel better, you look like you’re about to combust.”

He altered his position slightly, no longer hovering over me and trapping me under his presence. His muscled thigh remained in place, pressing on my anguished core, but he allowed himself to sit up, releasing me from the invisible chains his dominance wracked over me.

“Tell me about what you’ve imagined,” I whispered, drawing my hands up his chest to grip softly at the loose fabric of his shirt, slowly pulling him back down over me to reinforce my comfort with his controlling presence. To show him I needed him there just as much as he needed me.

“Hard to pick just one, love,” he uttered causing me to let out a chuckle that sent a wave of relaxation hurtling through me.

“I suppose there is one fantasy I keep revisiting,” he trailed off and I looked upon him with anticipation and he was more than willing to satisfy my cravings, “you’re studying hard in the library and I whisk you away to the restricted section and give you a much-needed break.”

My breath hitched slightly, “what do we do on this break?” I asked innocently as Fred’s fingers trailed down my stomach absentmindedly.

“Do you want to have a guess, darling? Or should I just tell you?”

His hands rest at the waistband to my pyjama bottoms as I gasped, allowing two words, “tell me,” to fall from my lips in a breathy respite.

Dragging his fingers across the band he hummed, “I lie you down on one of the tables,” he lifted my waistband, “and I tell you that I want you to do one thing,” I felt his fingers hover over my dripping slit, teasing me both subconsciously and physically as I squirmed slightly. I tried to ignore the surprised look of pleasure that fleetingly appeared on his face when he discovered no trace of underwear on me.

“Wh-what did you tell me?” I asked, anticipation getting the better of me as his fingers worked fire into my veins.

“I wanted you to beg to cum for me,” he stated simply, plunging a finger inside of me to coax out a desperate moan from my throat.

He was drunk on the power he wielded over me, looking down at my lustful expression and relishing in knowing that he was the one causing it. His cocky attitude taunted me, smirking upon me while I uttered profanities as I delved deeper into my pleasure, my brain conjuring up images of being bent over that library table and how Fred, I knew, would feast upon my body.

He coiled his thrusting finger inside of me, pushing against my pleasure point and dragging me further into a state of ecstasy. Delirious from the pleasure, I began to grind along with him as I craved more of his touch. More of him, whatever he decided to give me I would lap up like a dog. With this movement from me, he slid his finger out, denying me the pleasure I had become captivated under.

He began to stroke a set of his fingers up and down my slick entrance, breathing a laugh when I jolted as his fingers struck my bundle of nerves.

You’re so desperate for this, aren’t you?” He whispered into my ear and I pathetically whimpered a reply before crying out in shock as he suddenly slammed three fingers inside of me, chuckling in my ear at my loud response which he knew he'd get once he left me distracted with his slippery, seductive words. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he bit my ear playfully as he thrust faster, drawing more sounds of desperation from me.

His wicked eyes met mine and I knew exactly what I wanted him to know, it was something I’d whispered to myself late at night when giving myself a release and, admittedly, something I wanted to say to him.

“I wanna cum for you, Freddie,” I whined, gasping as his fingers plunged far deeper inside of me, engulfing me in pleasure as a response to the filth my lips divulged.

He hummed musically, “you’re perfect,” his lips softly slid over mine, passionately reaching into my senses as his fingers continued to drive me closer to my edge.

“Freddie,” I gasped through the kiss, heavily breathing before his lips returned to mine, “I need you now… Will you- I mean, would you want to-?” I cut myself off, feeling awkwardly vulnerable.

He detached from me only to gaze upon me with a genuine smile, “of course, only if you’re sure,” he pecked my lips again, reassuring me before we went too far.

I nodded, eyes glistening with uncontrolled affection. At this moment, I didn’t care how far we went and what that meant for us - I felt an animalistic urge surge deep within me that craved him in his entirety, no matter the consequences.

His fingers left me with a swift moment and I felt an emptiness I knew would soon be satisfied as Fred threw his sweater across the room. My hands ran over his muscled back, pulling him down for another kiss as a hungry, lustful ball settled uncomfortably in my stomach at the sight of him, it begged for its obscene desires to be quenched. He detached again to focus on slipping his pyjama pants off and I followed suit, leaving us both vulnerably naked for the first time.

I looked upon his hard member that had teased me thus far, my breath catching as reality settled upon my shoulders. Of course, I was a little fearful for my first time with Fred, but, as I met his kind eyes, I knew it was all going to be okay. That it wasn't going to be like the sex I once knew.

“You ready?” He asked, his soft tone relaxing my breathing.

“Merlin, yes,” I breathed and he chuckled over my lips, passionately kissing me once again. His open mouth moved leisurely over mine, short gasps interrupting our entanglement once he began touching himself for the first time since we’d begun. He'd held out so long to focus on my pleasure and, as I watched him succumb, it only enhanced my drive.

“Godric, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard,” he groaned, wincing with satisfaction as he stroked himself languidly.

“Let me,” I whispered, spitting into my hand and bringing it to stroke alongside him.

I watched as his hand fell lack, his eyes rolling back into his head as I continued my slackened strokes. He gave himself over to the pleasure, staggered breath holding back his desire to loudly groan as he fell under my seductive spell.

“Freddie?” I whispered, earning a dazed, mumbled acknowledgement as if he was both here and not, “get on your back for me.”

He obeyed immediately and without question, running a hand over his face as his mouth hung open in silent exertion.

Smirking, I brought my face closer to his length. My lips kissed his tip softly, evoking a drawn-out sizzled moan to fall loosely from his mouth. I slowly tested the waters, letting the salty taste of him coat my tongue before I plunged his hardness to the back of my throat. His gasping groan finally freed itself from his restrained voice as his fingers clutched my hair, guiding me up and down.

I pushed myself as far as I could go for his pleasure, the feeling of him hitting the back of my throat only stirring me on to be the best he’d ever had.

His breathing became more ragged as he submerged himself under my control, his grip relinquishing as he relished in the feeling of my tongue swirling around him, wanking him off with my lips.

“Love,” he strained through his teeth and I detached my lips, leaving a trail of spit attaching me to his member, “as much as I want my cum to drip from your lips, I’d like to be inside you much more.”

A smile spread across my face, “where would you like me then, Weasley?” A brave power had fallen upon me when I had him under my control but, now, I felt it would slip away from me once Fred's skilled mouth centred on me.

Taking control he wrapped his arms around my waist, flipping us over fluidly before he ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his face quickly. He dragged his thumb over my lips, a lingering touch to show how much he missed them upon him, before dipping his lips toward me. I readied myself to receive another of his long, emotive kisses but found his lips resting next to my ear to whisper a vulgar command, “you better get ready to beg.”

Without warning, he plunged himself into me. Our shared groans filled the air as we finally satisfied our deepest cravings. He rested one hand on my waist and the other reached over me to grip the headboard tightly.

Fred restrained from moving for a few moments to give us time to get used to the new feeling of each other, pulsing in unison from the sheer shock. I yelped once he began to move, causing him to pause a moment before I beckoned him to continue as I assured him it wasn't pain but pleasure that was rocking through my body.

He began to sloppily thrust inside of me, our inexperience shining bright but neither of us cared as we became wrapped in a euphoric cocoon. With every jolt of himself inside of me, he moaned at the sensation and I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming as I relished in the feeling of finally being full by someone I cared deeply for.

“Let me hear you,” Fred panted in my ear, moving both his hands to now rest on my waist to draw me further down onto him, sliding me up and down over and over.

I uncovered my mouth, “fucking he-ll, Fred,” I quipped, stammering as he quickened his pace. I allowed my body to fall under his control, my breasts bouncing as the mattress squeaked underneath us.

He felt so right inside of me and my body became consumed under his pleasurable grasp. His hands squeezed tighter and tighter around my waist, guiding my movements as he slid into me. For every impulsive, too-tight squeeze he littered across my body came the soft brushes of his fingers to ease the small spikes of pain he’d unintentionally brought upon me.

Soon, this pain turned to pleasure as he wrecked my warm core. His length charged hard and fast inside of me, so much so that I could barely keep up. I lost myself in his strokes, whimpering soft moans as my slack body allowed him to have his way with me. The soft slaps of our skin violently intersecting spread throughout the room and it started to drive me insane with animalistic pleasure.

Consumed by thoughts of him and a yearning for his length that slammed so hastily inside of me, my thoughts became hazy as they obsessed over Fred.

His name became a chant, dripping from my lips easier than breathing. I wanted him to hear my complete desire for him more than anything else. What had begun as a whisper, almost like a silent prayer, became a lewd, rhythmic reminder of who was giving me the pleasure I’d craved for so long. Longer than he knew.

Every time his name fell from my lips, his breathing staggered almost with disbelief that this was real - that he was hearing such vulgarity fall from the mouth of someone who, for many years, had been so reserved and shy.

It urged him on, too, the knowledge that my entire being had become fully dominated by him in body and soul, and caused him to show his appreciation for my devotion by slamming hard into me.

“Fu-uck,” he stammered, more profanities falling from his lips as our joint pleasure built more and more.

Lost under his control and the steady, rhythmic pumps of his cock inside of me left me little room to think of anything else. My entire being ached for him - craved his pleasure, wanted to show him how desperate I was. How desperate he made me.

My wet mouth came to absentmindedly swirl around my fingers, my lips hungrily coated in saliva. Moaning Fred’s name again, my fingers left my lips and quickly trailed down to my clit, beginning to steadily play with it to overwhelm myself with greater pleasure.

I perked for a moment at the new sensation but I quickly submitted as I felt intense waves of sensuality jolt through me. My stomach fluttered as, with Fred working in unison with my own fingers, I became overwhelmed with carnality and it transformed the ball in my lower stomach into a burning hot pit which grew with each flick I gratified myself with.

Fred’s breathing, matching mine, became staggered now as he filthily pumped himself into me, “I-Merlin, I’m close, love,” he groaned, straining as he held himself back from the edge we both climbed towards.

“I-I wanna feel you, Freddie,” I begged, “deep inside, I wanna feel you there.”

He smirked, his spare hand stroking down my neck to my chest and, for an agonising minute, all I wanted him to do was wrap his fingers around my throat and squeeze.

“Keep going,” he begged, pinching my erect nipple, grimacing as he held himself back from spilling too quickly over the edge.

I hissed as he pinched me hard before I whispered airy begs for his cum to fill the empty, burning chasm inside of me.

I almost choked on my breath as he slammed hard and slow into me, dragging it out further as he chuckled to himself; but it was obvious the thread he hung onto was loose and weakened under our intense passion.

He gritted his teeth with every elongated stroke as he held himself back, I hardly knew how he was handling this, “you’re so worked up all over me, such a little whore,” the venomous words dripped from his tongue easily as if he'd said them about me before in his fantasies.

Slamming into me again, he chuckled at my whimpers, “such an innocent little girl coming awfully undone - would you like to show me how you cum for me? I can tell you’ve done it for me before... I even heard you a couple of those times.”

I unlatched my eyes from his gaze, embarrassed at admitting what he already knew. Shying away from the desperation I craved, needed, in this moment.

His lips dropped, whispering seductively to me, “beg for it, darling. Beg for me.”

My wild, innocent eyes met his hedonistic, darkened ones and I knew then that I was dangerously enraptured under his spell.

It all came to a head, the feeling of being so full driving me so wild that it caused the heat spewing inside of me to bubble over. I didn't care if it made me weak, I wanted him to know that this weakness was all because of him.

I shamelessly began to beg, words falling from my lips quicker than I could control them, “I-I want you to show me what I do to you, wanna feel full of you. Please, Freddie,” I strained harder now, “please I need you. I-I-I,” I could barely hold myself back as his length slid so fluidly inside of me.

He angrily slammed himself as quick as he could inside of me and my eyes rolled back into my head as he pounded quickly.

“Such a good girl, fuck! Scream my name, love… scream it as you cum,” he stammered, finally releasing himself inside of me as pleasure undulated between us.

Overwhelmed with how this new sensation felt, I followed suit as I shrieked his name, my walls pulsating around his length which remained buried inside me as we both came down from our highs.

He remained inside of me as we both attempted to regulate our breathing. It was silent between us, only our ragged breaths and the sweet cream leaking from me remained as a memory of what had just happened.

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #imagine #smut #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter fic #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fangirlishing #fangirlishing smut #fangirlishing fred #weasley #harry potter smut

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thunderheadfred · 3 years ago

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❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #gender neutral reader #todoroki headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #smut #fred writes #bnha #mha

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fizzychocolatemilk · 3 years ago

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Domestic Bliss (Domestic Pro Hero Bakudeku hcs)

Apparently @incorrect-bkdk-quotes needs a pick me up or several because exams are kicking their (his...her...?) ass. So in the spirit of school sucks and serotonin is awesome, here are my ideas for domestic pro hero bakudeku.

- They got married right out of high school. It was hard because of how busy they were as entry level side-kicks but in their last few years of high school they had gotten really good at communicating, so they were able to have a serious conversation and work through it with each other.

- That’s why they registered as a hero duo.

- If anything that makes their relationship stronger. Their hours line up a lot more, so not only are they watching each other’s backs on the streets, they get quality cuddle time too.

- Once in a while one of them will get called in for a solo night shift.

- When Katsuki gets called in, Izuku pulls his secret Dynamight body pillow out of its hiding spot and cuddles with it so he can sleep for a few hours. Then he wakes up, stashes the pillow, and makes a pot of tea and some cookies for Katsuki to have when he comes home exhausted (which he always does).

- When Izuku gets called in, Katsuki can’t sleep at all. What he does on those nights varies. Sometimes he’ll pull the Kacchan & Deku memory box that he has stashed away, so he can admire how far they’ve come with each other (and look at cute pictures of Deku). Other times, he’ll stay up cooking meals that end up being their lunches for the next few days. When Izuku gets home, they bathe together. It helps calm Katsuki’s anxieties from Izuku being gone/in danger alone, and apart from needing a bath anyway, Izuku loves making sure his Kacchan is feeling okay before bed.

- They ALWAYS kiss before they sleep. It’s reassurance for both of them that the other will be there in the morning. They physically cannot go to bed angry at each other.

- Katsuki doesn’t know about the Dynamight body pillow....if he did he’d probably try to find a Deku version.

- Izuku doesn’t know about the Kacchan & Deku memory box....if he did he’d probably (definitely) cry for at least a few hours.

- They are THAT couple....the one that’s disgustingly in love. They’re friends say that they hate it, but they all think it’s really sweet and they’re proud of how far Katsuki and Izuku have come with each other.

- If Katsuki sees something that reminds him of Izuku....he buys it. He’s really responsible with his spending otherwise.

- Izuku makes food for Katsuki. They’re both really good at cooking, but Izuku’s love language is making nice meals or cute treats for Katsuki after a long day.

- Katsuki makes lunch for both of them though. His food is just as delicious as Izuku’s (totally not a competition or anything), but he’s a little more artistic, so their bentos are always really cute.

- They no longer accept long-term missions unless both of them are needed. It narrows their scope, but the first time Katsuki was called out on a long-term, neither of them could sleep, they were both distracted on the job, and while they were eating well, they just felt generally miserable, anxious, and stressed. It’s something both of them feel bad about sometimes, but they know that they’re so used to each other that they just can’t be apart for months at a time.

- They have bi-weekly dates that they take turns planning. Katsuki is more traditionally romantic (flowers, candle-lit dinners, picnics, etc). Izuku is less romantic and more thoughtful (One time he set up a city-wide obstacle course/scavenger hunt for them that led to different meaningful spots to their relationship. At the end, he asked Katsuki if they could renew their vows because every day he loved him more than the day he married him. Katsuki totally didn’t cry ;) ). They both love being surprised by the things the other comes up with.

- In their side-kick years, they ended up moving a lot. Every time they had a competition to see who could surprise the other by scooping them up bridal style and carrying them over the threshold of their new place. Katsuki always complains when he loses, but he secretly loves it when Izuku carries him (Izuku knows and it strengthens his resolve to win). Izuku is kind of a perv and likes when Katsuki carries him because he can feel Katsuki’s biceps flexing against his back and under his legs and he loves it.

- Katsuki thinks they’re a lot cheesy, but he always gets couple Halloween costumes because Izuku LOVES them. He does NOT go the obvious route though. If he and Deku going to be match-y, they are NOT going to be something lame like peanut butter and jelly. One time they were Rapunzel and Flynn Rider. Izuku convinced Katsuki (aka used puppy dog eyes) to be Rapunzel. Katsuki threatened people with a frying pan the whole night.

I have so many ideas, but this is already really long and I have to get to school. I hope you enjoyed! See ya later!

#fizzy's hcs #bakudeku #bkdk #dynadeku #pro hero bakugou katsuki #pro hero midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #married bakudeku #domestic bakudeku #domestic pro hero bakudeku #fluff #communication is awesome #wonder duo #twin stars #codenpendency

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nat-20s · 3 years ago

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Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour.

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways.

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

#tma #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #post canon #wonderful! au #my fic

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mrskurono · 3 years ago

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Okay here I am on my new blog bc this site hates me !!

Alright so of course I'm going to self ship with Chuuya. We have ehhhhhh I dunno...anywhere from 2-4 kids (dont judge me, I can't say no okay??) All of them daughters, but that doesnt really make a difference lol

I think the holidays would be a little hectic, but the good kind of hectic ya know? Kids are all over the place bc they had hot cocoa and Chuuya is on hos second glass of wine (which we all know he doesn't hold his liquor well) BUT apart from the chaos I think christmas time would be one of our families most treasured holidays. The kids are home and we get to spend more time together. Movie nights every night until christmas day and of course there is music on through out the day.

I also headcanon that Mori completely adores mine and Chuuyas kids so I'm sure that a lot of time would be spent with him and the "important" members in the mafia

Don't think you're pulling a fast one on that 2-4 shit. Bc Chuuya sure as hell ain't pulling anything out ;D

Chuuya finds a chocolate laced wine to drink through the twelve days of Christmas not clickbait??? Ok but also he does like, s'mores flavors and anything that might remotely remind him of "chestnuts roasting on an open fire" vibe when he reads the wine label 😂 Suddenly there's a new bottle every time he and the girls go to the store. Not a wine drunk aunt but pretty close to it.

Speaking of the girls- All. Four. Of. Them. Look. JUST like Chuuya. So there's no getting out of family photos done up in cringy themed pjs that then get sent out to the other mafia heads. (Mori gushes and wants to know where you guys got them so he can put it on Elise) But also just like Chuuya and the girls are so disgustingly cheerful that it spreads to the others?

Especially the Black Lizards. Tachihara is the worst with the four of them and like the dumb uncle meets worry wart older brother. While thoroughly loving all four of them but constantly getting bullied by four very short girls that scream like Chuuya. While Gin and Higuchi are semi functioning aunts who lavish the girls in girly things (soaps, lotions the whole deal) Honestly it just ends up a giant mixing pot of a family holiday dinner with Mori and Koyo and all of the Black Lizards. Ngl it's kinda cute even for Chuuya

*sighs* Fine....I guess I'll share my main selfship...with Francis.

Certifiably one child...a cute little boy that is just so blond and blue eyed looking Gerber baby with those dimples and big smile. Ok fine, maybe a second one. Maybe. But I require help with that if he wants a second one.

As for holidays? I'm certain from Halloween on this man is annoying as fuck. Just- So insufferable and excited about everything that I'm starting to wonder if he's just a 6'3 child???

That being said, Francis is really present. He's engaged from every cup of cocoa to every light on the tree and each stocking hung with care. These are the only activities he won't let money help with. Nothing needs to be looking like Martha Stewarts asshole as long as we did it together. The ornaments a little low on the tree bc the kid(s) are short? That's perfect. Are the lights outside hung crooked bc everyone was bitching to their father about cold hands while doing it? He thinks its the best light display in the entire neighborhood. Nothing feels more like home to him than Christmas and it's really his favorite time of year. The gifts and money are nice. But he doesn't really care about that. More often than not he's the kind that just is standing there watching his kid(s) not trying to cry every time they do anything. It's kinda endearing of him even if he is a 6'3 dork

#wife making me admit i love francis on my blog :l #shut up you like chuuya!#wifey.♡#three.games #selfshipsaturday #self ships #bsd x reader #chuuya nakahara #francis fitzgerald

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movingandnolongeractivehere · 4 years ago

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[hcs] some general headcannons ♡

— dating the karasuno boys >> third years and second years (daichi, suga, asahi, noya, tanaka)

daichi sawamura —

morning walks to and from school because he’s just a good gentleman it makes you cry

never lets you eat lunch all alone. like he’s always by your side or if he’s busy he’ll have suga and asahi or the first years accompany you because he doesn’t want you desserted in a table

its also to make sure that you are eating right!!! mans wants to make sure you’re good and healthy (plus the first years always get giddy when he asks them to come with you since they asks you the most ridiculous questions in hopes to expose a secret about their captain)

daichi just gives them a glare and they shut up

gets you little trinkets that remind him of you when he’s on his away games

“I just think it’s cute and it makes me think of you”

sir-we need to stop you from making us fall in love even more

kinda not the softest but definitely has a hard time saying no to you specially when you pull the puppy eyes

he starts an inner dialogue when you do those to convince him something like buying some shit you know is just a waste of money and he’s all like “oh no not the puppy eyes”

random but serious talks about your future— getting a house, marriage, even kids

and its literally so fucking pleasant to see him looking so intent about planning your future together,,, he’s so sure it almost hurts

love him please

sugawara koushi —

never misses any special occasion that could be an excuse to take you on a date!!!

its just a koushi thing

random duets and soft humming when you two are together because he really has an amazing voice (and you can’t convince me otherwise, go cry about it)

gives the warmest hugs that can cure you of any sadness like at some point you’d believe their actually magic

very teasing but cares very much about you

always has something sickeningly cute to call you and it makes your heart go “kandiska omg” but at the same time you’re also “disgusting please stop”

trolling daichi together because why the hell not (plus daichi has the most funniest “i am done with this” reaction whenever you and suga pull some shit on him)

hinata randomly got the two of you matching mugs for one of your aniversaries

stares at you with the most dorky smile when he thinks you’re not looking but oops you see it and you really just go “oh good he really loves me that much yes”

and yes suga loves you a lot please be the nicest to him because he is soft boy

azumane asahi —

he!!! is!!! the!!! most!!! sweetest!!! boy!!! ever!!! ohmygod!!!

gets shy and flustered when you compliment him but he absolutely loves it when you praise him so do it more

gifting each other soft clothings like cotton sweaters and warm scarves because a soft boy like him deserves soft things too

will never let you walk home alone specially when it gets late because he can’t even stand the idea of someting relatively bad happening to you

giving him all sorts of braids and keeping an extra hair tie, rubber band or head band with you because he sometimes breaks his and you being a good girlfriend is always there to the rescue

WILL AND I TELL YOU, HE WILL always ask for consent either from you, ya mom or ya dad because he doesn’t want them to think bad of him

and they would never??? bruh your parents probably even acknowledges him as their in law already lets be real

you literally not getting why people are scared of him or like think he’s this some sort of thug because??? he is just the softest?? and the cutest??? and everything nice and sweet???

nishinoya yuu —

has a list of disgustingly cute nicknames to call you and he never runs out of them, it just keeps going (babe, baby, princess, honey, lil’ cutie, cupcake, whatever sweet ass nickname exist you name it, he says it)

crackhead pranks with tanaka and cue daichi screaming at the three of you for almost setting something on fire

absolutely sends you selfies from every gym or court he’s played on, on his away games, tokyo, nationals, training camp, wherever he goes he sends you a selfie of him if he can’t convince coach ukai or daichi to bring you along

will fight, and I am absolutely serious, anyone who even makes you frown

ya’ll know he’s gonna pretend to be all cool around you but in reality he’s just a big ass baby who’s loud but you love him anyways

makes it a living goal to remind you how perfect you are because in his eyes you are literally everything

anyone who says the opposite is going to get reckt because he may be small but he’s feral and tanaka backs him up (and thats on bro code)

gets all googly eyed when you smile so warmly at him because ahhh his heart can not survive this

kisses your nose randomly because it makes you scrunch them and you look so adorable focusing on the tip of your nose

10000/10, highly recommend dating him

tanaka ryuunoske —

Always manages to convince you to watch practice or to watch his matches

goes crazy when you borrow or just straight up steal his clothes like please anything but seeing you in his own clothing it makes him incredibly soft (but he makes you wear his clothes more anyways)

lol noya and tsukki called him a simp,,, but he didn’t even deny it??? like fuck whatever you say so what I’ll simp for my baby

your number one hype yes sir

literally thinks everything you do is immaculate and praises all the little things you make. he wants you to feel appreciated no matter what it is because you do the same to him

hanging out with saeko-nee san because she’s all for you and she loves teasing the shit out of tanaka

lol saeko covers up for the two of you whenever you sneak out so tanaka can’t say anything

you being the more mature one in the relationship but thats not saying anything since the both of you are just crackheads

daichi face palming when you did something dumb when he specifically told the both of you not to do so and you both just sit there like “well whats done is done” while daichi nags your ears off for breaking the last broom available

love him please oh my god i would die for tanaka

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meichenxi · 4 years ago

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*rant commencing*

ok guys let’s sit down and have a think about the way we talk to kids, particularly neurodivergent ones, and the weight it carries

the other day, I opened up to a friend about something really hurtful my best (and only) friend said to me when I was fifteen. It was a moment of emotional intimacy and the first time I had brought it up seven years later and, once again, I got laughed at and told I was too fucking sensitive

and ok maybe yeah I was a ridiculous child. I’m a ridiculous adult, that shouldn’t be surprising. But this hurt and hurt and hurt and I was trying to think about why this in particular and not anything else was so painful

so here’s the situation. at fifteen, like many smart kids, everyone thought the world was open to me. Ok I had no social skills to speak of and was ostracised by teachers and students and family, but I was an optimistic kid, and in a disaster of a home situation (involving kidnappings and court cases and running away and being out of school for a year and a brother starting drugs at 12 and living in a shelter and basically just a LOT) I was always the smiley helpful one. and apart from being defeated by very simple mechanisms like idk drawers or biscuit packets, I picked things up quickly. I took GCSEs early and extra and tutored others; I was a regional competitive swimmer in breaststroke and open water; I taught myself the flute and got into an international touring youth orchestra without lessons; I won a poetry competition for adults in primary school; I played competitive netball and was a long distance runner; I drew and sold my art; I wrote shitty novels and started making conlangs and was interviewed on bbc world about it; I loved performing and was invited to join a theatre company when I left school; and my biggest passion in the entire world apart from Tolkien was martial arts. And the best thing was for my parents - one of whom was disabled and didn’t work and the other who was a cleaner - is that I worked two paper rounds and tutored younger children and earned all of the money for it myself. blah blah blah. I was your mum’s friend’s kid.

well, I’m a disaster adult, so you can probably guess that none of that lasted for very long. and there are gazillions of people here with exactly the same story.

the point in question, though, was when I was fifteen and thinking about sixth form (the last two years of school in the UK) it was becoming clear alarmingly fast that you weren’t allowed to just keep doing everything you loved. at some point you had to make a choice.

but how could I give up swimming for music? Or music for languages? Or languages for athletics? Or athletics for theatre? or, actually, all of them but one???? how did people just know what they had to do with their lives? how did they choose?

the problem was, I said to my friend, I know I could do well at any of them, so how was I supposed to choose? (tactless and a stupid thing to say and also just not true but I was fifteen and simultaneously disgustingly cocky and cripplingly insecure) And he laughed and said, well, fuck you then.

oh noooo. poor meeeeeee. I’m so fucking good at things what do I dooooo

I haven’t stopped thinking about that comment for seven years. Every single time I think about wasting my potential, every time I can’t sleep because I’m terrified that I’m not being productive or useful and hating myself because I’m upset that I can’t do something right away and I know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about - I think about that comment. I’m lucky. It’s alright for some.

because, actually, being expected to know what to do with your life aged 15 is a fucking terrifying thing. we were kids at fifteen being told to make decisions as if we had all the facts, as if we weren’t also being blindfolded and spun around in circles until we couldn’t stand. Do you do what your parents say? what you think you want to do? what your teachers say? do you just stay in education even though it’s not for you because your dream is stupid, or because you don’t have a dream like everyone else seems to? are you supposed to have a dream?

*it’s NOT a stupid thing to worry about*

particularly when? well, when your entire self worth equates to the things that you output, the things that you do. so just for a moment, put yourself in the shoes of all of these wonderful, dazzling, damaged, crazy kids with big dreams and big hearts, kids that are struggling right now and kids that are our future, and imagine that you’ve been told since you were old enough to read or speak or walk that you’re just so very clever

isn’t it just wonderful how clever you are? isn’t it just great how we never need to worry about you? you’re such an easy child, it’s a blessing. always so considerate, so thoughtful, never making a fuss! isn’t it just fantastic how well you do in school? I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a child who went to all of those nasty parties. you’re so dedicated

raise your hand if you were only ever told you were good. raise your hand if you were never told you were kind.

so, what happens? you take a child, and you tell them for its entire childhood that they’re clever. You don’t tell them that they’re creative, or hard-working, or dedicated, or driven, or helpful. You let them know that it’s ok that they’re weird, because they’re going to be successful. what do you think parents say to their kid who’s crying because she has no friends and she doesn’t understand what the other children are thinking and why they would hurt each other like that? even good parents, the very best of them, say things like: you’re just more mature than they are. it doesn’t matter. keep your head down - you’ll show them.

your child, in the best case scenario, has access to her hyperfixation that makes the world big and bright and beautiful. she’s a bit weird, but it’s kind of cute. anyway, she’s good at it. and as long as she succeeds, conventionally, and you get to brag, then it’s ok that she’s a little bit unconventional.

and then things to break, just a little. and then, aged eleven, your child is having an asthma attack in the classroom because she got so anxious she couldn’t answer a maths question she couldn’t breathe. it’s ok, her parents tell her the next day. you’re just not good at maths - that’s alright. you don’t have to be good at everything

your child, because she’s perceptive, begins to realise that things don’t get better as you get older. people are just as cruel at 12 as they are at 7, and they’ll be just as cruel at 15. and then one day, as a bad joke because she doesn’t really understand humour, she writes a fake text to her dad from someone’s phone in legalese that actually has a secret code hidden it in that she knows her dad will crack right away because he’s brilliant. she thinks it’s hilarious. her father thinks he is being threatened, and spends the next week in meltdown, bedridden and burnt-out. and when she owns up, he turns and snaps at her, and says as if you could write something like that. an ADULT wrote this, not a fucking child

and suddenly, that cleverness they kept talking about? they don’t even understand that.

suddenly, no one sees her at all.

she needs to learn to be like the other kids. to be like a fucking child. and while she’s learning, she doesn’t speak for a year

that happened to me, but take your pick - I’m sure you don’t have to look far to find examples of your own.

My point is this: if you tell a child for their entire life that the only thing that is worthy of being loved is what they achieve, if every time they do something they love you tell them oh, you could be a famous writer! you’re so talented! rather than saying that you loved listening to their story, if you only praise them when they’re good and quiet and convenient and tell them that as long as they succeed, it doesn’t matter if they don’t have friends or if they’re miserable, and THEN you tell them to choose ONE THING and drop 90% of everything that makes them who they are -

what the hell did you THINK was going to happen??

because here’s the first thing. for many kids, whether that’s because of neurodivergence or age maturity or whatever, hyper fixations and hobbies aren’t just things they like to do. THEY ARE LIFELINES. they’re the things these kids go to when they’re hurt, angry, upset, because they make sense. for many kids, especially but not always girls, they are able to camouflage themselves and mask tendencies of neurodivergence because they’re ‘good students’. at a family gathering once, my mum, so frustrated at my inability and lack of desire to talk to any members of my extended family, snatched my German grammar book and locked it in the boot of the car. knowing that I escape and read it in the toilet was the only thing keeping me going, exhausted and stressed and overwhelmed. I vomited on the grass.

and here’s the second thing. you tell us from an early age that they only way we’ll ever be acceptable to the rest of society is if we succeed. autistic kids are fine, as long as they’re international maths olympiad champions. adhd kids are fine, as long as they’re famous athletes. if you’re obsessed with musicals that’s ok, as long as that obsession leads to a well-paying job as a successful writer on Broadway.

and then you tell us that we only have one chance at that success? and this decision determines the rest of our lives? and that we had so much potential when we were kids, and we better not waste it now? that not everyone is so lucky to be able to choose between so many things??

because being asked to choose between these things isn’t being asked to choose a hobby. when the only way anyone else defines you positively is by your success in one area, that becomes your entire identity.

so no, we’re not being too sensitive when you ask us to pick and choose what career, or what hobby to take forward. you’re not asking about hobbies. you’re asking us to choose what kind of person we want to be. you’re asking us to choose the most impactful way we can give back to the world, because we can’t waste those god-given talents. you’re asking us to figure out, still a child and hopelessly lost, what our purpose on this planet is. and you’re looking at us as if the ways that we survived all of these years, the things we clung to for comfort, are things we can just cast aside without further thought

ask me now, and I’ll tell you that’s not the way things work. we have second chances and third ones and tenth ones, we can be different things to different people and we can do different things at different parts in our lives, and be successful in different areas. life isn’t a fucking flowchart. and I’m still trying to come to terms with all the things I could have been, and my freak-outs about ‘wasted potential’ are so clockwork I could plan my calendar around them, but I’m beginning to understand that life doesn’t end when you’re twenty, or when you haven’t written a best-seller by eighteen. you have time.

but at fifteen? at fifteen, that question broke me.

do you know what you can do instead? you can show a little thoughtfulness. you can be kinder, and lead by example, and praise your kids when they’re kind too. when your son runs to you and shows you what you think is a better picture than you - a stick figure artisan, if you say so yourself - could ever create, you can actually just say you really like it. you can ask him if that’s him and daddy and the dog on a cloud. describe the picture back to him, and engage with this thing he’s made from his imagination - tell him the clouds he’s drawn are so big and fluffy and white, and ask if there are giant spiders living there. you know how to shut a child up? tell them yes dear, it’s wonderful. don’t be that person. promote your kid’s creativity - ask questions, have fun, play with this thing they’ve made - and not destroy it

when your daughter comes to you and shows you a song she’s written, don’t tell her she’s so talented or that she could be a musician one day. just sing along. ask her why she wrote it, and what she was thinking of when she did. ask her if she could make it different for two people singing it at the same time.

and if your child just really, really loves maths? let them do maths. it’s ok if their interests are stereotypical - as long as they love it and it’s fun, supporting them is wonderful. the best present my father ever got me was five hours of tutoring - an introduction to linguistics!! - when I turned twelve, starting on my birthday at 8am. I had never felt so understood and so loved.

as much as these simple things can destroy someone’s life, can stop them talking for a year, you have the chance to be that one voice of kindness that is a friend where a young person needs it most.

for me, this was the Bus Lady. I never knew her first name because I forgot immediately and was too embarrassed to ask again, but we got the bus together for two years right before I applied to university - she was a trainee teacher at my school. she saw that I missed tutor group and sat in the corridor every morning writing, and that I ran laps for an hour every lunchtime instead of sitting alone. but she came and sat with me one morning and asked what I was doing; I was developing a new shorthand and told her so warily.

she didn’t raise her eyebrows or say wow, that’s...that’s amazing. instead she frowned and looked at me skeptically and said ‘But why would you do that? There are plenty of functional shorthands out there - what does your shorthand have that they don’t? Tell me about it.’

I had no idea what to say

this was the first time anyone had actually ENGAGED in any capacity with what I was doing. and just like that, just by treating me seriously and asking valid questions and pointing out inconsistencies, I was a person who happened to have an idea that was in some serious need of questioning, and not a freak

there’s no way she remembers that interaction; she’s been a teacher now for year and probably doesn’t even remember who I am. But I had been this close to not going to university, to not bothering, and she made me stop, and wait a moment

she will never know the difference that that conversation and two months of kindness on the bus from a stranger made in my life.

so let’s be kind to each other, please. let’s be forgiving. let’s challenge each other and let’s engage with kids with special interests and listen to them talk. and so to any educators or teachers or parents or even other kids, I want to say - let’s treat our words seriously and with respect, like we treat our children, because they have immense capacity to hurt, because they can be used for good.

to any other fifteen year olds in a similar position, I just want to say: none of us here on tumblr have properly sorted our lives out, but I promise you it does get so much better.

you’re not too sensitive. you’re not a freak. you’re not only acceptable because you succeed. I know if you’re masking you feel you have to and it’s for survival, and I’m sorry, because you shouldn’t have to. and you should never, never have to think that you ‘have it good’ or that you’re lucky and are not allowed to hurt. there’s always some one who has it worse, and you can’t stop beat yourself up about that. fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. if you have gone through trauma, if you have unhealthy coping mechanisms, if you are depressed or anxious or otherwise mentally ill and some of it stems from this, I am so very very sorry. but you will be ok, even if you can’t write for a couple of years, or even if things change. you’ll get there. speaking as someone who is now writing for the first time in six years, drawing for the first time in longer, it’s scary and new and weird, but you will come out the other side.

and you do work hard. and you are creative. and you are loved. and you are so very, very kind.

*rant over*

#neurodivergence #neurodivergent #adhd #autism #giftedness #gifted kids #tag for this fucking awful school system?#neurodivergent kids #parenting #education #long post #meichenxi rants #mental health #trauma #depression #anxiety #mental illness #sorry for the scary tags I don't mean the post to be scary I'm just annoyed #and it got longer than I thought it would

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