#he sent like 2 photos of himself once and i was LOSING IT.

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

Safe with me by daddy and the love songs is the ultimate love song I got a few certain someone's out there rn I'd love to learn to play it for

[tremendouscreationperson]

At Stan's sham funeral you have a strange conversation with 'Ford'

Part 2

Going to Stanley's funeral was surreal to say the least.

And worse was that his mother had to tell you. She called you, quietly sobbing down the line, late at night to inform you.

You couldn't believe it.

Stanley.

Your Stanley.

Well no. He was never yours.

He could have been...

In another life maybe.

You packed for a small stay and arrived at the shitty hotel, which upon further inspection was semi-decent but that did nothing to brighten your mood.

Memories of you, Ford and Stan at school flashed across your mind. The twins were your only friends, you weren't popular to begin with and even as your body changed and you filled out, being associated with them didn't change your reputation. But you loved them.

Ford was scarily intelligent and lightning fast with comebacks you were too stupid to understand.

And Stan was brilliant.

You knew he hated being the 'shitty' twin. The 'useless' one. The 'spare' Stan. But he wasn't!! Stan was amazing.

He had a brilliant imagination and you loved seeing him really throw himself into a task. He hadn't liked boxing to begin with but as he grew up and got better you'd go to his matches, cheering him on.

He always came to your side after a match - win or lose - always claiming you were his good luck charm.

It was bliss until it wasn't.

Until the twins fell out. Until Stan was kicked to the curb.

You had resented Ford for letting their dad throw him away.

Stan had stopped by yours one evening to say goodbye, you knew his cocky "don't miss me"s were an act and knew he was hurting but didn't want to ruin the evening. If you had, you might've followed him.

Seemingly overnight, they were both suddenly gone and you were alone.

~~

The service was tiny.

A man in a shabby suit stood at the door, scowling at the coffin. Caryn was standing at it crying silent tears as Ford rubbed her back. They were both in black, Caryn wearing a posh dress with a shawl wrapped around her shaking shoulders and Ford in a suit.

You hadn't physically seen them in years.

Drifting apart unnaturally when the rift formed.

You stepped up and stood on Caryn's free side. She noticed the movement and immediately squeezed you in a hug.

"Oh, love." She whispered into your hair, pulling back and cupping your cheeks. "I'm glad to see you."

You agreed. It had been too long. "I wish it was under different circumstances."

She nodded, turning back to the closed wooden box.

Next to it was a photo of Stan shyly smiling. You had taken it using your Christmas present. God you adored that camera, adored taking stupid photos with it. The photo was from when he decided to grow a mullet, his hair was longer than usual and as he smirked into the camera he looked younger than you knew him to be. He'd always be younger than you now.

You had to force your eyes away and they landed on Ford, he was staring at you, brows pulled. It was hard to look at him. Had he always looked that much like Stan?

"Hey." He scratched his chin with a gloved hand.

"Hi." You stepped back to not speak over his mom.

"You came."

Why wouldn't you?

Well, you hadn't been sent an invitation.

Maybe he didn't want you here.

You didn't care.

"Of course I'm here." Your eyes watered. Was he going to turn you away? "Stan meant the world to me."

"He did?" Ford's words were small.

You nod once, biting the inside of your cheek as you willed the tears to stay put.

The three of you stood there staring at the coffin in silence.

What more could you do?

A few words here and there were spoken but none of you had the heart for anything grand. He deserved it but you couldn't.

You had to excuse yourself after the silence became too suffocating. Sitting on the steps outside. It was cold.

It didn't take long for Ford to find you.

He sat next to you, twiddling his thumbs. You were going to be sick, that was something Stan did. When did Ford pick up the habit?

He had brought the silence out here. If you were alone it was merely you being alone but now the two of you weren't speaking. It was silent.

"I loved him you know?" You spoke to no one, eyes glued to your knees. Why had you confessed? That wasn't something you thought you'd do today.

"Don't say that." Ford pulled out a packet of cigarettes, offering you one. Fuck, even that was reminiscent of his brother.

"It's true." You shook your head at the offer. "Had the fattest crush." A dark chuckle escaped you as he lit the cigarette. "He was way outta my league, though."

Ford coughed, spluttering at your words. "Fuck off."

Patting his back you replied, "It's true. I could never compete with little miss hot pants."

Ford was staring at you. It wasn't freakish or weird but it was for a prolonged amount of time. You didn't care. It wasn't as if you were lying.

He took a drag of the cigarette. "He was leagues below you."

"Don't do that." Your tone wasn't forceful but you felt an anger simmer. "I know you guys argued but he was brilliant. Truly brilliant."

Ford eyes were glossy, his face contorting in pain. You spied his hand hovering near yours before it closed and he pulled it to his side. The man let out a sigh before hugging himself.

"He-he loved you."

You rolled your eyes. "You don't have to pretend, I'm alright."

"I'm not pretending, he truly loved you. You were his favourite person. He talked about you in his sleep." You raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious. He was only with 'hot pants' because he didn't want to fuck it up with you."

That hurt.

He loved you.

Fuck.

You both liked each other and wasted your time.

Shit.

You buried your head, weeping.

.

.

.

Part 2

[rafesfavbimbo]

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Glamour Model!Reader

Read Part 2 here

Moodboard for this chapter here.

Author’s Note: I could not get this idea out of my head since I sent it in to @bunnyrafe. So I decided to create my own little universe about it. Imagine playboy is still big and making magazines + social media post. (w/o all the dark history.) It’s canon reader has a boob job bc yk Playboy. But I made her non-descriptive as possible. Season 1 Rafe.

Tw: Stalking, Emotional Cheating (by Tooper), Objectification/Sexualization, slight non-descriptive smut, Canon-Rafe, eventual smut.

Rafe thanks whatever higher power decided to make sure he was at this exact location at this exact time. Almost feeling like he needs to thank God for guiding him here or some shit.

His curiosity peaked when he was driving down the one way road near the cut. His eyes going immediately to the ropes blocking off and a sign stating “Closed,” on one of the prettiest parts of the beach. Pfft, nothing’s ever private for the self-crowned King of Kildare. So Rafe does what comes natural to him; he inserts his nose in business that has nothing to do with him, with an arrogance that states it’s his right to know and parks his freshly-washed truck. Immediately sneaking under the ropes and walking a short distance until he sees something that for once in a long, long while. Leaves him struck.

He’s watching from afar as a crew sets up various reflectors. There’s slight chaos, people buzzing around and setting up. A photographer adjusting the lens on his camera. Women decked in casual clothing, going through a rack with various pieces of barely-there lingerie and bikinis.

But that’s not what catches Rafe’s attention.

It’s her.

There she’s sat in a pink directors chair. Her hair in a pretty blowout, flowing long behind her with the beach breeze. Her pretty legs peeking out from the white robe wrapped around her. Smooth and glowing, stretching down to pretty manicured toes. Makeup artist buzz around her, adding finishing touches to her flawless face, slathering gloss against plump, pouty lips and adjusting the tousled loose curls flowing around her gorgeous face.

Even from afar Rafe can see the long, wispy lashes adorning pretty eyes, staring up at the woman standing over her, brushing a makeup brush lightly over the smooth skin of her face.

He knows who she is, he knows exactly who she is. She’s been the figment in his imagination whenever he’s desperate and withering, stroking himself. Eyes shut tightly imagining her perfect figure withering under him or staring harshly at his phone screen at the skimpy photo she’s posing for.

He’d never in his life imagine he’d be standing right in front of his biggest fantasy. Albeit from afar, but so close. He feels like a creep, like a peeping tom lurking on what he knows is going to be another one of the various, scandalous shoots she’s so famous for. He can’t help it, even with all the chaos surrounding her he’s zoned in on her and her only.

When she stands up, the white fluffy robe falling erotically off her shoulder, exposing more of her smooth skin, it has him huffing deeply out of his nose. His eyes zoned in on her behind his wayfarers, hand slightly clenching.

It’s when she begins untying the lose knot on the straps of her robe that his him tensing up the most. The smooth skin of her back being revealed down to her pert, plump butt and slim thighs. He feels like he’s dreaming, almost like he wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. But the blaring heat of the sun, the sweat dripping down his tan forehead, making his shirt stick to his back and the painful ache of his stiffened cock brings him back to reality.

She hands the robe to the woman next to her, throwing her tousled curls behind her back. Her back is still facing him but when she turns around … that’s when Rafe really feels like he’s died and gone straight to erotic heaven. He runs his gaze down the entirety of the beach goddess standing right in front of him. His slightly clenched fist now turning white at the knuckles and blunt nails digging into his palm.

He runs his eyes over her perfect, incredibly busty perky tits and perfect upturned nipples. Down to her smooth, flat stomach which pinches in perfectly at the waist and rounds out to beautiful hips he wants to grip into and leave bruised. Her skin glowing, flawless. Slathered in some kind of oil or lotion, making her glisten exquisitely under the North Carolina sun.

But it’s when he sees the perfect V sat inbetween her slightly muscular, yet plush thighs that he lets out a deep heavy groan. The perfectly groomed landing strip waxed there teasing him and making him want to feel it tickle his nose as he buries his face into the most perfect cunt he’s seen in his life.

She’s looking down at her stomach, smoothing her pretty hands over it and then flipping her head back adjusting her hair with both hands, eyes closed. It’s like she knows he’s right there and like she’s putting on a show for him and he revels in it.

He watches as she turns back around and prances confidently forward, walking on the tips of her french-tipped toes slightly kicking the sand. Walking toward the shore and dipping her toes in it.

“Alright everybody! Let’s get this going!” Shouts the older man with frosted tips, dressed flamboyantly. An enthusiastic smile on his slightly wrinkled face.

Rafe watches as men on the crew adjust the reflectors, and he especially watches as his dream girl faces the crowd once behind her. And all he can wonder is how she can feel so comfortable standing so bare in front of so many people. Her hands coming to her pretty hips, cocking them to one side as she digs her french-tipped nails into her smooth-tanned skin.

Rafe gets closer and ducks behind one of the various palms trees hiding his tall figure, needing to get a closer look and hear whatever the fuck they’re talking about.

“Okay y/n, we’re gonna do a couple prints with the blowout and then a good few in the water with your hair slicked back. Sound good?” states, who he’s positive by now is, the photographer.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” she replies back, light and airy with a sweet giggle. Fuck, even though he can barely hear what’s going on just the cadence of the way she speaks sends his nerves into overdrive.

“Perfect.” chips the photographer, “Let’s get a roll on it while the sun is still out.”

Rafe stays there the entire time. The ache in his cock growing bigger, his chest tightened and body tense watching her maneuver herself into various poses. And in his sick mind he feels as if she’s posing for him, and him only. Teasing him with that perfect body and flawless face, seductively bending and prancing around as various clicks and murmurs of praise clamor near.

It’s when the sun starts bleeding into the ocean like lovers reuniting and leaving a warm orange haze across the beach as the photographer shouts “aaaanddd that’s a wrap!” that Rafe realizes he’s been there the entire time. His once neat and primped, plaid button up now soaked through with sweat.

“You did great! I think this is one of your best editorials yet! Absolutely stunning my dear, as always.” praises the flamboyant man as he embraces the now covered model, giving her a slight squeeze and she returns his affections with a warm smile on her face.

“It’s always the best time working with you Stephen, you make it great.” she quips genuinely. Pretty lips turning up on a sweet smile.

“Nonsense, you make my job easy being as perfect as you are. My star! Now get some rest, you’ve earned it. And maybe visit around the Island, I know you love places like this.” He pinches her smooth cheek endearingly.

“Maybe! We’ll see. Goodnight everyone thank you!”

Various voices shouting “goodnight y/n” and “be safe,” reply back. As if he would let anything happen to his precious gift, thinks Rafe.

The beach princess of his dreams now changed into a baby pink, ‘Juciy’ velour jumpsuit and light-brown uggs. Her drying hair clipped back in a light pink claw clip, walking her way up the designated path back to the main road.

Rafe jumps into action, making it back quickly to his truck and speeding out of there before anyone catches him. Debating if he should have followed her to make sure she got back to wherever she’s staying safely. But his cock was so hard it was almost painful. He needed to get home. Driving all the way with only one thought in his mind. Her.

That night, Rafe fist his cock till he can’t anymore under the shower head until the once hot water turns freezing cold. His eyes shut tightly replaying the events he’ll forever have ingrained into his mind, from earlier.

And once he finishes up and steps out of the shower, drying himself off and staring at himself in the mirror. He’s only got one thought in his head. His methodical brain going into overdrive with plots. That no matter what it takes, she’ll be his. Under his thumb, and he’ll never let her go. Ever.

“Did you hear who’s on the island? Everyone’s talking about it man.” quips Topper straightening himself quickly with excitement. The country club is lively, Kooks in every corner and constant murmurs of conversation all around.

“Hell yeah! I’ve been dying to see her, I want to know if she’s as sexy in real life as she is in pictures and on social media.” states Kelce, fully catching onto Topper’s direction of conversation with the same enthusiasm.

She is. Thinks Rafe, knowing exactly who they’re talking about. His stomach filling with that possessiveness he’s so well-known for. His eyes glaring at his friends behind his shades, who talk animatedly about you. He catches slight statements of “she’s the ultimate wet dream” and “i’d do anything for just one night,” as his ears ring with brewing rage.

Ha! He thinks. He’d bash their heads in before they even got near you. His perverted mind already convincing himself that you belong solely to him. And he’s not letting his grip loose.

“Aren’t you dating my sister, bro?” drawls Rafe in his deep, nasally cadence. His legs spread wide as he leans back confidently with his arms over the chairs handles. His demeanor threatening and protective. The boys assuming over Sarah, but in his mind it’s because they’re speaking about his woman.

“Yeah-I mean-c’mon man this is Y/N Y/LN we’re talking about. She’s like the ultimate sex symbol and besides she’s basically famous. We probably won’t see her, let a man drea-holy shit.” Topper’s eyes widen comically, staring straight behind Rafe as Kelce turns in the same direction, jaw dropping slightly and body sitting forward quickly. Eyes bulging in the same comedic manner as Topper.

Rafe’s brows furrow as he watches people in his line of vision all turn in the same direction, eyes of lust, shock, curiosity and even envy from the various men and women around. And when Rafe tilts his head to the side, eyeing whatever is behind him from his peripheral vision that has people, including his friends so starstruck, does he see the girl who’s been invading his mind since yesterday.

There she is. In the prettiest, skimpiest little off-white sundress. Her statuesque figure shown off by the scrap of clothing and contrasting perfectly against her skin-tone. Her skin is glowing just like it was yesterday, stunning legs on display and her pretty feet sitting beautifully in clear platform mules. Shiny hair pinned up in a messy up-do with wispy hairs framing her face beautifully. Big squared glasses perched on her perfect nose and a small smile on her luscious lips as she listens to- is that fucking Sarah?

People’s eyes follow his sister and his future woman as they make their way over to the table resided by the 3 boys. Men and women’s eyes lowering down to her backside and he can only imagine what they’re leering at if the shortness in the front of her dress is any indicator for the length in the back. All the attention quickly dividing elsewhere when Sarah reaches them and speaks up.

“Hey guys!” says his sister enthusiastically as she catches them in her line of sight, immediately reaching back and holding her hand out to guide you along with her. “This is y/n. I met her at the market.” Idiot, thinks Rafe. Why would Sarah think they’d need to be introduced to someone that even his own Dad, has admitted to finding attractive. Rafe shudders at the thought.

Both Kelce and Topper shoot straight up, hands sticking out cheerfully shouting out overlapping “Hi’s” wearing smiles so big it looks like their cheeks hurt. Idiots, thinks Rafe. Why would they make it so obvious? Especially Topper in front of Sarah?

“Hi…” the model says shyly, reaching her hand out and placing it delicately in Topper’s. Giving him a warm smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“This is my boyfriend Topper, who by the way is a big fan!” says Sarah gives Topper a playful eye roll and smug smile, to which he bashfully looks to the side with a cough to clear his throat, cheeks reddening. “This is Kelce, and this,” Sarah turns to point “is my brother Rafe,” to a still-sitting Rafe. Who now rises slowly, shades hiding his pretty cobalt eyes. He stands to full height, towering over the 4 of you and inching a bit closer to you, taking off his glasses as he hangs them on the collar of his white polo.

When y/n turns to look at him, it’s like something struck in both of them. Rafe already felt someway, he stalked her all day yesterday for fucks-sake! But being near her is making his body and mind go haywire. He watches as she pulls her glasses off, exposing those pretty eyes and long wispy lashes. Perching them on her head.

When y/n looks at him though, her breath stops and she’s looking at him with a love-struck look that has Rafe smirking. Hook.

“Hello,” drawls Rafe, his voice deep and nasally, reaching his hand out, “nice to meet you.” He says with the same smug smirk sat on his pretty face. He watches as she places her delicate hand in his palm, beautiful eyes still stuck on him and now locking with his piercing ones. He brings her small hand up to his lips, holding eye contact and pressing a small kiss to her knuckles. Taking in the creamy, vanilla scent radiating off of her and smooth skin of her palm.

“Hiiii..” she whispers, airy voice as light as ever. Eyes still stuck on him in a daze and glazed over with… is that lust? Rafe convinces himself it is, and he’s almost sure it is. Only deepening his para social infatuation with her. “It’s nice to meet you ..Rafe.” He swears he can drop dead right there, hearing his name roll off her tongue in that pretty voice he imagined moaning into his ear all night.

“Ahem!” Sarah clears her throat inquisitively. Breaking the veil that lifted over the both of them for that single moment, like two lovers destined to meet. Topper and Kelce watching the interaction with wide eyes. “Well, now that you’ve got acquainted with a couple people around here and have pretty much seen all there is to this area, that’s interesting anyway. How about we go down to the Outer Ban-“

“No.” quips Rafe sternly. Voice firm. Leaving no room for argument with just a single word. His eyes cutting deeply into Sarah, whose face now scrunches with defensive attitude, “what is your problem?” she bites back.

The two boys still watching with wide eyes, but glancing over unabashedly at the model whose eyes are still focused on the man who’s got heat building between her thighs very quickly. And her heart pounding in her chest.

“You wanna take her to the Cut? Around those filthy fucking pogues?” bites back Rafe with the same animosity, inching forward threateningly as if daring Sarah. As if she ever gave a fuck what her brother thought. “Yeah.” she bites back firmly, “And what? She did a photoshoot there just last night.” Oh, I know. “She wants to see the area outside of working, besides I’m her tour guide and I promised to show her the whole island and that’s what I’m gonna do.” scoffs Sarah, rolling her eyes at her brother’s ingrained dominance.

“Nah. You’re not.” quips back Rafe, arrogance radiating off of his big and tall frame. “Nah, you know what. I’ll take it upon myself to show this sweet little princess around, if she wants to see the Cut or play in the water it’s better she’s with someone who can take care of her. Protect her from those fucking weirdos you like so much. Like me.” says Rafe with that smug smile on his face that Sarah wants to smack off 100% of the time. “Who do you even think you are-“

“So you wanna see the Outer Banks, beautiful? How about I show you around?” He cuts off Sarah, ignoring the anger radiating off of her as he turns his full attention to his proclaimed little princess. Who had been watching the whole time, struck by the sexy man who she now knows as Sarah’s brother and who’s got her inner thighs squeezing together and slick. His causal dominance over her, making her head hazy, and stomach flip.

Line.

Sarah, Topper and Kelce stand stunned by Rafe’s casual display of dominance but more-so by the fact that they can see that she liked it. A flirty giggle falling from her lips as she nods her head quickly. Leaning her body into him. Rafe smiles at the sweet sound, throwing his arm over her shoulders and turning his back to his sister and friends. Completely over-taking her attention and asserting his claim. She immediately nuzzles into his side, her arm wrapping around his waist and giving Rafe her undivided attention as she looks up at him with doe-eyes hanging onto every word that falls from his pretty pink lips.

“Yeah? You Like that?” He brings his other hand to pinch her chin, then giving it a slight knock with his index finger as he smirks down at her. “You stick with me and I’ll show you exactly everything you’ve been missing and whatever you want to see. I’ll take such good care of you, princess. Don’t worry.”

Sinker.

Read Part 2 here.

a/n: phew! he’s so dreamy ugh! I hope you all enjoy!

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Revenge Body

The day he dumped my sister...

This is a photo of Eric the day he dumped my sister. According to him, she wasn't good enough to be with a hotshot architect like him! Eric thinks highly of his career and appearance, and he loves himself more than he could love any woman.

My sister had to find that out the hard way.

What Eric doesn't know is that his ex-girlfriend comes from a family of witches. In fact, her speciality is contacting the dead, and that's exactly what she did...

My sister summoned me, her dear-old brother, from beyond the grave and spilled the tea on her ex-boyfriend. Even though I was dead, I was furious with the man, so I agreed to help with my sister's revenge scheme. It might've been petty and unethical, but I was in! Eric needed to lose what he loved most...

2 months later...

"He's fattening right up!" I sent a selfie to my sister, cradling the bloated gut that hung from my chest.

That's right. I jumped into Eric's body and possessed his ass! In only a short time, I'd completely transformed the jerk's entire existence. I was dragging his perfect body and career down the drain!

After performing Eric's dramatic emotional breakdown at his architectural firm, I got fired and kicked out of the building. I strutted his body back to his place, and quickly sold everything he owned. I got rid of his fancy clothes, his shiny sports car, and his luxury apartment. All the money went directly to my sister. I used what was left to rent out the crappiest little apartment I could find.

It was in that seedy rat-infested motel that I gleefully began to destroy Eric's carefully maintained body. I packed his tight stomach full of beer and fast food, shaved his perfect head of hair, and donned an unwashed outfit I thrifted from a GoodWill.

Now that he was unemployed, I got him a job with a construction company. I made sure to get started with the same crew that Eric used to supervise as the architect. Needless to say, there were a lot of angry tradesmen who weren't happy to see him...

6 Months Later...

Apparently, construction workers really don't like architects, so they were all constantly badmouthing Eric behind my back. I didn't really stop them, but I also didn't really keep them from doing it to my face either. With me in control, Eric was just a pathetic, submissive loser, and all his new coworkers knew they could push him around.

I didn't wash Eric once while wearing him. My nose eventually became numb to his ripe body odor, but I noticed the disgusted looks on everyone's face when they were near. His skin was constantly itchy with dry sweat and dirt too, but I didn't bother buying him anything else to wear. As far as I was concerned, Eric would get up, work, and sleep in the same repurposed clothes I bought for a few bucks.

By this point, the lean muscles he'd been so proud of were long gone. A heavy layer of blubber hung off his whole body, and he was practically unrecognizable with his shaved head and unkept beard. Giving his heavy beergut a jolly shake, I chuckled and knew it was finally time to move to the final phase...

Present Day...

It was mid-afternoon when I jumped ship. I abandoned his body after a long morning of heavy lifting, leaving Eric exhausted, sweaty, and caked in mud.

Eric regained control of his senses for the first time after 6 months of being possessed by me. He stood there for a moment, all 280 lbs of him, simply staring at his surroundings in disbelief and confusion.

He didn't start yelling until he looked down and saw the state of his precious body. I doubt he had ever felt so slimy and gross before. As I said, I made sure to leave his body as disgusting as possible for him.

Don't feel bad for him though. My sister and I just made Eric as disgusting on the outside as he was on the inside...

[chukys-mouthguard]

broken memories - pt. 2

sequel to kinda tempting

3k words | loosely proof read

genre: fluff/angst

featuring: mat barzal x female reader x matt rempe

warnings: mentions of loss of pregnancy

previous chapter

It had been a month since you had broken the news to Matt about your baby. He was temporarily living with Jonathan Quick as he continued his offseason training to prepare for camp. The two of you kept in touch, often checking in on one another as you both navigated the stages of grieving.

You still talked on the phone at least twice a week, things remaining very cordial between you, which you appreciated. Never wanting to lose Matt entirely, hoping that you could remain friends despite everything.

Mat Barzal on the other hand, wasn’t being much of a friend as he’d yet to return any of your texts. Including your text you’d sent the night of the fight with Matt when he packed his things and left.

While you understood he was engaged and happy with someone else, he did promise that you could still reach out to him whenever you needed. Yet maybe that was simply a meaningless comment of comfort at the time, not something that held any true intent behind it.

You had finally started to feel like your normal self, getting fully back into work and preparing for the upcoming season. The organization pleasantly surprised you as they did not intend to fire you despite your relationship with Rempe, of course now that wouldn’t pose a problem. But you were happy that you could stay with the organization after you had become so sure this would be where you stayed for the foreseeable future should you and Matt have had your baby to raise.

Checking the time you had a little over an hour left in your work day, figuring you’d use the time to go get some footage of the recent renovations of the locker room to start making a few posts for the socials.

As you exited the elevator your phone was buzzing in your pocket, an image of Rempe brightly filling the screen. A smirk found its way across your lips at the sight of the photo. It was after his debut stadium series game, his eye black slightly smeared as he flashed a goofy smile at the camera. You’d never forget the excitement surrounding that day, but more importantly meeting Matthew.

“Hello Matthew Rempe, how can I help you?”

He chuckled at your sing-song tone as he greeted you. “I am actually getting in the car, just leaving training. But, I realized I need some stuff from the apartment, well your apartment. Can I swing by?”

Heading into the Rangers locker room you pulled your work phone from your pocket, snagging some photos and a few videos to ensure you had plenty of content to use in editing.

“Um, yeah sure. I’m finishing up here at MSG within the hour, then I’ll be heading home. I would say I can be there in like an hour or so? If that works for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably hit traffic on my way so that would be fine. I’ll see you soon!”

“Sounds good, see you in a bit.”

-

Dropping your bag on the island you headed down the hall to throw on some comfy clothes, which ended up being some shorts and a Rangers t-shirt that Matthew had left behind. You figured this wasn’t an item he was in need of so he wouldn’t mind you wearing it.

Before you could even get fully settled in from work there was a knock at your door.

“Matthew Rempe, what in the world is this?”

You eyed the boy as he carried in a box of food, setting it on the island as he wrapped you in a quick hug.

“Well, I knew you probably hadn’t eaten dinner yet. And it could be like old times, when we’d get our favorite takeout place for dinner.”

You smiled at the gesture, thinking back to how Matt’s diet surely took a turn throughout your pregnancy once the craving for Chinese food kicked in. Weekly Matt found himself bringing home whatever dish it was you craved, but he never once complained. Well, that is except for when you ended up with a better fortune in your cookie than he did.

“You really didn’t have to do this, I could’ve just made some leftovers or something.”

He shot you a playful smile as he held up the container of steamed dumplings.

“Really? You’d pass on dumplings for leftovers?”

You licked your lips as you stole the container from his hand, moving around to the other side of the island as you pulled out some plates and silverware. Passing some to Matt so he could serve up his food before the two of you found your familiar spots on the floor at your coffee table.

“So, how are you doing? Everything good?”

Nodding your head you reached for a napkin, wiping your mouth before you answered him.

“Yeah, starting to feel like my normal self again. It was a little rocky there for a bit. But, I’m starting to feel good. Able to make it through the workday without crying, which is a big plus. How about you?”

He also nodded, adjusting how he sat on the floor as he rested back on his hands.

“Yeah, same here. I mean, I still have my moments where I do the why me sort of spiel. But I would say I’ve gotten past a lot of the frustration and anger I felt for a while. And training has been freaking amazing, I’m so excited for camp. I’ve been working so hard, the boys are really impressed.”

The smile on his face as he told you about his offseason training schedule warmed your heart. A smile formed on your lips as you saw how excited he was, talking about some of the different workouts he’s pushed himself through. Matt was like a kid in a candy story as he talked about the upcoming season. He’d already come such a long way from the rookie you met at the stadium series.

“I’m really proud of you Matt, and I can tell you’ve been working hard. I can see it for sure!”

“Oh, so you were checking me out eh? The biceps are looking pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He shot you a wink as he flexed his bicep for you, making you roll your eyes playfully as you reached over to steal a bite of his sesame chicken.

“Seriously? Some things just never change I guess.”

He slightly chucked as you shrugged your shoulders. Stealing Matt’s food was always something you’d do after telling him you didn’t like his order. Which would always lead to a silly argument once you’d stolen almost half of his chicken from his plate. Leaving him with mostly rice and veggies, which were obviously not the reason for him ordering the dish. But he never complained, always happy as long as you were.

That was something you’d always appreciated about Matt. He was selfless, always willing to sacrifice anything for you, to put himself in difficult positions for you. But you always felt like you couldn’t give him the same, your heart being pulled in the opposite direction for a guy who clearly had moved on from you like it was nothing.

You hated that you’d hurt Matt, of course losing your baby wasn’t anything you’d ever done intentionally. But to know he still felt as though it was never him in your heart, that you were solely with him for your daughter and not because you liked him enough on his own, it hurt. Because maybe you were both wrong, maybe somehow things could have worked. Had your relationship not began the way it did, if you had simply walked away once you knew Mat had cheated. Maybe you two could've had a happy ending, rather than him moving out with you both left to pick up the pieces separately.

“Y/n!”

Snapping from your thoughts you looked up at Matt, his hand holding out two fortune cookies.

“You pick first, remember?”

It was always tradition for you to pick your cookie first, Matt’s rules. He said that your intuition was better than his, and most of the time your fortunes did suit each of you perfectly.

Taking the cookie on the right you playfully smiled, the two of you ripping open the packages as you each cracked open the cookies. Pulling out the small piece of paper, you read your fortune to yourself, biting your lip as you looked at Matt, seeing him already looking back at you in anticipation. He could see the tears welling in your eyes, immediately moving to your side to comfort you. His arms holding you tight as you cried, trying to pull yourself together as this wasn’t supposed to be a night for the two of you to be sad.

“What did it say?”

You took a deep breath as you sat up, wiping your tears as you read the message out loud.

“If you want the rainbow, you have to tolerate the rain.”

You softly chuckled, now realizing it seemed silly to cry over such a cliche message. But as you looked up at Matt he was fighting his own tears, sniffling as he tried to pull himself together.

“I think that was exactly what you needed to hear right now. Like I’ve always said, your intuition is a hell of a lot better than mine.”

He gave you a smile as he stood up, collecting the dishes and taking them into the sink as he began to clean them off. You then tossed the throw pillows back onto your couch before joining him. Taking a seat on the counter as you watched him dry the dishes before placing them back in the cabinet.

“Well what about you?”

He tossed the dish towel over his shoulder as he turned to look at you, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“What about me?”

“Your fortune!”

“Ohhh, let’s see, where did I put it?”

Typical Matt. He’d always put his fortune on the table, or in his pocket, the most random places thinking he’d lost it only to find it twenty minutes later.

“Here it is!”

Stuck to the bottom of his sock, that was a new one.

He playfully cleared his throat as he read from the tiny paper.

“A lifetime of happiness is in front of you.”

His eyes flashed up to meet yours, the words ringing in your ears and making your heart skip a beat. Though surely Matt didn’t see it that way, probably interpreting the fortune to be an overall meaning of the future, not literally right in front of him.

He simply shrugged as he placed the dish towel back onto the counter, “guess I’m gonna have to wait for happiness I guess. Unless, right in front of me.”

Looking down he stared at the sink, then flashed his eyes to you.

“This, washing dishes. It’s my future. Is this a sign that camp isn’t gonna go well for me?”

You rolled your eyes, practically falling off the counter at his god awful joke. Searching the apartment for your phone as he continued on, trying his best to make you laugh, which you always appreciated.

Looking at the screen you saw a multitude of text messages, all from none other than Mat. You’d immediately set your phone down, rejoining Matthew in the kitchen as you had no desire to talk to Barzal. It had been a month since you saw him, and you were not in the business of being friends only when it was convenient for him.

“Well, this has really been great, for the both of us I think. But, I gotta grab my stuff and head out. I’ve got an early training session tomorrow.”

Playfully you frowned at him as he headed to your previously shared bedroom, pulling a few things from the closet as he tossed them into a duffle bag he’d brought. Then he moved to the bathroom, and finally ended up in the living room grabbing a few books from the shelf.

“If you ever wanted to come over, not just when you need to grab some of your stuff, you can do that too you know?”

Matt softly smiled at you, appreciating the fact that you were open to still hanging out with him despite everything that happened. He felt awful for the way he left things, for accusing you of not necessarily having feelings for him or ever seeing yourself with him. It was pretty harsh when he thought back on it. And he wished things could’ve played out differently. But to even get an open invite from you to spend time together after the things he’d said, he felt that was a step in the right direction.

“I know that now, and I will definitely keep that in mind.”

He wrapped you in a hug before heading out the door, out of habit kissing your head before awkwardly apologizing. To which you’d told him you didn’t mind, it still felt so normal for him to do so. He promised to text you once he got home, but told you not to wait up as he might hit traffic on his drive and you need your rest for work in the morning. He truly did know you way too well.

Heading back into the living room you heard your phone buzzing on the coffee table. A photo of you and Mat Barzal filling the screen, one you’d apparently never changed after your breakup.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um, is everything okay?”

You scoffed at his somewhat annoyed tone as you took a seat on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over your legs as you spat back at him.

“Like you care? It’s been a month since I saw you and this is the first I’ve heard from you. What about the five other days I’ve tried reaching out? You didn’t care until now?”

He sighed on his end of the call, realizing he’d come off wrong, trying to apologize and start over as he explained himself.

“Well, you’re right. I should’ve responded sooner. But, Ava was in town, I couldn’t have her seeing me talking to you. But, I mean I texted you back now. You’re the one ignoring me now.”

He playfully chuckled, though you were not amused, Mat always thinking he could use charm to move past any wrongdoing.

“First of all, what good does texting me now do if I reached out weeks ago? Maybe I needed you then. And second of all, I wasn’t ignoring you. I was busy. Matt came over to grab some of his things and he brought dinner.”

Mat’s line of the phone went silent, eventually you’d heard him take a deep breath before he spoke.

“So, the guy packs up his things and walks out on you, but suddenly you’re hanging out and having dinner together? Are you two broken up or not?”

His tone was annoyed and angry, though you weren’t sure why considering he was happily engaged, which you didn’t think you needed to remind him of but clearly he’d forgotten.

“Last time I checked, you’re happy with Ava. So why do you care so much? I’m not allowed to have dinner with him? He and I were literally going to have a child, you think that everything between him and I just goes away overnight because I’m no longer pregnant?”

You found yourself laughing, the conversation seeming silly to you. There was no need for you to explain yourself to him, but part of you felt like you owed him something. After all, you did the same thing right back to him that he’d done to you.

“There was never anything between you two! Stop trying to pretend like there was. I get it okay, I fucked up. I should have never cheated on you. Do I think it gave you the right to do the same to me, no. But I could see how I pushed you into the arms of someone else. What I won’t let you do, is try to tell me that even for a second there was something between you and him. He got you pregnant after one night, and you two had to be together for your baby. That’s not love, that’s nothing close to what we had. So don’t you dare try to say it’s anything similar.”

You tried not to take his words personally, knowing they were coming from a place of hurt as he’d clearly not gotten over everything that happened. Rather just tried to mask it all by jumping into an engagement he clearly wasn’t satisfied with. But you weren’t going to just accept the things he said, letting him act as if there were never any feelings felt between you and Matthew.

“Mat, you have never once been in the same room as us. You’ve not been around Matt and I, you don’t know the feelings that are there. You don’t know how we feel towards one another, so you can’t tell me how I feel or how I don’t.”

“How you feel? So what, you still supposedly like this guy? After he packed his shit and walked out on you during one of the hardest moments of your life, you still have fucking feelings for someone like that? You’d want to be with the guy after all this?”

“Well I stayed with you during your shitty moments didn’t I?”

The comment was harsh, but you didn’t care. Mat always thought he could do no wrong, that the way he spoke was justified, and you were sick of him trying to make you feel bad, regardless if you’d hurt him or not.

“Why do you fucking care so much Mat? Must I remind you, you’re engaged! You chose her! So why could you possibly care so much if I still have feelings for Matt or would consider trying to do things the right way with him?”

The line went silent, and it felt as if minutes had passed before Mat finally confessed to you why’d he become so frustrated with you admitting you might truly have feelings for Rempe after all.

“Because I called off my engagement.”

[andguesswhat]

The shield that you own - 5

*

The first time Jack slept with Tim, Tim had just broken up with Armie. The situation with Armie had all become too much for him, he couldn’t handle it anymore.

After Jack had taken Tim to his room, Tim had been very stubborn about how exactly he wanted to be rescued in addition and Jack finally gave in, secretly being only too happy to play his savior.

But Jack knew that this break up didn't change a thing. Tim wasn’t looking for someone new, Tim still wasn't meant for him. He’d just needed someone to rescue him from his misery.

That night, after a busy day of promo interviews, Jack had already been in his hotel room when Tim had sent him a message from the hotel bar.

I might be drunk.

Accompanied by a photo of an empty cocktail glass.

A zany smiley below.

When Jack came down to the bar, Tim smiled at him with heavy eyelids, his voice happy like a child who got exactly what he wanted for Christmas. “You came to get me?”

That night, holding a lost, love-starved Tim in his hands, he only wanted to give him peace, the same peace Jack had stopped feeling since he met him. He knew Tim's sexual nature that allowed him to do what he wanted with his slender body and made him feel desired, taken and sheltered at the same time. Jack didn't know if Tim was thinking about Armie at that moment, but he didn't care.

Then when Armie decided to get his life back on track and Tim and Armie got back together, Jack hadn't expected things to continue with him and Tim, but he wasn't exactly surprised either. Because he knew Tim for some years now and Tim was someone who didn't like to be alone for long, who wanted very much to be loved. It was the smallest consolation for Jack that Tim somehow needed him because Armie couldn’t be his 24/7 partner.

Tim was also someone who needed constant reassurance. A prince who wanted to be treated like one.

Alluding to Jack’s high risk profession, Tim had asked Jack on that very night, his voice still a little slurred, his grin cheeky and almost proud, “Soooo would you die for me? Give your life for me?” And of course it had been a joke, but as it was with those jokes, there was also a lot of truth in it.

Jack hadn't said anything, just rolled his eyes and smiled, but that smile was apparently treacherously affectionate enough, because Tim smiled back at him with relief, a pure, innocent and happy smile. Jack could almost hear the bolts bouncing off his shield, disarmed by the happiness he saw in Tim's eyes.... For a few moments, losing himself was an option for eternity.

Now they were in New York for the Dune 2 premiere and Tim was sick, too many flights with too many air conditioners. Jack's job would end earlier than planned. They went through with the premiere in New York anyway, but canceled Colbert and Canada.

While Tim lay in bed in his New York apartment and slept, Jack wandered aimlessly through the apartment from the window front overlooking Central Park to the couch in the living room, rummaged through Tim's bookshelf and went back to the window front. As soon as Tim made a sound, he was there. Helped him with his medication, brought him something to drink and ordered food.

Tim was happy for the company but foremost happy that someone calmed him down.

He wasn't tearful, but he was anxious. What if his voice got affected and he couldn’t do the Dylan movie? So Jack reassured him over and over again that it was just a cold and everything would be fine.

On the second day, Tim's mom took over and Jack was sent home to London.

It wasn't the ending Jack had imagined, but the originally planned ending wouldn't have been so much different. Maybe they would have fucked once more.

But this was the way of things: When his work was over, they went their separate ways until Jack was needed again.

The fact that there were no more promo tours coming up all year and Jack could only hope that there were other opportunities where he was needed, didn't make it any easier.

Jack knew Tim would sneak his way into his thoughts with painful insistence. News and gossip would do the rest.

It wasn't that they were completely out of touch, but the opportunities were few and far between.

On his birthday a few weeks later, Jack was having some drinks with his friends at a pub when Tim called.

Jack briefly apologized to his friends and went out the door. A cold April wind blew around his nose as Tim's soft and cheerful voice wished him a happy birthday.

“Happy birthday, man! I hope you're having a good time. Sorry I'm calling so late, we've been shooting all morning. How are you, man?”

“Good, thanks. I'm in a pub with friends. Having a couple a beers.”

“Good, man. Glad to hear you're having fun. Wish I could be there, too. Celebrating with you.”

It didn't sound too snivelling, but Jack hadn't expected it to.

The conversation went on, Tim told him about his movie shoot, asked him about his upcoming jobs, it was a nice conversation, a harmless conversation.

“I miss you, man. Don't forget that, okay? But it is how it is, right?”

Jack nudged the brick wall with the toe of his shoe. Yes, it was what it was. “Thanks for calling!” was the only thing he could think of.

“Sure thing, man! Did you think I would forget my guardian’s birthday? You're my shield, man. I wish you weren’t so far away so that I could come over!”

There was a pause, a pause so vast that it could mean the whole world.

Jack nudged the wall some more. “Yeah, that would have been nice.”

“Yeah…”

Jack shared Tim’s silence and listened to what was in it.

The moment stretched, for seconds, or years.

“Love you, man.” And then Timmy hung up.

Then Jack heard Tim taking a deep breath and saying, “Okay, my favourite buddyguard, it was nice talking to you. See you soon, okay?”

Soon. “Yeah, thanks again for calling.”

For a while, Jack just stood there and did some nudging against the wall, his hand fiddling with the ring on his left little finger. The ring had been a present from Tim.

Once, when Tim had been given a particularly large number and a particularly fancy choice of rings for an outfit, Jack had apparently looked a little too interested and Tim had had a lot of fun making Jack try them all on. A little later, Tim had given him this simple ring to add ‘a little glamor’ to his outfits. "A tiny cock ring for your tiny cock!" Tim had grinned and Jack had shaken his head with a laugh because Tim was never above dirty jokes, good or bad.

He often wondered if it wasn't healthier for him to move on from this.

Or at least not go down so deep. Keep some distance.

But if he had to say whether it was more of a blessing or a curse that Tim allowed him to love him, he would choose blessing.

He was happier to love him than for the stitches to hurt him.

But he also knew that although yes, he would give his life for Tim, he couldn't forget to live first.

*

He would live and love, for he had no other choice.

Their shields were there everlasting, tailor-made for each man, but he treasured the moments where he had seen them fall.

Jack looked up and the stars looked back at him from the dark rooftop of the city. He smiled melancholically but happily, tenderly brushed over Tim’s ring on his finger, and opened the door to the pub.

and of course @gatoenlaciudad thank you for everything! 😘😘😘

@ my five readers who at least partially enjoyed the story: I'm sorry if it didn't turn out the way you had hoped. Thank you for your interest and effort to follow until the end though, I know it's not an easy story!

@ the rest: The accident scene has been cleared up, you can stop looking and move on.

[mischieffoal]

LotR Musical: Round 3!

Just a bunch of my thoughts, once more. From Wednesday 4th October matinee

Pre-Show: 

Hobbit!Gimli asked if I wanted to play Ring-toss, and Lobelia challenged me to a game… if I gave her a spoon if she won. I went on stage, shook hands, bowed, played and failed, she got one, shook hands, happily congratulated her with a spoon. Which Rosie then accused her of stealing from me! The audacity!! 

Also, I gave Fatty a chocolate bar, and he loves it when people come back again because they always bring him snacks. Got some very funny photos with him. Also, he was having great fun yelling about food - “Hey! Everyone! If you want a Mars Bar, they’ve got a whole bag!”

Mrs. Bolger came and chatted to us about the party, and birthdays, and Rose having her birthday the day before Bilbo’s, and Fatty and Mrs.’ twins being born then too! A busy time in the Shire! The little fauntlings are over their with Fatty’s mum! For Bilbo’s speech, Gollum sat right behind me on the picnic table! He was wearing such a cute jumper. I have a problem. 

Act 1:

Gandalf!! I like this understudy! Actually much better than the original! Patrick Bridgman. More sure of himself, powerful in a way, authoritative. Felt more magic and different from the elves than Peter.

Aragorn carries Frodo in so many different ways in the space of about a minute (fireman's, bridal, piggyback, shoulders round)

When Bilbo says "I'm worried I'll turn into him", Gollum pokes his head in from the side and sneers. I’ve never noticed it before, it’s that subtle. You would only notice it at all if you’d seen it before, because he’s still in full hobbit costume. Holy shit it sent chills down my spine.

Each time they mentioned rings and losing their power, they all held theirs, including Elrond who doesn't even mention his

All the Hobbits are so HAPPY all the time up to and during star of Earendil, when around them others are worried and scared and sad - but they’re still set on their Adventure!! I love them!!

Gimli's outfit has the knotwork on the set, lit up in Moria, I really like that detail. It’s obvious, I just hadn’t made the connection before. He’s connected to the “earth” around them. 

Gandalf hugging Sam into Moria. Everyone in this show hugs so much and I love that.

It's *Legolas* who tells Merry that Gimli is singing a song of his ancestors. Goddddd the elf/dwarf everything in this musical. (Earlier, in the council, Gimli has to sit down on a bench next to Legolas, clearly hesitates, and Legolas literally turns his body away from him once he’s sat down)

The movement in Lothlorien is so *different* and fluid

Frodo just fucking crying his eyes out in Lothlorien. Everyone else is having the time of their lives. Poor poor man.

Boromir really is the bad guy in this musical, huh?

All the chest and head hand signs are so so sweet - touching you to me, sharing my mind and heart and soul. Elrond does it from his heart to Frodo’s heart, touching his chest and it’s just… so affectionate. The three hunters do the same to Boromir’s body, along with all their different prayer signs, and it makes me cry. 

This time the flute music truly was menacing - Saruman’s evil grin held for a while before playing

Have some accidental floating hobbits for the intveral:

Act 2:

R’s favourite bit was Aragorn and Arwen, she kept talking about it!

Aragorn/Arwen’s duet ends very abruptly with lighting changes and Arwen disappearing to aragorn finishing last note kneeling alone surrounded by men. Yes. God. Dream sequences for the win.

Legolas leaps around and does not-quite-flips in his fighting, whereas Gimli is always on the ground

Legolas snogging his bow

Legolas always looks so... clinical, practiced when fighting

"Come back when you're sober" catty asshole

Wonder - bunch of men (including many principles in human gear) sit on the round. As Galadriel sings each "out of", another person gets up and stands before her, until Aragorn, sword held high, “WONDER” - really uplifting. I also really really love Aragorn’s little bit “day may end”, why isn’t it in the cast recording.

When Gollum climbs, it’s up the wall rather than the ladders like Sam and Frodo, and in act 2’s lighting you can’t even see the holds - very creepy

Shelob was actually fantastic when I was properly aware of her. Beautiful and creepy and so much going on. 

Frodo and Gollum moving together and also SPEAKING together, when Gollum hears Sam say they'll destroy the ring

When Sam is convincing Frodo to get up so they can walk to mordor, he's reaching out to him, everyone comes on stage and reaches out to him, and he eventually manages to grab his hand

Sam yelling as he carries Frodo on his shoulders is spine-tingling again

Gollum's death, was, again, incredible

Sam and Frodo and Rosie standing together hugging as they wait for the wedding, making me awwww

Group Hobbit foot goodbye aaaaaaa

At the end as Frodo leaves, Gollum and then Bilbo play the tune accompanying him aaaaaa

Final observations:

Head holding situations: 

Aragorn and Boromir practically in each others’ faces as he dies

Aragorn and Frodo practically kissing

Gimli and Legolas do this too!! After they’ve proposed!! The spotlight has gone to Aragorn but they’re holding each other in the darkness!

Funny hobbit versions: 

Gollum x Aragorn Hobbit AU, 500k

Mrs. Bracegirdle is actually in the show! She’s Kelly!

Gollum is a Proudfoot. Need I say more.

Rosie is Scottish! How could I forget this!

After the show, I congratulated Rosie, Legolas, Haldir, Bilbo and Saruman! I passed on E’s praise of “gay supervillain audacity” and they laughed and said “well it’s hard to hide”. (Side note: they’re enby, of course this is why I find him so attractive)

And, finally, my favourite thing I noticed in the whole show:

For all of Act 2, Frodo's voice is tremulous, breathy and tired EXCEPT directly after Sam says “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that” (the elves leaving for the West). 

“Yes we can.”

Completely normal voice. Terrifying.

[cwarscars-a]

[TEXT 2:31 PM] : I just had to finger myself with the cum you left in my panties. You have no idea how good it feels to do that. To have you inside of me even when I can't have you just made me want you more

[TEXT 2:33 PM] : Will you give me more?

[TEXT 3:00 PM] : Please, even if it's just a quickie in your office. I don't care

[TEXT 3:15 PM] : If you don't cum in me soon I think I'll go crazy

he's silent during the meeting - phone on the desk in front, the directors around him talking. for now, reeve spins a spiel all about the potential for growth in sectors 1 through 3; he suggests it as if it isn't a massive waste of the budget. all heidegger can do is role his eyes. roll his eyes and quickly lose interest, his eyes dropping to the device before him; screen alit with the words of his lover.

the first text has a smirk crawl along the edges of his lips - the second bares fangs. but rather than reply, he sits still. dashes his eyes up at reeve while he speaks, the grin across his lips unwavering. ( perhaps noticable enough to make the architect, uncomfortable ). regardless, reeve continues his presentation - scarlet speaks, palmer talks; when attention shifts to heidegger, all he can do is shrug. like he gives a shit.

with attention once more taken off of him - he notices the allure of his phone again; another text. this time, a little more desperate. a little more promising - were he a weaker willed sort, he'd be fighting off a semi right around now.

once again; he chooses to ignore it. dons a smirk as his thoughts toil with a reply. should he simply leave her hanging? ignore her begging in the hopes when he sees her later, she'll be on her knees? or perhaps he should reply; excuse himself for a second - give her a call. order her to pleasure herself in his stead from the other end of a phone.

for now, he retains his silence. shifts his gaze once more unto the meeting, seconds soon turned to minutes before his phone buzzes for perhaps the last time.

this time, he responds.

[ text 3:17pm ] : Then go crazy.

he leaves it; switches his phone off for the remainder of the meeting - only turns it back on when he's finally a long way away from the boardroom. hauled up his office's private bathroom. a photo snapped of his thick, throbbing cock - sent to her amidst a myriad of more desperate messages that had since come through. alongside his filth, he sends a simple message.

[ text 4:22pm ] : Be in my office in five minutes, otherwise, I'm fucking all of your holes today.

a funny thing a threat - especially as he lies; he'll be doing both of those things no matter what time she arrives.

[venus-haze]

All Shook Up (Austin!Elvis x Reader) Part 1

Summary: You’re one of the biggest musicians in the United States, getting your start in the industry while you were just finishing high school. After years of what felt like non-stop performances and your songs crawling up the charts, you’re the musician all the others are looking to beat. Always looking to keep your career relevant, you write a duet with one particular musician in mind, the controversial and oh-so dreamy overnight sensation Elvis Presley.

Note: This is based off of an anonymous request. The request originally asked for smut, but I definitely want to make this a series, so that’ll be in a later part. For now, this can be read as a gender-neutral reader and takes place around when Elvis released his first record with RCA (so 1956-ish, obviously it won’t be completely historically accurate). Please do not interact with my blog if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content. Requests are open🔮

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: None for this part, but this series will include sexually explicit content in the future. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Part 2

A workaholic almost to a fault when it came to your music, you had just finished recording several songs for a new album that was set to release soon, with a promotional single already at the top of the charts. Its coveted spot at #1 had only lasted for a few weeks, until your song was kicked down to #2 by Elvis Presley. You’d never heard any of his music before, but you’d certainly heard of him, and the accusations of scandalous dancing and salacious hip thrusts at his shows certainly piqued your interest. You’d gone out and bought his self-titled album, and you couldn’t deny it awoke something in you. Despite your album being almost completely finished and promotions well under way, you decided to throw a wrench in the works, and at two in the morning, drafted a duet for you to sing with Elvis.

When you’d presented the idea to your manager of several years, Ray, at a meeting early the next morning, he was understandably exasperated. You knew you could be a real pain in the ass to Ray sometimes, who’d guided your early career by pushing you to be as authentic as possible so you wouldn’t lose yourself in the industry, but also, as you could clearly see through your desired duet partner, controversy sells. You had developed a ‘devil may care’ approach to your public image in the process, which only made your audience more enamored with you.

“Elvis doesn’t date, at least publicly as far as I know, but as soon as there’s whispers of the two of you working together, those magazines will be on fire,” Ray said.

You rolled your eyes. “Listen, sooner or later there’s going to be rumors I’m dating him anyway, so I don’t care.”

Sometimes, you had to laugh at the man of the month that the tabloids linked you with. They were going particularly wild over a photo of you and Marlon Brando sitting together at the Copacabana. While he had only leaned over to whisper something to you over the noise of the nightclub, the photo had made it look like he was leaning in for a kiss. It was chaos from there, from claims you had been in a secret relationship for years, to supposed sightings of the two of you eloping in Mexico–he had sent you a clipping of that article and a note that read ‘Sorry I didn’t get you a wedding gift’ which had made you snort. Of course, some of the indecent escapades that were hidden from the front pages had actually happened after you’d left the club with him, but you weren’t about to let those rag mags know they had gotten one of your flings right for once.

Ray shook his head. “His manager–I don’t think he’ll agree to it if he knows you’re who he’d be working with.”

“Then don’t tell him, and let Elvis come down here and decide for himself,” you said.

“Alright,” Ray said. “I’ll call and see what they say. Just don’t set your expectations too high.”

The rest of the day was filled with photoshoots and interviews, being shuffled from one skyscraper to another by Ray’s assistant, Jeanne, who had become an aunt-like figure to you through the years, signing autographs and posing for photos in between. The highlight of your day was when a woman showed you the tattoo of your name she’d gotten in a heart on her arm. Later that night, you continued working on the song in the privacy of your New York apartment, which you had bought outright after your first album went gold. You weren’t sure why, but despite Ray’s warning you not to get your hopes up, you felt like everything would fall into place. 

A little before midnight, your phone rang, and you knew it’d be Ray.

“So, what’d they say?”

“His manager said that Elvis is interested, so–”

“I told you!”

“He has a gap in his touring schedule next week, so he’ll be in the city for a few days doing his own promotional stuff. I’ll go ahead and tell the label to keep a recording booth open for you,” he said.

“Ray, you’re the absolute best.”

“I know,” he laughed. “Night, Y/N.”

You wished him a good night, hanging up the phone with nothing short of a self-satisfied grin on your face. You were too excited to sleep, and instead made your way onto the balcony, welcoming the cool night air as you sat on one of the chairs set out, looking at the city below you. You’d been living in New York for years now, and loved how there was always something to do if you wanted to–restaurants and clubs open at all hours, streets bustling with people, subways running day and night if you really wanted to get somewhere. It was the perfect place to be at this stage in your life, your career, and you wanted to take advantage of every bit of it while you could. 

Fame was fleeting, you knew as much, one bad album and it could all be over. You remember seeing people in clubs, their careers on a seemingly upward trajectory and then never hearing from them again. It unfortunately happened more often than you’d like, even though they were technically competition, you felt bad. Your knowledge of this drove your workaholic tendencies. You could weather the constant rumors and even the occasional scandal, but you always had the underlying fear that at some point people wouldn’t be interested in your career anymore. So you wrote constantly, whatever idea for a song came up in your mind, in case it could be something.

You shook these thoughts from your mind. Your career was established, and you had enough people covering your songs that you could never record another song and be okay. You couldn’t deny it, though, you loved the spotlight, the fans, every celebrity did, no matter how bashful they acted. You didn’t go into this business to not be recognizable, not when you owed those people everything. So you signed every piece of paper shoved your way, took every photo requested, no matter how tired or busy you were because without them, you wouldn’t have a thing.

It was late now, too late to still be awake when you had a day of meetings with label executives the next day. You got up from your seat on the balcony, closing the French doors behind you as you walked back into your apartment. The clock on the wall read a little past one in the morning, and you’d have to be up at six to eat, get ready for the day, and to make it to your label’s office at eight. You went into your room, climbing into bed, but still found that sleep eluded you for the next half hour or so.

The morning you were going to meet Elvis felt like it came far too quickly. You’d spent the week obsessing over the song, and still didn’t think it was good enough. You forced yourself out of bed, shuffling into the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on, hoping that and your morning shower would wake you up. You found yourself stuck on what to wear to the studio, wanting to impress Elvis but not look like you were trying too hard. Finally settling on a happy medium, you just barely finished getting ready before you could hear knocking at your front door.

“Y/N! C’mon it’s time to go!” Jeanne shouted through the door.

“Let yourself in, I’ll be done in a second!” you yelled back.

“You ready? Got everything?” she asked as you shoved what you figured you’d need into your bag.

You nodded, “Got it.”

She went over your itinerary for the day as you rode down the elevator. You greeted the doorman, Bill, as you left the building, getting into the car waiting outside before anyone noticed you. The drive to the label’s office was quick, but you got held up signing autographs and talking to fans, one of whom was visiting from Texas and cried when you hugged her. Moments like that always touched you deeply. 

Jeanne waited for you near the door, becoming more impatient as you got closer to being behind schedule for the day. You gave her an exasperated glance as you continued talking with your fans, slowly making your way over to the door before thanking them all and disappearing inside.

“I know you care about them, Y/N, but some people don’t like to be kept waiting,” Jeanne said.

You nodded in concession. “I know.”

Most of the morning was spent in and out of meetings, which were frequent whenever you were about to release a new album. For how long you’d been in the industry, you always hated them. It was the same song and dance every time, out of touch old men casting doubt on your skills only to be proven wrong with the next hit you came out with. You couldn’t help book it out of the room as soon as the last meeting finished. All you had on your mind was that you’d be meeting Elvis in less than an hour.

You had lunch with Ray and Jeanne in their office, ordering from a local diner. Your eyes were practically glued to the clock as you ate, mindlessly shoving fries in your mouth as you pretended to follow their conversation. Ray’s phone rang, and your eyes shot over to it as he answered.

“He’s here. His manager wants to meet with me first, says Elvis is waiting in the studio on the seventh floor,” Ray said.

“See ya!”

“Y/N–”

“What?”

“I’ve looked into his manager, past deals he’s made and all that. If you want Elvis to do the song with you, you’re going to have to give him half of the songwriting credits, same for if he covers any of your songs,” Ray said.

You raised your eyebrows. It was a bold demand, no other artists required such a thing when they collaborated with you, let alone covered your songs. You knew it was a fishy as hell deal, especially when so much of the money you made came from royalties associated with your songwriting credits. Still, you felt sure in your decision to want to do the song with Elvis. “Fuck it, give ‘em half.”

“Alright, but if he makes any other big requests I’m telling him I have to run it by you first. I know you want to work with Elvis, but I’m not going to let you get swindled,” Ray said.

“Thanks, Ray,” you smiled.

On your way down to the studio, you attempted to hype yourself up, which you felt embarrassed about, as you were the one with the more established career. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that you were the one who had reached out to the budding star, not the other way around.

You walked into the studio, seeing a tall man with greased up black hair and a pink suit standing around, his matching suit jacket thrown over a nearby chair. The photos in the papers definitely didn’t do him justice. There were plenty of guys in the music business who had close to no talent and were riding on looks alone for as long as they could, but Elvis was the whole package, the real deal. He looked up at you, his blue eyes wide as he watched you approach.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he said almost breathlessly, a starstruck smile on his handsome face, “I would’ve never imagined that it was you wantin’ to work with me. I think I have all your records, drove my mama crazy playin’ them all the time.”

His voice was deep and sweet, with a sincerity that made you nearly swoon. What a sweetheart.

“I’m a fan of yours too, Elvis. As soon as I heard your album I said to myself, that is someone who I don’t mind knocking my songs down a peg or two on the charts. Why not work together?”

“‘Course,” he nodded eagerly, “whatever you have in mind.”

“Perfect! We can have our managers work out the boring details,” you said, taking his hand and leading him to the nearby piano. “We’ll work on the music.”

You’d typed up the lyrics on two sheets of paper before you’d left your apartment that morning, but made sure to let him know that you valued any input he had.

“I don’t really write my songs. I’ve never been much good at it,” he said, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. “I mean, I’ve written some lines here and there.”

That was one thing that made you stand out among your peers. While most record labels had in-house songwriters to write for different acts, you almost always wrote your own music. It came naturally to you, but you knew that wasn’t the case for most other artists in the industry.

“That’s okay,” you assured him. “I got the words, but I know you have a great ear for music.”

He picked up his guitar, nodding along to the song as you played. The melody was simple enough, but you knew if anyone could make it exciting, it’d be him. As you got to the second verse, it was like magic how he transformed, playing out a rough riff on his guitar that sounded exactly like what you were hoping for. You excitedly handed him a copy of the lyrics, and you were shocked at how naturally everything came together. In less than two hours, the two of you had a song that you knew would dominate the radio waves for months.

The two of you called it a day, collapsing onto the nearby couch. Elvis had come out of his shell in the short amount of time the two of you had been together. He was nice, with a sense of humor that made you want to talk to him for hours. You were surprised to find he was about the same age as you and had been working as a truck driver prior to getting into music. He’d already known that on the day you got your high school diploma, you also got one of the biggest record deals in history with your label. Coming from similar humble roots as him, he admitted that your success as someone with little connections in the music industry had partially inspired him to pursue music.

“Hey,” you said, feeling bold, “my manager told me you don’t date. Is that true?”

“The Colonel thinks it’s better for my image if fans think I’m available.”

“Oh, so they can think they actually have a chance with you,” you said.

“I don’t lead no one on,” he said, “but I guess.”

“I’ve gotten with fans before,” you admitted. “It gets messy, though, especially the more famous you get. I think it’s easier to date other celebrities now.”

“Like Marlon Brando?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Y’all ain’t datin’?” 

“No, he’s just a friend, and so is every other man those magazines try to say I’ve dated.”

He was silent for a moment, thinking over what you’d just told him. “In that case, you wanna go out sometime? I’m only here for a few more days and–”

“Elvis, I’d absolutely love to,” you said, getting your pen and a stray piece of paper. “Here’s my address. I know I’m available after six tomorrow. I’ll tell the doorman to let you in. Do you like Italian?”

“I–yeah, I like Italian.”

“Well, there’s a fantastic place in Little Italy, a bit of a dive, but we’ll have plenty of privacy–if that’s okay with you.”

“Privacy is okay with me,” he said.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Can’t wait.”

He was about to say something to you but was interrupted by Ray and a strange man who you assumed was the Colonel entering the room. Ray made introductions, and you and Elvis waited to see if they’d come to an agreement.

“Well, you two will be recording, what I have no doubt will be the next duet for the ages, in the next few days!” the Colonel announced. “Provided of course, the lyrics are appropriate for the collaboration.”

You wanted to defend yourself, but Ray beat you to it. “C’mon, Y/N isn’t looking to put her or Elvis’ career in jeopardy.”

“Yes well, pardon me, Y/N, but I do keep an eye on the papers, and you do have a bit of a reputation,” the Colonel said. “As you may know, my boy does too. He will do this collaboration with you on a strictly professional basis, but I want no confusion among the press about his relationship with you.”

“I understand that,” you said, displeased that you’d have to break the date you had just agreed to with Elvis.

The two managers rambled on, but you were admittedly too upset to pay attention. You and Elvis snuck glances at each other until the Colonel announced that Elvis had another appointment to get to. 

To your surprise, Elvis gave you a hug before he left.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Elvis whispered in your ear.

You bit back a smile. “You better.”

[bvckybanres]

Micro Touch

Pairing: steve x reader

Warnings: cursing, angst, some violence

Word count: 3.7k,  part 1 of 2

Summary:

she found a friend in him over strawberry milkshakes and ice cream in winter when their parents weren’t around. she developed a crush on him over micro touches, kisses on cheeks and forced photos when he took her to her first dance. she fell in love with him over whispered promises of forever friendships and how he’d always be around. but sometimes boys don’t grow up and girls grow up too quick. and sometimes one broken promise is enough to break two little hearts.

A two shot of potential unrequited love where Steve and y/n were once best friends.

“What are you drinking?” the little boy asked her, curious brown eyes staring intently at her glass. She released the straw she’d been sucking on with a loud smack of her lips and smiled at him. 

“Strawberry milkshake,” she grinned happily. “Who’re you?” 

“I’m Steve,” he told her. “Steve Harrington. I live next door,” he puffed out his chest proudly. “Who are you?” 

“I’m y/n. We just moved in,” she replied. “My mum made me the milkshake. She said I was being a good girl staying out of the way of the big men so I could have a treat. Do you want some?” she offered him her glass. 

Steve made a face. “Ew, I don't share with girls.”

“More for me then,” she put the straw back into her mouth and continued drinking her milkshake, while watching the boy next door.  

Steve let out a loud sigh. “I wish you were a boy,” he finally said. 

“That’s a mean thing to say, Steve Harrington,” she huffed looking affronted before she spun around and marched back into her house.

Steve stood around for a few more seconds before his mum called him back inside. 

He wished he had a strawberry milkshake too. 

-

When y/n saw Steve again, it was a few weeks later and he was sitting in his backyard, kicking a ball around by himself. She stood on a bucket to help her peer over the fence and she couldn’t help but think he looked a little sad. 

She decided then to forgive him for his mean words and be his friend instead. 

“Hi Steve,” she waved at him, letting go of the fence for a second and almost losing her balance. 

Steve glanced up in time to see her wobble a little and rushed over. “What are you standing on?” he asked her, trying to jump and look over his side of the fence, but he was still too small. “It doesn’t look safe,” he glared at her. “You need to get down right now.” 

“But then I won’t be able to see you,” she pouted at him. “We’re friends now.” 

“We’re not friends,” Steve rebuffed, before dropping his shoulders at the puppy eyes she sent his way. “Fine, we can be friends, but only if you get down! I don’t want to get into trouble if you fall.” 

“But,” she started to say, only to be cut off again. 

“You can come over and we can play here. We have a pool, look,” he pointed at the end of the yard. “We can go for a swim when it’s sunny.” 

“Oh,” she bit her lip nervously. “I can’t swim,” she admitted. “It’s too scary.” 

“It’s not scary!” Steve’s eyes lit up with joy. “It’s really fun, I can teach you!” 

Y/n chewed on her lower lip for a minute before climbing down off her bucket. “I’ll come over, but you have to promise we won’t go near the pool.” 

“I promise,” Steve said after a slight pause. “You’ll be safe with me.” 

-

“Steve, no!” Y/n yelled, flailing as Steve wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards the pool. “Stop it. Put me down!” 

Twelve year old Steve laughed, tightening his hold around her waist before stopping abruptly and dropping her back onto her feet. 

“You know I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to do, Red,” he laughed, his voice cracking a couple of times as some words came out deeper than others. 

“You know I don’t like being called that,” she glowered at him, absently licking her lips and rubbing at her teeth. He’d taken to calling her that when she’d shown up at his house more than a couple of times with stained lips and pink teeth after guzzling down a strawberry milkshake minutes before. 

“It’s who you are now,” he shrugged. “You just have to accept it. Come on, my parents aren’t home. We can have all the ice cream and milkshakes we want,” he grabbed her hands and started pulling her towards the house. 

“They’re gone? Again?” she asked him, a frown on her face. “But who’s staying with you?” 

“No one,” he shrugged. “I can take care of myself.” 

“But isn’t it scary to stay all by yourself?” she asked him, frown deepening. 

“Nope,” Steve popped the ‘p’, finally dragging her through the door and into the kitchen. 

“I’ll come stay with you,” she told him decidedly. “Like we used to when we were kids,” she grinned.

“You still are a kid,” Steve bopped her on the nose and laughed as she tried to swat him away. “I am not.” 

“Are too,” Steve sing-songed.

“We’re in the same grade,” she huffed at him, crossing her arms and scowling at him as best she could while Steve rummaged around the fridge. 

“That’s because you’re super smart. Still a kid though.” 

Y/n let out another huff, dropped her arms and climbed onto a stool at the kitchen island. “I’m still coming over tonight,” she told him. 

“Good.” 

-

School wasn’t the best. Steve was right, y/n was super smart. She’d skipped a grade and had been terrified to start middle school with all the other bigger kids. But then she’d walked outside and Steve was standing at the front gate with his bag on his back tapping his foot as he waited for her and she felt a little part of herself relax. 

“Come on! We’re gonna be late,” he told her, grinning as she ran up to him. “Guess what?” he asked once they were walking side by side, towards the school. 

“What?” she asked him, biting her lips as a new wave of nerves washed through her as more and more students came into view. 

“I know whose class you’re going to be in,” he told her smugly, nudging her with his shoulder. 

“Whose?” she asked, eyes big and wide and scared as she looked up at him. Steve had grown a lot over the summer and y/n now only reached his shoulder. 

“Mine!” he yelled happily, shooting his arms out. “We’re gonna be together forever, Red. You’ll see.” 

-

“There’s a party at Carol’s house,” Steve told y/n as she scribbled notes into a book, frowning slightly at what she’d written, crossing it out and writing something else. 

“Oh?” she turned to look at fourteen year old Steve who was lounging on the floor beside her bed reading a magazine. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, not looking away from the page. “We should go,” he finally said, looking at her a little nervously. 

“I wasn’t invited,” y/n frowned. “I wouldn’t want anyone I hadn’t invited to come to my house.” 

“It’s a party, Red. You’re not supposed to always be invited. People just…show up,” he shrugged. 

“And how would you know?” she closed her book and sat up, crossing her legs together. “You’ve never even been to a party before.” 

“I just do,” Steve shrugged. “I was speaking to Tommy and he told me about how epic the parties at Carol’s house can be. He said the last time he was there they tried beer.” 

Y/n made a face at the mention of Tommy. “I don’t like Tommy,” she said. “He can be very mean. He told a girl in our science class she was fat and that no one would ever like her. I found her in the bathroom crying.” 

“He doesn’t mean it,” Steve defended. “He’s just joking around.” 

For the first time y/n felt a little nervous. She knew Steve had other friends, friends she didn’t necessarily like, but she’d never heard him be mean before. Never heard him willingly defend someone who was being cruel. 

“I think…I think I’ll just stay home and study,” she picked at her nail, not meeting Steve’s gaze. “We have this exam next week,” she tapped on the textbook and pretended not to see the way Steve rolled his eyes at her. 

The next time there’s a party he doesn’t even ask her to come. 

-

“Do you want to watch a movie?” y/n asked him from her perch on the floor by Steve’s feet. She tilted her head to look up at him, and slammed her textbook shut. She was tired and the words were all starting to run together on the page. 

“Hmm?” Steve put his own book aside and looked down at her. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” she repeated. “I don’t think I can study anymore.” 

“Oh, uh, actually I told the boys I would meet them at the pools in an hour,” Steve grimaced. “I thought I’d already told you?” But he knew he hadn’t.

“Oh. That’s ok. Maybe another time. I might head home now anyway. I think I’m getting a headache,” she said, quickly packing all her school things in her bag and standing up. 

She dusted her pants off and slung her bag across her shoulder, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. 

“Sorry,” he apologised, hating the way the guilt was settling in his stomach. You were his best friend. He loved you. He hated seeing you upset. “I just didn’t think you’d want to join us,” he tried to defend himself. “You don’t swim. You never wanted to learn, I didn't think you’d want to be around the water all day. And I know how much you don’t like Tommy,” he rambled.

“Steve,” she smiled gently at him, the hurt disappearing from her face at his distressed expression. “It’s fine. You’re right. I probably would have hated it there.” 

But that wasn’t true. All y/n wanted to do was hang out with Steve. She missed him. 

It had been such a long time since they had spent any significant time together. Lately all it had been was studying and talking about the latest party Steve had gone to, or what Tommy and Carol had done. 

Y/n hated that she was jealous of them, because she was smart enough to know that she was. Steve was her best friend. Her only friend. And she was starting to think she was going to lose him. 

-

Before y/n knew it, summer had rolled around and they were all getting ready for high school. 

She was excited. High school meant new beginnings and finding yourself and boys. 

Steve had somehow grown another million inches while y/n hadn’t changed at all and she couldn't help but notice the way girls were starting to take notice of him and glare viciously at her. 

She told Steve as much one day when they were walking down the road with their fingers covered in melting ice cream. 

“I think you’re going to be a bit of a heartbreaker, Stevie,” she’d nudged him happily with her shoulder. Carol and Tommy had both gone away for the Summer which meant she had Steve all to herself for three months. 

“What?” Steve had scrunched his face up in confusion. “No way.”

“Yes way,” y/n had laughed. “All the girls are drooling over you and your silly hair.” 

“You don’t like my hair?” he pouted at her. “But I grew it out for you, Red. you’re always telling me I’d make such a pretty girl, I thought I’d try it out.” 

Y/n let out a loud laugh. “They’ll be calling you Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington in no time,” she giggled, licking a dribble of ice cream off her finger. 

“Who is this ‘they’? Any pretty girls in the mix?” he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Don’t be a pig,” she shoved him again, ignoring the twinge of jealousy in her gut. Having a crush on her best friend really was inconvenient. 

“Are you jealous?” he teased, skipping ahead of her and walking backwards to face her. 

y/n felt her neck start to heat up in embarrassment. “Yes, actually, I am jealous,” she told him, forcing the blush down and away. “I’m jealous that your hair is so much nicer than mine. Seriously, how much product did you use on it?” she reached forward to touch the dark strands only to have her hand swatted away.

“No touching the merchandise,” Steve scowled at her. “Especially not with sticky ice cream hands. It took a lot of my morning to get my hair to look like this,” he admitted. 

Y/n’s eyes lit up at the admission. “Really?” 

“No, Red, don’t look at me like that. Seriously, whatever you’re thinking, unthink it. Right now,” Steve demanded, quicken his steps to move further away from y/n who was now waving two empty but visibly ice cream covered hands in his direction. 

“Oh, but Stevie, you love ice cream. I just want to share,” she pouted at him before breaking into a run and chasing him down the street, the both of them laughing and yelling as they went. 

-

“Do you think high school is going to be very different?” Y/n asked the day before summer break ended while she and Steve were cuddled under a blanket, watching a movie. The weather had been a little up and down lately and it had been raining all day today making Steve’s already cold house even colder. 

“Nah,” Steve shook his head. “How different can it be? We’re still the same people. Still have the same classmates. It’s Hawkins. Everyone already knows everybody. No one can really have a dirty secret around here.” 

“I hope so,” y/n frowned. “I dunno. I just feel like everything is going to change. We don’t really hang out as much anymore.” 

“What do you mean? I have literally seen you every single day this summer. We even went to the pool!” 

“No, I know. I just mean, I dunno. We don’t really hang out when there are other people around?” she posed it as a question. 

Steve frowned. “School was just busy last year, that’s all.” He shrugged her concerns away. “You’re always going to be my best friend, Red. You make the best milkshakes ever, I could never live without your milkshakes,” he joked, wrapping an arm around y/n and squeezing her into his chest. 

“I knew you were using me for something,” she sighed. “I always thought it was because I give the best hugs ever.” 

“There’s that too,” Steve nodded thoughtfully. “Milkshakes and hugs, the two things I look for in a forever best friend.” 

“You’re such a dork,” y/n said fondly. 

“You love me.” 

“Unfortunately for me, I do,” she confirmed. 

She reached up and kissed him goodnight later that evening before she went home, feeling the way his skin burned under her lips. It wasn’t the first time she’d kissed him goodbye, but somehow this one felt different. 

-

The first day of high school had been just as Steve predicted. Exactly the same as middle school except everyone seemed a little bigger and older and wiser. At least, that’s what it had looked like to y/n. 

She was excited, she’d realised as she’d walked through the gate with Steve. High school meant she was almost done with all the scathing looks from girls in her grades and the mocking from the boys. High school meant only two more years before she could graduate and move to New York with Steve for college. 

They’d planned for this day the summer before they’d started middle school and talked about it every summer since. Steve was hoping for a sports scholarship, planning to join the swim team again and y/n was hoping for an academic one. 

Steve was certain they would both get what they wanted. Y/n was the smartest person he knew and she had never not come top of their grade, and Steve was rumoured to be swim captain this year. 

“What classes do you have?” she asked him once they both had their timetables, leaning over his shoulder to compare notes. 

They shared most of their classes this year, like they always had, and y/n found she didn’t mind having an odd class without Steve. She’d known he wasn’t going to take any of the advanced classes like she was and had come to terms with the fact that they wouldn’t be together for those. 

“Cool, we have homeroom together, c’mon,” he grabbed her by the hand and led them inside, winking at a couple of girls as they passed. Y/n rolled her eyes and muttered ‘heartbreaker’ under her breath, making Steve laugh and a smile tug at her own lips. 

-

Then Steve joined the basketball team. 

Tommy had suggested it to him. Told him it would up his chances at college scholarships and for once y/n had agreed. It had almost made her change her tune towards Tommy. Made her second guess the dislike she had for him. 

But then she heard him talking about her as she was walking towards the gym with a tupperware full of the chocolate chip cookies she makes that Steve liked so much. 

“Dude, she’s like a groupie. ‘Oh Steve you’re so hot. Oh Steve, please be my friend forever, I love you so much Steve.’ You need to ditch her man, she’s like your human version of a chastity belt. Remember how much fun you had at parties without her?” 

Y/n stopped dead in her tracks, and gulped down the sudden lump in her throat. 

It couldn’t be. She shook her head. She refused to believe that Steve, her Steve, would ever let anyone speak of her that way. They were best friends. 

But then she heard his voice. Heard the hesitance in his words, the slight guilt coating each letter. “She’s not that bad,” he defended weakly.  

“Not that bad?” Tommy echoed. “Dude, come on.” 

“Fine, maybe she’s a little boring.” 

And that was all y/n needed to hear before she let out a loud gasp and turned and ran back down the hallway. 

She was certain they had heard her, certain someone would be coming out of the double doors any second to check who was listening in on their conversation, certain that Steve knew it was her, so she ran all the faster, desperate to get away. 

Desperate to leave behind the one person in her life she’d thought would never hurt her. 

And that was how she’d run into Eddie Munson. 

“Woah, woah there, Speedy,” he’d caught her by the arms as she’d tried to barrel her way past him, tupperware under her arms and tears streaking down her face. “Hey, you ok?” he had asked her, a worried little frown on his face. 

“Just, leave me alone,” she’d muttered, wiping at her face and trying to push by him. 

“Hey come on, you’re the most interesting thing that has happened to me all day. And you’ve got cookies,” he grinned at her, clearly trying to cheer her up. 

“Trust me, I’m not interesting. Just ask Steve fucking Harrington,” she spat out his name. 

“Wait, aren’t you and him like, glued at the hip?” he asked, suddenly recognising her. 

“No.” 

“Oh, there’s a story there, I can sense it,” he told her. “I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson, you might have heard of me. Apparently I’m in a cult.” 

Y/n couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. “You mean to tell me you’re not?” she teased. 

“I’ll tell you the whole sordid tale if you share some of those cookies with me and tell me what King Steve did,” he bargained. 

Y/n felt her smile slide off her face as she remembered what had happened. 

But when she looked up at Eddie and his kind eyes and gentle smile she felt like she wouldn’t mind telling him the truth. 

And that was how she became friends with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. 

-

She avoided Steve for a while after that, waking up earlier to leave for school by herself and somehow finding herself hanging more and more with Eddie. 

He offered to drive her to and from school each day, claiming he was passing by her house anyway and y/n readily accepted. He was two years older than her and had already repeated senior year once, but he was determined that this year was the year for him and y/n vowed to help him as best she could to graduate. 

Steve caught her one day as she waved goodbye to Eddie, laughing happily as he pulled a face at her before driving off. 

“So that’s where you’ve been for the last few weeks?” Steve asked, glowering at her. “I’ve waited for you every day until your mum told me you’d already left for school with a friend. He’s not someone you should be friends with, y/n,” he chastised her. 

“Eddie is really nice,” y/n said, refusing to look at him. 

“He’s a freak.” 

“Yeah? Well, so am I!” she finally exploded. “What do you care anyway, Steve?” she glared at him. 

“I care because you’re my friend! My best friend!” He yelled back, taking a step towards her.

“Best friends don’t call each other boring. They don’t let their other friends talk badly about them.” 

“I knew it! I knew you were eavesdropping!” he glared at her. “Best friends don’t spy on each other.” 

“I was bringing you cookies!” she hated that she wanted to cry. Hated that after everything he’d said, she still badly wanted to run to him and hug him and congratulate him on becoming captain of the basketball and swim team. Hated that she knew he’d brush her off because he was only ‘co-captain’ of the swim team and hated how that only made her want to squeeze him even tighter.

Steve didn’t say anything more to that as they both stood there chests heaving and eyes glistening. 

“Maybe this is for the best, Steve,” she finally told him, voice broken while she silently begged him to contradict her. “I’ve never fit in with any of your other friends anyway.” 

“Maybe you would,” he said harshly, wanting to hurt her the way he was currently hurting. “ maybe you would if you’d just come to a party every now and then. If you’d just try a little harder to be fucking normal.”

He regretted it the moment he said the words, watching as she flinched away from him as though he’d hit her. Regretted it before he’d even finished speaking, and hated himself that little bit extra as he watched the first tear fall down y/n’s cheek and knew he couldn't just reach out and wipe it off anymore. 

And he knew in that moment as he watched her turn and walk inside, hands wrapped protectively around herself, he knew he’d just broken something between them that he’d never be able to fix again.

-

Helloooooo this is part one of a two part steve fic. Please let me know what you think! Timelines might be a little muddled, but you gotta do what you gotta do to make a story come to life. 

Leave me a nice comment, the more feedback I get, the faster I write haha 

[everythingwonderful2021]

Clashing Styles Ch1 - Levi Ackerman

Levihan Fashion AU with Designer!Levi/Ex-Pageant Winner!Hange Rated M for explicit language. Fanart by @catyypss Betaed by @itsshailam and @djmarinizelablog Read the story on Archive of Our Own

Summary:

If there’s anything Levi Ackerman has learned from his career as a fashion designer throughout the years, it is that:

1.) When it comes to hosting a runway show, you can never believe anything will be alright until you personally check on it.

2.) If you think you have checked everything, check again.

3.) Once you’re confident enough to dare believe that everything will go smoothly, Fortuna herself will make sure you learn a lesson by sending someone to screw things up!

Chapter 1 Levi Ackerman

If there’s anything Levi Ackerman has learned from his career as a fashion designer throughout the years, it is that:

1.) When it comes to hosting a runway show, you can never believe anything will be alright until you personally check on it. 

2.) If you think you have checked everything, check again.  

3.) Once you’re confident enough to dare believe that everything will go smoothly, Fortuna herself will make sure you learn a lesson by sending someone to screw things up, in the most unexpected way.

And that is exactly what is happening right now.

“What do you mean she cut all her hair?” Levi hisses to Miche, one of the show producers. The broad man is equally dumbfounded, doesn't even bother to reply. “We specifically told the modeling agency we want long hair models. How on earth…” 

Levi finds himself losing words, unable or unwilling to comprehend the rather unique situation, whether it is the state of the said model’s recognition skills or the fact that they need to find a replacement NOW, in the middle of Fashion Week when literally all decent models in the city had been booked out!!

Four hours before the show is set to kick off, they are already screwed. 

Terrific.

“I’ve already called other agencies to see if they can send someone,” Nanaba, the other show producer, speaks up while she’s staring at her phone. "But don't get your hopes up, Levi. From the photos they sent me, those available either do not have long enough hair or just don't look the part. Maybe we should settle with what we've got, you know? I mean... I'm sure we can still create a fitted look with the headpiece or..."

“That would be unfit to the narrative, and you know it!” Levi fires back, gritting his teeth while looking around the packed backstage. The whole place is in clutter. A necessary evil he is willing to put up with for making a show. But at the moment, with one model short, the mere sight of Nifa, his lead make-up artist, using the working table instead of one of the dressing desks to show other make-up artists the final look, is enough to drive him crazy.

Slowly, Levi breathes in, and out, forcing his shoulders to relax. A rustle catches his attention. Beside him, Mikasa, his intern, and little cousin, is pulling the racks of showpieces to the middle of the room before she and other dressers can start dressing the models. Just as he had instructed 5 minutes ago. 

"Do we really only need long hair, Levi? It’s nearly impossible for us to find someone who not only has waist-length hair but also can fit into the dress and walk the runway," Mikasa says, blinking at him. as she always does since she was a little girl when she senses Levi is about to lose his temper. 

"Well… Petra and Oluo said they can try extensions or wigs,” Armin, the marketing intern who reports directly to Erwin -- the brand’s co-founder and CEO who’s in charge of anything but design -- hesitantly suggests. The boy doesn’t dare to look at Levi’s face when he speaks, “I mean, they are confident that the audience won't notice."

"But I will," Levi sighs in defeat. He glances at Mikasak, the even edge of her inverted bob sticking out like a sore thumb to his eyes. When his little cousin decided to cut her long hair last year, after starting her first term in fashion school, Levi was happy for her. The style suits her. But at this very moment, he really misses her fuzzy locks.

"Do you have any friends from school whose hair is long enough and is willing to walk the runway?" Levi asks Mikasa and Armin. The two interns stare at him, shaking their heads

"Walk the runway? Lots! Long enough hair? One or two. But no one can fit into the dresses." Mikasa shrugs, settling the last rack right in front of Levi, before walking to the dressing desk nearby to grab her phone.

"I can think of one person who’s thin enough and has long hair," Eren says as he sits at the dressing desk suddenly decides to make his presence known, kicking to swivel the chair around to face them. The tin foil Petra and Oluo put on the crown of his head to give his shoulder-length hair a silver highlight shines brightly under the warm lighting.

Levi scowls, knowing the boy’s about to say something dumb, and only Mikasa when he's making that face, something only Mikasa would laugh. 

“Who? Do we know her?” Mikasa asks, giggling as Eren puts his hand on her waist. Levi closes his eyes for a second, swallowing whatever he wants to say to the lovebirds.

The only reason he tolerates Eren in the working environment is because Miche and Nanaba, as well as Erwin , think it’s a good idea to have a rising soccer player on the runway as an athlete cameo. To attract more youth attention. As Erwin puts it.

Focus , Levi says to himself, We have a problem to solve . 

“Aunt Kuchel,” answers Eren. Levi rolls his eyes.

Without a word, the designer turns on his heels and walks away, physically extracting himself before he has a chance to hit his cousin's stupid boyfriend. 

But Aunt Kuchel’s on holiday in Buenos Aires, Eren! Mikasa exclaims. 

Shaking his head, the designer blames himself for agreeing to let Eren walk on the show. 

As if I haven't had enough of his stupidness in my private life. The brat.

“Hey, Nanaba!" Then suddenly, another voice catches Levi’s attention. 

"How’s the replacement search going? Any luck?” Nifa, Levi’s trusted lead make-up artist whom he has been working with since day one, speaks up as she finishes demonstrating today's look to the make-up team.  

“No. Why? Oluo and Petra are trying to figure things out with headpieces…” Nanaba replies with a rather uncertain tone which Levi is too familiar with. She only speaks in that way when they are trying to salvage something.

Is there really no other way?

Frustrated. Levi turns to look at the entire room. The 44 minus 1 models have begun to find their designated clothes from the racks. 11 of them, plus Eren, will walk for the diffusion line Wings of Freedom . The other 33 minus 1 are walking Levi Ackerman , his eponymous brand, with each look completed with a delicate hairstyle and headpieces, making it inconvenient for models to change clothes during mid-show. Not to mention, the clothes Levi designs for his signature line are not meant to be put on hastily.

Maybe instead of making up a plan B for the hairstyle, he should just pull one look out of the show, sending only 43 models off the runway?

The mere thought of it feels like a punch to his stomach.

“Because if you haven’t found anyone. How about I give Hange a call? It's Wednesday so she's about to finish lecturing like...” Nifa says, pulling out her phone to look at the time. "...like now."

As soon as the name ‘Hange' leaves Nifa's lips, Levi can tell that something has changed. Because immediately, Miche and Nanaba stop, eyes lighting up.

"Hange?! Yes, of course!" Nanaba cries, looking up to Miche, elbowing him. "Why didn't we think of her sooner? Of course, Hange can do this, Miche! She'll be perfect!"

"What are you waiting for, Nifa? Call her!" Miche encourages, smiling as Nifa runs to the side to make a call. 

"Well, it seems that things will turn out as you want, Levi." Miche lets out a long sigh. " I can't believe we can actually find someone at this hour. You should give Nifa a raise." 

Levi stares at the show’s directing duo and long-time friends, trying to feel their enthusiasm as Nanaba goes back to work, talking to the lighting technicians through wireless. Yet, as much as he trusts his friends, he cannot allow himself to share their optimism so easily. Not until he finds out more about this Hange they seem to have so much faith in.

“So, this Hange, ” Levi starts, walking beside Miche as the show producer goes to check if Nifa has successfully made contact. “She’s yours and Nifa’s friend?”

“Roommate,” Miche answers swiftly, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall, waiting for Nifa to finish the call. “Hange is Nifa’s roommate. Nanaba shared their apartment before moving in with me. She fits all the criteria, Levi. Long-hair, 5 ft. 7. Fun and pretty. Runway-experienced . You’re going to love her!”

Love, huh? Levi can’t help but click his tongue . As much as he wants to share Miche’s optimism, his instinct doesn’t allow him to simply accept what he is told without getting further confirmation.

“If she’s that good, why didn’t you or Nanaba bring her up?” he asks, deadpan. “Neither of you thought of her earlier. And you expect me to just…“

“Because she doesn’t do this anymore! And Nana and I haven't seen her for months. Gosh, Levi! you need to have more faith in people. I’m starting to feel a little hurt!” Miche exclaims, fingers caressing his chest while making puppy eyes. 

Levi cringes and looks away. Miche snickers, taking a moment to enjoy his reaction.

“Okay, to answer your question,” the show producer continues, “I didn’t think of asking Hange, because she had retired from the limelight long ago. She’s an academic now. When we hung out, she didn’t behave like a showbiz gal. You know what I mean? But don’t worry about that. If I’m being honest, she’s more than competent to nail a runway. Overqualified , actually. And — ”

He tails off, as Nifa puts down her phone, looking up to face them.

“Well?” The show producer asks eagerly.

The make-up artist grins, fingers curl to a big OK. “Great! Let’s get to work!” 

Miche jumps to his feet, ready to resume whatever he’d left. Levi had no choice but to follow, running behind to keep up. He still has questions to ask.

“What do you mean overqualified ?” The designer yells behind the tall man. “Was she some kind of supermodel I’ve never heard of?”

Miche laughs, catching the sarcasm. 

“Not a supermodel.” The show producer smiles, turning around to face him. “You’re going to love this.”

“Well, what was she?” Levi asks. He’s already starting to feel irritated.

“She was Miss Humanity .”

[elysianslove]

secrets that you keep; iwaizumi hajime 

synopsis; in which his best friend is secretly a camgirl. part 1, part 2 

pairings; iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

genre; smut

trigger warnings; i highly recommend reading the first two parts before this. they’re only drabbles that introduce everything! anyways, this is absolute filth. don’t read this if any of the stuff mentioned could trigger you, please! masturbation, camgirl stuff, one mention of the word ‘daddy,’ self choking, degradation, humiliation, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, a lot of choking, accidental breathplay, not proofread unfortunately 

she knows. 

does she? 

it’s an ongoing inner battle he’s been having for weeks now, ever since he’d been directed to that trending video of yours. he sees you in his dreams, hears you loud and clear, moaning and crying for him, and worst of all, he feels you, so perfectly, against his, around him, and it’s overwhelming in the worst way possible. even maintaining eye contact is tiresome at this point. 

but he does wonder whether you know or not, more often than he should— were you deliberately calling out for him, in hopes that he’d find this video somehow? or had you said it because you’d assumed this is your safe place, that there’s no way he’d be able to find these videos? had it been a slip up? or, more accurately, multiple slip ups? what were the chances anyways, that it had been an accident, or unintentional, or intentional and he had been losing sleep over it, or that he wasn’t the hajime you were crying out for? 

his heard hurt. awfully. there’s already the constant worry of regulating his breathing around you and cleansing his thoughts of anything he’d seen of you the moment you meet, but this added dilemma is in no way helping. every day that you text him for a coffee date, or a night out after a rather stressful week, or a night in at your apartment, and he agrees, his mind diverts immediately to where it shouldn’t as soon as he lays eyes on you. and the worst part of it all is how aware he is of how wrong this is. he knows it’s wrong to choose the revealing shirt over the other when you ask him for his opinion, just because he wants that effortless glance at your cleavage. it’s also so wrong of him to give a higher rating to that obscenely short dress than that other, knee length one because of the way your thighs squeeze when you sit. it’s definitely wrong of him to offer clasping your anklet, the one he’d gotten for you, the one that had been the dead giveaway to your secret online persona, just because your legs feel so soft against the rough pads of his fingers, when he resists the urge to trail upwards, upwards, upwards—

it’s fucking ridiculous. 

he can’t believe just how deep of a rabbit hole finding one of your videos is, how it’s impossible to climb out and away, and even worse, how he keeps falling deeper. the one time he decides to jerk off to porn. it’s really ridiculous. 

about a week ago, three weeks after finding that video of yours someone had uploaded— which had been taken down because of copyright, and hajime personally thinks that’s fair, considering there’s a reason you pay people to watch your videos and look through your photos, otherwise you would’ve taken the liberty to post everything for free yourself— hajime gives in, and subscribes to you. it’s with a randomized account name, something he tried his very best to make as anonymous as possible, so that it would in no way lead back to him. he doesn’t check in on your account as often, also having taken the time to turn off notifications and not have anything sent to his email, and it’s mostly out of shame. he already feels dirty enough having seen this much of you, even more that he’s fantasized about you. he’s not about to make it worse for himself.

every once in a while, though, especially days where he’s sure he’s completely free of responsibilities, he logs on, and finds your page. it just so happens that tonight, you’re hosting a live stream. swallowing his pride and shame, literally so, he shifts on his bed, sitting up straighter, and clicks to join. 

he’d been a little late apparently, because you’re already bare, sitting on a chair. your legs are lifted up, knees bent and hooked over the chair’s arms, the camera angled to show everything, from your cute eyes to the flesh of your ass. there’s a vibrator in your hand, buzzing lightly as it hovers by your clit, dipping between your folds, sliding back up again to rub lazily at your clit. beneath you, on the chair, is a small damp spot, leaking from your cunt. hajime stops himself before his jaw falls slack at the sight of you, and instead, he clears his throat, gritting his teeth and watching carefully. 

you’re not so talkative during your videos, just exclamations of pleasure and (the most beautiful of) noises, so he hadn’t expected you to be during your lives. to his surprise, you are, and it’s filthy. 

whimpering lightly, you press the vibrator harsher on your clit, your other hand traveling up to squeeze at your breast. “m’so needy,” you admit with a soft pout, adding, “want you to tell me what to do, mmh.”

he’s assuming the ‘you’ is the audience, whoever’s willing to speak up, and it’s then that he notices the chat option. his eyes flicker curiously to it, hands twitching where they sit fisted at his lap as he sees the chat explode with orders and commands and suggestions for you. 

one writes, stuff urself full, and hajime gapes. 

another commands, wanna see u cry tn, and hajime privately agrees. 

someone else writes, gonna squirt princess? 

hajime’s hands twitch again, and he frowns, digging his nails into his palms. you’re ignoring all the suggestions, and it’s obvious because you’re reading through them, mouthing some of them, giggling at some, curiously gasping, ‘oh,’ at others, eyebrow quirking. the vibrator trails down to your hole again, and you experimentally dip it inside slightly, shivering visibly as the vibrations rush through you, and the moment he hears you moan so loud, he thinks, fuck it, and his hands reach for his keyboard. 

choke yourself. 

fuck, fuck, fuck, he did not just do that. 

his heart is racing embarrassingly fast beneath his ribcage, loud and pathetically deafening in his ears as he watches your eyes read through the rest of the messages, and you’ve stopped mouthing them, your eyes are widening— which one are you at now? are you just going to ignore him? why wouldn’t you? of course you—

“you’d like that, huh?” you teasingly slur, a lazy, cheeky grin painting your lips, your teeth biting down on your lower lip and your hand— your hand— 

it’s trailing upwards, upwards, upwards, until it finds its way around your throat, resting lightly, and just as he sees your fingers squeeze at the sides of your neck slightly, carefully, you pout at the camera, looking straight at him, and asking, “like this, daddy?” 

a low fuck wheezes past his lungs, and his hand quickly presses down at the bulge in his sweatpants, squeezing and rubbing at his clothed dick as he watches you, entranced. people watching you with him have taken to thanking him for the idea, and to praising you, calling you a good girl, cursing, rapidly typing out something along the lines of you’re so hot i wanna fuck you so bad, and god, hajime hates that he relates to something as stupid as that. 

your hips roll and your head falls back, hand not once leaving your throat. if anything, your grip tightens. you click on the vibrator, and the buzzing becomes louder, your moans with it, as if you were competing. you cry and gasp and sob, writhing in your own hold, your thighs tensing and your hole clenching around nothing as you harshly rub the vibrator against your clit. your cunt gushes and drips as you bring yourself closer to your orgasm, as you cry out a string of, “m’gonna cum, so close, so close!” and a mixture of lewd curses, until finally, you cum. you’re sent over the edge, legs swinging on the chair, high pitched squeals falling from your lips— which hajime can’t decide are real or not, or whether he wants them to be or not. you thrash and cry, tears, as promised to some other watcher, dripping down your cheeks. 

the last straw however, is your comedown from your high, sobs hiccuping and muscles twitching, eyes half closed and body limp as you mewl out, “hajime, hajime, hajime,” like you’re not even aware you’re doing it. like it’s subconscious. 

hajime swears again, a deep, low, “fuck,” and looks down to find a damp spot on his lap. he really came from barely any friction, all because of you. this really is as ridiculous as it gets. 

the next time he sees you, there are the faintest of bruises on your neck. it’s not so obvious that just anyone would notice, but ever since becoming hyperaware of everything that is you and everything that you do, it’s hard not to have them be the first thing he sees. to ensure that the atmosphere between the two of you remains easy, he flicks at your neck and tuts with a smirk, asking you jokingly if you were in your hoe phase. 

“so vulgar, hajime,” you sarcastically retort, teasing him. “you like calling me mean things?” and he has to avert eye contact because all his walls crumble so quick. 

it’s just the two of you tonight, in his apartment, all your other mutual friends having cancelled at one point or another. it’s not an unusual occurrence; more often than not, the two of you are alone. however, it’s been a while since you’d been alone, privately. a while meaning ever since hajime had discovered your side hustle of a sort. he hadn’t been purposely avoiding this— no, maybe he has, but to be fair, he’s still yet to recover from the initial shock. 

it also doesn’t help that since today had meant to be a relaxing night in, you’re dressed casual, but in the hottest fucking way possible. he hopes he hadn’t been blushing as hard as he thinks, and feels, he was, when you’d first stepped into his home. on your hips is a short, black skirt, flowing out to your upper thighs, where just above your knees start a pair of dark thigh highs, squeezing at your thighs and accentuating your legs as you strut around his apartment, feet bare of any shoes or slippers. he can’t decide whether it’s cute or just plain hot. somehow, with you, it’s both. your shirt is off the shoulder, a dark, navy blue bardot, and beneath it, peeking out to rest at your collarbones, is a black bralette. he can barely just see the intricate lace designs, but it disappears and dips beneath your shirt before he can see more of it. 

you’re spread out on the couch, laying along it on your stomach, a pillow tucked in your arms and beneath your head, your clothed legs bent and swinging up in the air. he sits right by you, thigh right by your head, his body as tense as ever. it’s impossible not to be you, not with you in such close proximity to him when only a few days ago he’d watched you make yourself cum, and had heard you whimper out his name after. who can blame him, really?

with your eyes trained on the screen, he hadn’t been expecting you to speak up. 

“iwa, what type of porn do you watch?” 

he nearly chokes, eyes widening as he spares you a glance. your legs continue to swing innocently, your eyes unmoving, your voice unwavering. the suddenness of the question certainly threw him off, but it’s your nonchalance that really shocks him. but, considering everything, it really shouldn’t have. 

“uh, what?” he offers weakly, wincing slightly at the barely there crack in his voice. 

you sigh, shifting to sit up. you plant yourself on your knees, spreading them apart slightly to get comfortable, and shrugging at him. “i’m just curious,” you say. “or,” your eyes squint cautiously, your head cocking to the side slightly, “do you not watch porn?” 

challengingly, his arms lift up to cross at his chest, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes momentarily glance at the way his biceps bulge. it makes his confidence spike slightly, nervousness ebbing away. “what type of porn do you watch?” 

you gasp dramatically, joking, “take a girl out to dinner first, my god.” he laughs, relaxing lightly at the banter, before his eyes fall back to you. you inch forward curiously, cautiously, still on your knees. now closer to him, you ask again, “seriously, i’m really curious! confirm my suspicions for me.” 

“oh?” he quirks an eyebrow. “so you think you know?” 

at this, you offer him a knowing smile, eyes slightly half lidded. you’re somehow even closer now, leaning towards him with your hands resting on the small space between you and him in the couch, helping you in lifting yourself up slightly on your knees as you say in a low voice, “baby, i think everyone knows.” 

at the sight of you by his side, he feels himself shiver, and an idea invades his mind before he can even process it. “oh, do you now?” he’s not sure where this boldness is emerging from, especially with how cautious and shameful he’d been and felt for weeks now, but he accepts it either way, because the way you’re staring at him like that, he never wants to let it go. and although he wants to drag out this intense eye contact even longer, in order to do what he wants to do, he has to break it, reaching for his phone instead. unable to contain your curiosity, you peak over, watching with confusion as he types out a link. 

the blood drains from your face when you recognize your page on his browser, and he’s logged on— he’s subscribed. 

“what type of porn do i like to watch?” he wonders rhetorically. the phone is pushed aside, and he sits up straighter so that even on your knees, he looms over you. his eyes are skimming over you, along your body, up to your neck, to your lips, to your shocked, wide eyes. and just as his hand trails up to your throat, his palm resting at the base and one finger tapping lightly, he says, “the type where my favorite girl cries out my name when she cums for the world to see.” 

the hand around your throat—

“you,” you breathe out, and finally, finally, when your brain makes sense of everything, your body relaxes, sags against him, leaning more into him until his hand’s properly wrapped around your throat. 

with your mind hazing over, you reach over, and kiss him. 

he meets you halfway, as if having expected it, lips pressing harshly against his. his hand tightens as he pulls you closer, lifting you up slightly and bringing you closer to him as his mouth parts, breathing you in, and kissing you deeper, lewder. you shiver and gasp, hands grasping at his wrist and forearm, not to push him away but rather to urge him closer, as you kiss him back just as eagerly. it seems like hours, with his hand around your neck, tight and a daunting reassurance, and your lips wet and hot against his, but eventually, his hand slides down, the other mirroring it, finding their way to your waist, squeezing and bunching at the skirt as he, with complete and utter and shocking ease, lifts you up off the couch. 

you gasp as he stands up with you, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he pulls you to him. as he blindly walks the two of you to his bedroom, he breathlessly asks in between your kisses, “is this— you sure this is okay?” 

with a sharp tug at his hair, you jokingly spit out, “iwa shut up.” 

he tosses you onto the bed, allowing you a minute to strip yourself of your shirt while he slips out of his own, before quickly falling above you, caging you in with his arms as he kisses you again. “not iwa,” he quietly asks of you. 

for a moment you’re confused, before everything clicks again— your slip ups— and your legs lift up, wrapping around his waist and pulling his hips closer to yours just as you mewl out, “hajime, please.” 

god, he is way easier than he thought he was. 

his entire body shudders above you, one hand lowering to push at your skirt to grind his hips down against yours until his clothed crotch meets your bare cunt and— holy fuck, holy fuck. 

“fuck, you slut.” 

you gasp at both his words and the feel of his bulge pressing down against your clit, his lips meeting your neck instead. “you do like calling me mean things,” you say, and he scoffs, his hand traveling upwards to squeeze at your breasts instead. 

“you like me calling you mean things,” he notes, and you let out a muffled moan as he pinches at your nipples through the bralette, lips biting and sucking at your neck. 

“i do,” you pant, arching up into him. “i do, i do.” his hands are fumbling at your chest, and god, they’re so large, so big and warm and harsh, it’s fogging up your brain. 

“yeah, yeah, fucking whore,” he growls, pushing himself slightly on his knees, hands tugging at the bralette. his fingers dip past, gripping the fabric tightly, and as he says, “can’t fucking— take this shit— off,” he tears through it, knuckles whitening as he pulls it away from your body, or what’s left of it. the frills of the ruined bra fall off the edge of his bed, and he watches your wide eyes and gaping mouth follow it, so he grabs at your jaw, twisting your gaze away from it and grunting a low, “shut up.” 

you pull away from the kiss, breathing heavily as you say, “that was so fucking hot, hajime,” before kissing him again. he parts his mouth as you lead him to you again, tongue easily meeting yours. 

it’s a messy kiss as he slips himself out of his sweatpants, taking his boxers with it and discarding them somewhere in his room. his cock slaps against his stomach, a single string of precum messily staining his tan abs. your eyes are quick to gaze down, lips painted a dazzling grin as his hand finds his cock, squeezing at the head and smearing his precum along. 

“knew you were fucking big,” you gasp, eyes trained on him as he strokes himself above you, and he is. he’s so big, thick and heavy, and veiny and your mouth waters at how that’s going to feel when inside of you, stretching you out so good, so much better than any of the toys you had at home. “i thought,” a squeal hiccups out of you as both of his hands grab at your hips from beneath your skirt, one sticky and warmer than the other, “about you all the time.” 

your confession draws his attention, and when he’s pulled you close enough, two of his fingers trail to your cunt, quirking an, “oh?” just as he dips his fingers inside. the lack of resistance he’s met with is surprising, and he chokes out, “did you stretch yourself out before coming here? fuck yourself on some fake cock?” 

tightlipped, you moan, brows furrowed and back arched into him. god, his fingers were not enough. “yes, yes,” you gasp, head falling back. despite not needing to, he still fingers you, his thick digits fucking into you slowly, driving you insane by the second. “yes, i— pretended t’was you,” you whine loudly. at your words, he curls his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist and pressing his palm directly on your clit. 

“do you always?” he lowly asks, dipping closer to you as he fucks his fingers deeper. his fingers were inside of you, the cunt he’d spent over a month marveling at through a screen, the pretty pussy his dick had drooled over for hours. you’re real, as real as ever beneath him falling apart, making a mess of your black skirt, drenching it with your arousal. 

you moan out a hum, nodding dumbly as his fingers vibrate with the intensity of speed inside of you, your toes curling in your thigh highs and face twisting to press into his mattress. “always,” you cry out, like a promise. “always think of you— hajime!”

it’s an unexpected orgasm, hitting you so fast and quick that it’s outright dizzying. it has you lifting your hips up into his fingers and palm, grinding and trembling, your legs falling and spreading open, shaking wildly by your side and above you as he fucks you through the orgasm. 

“hajime, hajime, hajime,” you chant, words trailing off into tiny sobs and shuddering breaths as your hips slowly fall back onto the bed, body still trembling with aftershocks. 

you’re fucked out beyond words already that you genuinely don’t feel a thing until he’s pressing inside of you, the fat head of his cock stretching you out. he’s really no match for your toys, and if seeing him hadn’t been enough confirmation, the feel of him pressing inside of you definitely is. he doesn’t ease himself in slowly, urgently grabbing the back of your thighs with either hand, keeping your legs spread for him as he bottoms out. 

“fuck, fuck, knew you’d feel so good,” he grunts, brows furrowed harshly as he digs his fingers deeper against the flesh of your thighs, forcing your legs closer to your chest, and somehow pushing himself even deeper within you. you whine and mewl, toes curling and uncurling and legs trembling. “knew it the moment i saw your pretty pussy creamin’ around that thick cock.” 

at the reminder that he’s watched and witnessed you, multiple times, that he’s subscribed to you willingly and curiously, you clench down around him. you feel him twitch inside of you, groaning loudly as he falls closer to you, your legs falling to his waist. 

“you like knowing i was watching you?” he sneers, his hand reaching up and gripping at your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing a pout on your lips. your eyes nearly fucking cross as he rams into you, his fingers digging into your jaw. “you like that i fucked my fist every night to you? to your pretty cunt and your pretty noises and your pretty face— yes, good girl, that one.” 

your eyes do cross this time, spurred on by his words, your tongue peaking out through the small gap he allows with how harsh he’s gripping your face. he’s pushing out little mewls and cries from you, but otherwise, you quite honestly feel braindead. 

“fuck, you’re a gorgeous little slut,” he gasps. “all mine to fuck and use.”

you’re quick to nod rapidly, whining and moaning for him as you grip at his biceps. you’re choking on your breath as you struggle to keep up with him while he fucks you into the mattress, so fucking hard and rough that you’re sure there’ll be an indentation of you once you leave. you can feel your cunt gushing, and you can hear it too, squelching loudly with every thrust of his hips, every time his cock fucks into you. your skirt feels sticky and gross, and so does the rest of you, but you’ve never, never, felt this euphoric, this blissed out. 

your stomach tightens impossibly, the tension gradually increasing as your walls tightly squeeze and clench at his cock. slowly and surely, the pressure within you increases, your hands flying to hajime’s arm, the arm whose hand grips your face, which quickly moves to your throat at your simple gasping warning that you were close. 

“gonna cum, gonna cum, hajime, fuck!” 

he tightens his grip, pressing harsher on the sides of your neck as your eyes shut tightly, your head falling back once more. 

“yeah, come on, show me how pretty you look cumming on a real cock,” he whispers by your ear, using the hand that’s around your throat to lift up your head, before roughly pushing it back down, squeezing tighter. “you like it this rough?— shit, shit, you’re tightening.” 

you scream, voice cracking and broken as he slams into you again, his hips grinding against yours momentarily, pelvis hitting your clit— and you’re gone, thrashing in his hold, fat tears streaming down your cheeks as you sob and heave, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him, hips shaking as your orgasm rocks through you. it’s not a few seconds later that he’s spilling inside of you, accidentally pressing his palm down against your throat as he cums, blocking your airway momentarily. 

“hngh,” he gasps deeply, cock twitching inside of you as he cums, hips barely grinding. you’re gasping, a little painfully, struggling to take in any air as he blinks dazedly, before he finally takes notice. “shit, shit, i’m sorry.” 

his hand flies away from your throat, and you inhale sharply, coughing lightly as air fills your lungs all too suddenly. the strength of this man, holy fuck. 

“i’m so sorry; are you okay?” 

chest still heaving, you fall onto the bed, body relaxing as you try and regulate your breathing. “s’okay, i’m okay,” you reassure him, hands reaching up to pat at his cheeks and comb through his messy, sweaty hair. 

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and it’s so endearing that you nearly forget he’s still inside of you. but you feel the shift of his cock, feel his cum slowly start to ooze out of your cunt, and he winces from the oversensitivity, shifting away to instead pull out of you. his soft cock falls from your cunt, a steady flow of his cum following. hajime has to physically resist from reaching out to fuck it back into you. 

“i’m sorry i wasn’t careful ‘nough with the—“ he makes a gesture with his hands around his neck, “—the choking.” 

you laugh lightly, tiredly, hands slowly caressing at his sweaty biceps. “stop apologizing,” you reassure him again, shrugging with a small smile as you add, “just be more careful next time.” 

his breath gets caught in his chest, and he only softly exhales when he falls on the bed, to your side, carefully repeating, “next time.” 

from beside him, you lift yourself up on your side on your elbow, palm cradling your head, trying your best not to wince in pain. “hajime?” 

he spares you a glance as he mumbles, “hm?” opting to stare at the ceiling and contemplate whether what had just happened was real life or not. 

“do you wanna do a video with me?” 

he all but chokes. 

end note; please this took me like 4+ hours. please please please don’t flop, and more importantly, i really hope i don’t disappoint. i know this has been a long awaited piece, so i’m praying and hoping you guys love it. 

love you all, mwah <3 

[tommyspeakycap]

Please could you write one with Grealish where you’re a Chelsea fan so refuse to wear a Villa shirt with his name on, and for bants Mount gets you a Chelsea shirt with his name and Jack gets all pouty?

omg I love this idea!! gets very smutty at the end ;) enjoy!

Villa Boy

A love for Chelsea had been something you adapted and grew to into as a young girl. Your dad was never entirely sure how to bond with his only daughter and your mother told him just to include you in what he loved. And so came your season pass with a little lanyard that still hung proudly in your childhood room right next to a shirt mounted in a glass photo frame with Frank Lampard's signature scrawled along the eight on the back.

It was actually how you met Jack in the first place, which is the only one single reason that he has for liking your club affiliation. Otherwise, it was one of the most annoying things in his world. It was often a source of teasing and taunting, you saying your team was better than his and him swaggering home and gloating for weeks when Aston Villa take a win over Chelsea. It was the bane of his life that he couldn't get you into that claret and blue. Not even to sleep in or wear around the house, you just would not dare put it on.

"I would feel my dad's shame emanate through the walls, maybe it would kill him. And then I'd lose every morsel of self respect I have, so not a chance." You'd snort, not even giving him a window for more persuasion.

His England shirt? that was fair game. You'd wear that with pride, to the shops, round the house, walking the dog and especially at his games but there was just absolutely no chance of getting you into his Villa shirt.

Though Jack may never admit it, it was one of his biggest wants. Seeing you in his England short was nothing short revolutionary - he'd said. It only made him want to see you in the Villa shirt more. That was his childhood club, getting to captain that was one of his biggest achievements and while he knew you were absolutely proud of him. You were the most proud and encouraging person in his life and there were no ifs buts or maybes in that.

But my god he knew you'd look fit in that claret and blue.

No matter how much it annoyed him, he wouldn't get you out of the darker blue home jersey of your favourite club no matter what he did. It was something he had come to accept over the course of your relationship, it was by and large fine.

Until that jersey said someone else's name across the back.

"Awh come on!" He yelps, mouth dropped open as you emerge into the kitchen with your toothbrush hanging out your mouth and only one shoe on. Jack knows you slept in because he switched off your alarm last night in hopes you'd miss the game, but Jack dropped a bowl when he tripped over the dog and woke you up anyway.

You going to the Villa v Chelsea game in a Chelsea shirt was bad enough, but now he's just clocked something that's sent his mind firing a mile a minute.

MOUNT

19

Not a fucking chance.

"Oi, you!" He calls out, throwing himself off the chair at the kitchen island, his feet fumbling over one another to get after you as quickly as possible. "What's up, Jack?" You hum innocently, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you stand in the doorway shoving on your other shoe. "Is something the matter?"

Jack gawks, opening and closing his mouth awaiting words to find his frazzled brain. "Yes!" He squeaks, a tone you'd never heard from a man before, let along your very deep voiced man. "There's no way that you're- what are you doing? Come back." He groans, his feet shuffling after you as you walk back through the house to find your car keys. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry up." You note sweetly, Jack drops his jaw. "We're not going anywhere until-"

"Hi Mason, yeah I got it. Fits like glove actually. Yeah, we're just leaving now. I'll meet you in the car park."

Jack's face was literally priceless. His agape, eye's wild, brows furrowed. A pout settles itself firmly into his lips the second he sits in the car with his arms folded over his chest like a toddler. You have to physically stifle a laugh at him as you beam the entire drive to Villa Park.

"M' gonna burn that." He states. You cast him a glance out the corner of your eye as you pull into the players parking. A snigger escapes despite your very best efforts and Jack resumes his frontward glare at the dashboard with his lips in a firm line. "Gonna win this game, burn that shirt and knock Mount flat."

You know he's not being serious about Mason. He's very fond of the player when they're on the same side. But you had become very close friends with him through the mutual love for the club he plays at and Jack absolutely despised that. He wasn't the kind to be bothered by your friends even to a moderate degree and even here he trusted you, he just fucking hated the concept of another club and another mans name over your back. It ticked him right off.

You know this very well. You knew what you were getting into the second Mason handed you that dark blue shirt. It was all fun and games really. You loved the club but you only wore the Mount shirt to get under Jack's skin. You thought it might even throw off his game a little.

The second he stormed onto the pitch and scored a goal 5 minutes into the game, you figured that might not be the case.

Every opportunity, every goal, every opening and every single tackle, Jack turned to you. He turned to you with fire in those brown eyes, sending you a cheeky wink. His passion, the very serious look etched onto his features and the way he was looking at you was fuelling a very different kind of fire in you.

Jack played the whole 90 minutes and he took Mason Mount down at every single given opportunity in a careful way that just evaded him getting a yellow card. He finished hot, sweaty and with a man of the match trophy for 2 goals and one assist with a majority of the game spent with the ball at his feet.

The 3 nil win should have been a lot more disappointing that it was, but he just looked so fucking good. The sweat stuck his hair to his temples, his muscles tight and protruding through exertion as he walks off the field after shaking every hand.

You're standing just outside the tunnel with Mason and John McGinn standing with you, talking about the match mostly. John makes a joke about you wearing that top more often, seems to be a good luck charm for Villa even if it's the opposing team. Mason scoffs and says; "More like an angry boyfriend wants to murder me charm."

That's when Jack appears and John barely gets his mouth open to greet him before Jack shoulders through the two footballers. His mouth finds your immediately. Hot, passionate, fiery and filled with his dominance.

He pulls back and grabs onto your hand tightly with his back to the two midfielders. Jack twists his body round with a daggering glare.

"Nobody," Jack growls, "fucks around with girl."

His tone, deep and gravelly, only serves to dampen your panties further in a way that makes your clench your legs together.

Jack's done with pouting, the teasing can resume later. For now, he's dragging you by the hand to a darkened conference room. Hiking you up his body before setting you on the table that sits at a miraculously perfect height that places you right against his bulge.

He wastes no time whatsoever ripping down your leggings and panties, his fingers finding you immediately to swirl pressured motions around your sensitive clit. "Ahh, who's got you moaning like that baby?" He rumbles, words vibrating through your lips.

"You Jack, oh god, you!" You pant as his fingers leave you feeling empty and needy. Jack easily tugs down his shorts and pulls himself out of his boxers to line up with your entrance. His victory sex is hot always, but usually there was a dry spell after a Villa v Chelsea game, so it had never been this hot.

"And who am I?" He grunts, pushing himself into you to hear your shuddering squeak of pleasure. He lays you down over the table, hands following you under your shirt to carefully and tentatively swirl his fingers over your nipples from under your bra. "Oh god, Jack," you move your hands to the hem of the blue shirt to lift it over your head, but Jack's hands stop them before you have the chance.

"No, no, no," he chastises with a smirk, "Want to fuck you in their colours," He continues to thrust roughly into you with each heavy breath, mouth and squeak that escapes you only spurring him on. "Want to fuck you with his name on your back, baby. Remind you who you belong to."

You shudder in pleasure with the feeling of his lips attaching to your neck, letting out a shaky, heavy breath as he snakes a hand down between you to swirl those circles around your more pleasureful spot once again. He knows the intricate details of your body better than any man ever has and he always ensures he uses it to his advantage, but nothing like today. His lips on the sweet spot of your neck, hitting and stretching you perfect between your legs with masterful work of his fingers pushing you closer and closer with each second that passed.

"Fuck , I'm so close-"

"Who's making you feel so good, baby?" He pants, skin slapping and heavy breathing echoing around the room. "You, Jack. You!"

"Not a Chelsea boy eh?" He grunts, teeth nibbling down over your collarbone. "Not a Chelsea boy baby is it?" He reiterates, pairing the movements of his hand only until you snap open your eyes again, "No Jack, it's all you. not a- oh god!"

Jack breathes a chuckle into your ear with an appreciative hum to follow.

"Yeah, Villa Captain isn't it? You're screaming out for a Villa boy, ain't ya?" He coaxes, edging you further and further as he speeds up to a pace he's never quite hit you with before. The adrenaline of the match, the irritation of that blue jersey and the passion for the win colliding to give him an energy he's never yet had. Watching your eyes roll beneath him wearing that stupid blue entices him on, only makes him want to pleasure you more if even possible. "Yes! Yes, I am, oh god just don't stop."

"Go on then," he encourages, voice deep in your ear. "Come undone for the Villa Captain baby."

He didn't have to tell you twice, that was for sure. The sight of your eyes fluttering, the feeling of you clenching around him with a steam of, "Fuck yes Jack!" sends him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm right after you, a strangle cry out of your name as it wracks through him.

When he lays down beside you in the table that very surpassingly withstood the pace of your antics, you're both breathless and shining with sweat. Your legs feel like jelly as you still throb from the pleasure. Jack turns his head to you with a lazy smirk, brushing some hair off your forehead as you turn to look at him.

"Well, I certainly do love a Villa boy."

[beautiful-and-terrible]

little things

Rating: Gen

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, SoftBoi!Rodrick, Insecure!Reader

Ship: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Warnings: Body Image, Eating Disorders / Body Dysmorphia, Insecurity 

A/N: this is. SO shmoopy and cheesy lmaoooo but this was an anon request and i live to please :) enjoy!

---

You dragged yourself through your front door, kicking off your shoes in the foyer. The house was dark - your parents were probably asleep already.

You had just spent the day with Rodrick at Six Flags, and you were exhausted from spending all day in the hot sun, running around with your boyfriend like children. You smiled to yourself thinking about the events of the day, the thrill of the rollercoasters you went on.

You clutched the teddy bear Rodrick had won you close to your chest as you slowly ascended the stairs, trying not to make too much noise.

You entered your room and tenderly placed the bear on the bed, giving it a little kiss on the head as you did so before starting your night routine. Change into pajamas, brush teeth, wash face. As you were putting on your final face cream, your phone vibrated on the bathroom counter. You knew who it was from the specific rhythm of the vibration - two short bursts, like a heartbeat.

Rodrick had sent pictures of you two from today - a lot of selfies, but also a couple of far away shots that Rodrick had harassed people into taking for you. People rarely were able to say no to Rodrick once he had gotten an idea into his head - even if that idea was wrapping himself around a street lamp like a stripper for a good picture.

You finally, blissfully laid down in bed, letting out a giant groan as you cracked your back. You browsed the photos, feeling your heart-rate pick up as you gazed at Rodrick in the pictures. He looked so cute today - he had been wearing cut off black jeans, black high-top vans, and a loose button down Hawaiian shirt, half-way unbuttoned to show off his tanned chest and the multiple layers of silver necklaces he was wearing. His nails were painted black, but his eyes were free of makeup, simply accented by his naturally long eye-lashes and the smile-lines around his eyes.

After admiring Rodrick, you turned your gaze to yourself in the pictures. You felt your heart sink into your stomach. When you had left the house this morning, you had felt pretty confident in your outfit - just ripped jean shorts and a crop-top with converse. But as you looked closer, you couldn’t stop thinking about how unsatisfied you felt with the way you looked in the pictures.

As you continued to scroll through, the more faults you found in your appearance. Your thighs being squeezed by your shorts, which didn’t feel too tight but apparently were not as flattering as you thought. In one picture, you were sitting down on a bench, your legs over Rodrick’s lap, but you couldn’t stop staring at the roll of your stomach that came over the waistband of your shorts. You felt tears pricking your eyes, but you stubbornly refused to cry. You spent a long time trying to feel confident in yourself - you weren’t going to let that hard work be ruined by a few unflattering photos.

However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way your body looked in those pictures. You got up to stand in front of your full length mirror, looking at the reflection critically. You were craning your neck to look at your butt when you heard a soft tap-tap-tap at the window. You jumped about 2 feet in the air before you realized it was just Rodrick, grinning from outside the window and placing a wet kiss on the glass, making you laugh. He made a grossed-out expression when he realized the glass was not as clean as he thought it was, wiping his tongue on the back of his hand.

“I swear to God, you’re like a toddler. Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to lick random surfaces?” you asked as you opened the window to let him in. He folded himself gracefully through the window, all long limbs and messy hair. You felt both comforted and electrified in his presence.

“Since when have I ever listened to any authority figure?” Rodrick asked, grinning wolfishly and leaning down to kiss you softly, juxtaposing his rebellious tone. For someone with such a seemingly hard exterior, Rodrick was always very gentle and sweet with you. It was one of the things you loved most about him - he seemed to hate everyone but you. It made you feel special and appreciated. 

As he pulled back from the kiss, he frowned, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are red,” he said, making a pouty face. You shrugged, turning away and shaking your head.

“No, just allergies probably.”

Rodrick scoffed, “Sure, allergies. You’re a bad liar, you know that?”

You refused to look at him, instead going to your record player and flipping through the vinyls you had stacked in a black milk-crate. “I’m not a bad liar,” you said half-heartedly, not really able to come up with any other excuse.

“You totally are, you avoided eye contact and everything. Seriously, what's wrong? Do you not like the bear?” Rodrick asked. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, his chest pressed against your back, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself smile despite your bad mood.

“No, I love the bear. I named him Sasha Bear-on Cohen. Get it?” you said, turning your head to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Ahh, a-very nice,” Rodrick replied in his best Borat impression. You giggled. He gave you a squeeze, hands warm on your waist, but the sensation made you self-conscious about your body again, and you wiggled away. You couldn’t understand how Rodrick could bear to touch you. You had no idea why he was attracted to you in the first place. It made tears spring to your eyes again, and you sniffled.

“Y/n”, Rodrick said softly, looking genuinely concerned. “I know you. You don’t get sad for no reason - unless you’re on your period, or you start thinking too much about the Mars Curiosity Rover.”

You sighed, but you knew he had a point. It took you a minute to get your thoughts into words before you spoke.

“I just... I know its silly. But those pictures - you look like a Hot Topic wet dream and I look... I don’t know. I just don’t like the way I look. And most of the time I don’t let it bother me - at least, I try - but I hate having my picture taken because whenever I see them, all I can see is the things I hate about myself. So. Yeah.”

You feel the tears making steady rivers down your cheeks, and your voice shakes as you speak. Rodrick listens attentively, sitting on the foot of your bed. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. His hand rests on your leg - not constraining you or placating you with a hug, just letting you know he’s there.

“Y/n, I don’t know how to tell you this without sounding like a giant cheese-ball, but... holy fuck. You are so beautiful. I - every time I look at you all I can think is goddamn, I can’t believe she’s into a loser like me. And don’t argue, it’s just a fact,” he says quickly as you try to defend him from his own self-deprecation. 

“I’m not good with words... I’m more of a man of action, y’know?” he says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You smack him on the arm, but his silly expression still makes you smile.

“But, I can still tell you - and don’t repeat this to anyone ever because I’ll never live it down - you give me butterflies. Every time. No matter if you’re in pajamas or a ballgown. You make me feel like a stack of pancakes with warm butter and syrup,” he pauses as you laugh, his warm brown eyes gazing into yours. “Just... I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point. You make my bones feel funny. That’s how beautiful you are.”

Rodrick finally wraps his arms around you. You let yourself be folded into the embrace, feeling content and more than a little overwhelmed by his confession.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unable to find any other words at the moment. You want to say all of that back to him, ten-fold. You want to tell him he makes you feel like flashing concert lights and Fourth of July fireworks. But your mouth can’t make the words, so you just wrap your arms around him tighter.

“Do you want me to spend the night?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. You simply nod, already moving up the bed and pulling back the covers as Rodrick goes to turn out the lights.

In the dark of the room, only illuminated by the street-lamp outside your house, Rodrick looks very alien - all long lines and lean angles. It makes your heart-rate kick up again, and you feel a blush form on your cheeks. It’s not as though this is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed, or even been intimate, but this feels... different. 

Rodrick tucks himself in next to you on your bed - it’s a queen size, so it fits both of you well enough that you could sleep together not touching if you wanted to. But Rodrick is a big cuddler at heart, even if he would deny it to his grave. He wraps his arms around your waist as you lay your head on his chest, already being lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You feel like it’s important to tell him before you both lose the tenderness of the moment, so you finally open your mouth to speak.

“I’m so lucky. I know you think you’re... a loser, or whatever but, Rodrick. You aren’t. You are so beyond cool, and brave, and courageous. Thinking about you makes my head spin. And whenever I see you... I’m home.” You trail off, feeling awkward, but Rodrick simply tightens his arms around you, stroking your back with his fingers.

“If I knew we were getting this sentimental I wouldn’t have brought lube... and maybe a few tissues,” he snickers, and you pinch his nipple, causing him to squeal.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” he teases back, and you sigh softly, feeling your body and mind relax. You had almost completely forgotten about the pictures - and at this point, you didn’t really care. The pictures didn’t speak. The only voice telling you that you weren’t beautiful was the one inside your head, and it could definitely be a bitch sometimes.

You could’ve imagined it, but as your brain was finally shutting down, you could’ve sworn you heard Rodrick start to sing, “you are my sunshine... my only sunshine...”

“you make me happy... when skies are gray...”

“you’ll never know, dear, how much i love you...”

“please don’t take my sunshine away...”

[kissme-hs]

Rules ♡ h.s.

Hey my loves! How’re you all? Here’s a little something based off the following request I’ve had for too long. Would you like a part 2? Let me know what you think! Please re-blog and like if you enjoyed <3 {photo and gif not mine}

Anonymous asked: could u do a Dom!harry smut where he’s really rough and strict in bed? Plzz I love ur writing ❤️

Pairing: Harry Styles x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warning: 18+ Smut, Degradation, Unprotected sex, slight mention of BDSM, oral sex fem recieves and gives, use of filthy language etc. {PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH DOM-SUB fics}

                ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Softy, a complete whole soft person Harry was viewed as by the entire world. A guy who loves wearing nail polish and dresses and is nothing but a complete sweetheart. A man, in fact, a man child. In the eyes of million he was a sweet, laid back English lad who wouldn’t dare to hurt a fly.

However, some knew he owned a pair of Gucci handcuffs, the shiny metal made thousands of girls and guys wonder if he actually uses them and the answer is they don’t know. He has never been a man to speak openly about his personal life and just like the rest he let the audience to allow their minds to wander in the oblivion of their thoughts of what he prefers in bed. Or how he is in bed.

All they could do is assume. They assumed he’s rough, maybe soft, or maybe enjoys role play?

No one knows really. Except you.

The only person who has seen his deepest and darkest fantasies. The only person who has ever signed the paper of agreement between you two, you agreeing on being his sub­­, i.e. submissive. Giving him the permission to have his way with you, be it rough, soft or a role play. Whatever it may be, you said yes. The terms and conditions did scare you. The words printed on the piece of paper came off too strong that lied on your lap the night you’re eyes were scanning it, mind finally synching with your wants, deciding it was time you sign the agreement.

*This is a confidential agreement. Submissive is not allow to talk about it to anyone else but the Dom.*

Submissive agrees to obey whatever Dom orders them to do, sexually.

Safe word to be used by submissive is “peach”, if the boundaries are being pushed, the word to be used is “red”.

Honestly, it would scare anybody who reads the further details listed in the contract and what activities Dom would like themselves and the sub to immerge into such as extreme sex toys, being tied up by ropes, fisting and other terms that you didn’t even know the meaning of. But Harry wasn’t doing it just for himself, but for you.

When the day your ex left without a note you found yourself crying in his arms, sobbing and clutching his t-shirt like a broken kid and it hurt him. So he suggested, he was well aware how you wouldn’t be able to go out with anyone after what has happened so why not help you take your mind off him? Nodding to his words, not knowing what was coming you went home and the next morning you saw an envelope on your porch.

And there lied the papers. Submissive-Dom agreement.

“What is this Harry?” You breathed out in fear as your eyes scanned the words and brain figured out what it meant.

“You know it’s not a bad thing, it’ll help you clear your mind”

“Bu-“

“Trust me, plus we don’t have to do what you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know Harry”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do”

“good”

“Do you trust me?” You said biting your lip as you scrunched the bottom of the paper.

“I do”

“Why the agreement then?”

“Its for your own good” and with that the line went dead leaving you in complete confusion. Even though your mind had untangled thoughts and questions clashing together, not thinking twice your fingers grabbed the pen and in a messy rush glided over the rough paper sealing the secret.

And so it began. He invited you over to his place in LA. The house where you’ve been many times but that was when you were friends, you still are but things changed. Quite a lot. His hand held yours as he guided you to the hallway where you never went or even were aware that existed.

Walking a couple more steps you both were standing in front of the huge door. Comparatively bigger than the other he had in his house.

“Stay here” he said as he lets go of your hand and takes a step forward to unlock the door for which he had the key in his necklace. Yes his necklace, a master of disguise.

The second you heard the twisting of the key opening the big door he stepped aside for you to enter the room. Your heart racing with anticipation as you waited for the lights to reveal what he’s had hidden in this room, away from the eyes of the world, away from you.

His fingers flicked the switch and the you saw it. The big red room with a huge bed in the middle, it was surrounded by leashes, leather whips, ropes and the ceiling was nothing but a huge mirror that reflected every move of yours.

Walking down the shiny black floor your hand brushed again the walls that seems so cushiony as you turned your head to look at harry who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with a smirk adorning his face.

“Sound proof.” He said as you nodded and continued looking around. Your fingers touched the cold leather whips and slides across the teak wooden drawer. Turning your head one more time to get his approval which he gladly gave, your hand held the handle to pull out the drawer.

There lied several silk blind folds. So rich and expensive. Moving to the next drawer, lied about 50 hand ties, and hand cuffs. Metal, clothed, you name it he has it. And then the last drawer hitched your breath, vibrators, butt plugs, dildos and every other toy you saw in porn.

“I-I never knew you were into this” you whispered as you let your fingers ghost over the silk ties that lied in a perfect fold in the drawer.

“Now you do” you heard his message getting closer to you until his front was pressed against your back. You feel his crotch right up against your ass as he gently, yet with a slight force pushed your front againt the drawer so that you were slightly bent. His hand making it’s from your stomach dragging up all the way up until it found the base of your neck.

The cold metal of his rings felt hot against your skin as he pushed your head back and leaned in closer to your ear. His breath fanning over the love making you shiver.

“Now what’re the rules?”

“I-I call you sir” you breathed out the words as his Kept his hand on your neck giving it a light squeeze telling you to go on, go on with the rules listed in the contract.

“I cannot touch you or myself. I-I respond with words. I-“

“You what?”

“I address myself as your whore”

“That’s correct. You are my filthy little whore. Aren’t you?” He said. His voice deeper than you’ve ever before. And his hand that once held your neck now moved to your side turning you around in a one swift motion. His lips wasting no time to latch onto yours, kissing hungrily as if he’s been dying to kiss you.

And god he has been. Ever since he held your hand walking down the corridor he’s been thinking about having you his way, just like he wants. Kiss those lips and have a taste of thag body is all that has been on his mind since you signed those papers he sent.

Lost in the kiss, deep in your thoughts you were enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours and the rules fading away from your mind. It’s hard to control and stay in the boundaries he’s created when his tongue is inside your mouth dancing along yours, so you let your fingers get lost in those curls as your bite his lower lip.

But to your surprise his reflexes were quick enough to have your hand removed from his hair and twist it and hold it behind your back in a one swift motion.

“One kiss and you’re already breaking the rules. You’re lucky I’m not going to punish you, this is your first and last time.” He groaned before he grabbed you and threw over his shoulder. His hand hving your ass a tight slap before he throws you over the big bed that was situated in the middle on the big room.

Your eyes flickering open to see your own reflection in the mirror that was on the ceiling. Your lips swollen, shirt collected right below your breat revealing your bare skin of the stomach and chest rising with every deep breath you took.

“Now listen to me, you’re gonna look at yourself in the mirror and tell me every single rule listed in the contract. One wrong rule and you lose the chance to cum. Understood?” Harry said as he unbuttoned your jeans pulling it down your legs and stopping right before taking them out when he didn’t hear you reply.

“I asked you something” he raised his eyebrow as one of he held your ankles towards behind your knees over so he could see the cheeks of your ass before giving you another spank.

“Y-yes sir,”

“Yes sir what?”

“Yes sir, understood”

Mumbling a low ‘good girl’ he took off your pants and then sat on you with legs either side your waist to take your top off, his mouth watered when he saw your nipple coming out of your back bra which probably happened when he threw you on the bed.

“Jesus. So full” he muttered before holding your hand over your head and lower his mouth on your nipple, his other hand pushing the cups down so that he could take the whole bud in his mouth and suckle on it making your arch your back. His mouth felt so warm on your cold bud as his tongue flicked the pebble hard nipple around and his bite it slightly before letting it go with a slight pop.

Grabbing a silk tie from the side drawer he tied it around your wrist that he had held in his hand and unhooked the bra—rolling it along the lilc tee that you wore until it reached your eyes and acted as a blindfold.

“Start the rules. Remember, one wrong rule and you lose the chance to cum”

“Yes sir”

“Start” he ordered. And you opened your mouth to let the words out but your breath sucked in when you felt him throwing your legs on his shoulder and his lips coming in contact with your inner thigh.

“I-I don’t sleep with someone else.”

“Cannot”

“Sorry sir, I cannot sleep with someone else”

His lips licked over your drenched knickers that covered your throbbing clit waiting for be touched his tongue. You clenched your thighs together only to be pushed apart by his hands as his nose rubbed over your clothed centre, sniffing, taking the smell of your aroma.

“I cum only when you say” you bite your lip feeling the cotton materiel of your underwear being pushed aside, sensing the cold air of the room mixed with Harry’s warm breath fanning over your sex making your shiver and you shrieked when his four fingers slapped your cunt making the wet filthy sound which only made you drop more.

“Only when I order, looks like you didn’t read it properly you little slut. Lost a chance to feel my tongue on this little pussy of yours”

“I’m sorry sir, please”

“Please what?”

“Please forgive me and eat me out”

“And what are you?”

“I’m your filthy little slut, your whore. Please eat me out sir please” you whimpered as you pleaded harry dying to feel that muscular tongue on your pussy to finally see how it feels like to have his mouth on you which you’ve always dreamt of. Even though you were in a relationship, there always has been a sexual tension between you two which is the reason why you agreed on doing this at the first place.

“That’s right, you’re a whore. A little dirty whore.” And with that you felt his tongue lick a long stride of your lips pushing them open. That one lick was enough to make you squirm, what a shame you couldn’t see his face tucked between your legs as his chain dangles from his neck and gives your a perfect view of his chest from the black shirt he wore, unbuttoned enough for you to see his butterfly tattoo to the slightest.

“Who told you to stop, say the rules doll”

“I see you at least twice a week when you’re in town”

His mouth was now on your clit, sucking it like a leech. His lips left the bundle of nerve with a pop as his hand came in to rub it harshly, before his index finger collected your juices that dripped down your hole and you heard him licked it clean and without any word you feel your opening being stretched to the fullest when he inserted two fingers.

His mouth finding its way back to your clit, licking and sucking your pussy without any mercy. Your hips bucked up in his mouth which he roughly pinned down.

“If I see you doing that once more I swear to god you’ll forget how to walk you slut” he said through gritted teeth as if you interrupted his meal. He shook his head keeping his lips on your clit to give those toe curling vibrations with his fingers twisting inside you.

He felt your soft walls clenching as he let go of your swollen clit to take his fingers out and slide his tongue inside you feeling the warmth against his tongue.

He spread your legs open as he pushed his tongue in and out, tongue-fucking you savouring every drop you released.

“I only wear red and black lingerie when I see you”

His fingers came back in position as his mouth placed itself back on your clit not leaving the swollen bug alone. Your back now covered in sweat and your nipple perched up, mouth dry and pussy waiting to release.

“Wrong. You only wear red around me.”

And with that he flipped you over so that you were lying on your stomach and your ass was up in the air. Withing another second you felt a tight spank against your ass cheek making you hiss in pain.

“That’s what you get for being a dumb whore”

“Sorry sir”

Followed by another spank he pushed you back to him so that he could press his bulge to your arse.

“Grind. Grind like the little road slut you are” he gripped your ass so firmly that you could feel his metal rings digging in your skin as he held them strong in front of his crotch.

As you tried to held yourself up on your elbow he pressed your head down on the bed so that your cheek was squished against the soft cushion.

“Grind i said”

Obliging to his command your moved your ass up his all rock hard cock that you felt tight against your butt cheeks making you moan. Moving your ass in rounds and different directions you felt him buck further into your hips wanting for a release as his hands came in to grip your hair that fell down your shoulder.

Wrapping the long locks around his hand in a fist his he pushed your head back to that your tee which was covering your eyes now came down hanging around your neck which was strained because of his grip on your hair.

“I’m gonna fuck the shut outta you, gonna destroy that little cunt of yours and make you scream until you the only name you remember is mine and forget that asshole who made you cry” and that’s how your first night ended as a submissive after being raw dogged to the fullest with the rough hand prints laying on your ass cheeks.

 But that was just the beginning, so when one day you found yourself on your knees in the bathroom of a posh restaurant that Harry insisted to take you to you weren’t surprised.

You mouth dripping saliva as he held your face in one hand keeping it upwards so he will have a full view of your mouth which was sucking on his thick sick. Lips wrapped around his shaft you gagged when he bucked his hips further in your mouth hitting the back of your throat making it impossible for you to take him any deeper.

“Jesus fucking christ you little cunt” he moaned grabbing your mouth so he could move your head to his liking. Following his movements, you bobbed your head hold the base of his cock, twisting your hand around his with the faint wrist while you suckled with hollow cheeks.

It all started when he saw you arrive at the restaurant. Wearing a tight black dress that hugged your curves and gave all men a delicious view of your plunging breasts making the jaws drop.

“Meet me in the bathroom, right now”

“But wh-“

“Do as told”

And when you did you felt him grab you by your hair and push you against the counter so that your stomach was against the cold marble top while your ass was facing him which he wasted no second uncovering, lifting the almost sheer clothing and pushing it over your waist to reveal your unclothed bottom.

“fucking whore”

Your body flinched with pleasure disguised In pain as he raised his hand and slapped it across your cheeks looking at you straight through the mirror. His hand gripping your hair.

“Look at me” he ordered and you flickered your eyes open to see his dilated pupil and heavy breathing chest. His ring cladded slender fingers didn’t stop spanking shaking your whole body up until he pulled you back and pushed you down on your knees and stepped in front of you with his dick out and slapped it across your face.

“Open” he said holding his hard dick from the base and you did as told. Soon you felt it heavy on the tongue as he patted it on your tongue before pulling away, grabbing your cheeks and pulling your face upwards to him. His fingers wasted no time squishing your cheeks so that your mouth was open slightly giving him the perfect angel so spit in your mouth making you gasp.

“Swallow” and once again you do as told before grabbing his dick and kitten licking his tip, teasing him. But he wasn’t having it so grabbing the back of your head he pushed your head forward until his shaft was hitting the back of you had making your gag, your eyes picking up instant tears and he would’ve stopped right away if they were tears of pain, but they weren’t.

“this is what you get for breaking the rule of not wearing revealing clothes until I ask you to. Get treated like a slut, a fucking filthy whore in the public sucking my dick” he groaned as you played with his ball bobbing your hand.

His grip on your hair tightened before you felt his hot cum gushing down your throat which your swallowed without his order and let go of his cock with a ‘pop’.

Pulling your face up to him he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip collecting the escaping cum and pushing it in your mouth which you happily took sucking on his thumb.

“Be a good girl, and follow the rules”

[untouchabyeolman]

DFTF & the gist of everything; a theory

(warning: long post, no cut)

*cracks knuckles* OKAY. so i’m about to give my two cents on the theories surrounding the comeback but this is gonna be a long one so strap in and enjoy the ride i guess??

but before i get started on the DFTF stuff i just want to do a bit of recap on the members’ powers and their counterparts back in mama era (yes i’m going all the way back bear with me). from the beginning, we are shown that each member has a special power and those from exo-k have a counterpart in exo-m and the pairings went like this:

xiumin (frost) - suho (water manipulation)

luhan (telekinesis) - kai (teleportation)

kris (dragon’s flight) - chanyeol (phoenix’s fire)

lay (healing) - baekhyun (light)

chen (lightning) - kyungsoo (enhanced strength/earth?)

tao (time control) - sehun (wind manipulation)

i think these parings are fine but for me a couple of changes could have been made to make more sense to their powers. in my opinion, i think it should be:

xiumin - suho

luhan - sehun

kris - chanyeol

lay - baekhyun

chen - kyungsoo

tao - kai

obviously, xiumin/suho make sense bc their powers are related to each other where suho’s is the foundation of xiumin’s more refined control of the element. kris/chanyeol also makes sense for the same reason. for lay/baekhyun, healing powers can reconstruct damages from wounds and even bring dying flowers (maybe even people) back to their full health. basically, lay restores a living thing’s energy. but light is a form of energy too. flowers need light to survive and so does the rest of the planet for that matter. but i think baekhyun uses that light to be able to concentrate the energy into his hands to form a beam powerful enough to blast anything in its path (who are u? tony stark??). 

tbh, i’m still kind of unclear about ksoo’s power on whether he can actually manipulate earth (like an earthbender) or if he has enhanced strength. either way, he can shake the earth and obviously he’s more powerful on the ground. with lightning, it can travel three ways: cloud to cloud, cloud to air, and cloud to the ground. you can think of their powers as being related by how the fissures in earthquakes are similar to the patterns of lightning. kyungsoo causes the rumbling in the earth, while chen causes rumbling (thunder) in the sky (hence why they are parallels of each other in mama mv)

for those i think should be switched, we’ll start with luhan/sehun. sehun has the power of wind but throughout the history of their powers i don’t think we’ve actually seen him have full control of his ability? in mama, he’s in the desert (this is gonna come up again later!!) with a raging tornado behind him. i mean, i guess he could be doing that intentionally but for the sake of this entry i’m going to assume he can summon the wind but he can’t fully control it. meanwhile, luhan can easily manipulate objects and we could think of this as him just actually manipulating the air around that object. luhan’s control of the air is more stable whilst sehun’s is the opposite. 

for tao/kai i think it makes more sense for them to be counterparts since kai travels through space and while tao’s power is to stop/start time, he has the to potential to travel through time as well. these two go hand in hand because if they’re together, they’d be even stronger as traveling through time could be faulty since the time you might want to go back or forward to isn’t going to be in the same exact location as you are now. 

BUT WAIT! we’re left with 9 members so what happens now?? 

i actually made a “theory” about exo having new counterparts back in 2016 but i’m scrapping the main idea from it and will just be referring to particular points going forward. so for now, let’s go with the assumption that their counterparts are as they are in my version. this means that sehun, chanyeol, and kai no longer have their counterparts. now what?

let’s first make two assumptions: 

their powers become stronger when they are with their counterparts: like i’ve mentioned above, they’re stronger together than they are apart. but additionally, it’s a bit safer for them to be separated since they are much more easily located by the red force if they are all in one place.

if one loses their counterpart (i mean for good and not just separated by distance) then eventually, the power of the one who was lost will manifest itself in the one who is left

for (2), it would make sense then as to why in sehun’s pathcode teaser, he finds the toys floating in mid-air. at this point, he’s unaware that he’s actually the one doing this. (@raven-rin​ points out the similarities between luhan’s scene in mama with the orbs and sehun’s “planet” in the DFTF teaser photo which supports my theory that they are connected in this way). 

in chanyeol’s pathcode teaser, he seems to have lost some control of his power whereas in mama mv, he was able to keep a small flame in his hand under control. 

for kai, we’ve mainly see him teleporting on earth and he’s had quite a good control on his power since the beginning. but i think now, with tao’s power manifesting itself in him, he’s now able to teleport beyond just earth. we can take his mmmh mv for example too where he’s teleporting between worlds and currently, his power symbol is that of a hexagon with a keyhole in the center; he is the door between worlds and the main connection between the others. 

SO THE POINT TO ALL THIS IS there was a theory posted by @vampwrrr​ and pointed out by @loeyarc on twitter about how the members are not in their own planets but they actually landed in someone else’s. i think this could be true since xiumin is in a planet with aurora’s (baekhyun’s planet), kyungsoo is in a red planet that could possibly be chanyeol’s. kai’s might be in kyungsoo’s and baekhyun’s in a planet where there’s ice which could mean he’s in xiumin’s planet. i’m not sure about the power swapping (tho i absolutely love the idea) but i think they might have just landed in planets they were closest to. 

but i want to point out how chanyeol is in a planet that looks like a desert 

now, this could actually be sehun’s planet in parallel to where he was in mama. sehun, on the other hand, is actually in luhan’s planet (going back to the reference @raven-rin​ made). 

i think here, he’ll finally realize why his powers have been glitching (from pathcode) and how he now has the ability to move objects like luhan did (disclaimer 1: since not all members are present for this comeback, who’s to say they can only land in the planets of the active members’ planets??. disclaimer 2: not saying luhan is still member, he clearly isn’t. i meant for members who are enl*sted. for all we know, one or two of those planets could be chen’s or lay’s, etc.)

idk if DFTF is a pre-quel to power or a follow up but *if* the latter was the case, then the end of power makes sense. throughout the mv, we see suho, xiumin, kai, chen, chanyeol, sehun, and kyungsoo fighting the giant red force robot in possibly a different planet (i’m thinking the exos actually banded together to track down the red force themselves to get their powers back and in every planet they encounter these RF bots who keep destroying the planets they occupy) but for most it, baekhyun isn’t there fighting with them. he does show up near the end which confirms that he’s in the same place as the others but why isn’t he fighting?

let’s recall that their powers are stronger when they’re with their counterparts. if we go by the theory from lucky one that some members lost their powers, then it makes sense why none of them were able to fight off the bot with their powers alone (which they regained by defeating it in the end). i do think they are still strong at this point but their powers are weak. as for baekhyun, his counterpart is far away. lay hasn’t really been with them since monster era so he was probably playing it safe by not actively fighting alongside the others. (if he’s powerless and separated from lay then he’s the most vulnerable compared to the others)

at the end of power, we see baekhyun falling into the water/ocean. how did this happen? if exo left the planet they were in in power, it’s possible that after defeating the bot, it triggered the red force of their location. the red force then proceeds to destroy that planet in an attempt to kill exo once and for all

(disclaimer 3: screencap is meant to show an example, not that this is exactly in the same timeline as power)

but the exos manage to escape in their ship in time but their ship malfunctions (could be hit by debris from the planet’s explosion) and they have no choice but to leave the ship. i think their ship has “escape pods” meant for each one of them as a way to escape safely in case of an emergency. but let’s say these pods will immediately head for the planet they were set to (again, kind of like a safety protocol type thing where they get sent to different locations to avoid detection from the red force). to add, say that in the chaos, the exos just went into whatever pod they got to first which is how they end up landing in different planets. 

maybe something happens to baekhyun’s pod and he has to manually eject himself from it. but we see he lands in the middle of an ocean 

and in his DFTF photo teaser, we see he’s in a planet with ice caps and water

you still with me? i’m about to tie everything together and finish i promise!

remember the second assumption we made? “the power of the one who was lost will manifest itself in the one who is left”. what if the red force know this? what if the reason they’ve been after exo is because of this fact? but if that were the case, where would the powers manifest in if the exos are gone? i know the lot of us skip the intro of mama but it states that an eye of red force “coveted the heart of the tree of life and the heart slowly grew dry” which meant that the tree of life is the source of the twelve force’s powers. 

everything started with the tree of life and in an attempt to save its remaining powers, they split it in half and hid the halves from the red force. the power of the tree of life is what connects exo. but as mentioned, if one is lost, the power will continue to live inside another. if the red force destroys all of exo, the powers they possess will be returned to the tree of life and if the tree of life is whole again, the red force will in no doubt abuse its power and continue their plans from the very beginning. 

then we can say that in lucky one, it was another tactic used by the red force to extract their powers. those extracted powers were then used to create x-exo. since x-exo are under the red force’s orders, if they manage to destroy exo, their powers will undoubtedly go to their x-counterparts. but as the red force control’s x-exo they still have the upper hand once this plan is set in stone. i mention this to get us back on the current timeline seeing as DFTF may be strongly connected to power which precedes obsession. but then again, i’m not even sure about the exact order of the timeline but this is just my theory so it’s just for fun!

/end.