#i might have to do two different trips or not do all three places though. i know the faroe islands are closer to iceland but there are lots

[foxcassius]

ach........yarn tour of scotland iceland and the faroe islands save me......yarn tour of scotland iceland and the faroe islands.......save me yarn tour of scotland iceland and the faroe islands......

[bookshelf-dust]

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?” 

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make. 

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes. 

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table. 

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around. 

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.” 

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment. 

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down. 

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro. 

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money. 

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way. 

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are. 

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?” 

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy. 

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up. 

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch. 

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment. 

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge. 

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.” 

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her. 

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say. 

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is. 

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice. 

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation. 

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek. 

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it. 

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together. 

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale. 

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win. 

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door. 

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do. 

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do. 

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger. 

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side. 

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him. 

“Besides what?” 

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself. 

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless. 

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again. 

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it. 

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there. 

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims. 

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom. 

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…” 

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall. 

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything. 

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them. 

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh. 

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you. 

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether. 

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him. 

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win. 

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back. 

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips. 

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind. 

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them. 

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out. 

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card. 

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger. 

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can. 

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask. 

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.” 

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass. 

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder. 

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either. 

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing. 

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way. 

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in. 

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you. 

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own. 

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this. 

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined. 

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before. 

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him. 

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.” 

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break. 

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous. 

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean. 

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed. 

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them. 

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look. 

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in. 

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on. 

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction. 

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble. 

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.” 

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up. 

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet. 

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.” 

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.” 

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being. 

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water. 

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down. 

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool. 

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do. 

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.” 

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see. 

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say. 

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water. 

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with. 

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest. 

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child. 

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water. 

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating. 

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so. 

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it. 

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them. 

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks. 

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat. 

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy. 

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this. 

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content. 

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up. 

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro. 

You’re healing him. You. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Anatomy Class

kai parker x reader

summary: kai + magic + boredom = trouble

tags: high school au, siphoning, magical fingering, masturbation (semi-public)

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i tagged this right next to my dad; you're both 18 in this!

“You have to promise to use this wisely and not get caught with it. Not in school, and certainly not at home,” you reiterate to Kai for maybe the third time in twenty minutes. 

“I know, I know! Trust me, princess, I know the risks.”

“If it runs out, I can give you more, but if my parents suspect something’s up, they’ll find a way to contact yours.”

“But what if I run out before the day’s over and it’s just wasted? If I don’t use it, it drains.”

You sigh. “What are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know… can’t I just play with it a little? I can’t do that much damage during school hours. Worst I could do is make some kid trip over his shoelaces.”

“Kai!”

“I’m kidding! But seriously, Y/N…”

“Okay, I see your point. Do whatever you want with it, just don’t get caught.”

“And if I run out, you’ll give me more?” He hates to sound greedy, but he’s desperate.

“Of course. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not have permanent access, so as little as I use mine, I might as well give it to you.” He nods. “But again, be careful.”

“I will.”

“Okay. We’re coming up on the school now. Take my hand.”

He does, and then you nod to him to siphon. “Tell me when to stop.”

Your hands glow, but it doesn’t hurt. Kai says when he siphons his siblings, it hurts them. But you don’t feel any pain. If anything, your body warms with a tingly, pleasure-like feeling. After about thirty seconds, you start to feel a little dizzy though, and decide that’s a good time to cut him off. 

“Stop.”

He drops your hand immediately. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. No pain, just a little dizzy.”

“Okay,” he confirms. He’d hate to hurt the one person who’s ever given him any love and attention. 

“How do you feel?”

Kai smiles as the magic runs through his veins. He lets out a small moan that settles in the pit of your stomach. “Good,” he finally answers. He then takes the pencil you’ve stuck behind your ear and makes it float in the air. 

“Good,” you say, stopping for a moment to kiss the side of his face. You take your pencil back as the school comes into view. “See you in class?”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you walk up to the doors together, then part ways for your first class. 

You have third period together, but Kai sits all the way in the back, while you’re in the middle row. The teacher assigned the seats, and rudely placed his kids by favoritism: most engaged in the front; most uninterested in the back. Kai’s incredibly smart, but that comes to his disadvantage in school. Most of the lessons are boring; he passes them with flying colors and faces little challenge completing them. He finishes early, or already understands the material, and ends up tapping his foot or fingers during class. Mr. Peters interprets this as disrespect and boredom. 

Today in class, you’re reviewing the different systems in the body. Yet another topic that Kai has practically memorized. The final exam is in three weeks, though with the material being as difficult as it is, Mr. Peters has decided to start studying early. The material isn’t too much of a challenge for you, though Kai still has you beat in that matter. 

The man makes a list of topics on the chalkboard, then slowly goes down his list asking and answering questions about each one. He asks something and the class responds, but every so often, someone asks their own question, and he launches into a huge explanation for it. It’s during one of your classmate’s questions that you suddenly start to feel a heaviness in the bottom of your stomach. 

Immediately, you put a hand to it. Your mind races to think of what could’ve caused it. You hadn’t eaten anything weird that day, nor have you had any aches or pains all week. In the middle of your train of thought, the feeling shifts lower. There’s a pressure traveling south. In the next moment, it feels like circles being rubbed down along your body. Intentional pressure. Kai. 

Your brain provides the reason as soon as you recall your morning: you gave him magic. 

“Do whatever you want with it,” you had told him. 

Well, he sure is now. 

Slowly, you turn to face him. His hands are hidden from sight, inside his desk, but the smile creeping on his face is unmistakable. He’s certainly messing with you. 

Stop, you mouth to him. 

The bastard only winks. 

You turn back around and cross your legs over each other, squeezing them tight. There’s no freaking way he’s doing this in the middle of class. 

The pressure suddenly increases. You can almost feel the pads of his fingers touching you - one on your clit, two brushing your folds. You bite your lip so hard it might bleed. Your hands are clenched into fists underneath the table. 

“Kai, stop,” you think, hoping there’s even a point one percent chance he can read your mind. He doesn’t, though, and if anything, mimics dipping between your folds, feeling your walls. 

“The organs involved in the endocrine system are- Y/N,” your teacher stops mid-sentence to look at you, “are you okay?!”

You release your fists, hoping to look less suspicious. “Yeah. I have a stomach ache. Do you- do you mind if I go to the restroom?”

Mr. Peters hurries to his desk for a hall pass. “Not at all. Go to the nurse if it doesn’t feel better in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” You take it and hurry out the door.

You spare a glance at Kai on your way out. He smirks at you when you look at him, but then looks back at his hands, clearly focused. The feeling sharpens, and you dash out the door. 

As soon as you reach the bathroom, you fling yourself against the wall in the nearest stall. You’re still biting your lip not to moan, but don’t fight the need that brings you to unbuckle your belt to relieve some of the built-up tension. Criminally, it seems Kai can still control you despite the distance. You can still feel his finger-pads petting your walls. The pressure is still on your clit, and it only grows by the minute. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling yourself getting close. 

You drop two fingers to your clit, rubbing it yourself. Your knees almost buckle, and you have to push your toes against the edge of the toilet to not slip. 

“Goddammit, Kai.” It’s a whisper, but you really hope no one else is in the bathroom right then. 

You focus on the way he feels on you, as well as the added pressure you’re giving yourself. Within two minutes’ time, you come. It hits you hard. Your knees almost give out, despite the way you tried to hold yourself upright. Your chest heaves; the sensation sends pleasure throughout your whole body. Your vision gets spotty, and soon, your lip starts to bleed. It’s overwhelming in all the best ways. 

After another few seconds, Kai seemingly retracts his fingers. You curse him the minute he does, remembering you’re in school, and you’re supposed to be studying in class right now. 

The moment you get your bearings, you stumble to your feet and towards the sink. You wash your hands and grab onto the solid material to ground yourself; your brain is still swimming in post-high fuzzies. 

“Fuck you, Kai,” you think, again telepathically, hoping he can hear you. If he can, you’d bet your life on the fact that he’s wearing his signature smirk. 

When you finally recover, you make your way back to class. You offer Mr. Peters a half smile and report that most of it is gone. “Must’ve been something I ate this morning,” you lie. 

He replies with his own smile and a nod, and goes back to teaching. 

The moment you sit, you turn to see Kai, who is, in fact, smirking at you. You give him a playful roll of your eyes before turning back to the lesson.

Luckily, that’s his only shenanigan for the day. During lunch and your other classes together, he dares to act innocent. You would scold him for it during lunchtime, but Jo is sitting with you today, preventing that entirely. 

The walk back to school provides the perfect timing. 

“Malachai Parker,” you say in your best authoritative voice.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Did I do something wrong?! Did I do- you know what you did.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Third period. You and your magic fingers. You-”

“Oh,” he has the nerve to laugh, “that. Did you like that?”

“Did I like that?! Kai, during class?!”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t get caught. I didn’t get caught.”

You scoff. “I did not mean for you to do that!”

“But you liked it. What’d you do in the bathroom?”

“What?!”

“Why’d you go to the bathroom?”

“To hide the fact you were fingering me in class! What do you think I went for?!”

“Did you come?”

“Excuse me?”

“Simple question, princess.”

“I did not-”

“Don’t lie to me now.”

“Fine,” you bite your lip, “I did.”

He smiles. “Got you. Knew you liked it.”

“That was so inappropriate! I’d never think you’d be so bold. And when did you know when to stop? You did, like, ten seconds after I finished.” 

He chuckles like it’s a game. “The last five times I’ve fingered you, it’s taken you five minutes on average to come. I watched on my watch; three minutes happened in class, two in the bathroom. I gave ten seconds to spare to either get you there if you needed extra time, or to ride you through it. Turns out, I’m pretty spot on.”

“Putting your brain to great use,” you mumble, “and my magic.”

Suddenly, he looks nervous. “You’re still gonna give it to me, right? I didn’t lose my chances to have it, did I? Because I can behave. Y/N, I promise. It won’t happen again.”

You change your attitude to match his. “Oh, baby, no. No, I’m not like that. Don’t you worry about stuff like that. I’m still gonna give you magic, even if you use it in questionable ways.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But one condition.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Wait until actual study time, like in the library, to do it. Not in class. Unless we’re watching a movie.”

“Deal.”

“Good.”

“I love you, you little weasel.”

He scrunches his nose at the nickname. “I love you, too.” Then he chuckles. “I fingered you in class.”

“Kai!”

[littlejuicebox]

A different kind.

Written for a prompt given to me by @coyote-mint! Thank you!

Also, peep this Dadstarion drawing by @supplementalfigures which I adore and is the inspiration for Astarion wearing baby Gale.

Summary: The Ancunins take their first outing as a family of three. They aren’t quite prepared for the new experience.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, family, parenthood, babies, Astarion being Astarion

*

Astarion protectively wraps his hands beneath the small infant in his arms. Gale is just under two months old and sleeping curled against his father, lulled by the steady thrum of the older man’s heart.

The little one is held snugly against Astarion’s chest with a wrap made of gauzy blue cotton, intricately embroidered one night by the previously-expectant father. Gold-threaded stars and planets dapple the inky night sky of the fabric, keeping the infant sleeping peacefully among the celestial bodies.

The stars certainly shine for Gale. At least in the Ancunin household.

The first outing as a family of three is to the newest shop in town, Rivington Raiments, the first fine clothier in the outer city. Both Astarion and you hoped this newest addition meant journeys into the city for every new garment would be a thing of the past.

Over the years, trips would have been even more frequent had your husband not been a fair clothing alterer himself. In the past nine months, he’d had to let out your favorite dresses more than once as your stomach grew to encompass the life that had been growing within.

But now, you’ve lost majority of the baby bump, and a few new pieces are in order to replace some of the well-worn garments currently in your closet.

The tailor fusses around you, placing pins in a winter-ready dress you’ve decided to try on. Astarion is watching with rapt interest as the middle-aged human woman adjusts the hem. He thinks that, in another life, that might have been him.

“How do I look?” You ask after you turn to face Astarion once the seamstress has finished pinning her proposed alterations.

“I think you’d look gorgeous in anything, darling,” Your husband remarks with a soft smile, his hand sliding from its resting spot under the bundle in his arms to lightly pat the infant’s back. He’s swaying gently as he speaks; the constant soothing movement while holding Gale has quickly become a habit for you both.

It’s a compliment, but he means it’s a no.

You nod your head in understanding and then turn to look at yourself in the mirror, feigning thought, before sighing and saying, “I believe I would like to think about this further before I make a purchase. But thank you for your time. Perhaps you could direct me to the children’s clothing once I change?”

As the seamstress busily works to unpin you, Astarion catches your eye and flashes you the briefest crinkled nose behind the woman’s back.

Ah, so he’d meant the dress was a hell no.

*

“Don’t you think you went a little overboard on your purchases, my love?” Astarion inquires as the two of you enter the local tavern for lunch.

“We go through so many diapers and burp cloths a day, it’s hard for the poor maid to keep up with the wash,” You respond, narrowing your gaze at your husband, “Just because you don’t have to wash them doesn’t mean we have enough.”

“Very well,” Your silver-haired spouse responds, choosing to avoid the argument though he cannot avoid rolling his eyes slightly as the two of you sit down.

Gale begins to stir against his father. The movements are followed by tiny grunts of disapproval coming from layers of cloth. Your husband manages to calm the infant, at least for a moment longer, with a few gentle caresses along the baby’s back.

A quick glance to the wall clock and the older elf warns, “Ah, I’m afraid it will be feeding time soon and my charms will no longer work, dear.”

The two of you place an order with the barmaid. She returns moments later with a pitcher of water and focuses her attention on the flash of silver hair peaking out from swaths of navy.

“I see the new addition is here,” She remarks, her hand moving to touch the all too tempting, downy soft patch of curls upon the baby’s head.

Astarion instantly intercepts the well-meaning gesture with his own hand, his mouth forming a thin line of irritation as he releases the woman’s wrist from his grip.

“I would thank you to not touch me or my children without consent, Beatrice. And certainly not without washing your hands first.” The male elf says, the normal gentility of his tone lost in favor of a much sharper one.

“O-oh, of course. I apologize, Lord Ancunin,” The barmaid responds, splotches of rose appearing across her face as she quickly takes a step back to increase her breadth from the infant.

Your husband gained a reputation for being highly litigious years ago. Though he slayed his enemies with contracts and court appearances rather than daggers nowadays, he was still seen as quite dangerous. No one has yet forgotten the dispute the Ancunins had with their neighbors over property lines shortly after the manor was purchased.

Perhaps Astarion had lied to get his way in that one. But what did your neighbors truly need with a single colonnade of fruit-bearing trees when you two held rights the rest of the orchard?

Beatrice quickly dismisses herself and heads to assist another table of customers. When Astarion turns his attention back to you, he spots your arms folded across your chest in signature displeasure and groans, readying himself for the chastisement.

“She’s going to spit in our food now, Astarion.” You remark with a soft, slightly annoyed sigh.

“She can spit in my food thrice if it means she doesn’t touch my vulnerable child,” Your husband retorts, his pale hand once again finding its habitual resting place along the infant’s back.

You shrug and give a vague wave your hand in a sign of truce. Because really, how can you argue against a protective father?

As if on cue, Gale begins to cry just as the barmaid places your orders on the table. It’s a loud, shrill, hungry wail, earning the two of you several bothered glares from other patrons scattered across the tavern.

“Oh, please, as if none of you have heard a crying baby before,” Astarion snaps, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear as he begins to pull Gale from the carrier. The elf tries in vain to soothe the babe, but as predicted, the little prince is demanding satiation.

You sneak one bite of mashed potato in your mouth and then sigh before gesturing for your husband to pass you the infant. Astarion gives you an apologetic look as he places the little one in your arms.

Unfortunately, daddy just doesn’t have the correct anatomy for this part of parenting.

Gale quickly finds a proper latch and stops crying as he searches for nutrients with happy hums. Astarion eats a few bites of his own meal and soon sets his sights on feeding you.

At first you refuse, already bothered by the prying eyes staring at your partially exposed breast — typical — and not wanting to attract further attention. Your husband throws the wrap over your chest and then stares as you expectantly.

The intensity of his eyes and the set of his jaw say you’re not getting out of this one. He’s going to feed you like a child since he cannot feed his own child in this moment.

It’s both embarrassing and adorable.

You watch the fork approach your face, keeping your lips firmly sealed in a final protest. But then both a narrowed glare and irritated huff from Astarion cause you to instantly open your mouth, where he places a few green beans upon your tongue.

“How do you expect Gale to have proper nourishment if you keep leaving your meals half finished, little love?” Your husband lectures before placing a bit of mashed potatoes in your mouth and planting an affectionate kiss upon the apple of your cheek.

The child in your arms coos in assent.

“See, the little prince even agrees with me,” Astarion remarks with a cheeky wink, taking a moment to steal a bite of food from his own plate.

This was the first time these two silver-haired little loves of yours formed a coup. It wouldn’t be the last.

You roll your eyes at your husband and then peer down at the baby nestled in your arms, suckling without a care in the world.

“Traitor,” You whisper, the word laced with more than enough affection to negate the connotation before placing a loving kiss on the crown of Gale’s head.

*

Your little family is almost all the way home when Astarion stops dead in his tracks with a look of horror plastered upon his face. He peers down at the small bundle of blue and baby with wide-eyed surprise.

“What— what is it?!” You practically shriek, motherly instincts jumping into anxious overdrive as you reach for the child tucked safely against his father.

Astarion quickly grabs your hand, much like he grabbed Beatrice’s earlier, though with a decidedly more gentle clasp. You can tell by his lack of panic that Gale is safe, and your initial reaction begins to wane as the elf lowers your hand away from your son.

“He pooped, dear,” Your husband sighs, a sudden wave of weary exhaustion slapping the still-new father in his face, “And if you stick your hand in the wrap, it’s going to be all over you… because it’s all over Gale… and me.”

The look upon Astarion’s face is hilarious. And you can’t help it, you simply have to laugh at the new father clinging to what little patience he has.

“Not. Funny.” The retired rogue hisses, narrowing his eyes at you before walking briskly in the direction of the house.

There was roughly a half mile left to the front of the property and he seemed intent on crossing that distance at rapid speed, “From now on we are always taking the carriage into town. With extra clothes and supplies for all of us. I don’t care how much you abhor it, Tav. Walking this far with a needy infant and scant supplies is simply impractical and we are not arguing about this further.”

As if to prove a point, Gale begins to shriek like he is suddenly aware he’s covered in his own filth. The sound causes Astarion to practically break into a sprint, both arms coming to hold the infant fast against his chest. You run after the two, trying to keep up, but your husband is moving so quickly you’d think he’s still a vampire if you didn’t know better.

*

The little prince is now clean and perfectly pink as you rock him in the nursery. The early afternoon sun is shining through the window, casting the two of you in an ethereal backlight. Gale has forgotten all about the poop incident; his father, on the other hand, will never be able to let go of this particular memory.

Astarion sits in the nursery with you two, sipping a cup of tea. His wet curls hang around his ears, still occasionally dripping water onto his house clothes. He admires you, and the sunlight dancing in your hair, watching as you hum an Elvish lullaby to the sleepy infant in your arms.

His memories quickly flash at the sight.

The day you told him you loved him.

The day you two won the battle.

The day you accepted his proposal.

The day he saw you walking down the aisle.

The day you told him you were pregnant.

He thought you were the most beautiful in every one of those moments, each one always outdoing the previous.

But this vision of you, right now, happy and calm, rocking the little prince you two created?

This certainly outdid all those prior memories.

After two hundred years of pure shit, Astarion is beyond thankful to now have over a decade of better memories.

Though, he’s beginning to see the next decade will also be full of shit.

Just a different, and somehow better, kind.

[moondance-r-writes]

SAGAU-adjacent not-Creator Creator 4

Summary: You knew, viscerally down to your bones, that you did not create this world; Teyvat had no grand creator, no single hand designing its wonders. It did, however, have something of a catalytic agent, without which it would not exist.

You.

[Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

You separated from Diluc that morning. Despite Alatus -- Xiao -- offering to teleport you straight to Liyue Harbor, you preferred to take your time. It had been untold millennia, after all, since you had experienced a world’s bounties for yourself, and even longer since you had a physical body to do it with. You wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Walking through Guili Planes was... an experience. The crumbling ruins were of a different style from the civilisation you saw upon your arrival, but it was a grim reminder that Liyue, like Mondstadt, had not been wholly peaceful during its existence. Unfortunately, you had the feeling that the rest of Teyvat was similar.

Xiao was ever present by your side. He would occasionally divert you from your path, which you assumed was to avoid monsters, though it wasn’t necessary. You allowed it for several reasons: one, the poor guy was stressed enough; two, he didn’t know of the affection Teyvat’s creatures held for you; and three, you did come across corpses, meaning someone was in the area killing them.

For your part you were wholly unworried -- slimes had already proven their refusal to harm you and you expected other creatures born of Teyvat to be the same. It was humans, and creatures born of humans, that you were concerned by.

(To your slight surprise, this included hilichurls. Despite being classified as monsters by Teyvat at large, they were too human, too sapient, to be overwhelmed by Teyvat’s love for you.)

It wasn’t a shock for you to eventually come upon the one slaughtering all the monsters in the area. What was a surprise was that it was all done by a single person.

You watched a ginger-haired young man wielding blades of Hydro rip his way through a hilichurl camp. He was a storm in motion, striking then dancing away from retaliation, every step trailed by an eye-catching red scarf. Beneath you, Geo rumbled, Ajax Tartaglia, child of the devouring deep, Hydro, more Abyss than human.

Xiao tensed.

As soon as the last hilichurl fell, the man pivoted to face you with a relaxed stance, one hand still absently spinning a Hydro blade. “You know, if you wanted a show, I’d be plenty happy to show you up close and personal,” he leered with a pointed swing of his blade.

“Impertinent,” Xiao hissed, looking like he was one taunt away from lunging. The man only laughed.

You looked between the two of them. There was bad blood there, you could tell. ...How interesting. “Who is he, Xiao?”

Surprisingly, the adeptus was able to tense even more. Slowly, flatly, he replied, “He is the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, and dangerous.” Unsaid was his intense desire to take you elsewhere or drive him away.

Instead of acknowledging that, you turned to the Eleventh Harbinger. “That’s not a name,” you observed.

“Tartaglia at your service -- but please, call me Childe.”

He certainly suited the name. Pretty, boyish, young; there was a madness in him too, one that was incompatible with the Teyvat around you but might not be out of place in the depths where you slumbered. Maybe, if he was amenable to a trip home, you might have a companion on your journey to the world’s roots. “A pleasure to meet you. I am--”

“The sun is setting,” Xiao interrupted. It was such a change from his previous deference that you just blinked at him for several seconds.

“...That’s true,” you said slowly when he didn’t continue, “are we close enough to Liyue Harbor to get there tonight?”

“Oh definitely not,” Childe said, now strolling closer while completely ignoring Xiao’s darkening expression. You were sure that the only thing stopping Xiao from violently removing Childe was your presence. “So why don’t we share a campfire for the night? I make a mean seafood soup!”

You didn’t know how you ended up sitting by a fire with two men glaring daggers at each other. Or rather, Xiao glared daggers while Childe responded with goading smirks.

Dinner had been as delicious as promised, though it looked more like a scene of carnage than you had expected. It held only the basest of resemblances with the Calla Lily Seafood Soup you remembered from Mondstadt. Xiao, for some reason, did not receive a portion.

Childe’s actions did make you curious. Mondstadt’s people had greeted you with a festival and Xiao with deep respect, which had made you suspect that everyone on Teyvat could recognise you as their supposed ‘Creator’ on sight, but Childe hadn’t. Either he was the only person in the world who didn’t buy into the cult, or there was something else going on.

...On reflection, the people without Visions whom you met during your first day in Liyue didn’t treat you as anyone particularly special either, while those with Visions tended to be friendlier. As evidenced by Childe. Mondstadt didn’t count, you had been presented to them as the Creator from the start.

You were presented as the Creator, that was the key. They probably didn’t possess a mythical Creator radar. Fortunately.

But someone had to have sensed you, otherwise you would never have left the island you woke on. As a dragon, Dvalin wasn’t a surprise, and Venti... the Archons. Of course. Didn’t you note the traces of your power in Venti and the statues of him and Morax yourself? There were sparks of it in the Visions too, but nothing as strong as those in the Archons and Statues of Seven.

If the Statues held enough of your power for you to resonate with them, and the Archons were connected to the statues made in their image, everything could be explained. The only mystery was why Morax didn’t show up in person.

He couldn’t be dead, because Liyue still stood. He couldn’t not know of you, because he sent Xiao. And if he was busy directing preparations for your celebratory feast, as Xiao had implied, then that showed a gross miscalculation of priorities uncharacteristic for someone who had ruled this nation for nigh on 4000 local solar orbits. You weren’t offended -- there was no such thing as a Creator in the first place -- but you were quite curious.

The next day, your group expanded from two to three. Childe insisted on tagging along, to Xiao’s consternation, and couldn’t be chased away. They got along like cats and dogs and it was entertaining to watch.

The bickering lasted all the way until you reached the hill overlooking the bridge leading into Liyue Harbor. Every building was bedecked with lanterns and banners as far as the eye could see, just as festive as Mondstadt yet with their own distinct style. You stopped in your tracks.

Childe shrugged. “They got this done in the last few days, not sure what it’s for. There’s still a few months until the Lantern Rite.”

You did not want to walk through the streets to be gawked at, whether that be due to your own identity or those of your companions. You turned to the adeptus among you. “Xiao, can you bring us straight to the venue?” you requested.

He nodded and held out his hand, but only after you looked pointedly at Childe did he reluctantly grip the Harbinger’s arm as well. You would take what you could get.

“Hey, wait--”

Before Childe could voice the rest of his objection, you took Xiao’s hand and the three of you disappeared on the spot.

You rematerialised in an octagonal plaza facing a large building, which a plaque informed you was Yiyan Temple. Behind you, Childe stumbled, to Xiao’s audible ridicule; you knew without looking that Childe must have gestured something rude in return.

Two people in armoured uniforms saluted and opened the doors. You could sense significant amounts of Geo pulsating out from something within, as well as sparks of your power emanating from Visions among the crowd that glittered like stars to your senses. There was also a torch’s worth of your power -- an Archon. Morax. Though you hardly registered their appearances, luxurious as their clothes were, as Geo clamoured to introduce these personages to you.

Morax, earth dragon, Geo Archon, adeptus, a void where there was once god-heart-gnosis.

Ningguang, human, Geo, born of Liyue.

Cloud Retainer, crane, Anemo, adeptus, bound to the Lord of Geo.

Keqing, human, Electro, born of Liyue.

There were more, and you filed each of them away even as Morax and Ningguang bowed simultaneously, followed shortly by everyone else. “Your Grace the Primordial Architect,” Morax said in his deep voice, “this one is honoured to welcome thine self to the land of Geo.”

“Your Grace?” Childe repeated, quietly but with feeling.

Right, you had never actually introduced yourself to him because Xiao had interrupted. Withholding a sigh, you ordered some Anemo to whisper in his ear, “In short, I’m not the Creator, there is no Creator, I’ll explain later.” Then you turned your attention to the Archon. “Please, rise,” you said to all of them. This reception was getting a little more intense than Mondstadt's.

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Taglist: @fantasyhopperhea // @silverstar56 // @lexal-amber-rose // @noblessejjk // @neo-meta // @etherisy // @strangeygirl

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Here we go again--

TRIP ABROAD TURNS INTO BUTTERFLY EFFECT

First thing worth mentioning is that the prime color in this artwork is pale blue. I feel like it's quite rare, most of INPLICK arts for Link Click have the same palette: burgundy red, shades of gray and black (except for the whole Surprise Beat thing which is splashed with flashy pink). All but this one:

(probably when they were 17 or sth)

For the sake of the argument, let's say it is a significant distinction to make. The reason is simple: the teaser taking place at the airport and the trailer prove that shit started three years ago, while CXS and LG's graduation trip. If this chronology is correct, then blue probably symbolizes Lu Guang's innocence or happiness. Blue used to paint Lu Guang but now he only sees the world in black, white and red. In the birthday official arts, blue is associated with his character. His flower is freaking Forget-Me-Not; Myosotis.

So yes, that's why I think the color palette here is relevant to the time period we're going to explore in the Yingdu Chapter.

The couch itself is blue when we're so used to the pair sitting on a brick sofa. The cakes and the flowers are the usual shade of red, though.

On the table: red roses in a vase. Petals are all over the place. Ominous. We actually see a roses bouquet in the PV of XETROverthink, held by Li Tianchen.

On the trolley: 1 bottle of wine, 2 CXS's feet, 3 glasses, 4 cakes, 5 individual desserts. The glass half full is Liu Xiao's, since it isn't on the trolley in the original artwork he is absent from. I said it in another post but the plate counts 4 portions, as in 4 antagonists, while the pudding might be Lu Guang's. The cakes are probably metaphors for timelines/curves, clocks dressed as desserts with a red fruit representing a dead Cheng Xiaoshi. V and VI are the only missing parts, just like Qiao Ling's one. CXS put his feet on the trail and I think it's both funny and tragic. I believe the correct saying is "put his foot in his mouth" but in french we say "mettre les pieds dans le plat", which literally translates "to put his feet in the plate" (to say something brutal with no tact or to do something stupid without thinking it through). He has both feet nearing timeline cakes and his head is five inches away from doomed flowers.

On the floor: 1 vintage phone. 1 camera. 2 envelopes, 3 pages of letters. 4 polaroids. Probably: 2 magazines and 3 pages of newspapers. The vintage phone could be relevant to THE TIDES, era-wise. The camera is taking polaroids and two of them are still dark, meaning they just took a shot and are yet to be revealed. The rest must be related to this chapter's plot. So much for holidays, guys (are they investigating CXS' missing parents?)

If you look closely, you'll see four different mentions of time:

Lu Guang's watch (hold this thought)

The polaroid: Big Ben

What looks like newspapers

The hourglass

We also have four mentions of information/communication

Letters

The polaroid: a public telephone box

Newspapers/magazines

Vintage phone (I was wondering why the phone had twelve numbers but after some research, I realized that some of them had # and *)

On another note, I don't know if their hands--

I mean, there's something definitely happening here but let's say for the sake of my sanity that what is supposed to be noticed are the sunglasses. If I'm being honest, this is the real oddity here and the teaser weirdly showed them off?? They're standing out because everything else is so blue for one thing.

They're pink-ish, which is close enough to magenta, so one of Lu Guang's colors (cf. Dive Back In Time). The color itself is weird for sunglasses. Lu Guang doesn't care about fashion, he wants practical. As a girl who loves pink sunglasses, I'll tell you: pink is shit at doing sunglasses' job. CXS told him to wear a cat hat, okay, but did he choose every other accessory?? My guess is that the pink served a purpose in connection with light.

And why is Lu Guang's watch on the other wrist in the artwork? I checked and LG wears it on his right wrist in the donghua and manhua. It can be the opposite for some artworks though... Or blocked from view for some reasons. It's almost as if we're not supposed to know which side is the actual reflection. 👀

Something else is reversed here, actually: the colors AND the pocket of Lu Guang's shirt. It could be a mistake, though.

>>>>> Basically, I think the artwork is telling us that the Yingdu Chapter is going to hurt and make us cry. If we're indeed about to see Lu Guang lose his humanity to try and save Cheng Xiaoshi for the first time therefore destroying worlds, I have no doubt it would be after Infinite Sadness™.

The real question this teaser isn't answering is either we'll go through the original timeline or a rewind. The last episode of season 2 makes me frown. How to be sure that the Lu Guang who dives exists before and not after the events we see unfold for two seasons? Is Yingdu Chapter a flash black or an actual dive itself? Lu Guang seems to be determinate and in a bad mood in the PV after all, could directly happen after one of CXS's deaths.

EDIT: someone mentioned that LG wears his watch on the left wrist when we get images of CXS getting stabbed. (It hurts right here in my meow meow)

[forbidding-souda]

Heyoooooo! Before requesting anything, may I say that your writing is truly AWESOME!! Everything fits the character so well aaa I adore it!!! Keep up the amazing work!!!

Can you plz do some head cannons for Korekiyo, Ibuki and Kazuichi being roommates with their S/O in a small dorm? I think it'd be a cute scenario (sorry if it's a bit much :'] )

Shinguuji Korekiyo, Ibuki Mioda, and Kazuichi Souda living with their S/O in a small dorm

just bullet points for this one because i'm a litttllleee head empty. ALSO TY FOR THE COMPLIMENT IT MEANS THE WORLD!!!!!

i am highly qualified to write this. Bruh I have lived in three different dorm buildings bc I did a swap since my first roommate was homophobic LOLZ. The second dorm I lived in was a corner room so we had a lot of room compared to the others gg but the first dorm i was in was TINY as if it wasn't 1.7k a month like dude come on.

I'm an english major and a child development major btw hmu I'm so cool and awesome. Join the discord to see me post about the funny things my english professor puts on canvas LMFAO.

I added in a bit of just college stuff.

-Mod Souda

Shinguuji Korekiyo

❤ His desk is so full of trinkets that he can hardly use it. Probably just studies in his bed.

❤ He'll gift you some and clutter your side of the room, too.

❤ Lights candles even though they're not allowed.

❤ Incense too.

❤ But he has a good sense of personal space and he keeps to himself. Even when the two of you are dating, he understands the difference between his side of the room and your side of the room.

❤ However, you can sneak into his bed :3 he wouldn't mind.

❤ Just don't sleep on his hair plz he leaves that shit sprawled out.

❤ No bc you probably have his loose hair everyone on the carpet swear to god.

❤ Anthropology major obvi.

❤ Takes academics very seriously!!!

❤ Will just walk around in long sleeves regardless of the weather.

❤ If you're the type of person to study and not go to the dining commons then he'll eat there and then bring you a to-go box.

❤ Definitely keeps sake in his mini fridge.

❤ Isn't on the snap story.

❤ Ask before you use his stuff because he's probably gonna start tweaking if he notices something out of place.

❤ He does not like showering in those dorm showers. He'll probably go to the gym or something.

❤ Probably uses a computer bag instead of a backpack.

.

Kazuichi Souda

❤ Your stuff is his stuff now.

❤ Pushes your beds together. (LMFAOOO)

❤ Mechanical engineering major perhaps. Ngl I only know two of them and idk what they be learning but it sounds about right.

❤ Never does his laundry on time. He leaves it in the dryer.

❤ He doesn't clean for the RA checks either.

❤ And he definitely doesn't care about privacy when it comes to changing. He's just gonna get naked in front of you fr.

❤ He gets doordash a lot.

❤ Will wait for you after class. Or he might have the audacity to just crash one of your lectures.

❤ Walks around the dorm in his underwear.

❤ I'd like to imagine he brought a mirror in the room so he can add the braids in his hair in private awwwww.

❤ Sharpens his teeth in the other bathroom tho gg.

❤ You can spell his cologne from your bed.

❤ Keeps his textbooks on the floor near his bed but the dorm is so small you almost trip over them.

❤ Doesn't take out the trash either.

❤ Uses the campus gym all the time.

❤ If he's not in the dorm he's either at class or hanging out in the gym.

❤ If you do yoga then you can easily convince him to do yoga with you.

❤ His fits are probably firrreeee. But I imagine he wears the same shoes every day.

.

Ibuki Mioda

❤ Will ask to keep things on your side of the room.

❤ You will be in class and then come back to her sleeping in your bed.

❤ Ibuki plz stop dying your hair in the public sink please you're staining the sink PLEASE.

❤ Doesn't even raise her hand in class she just starts talking. Which ik is normal but she like . will just start talking.

❤ Music major? Or is that too obvious. Could be pop culture too. I'm leaning more towards pop culture.

❤ Goes on long rants about like 2300 about what she did in her classes.

❤ She talks as she studies. Is she even studying? You can't tell.

❤ Study date except it's her talking the entire time with Canvas open but not looking at anything.

❤ Probably leaves her pajamas on the floor when she changes in the morning. You can just put them back on her bed for her.

❤ Like Shinguuji, she will also just have her loose hairs everywhere.

❤ She is a bit of a pervert and is like "you can change in front of me :) it's okay :) you can change in front of me :)" (pleading).

❤ Is going to use your body wash without telling you.

❤ Probably plays her music hella loud and the RA will have to knock bc of complaints LMFAO.

❤ ^ Also rents a vaccuum at 3AM and uses it.

❤ Probably gets opps bc of this ^

❤ If she wears a school uniform in Danganronpa then I'm gonna headcanon that she wears merch of the college.

[des8pudels8kern]

If I were to write a Star Wars fic (which I won’t, as working full-time does not leave me with enough mental energy to be properly actively fannish), it’d be an epic AU where Obi-Wan also falls down the shaft at the climax of his fight with Maul, is presumed dead, and then pops up during the Clone Wars as a mysterious agent of chaos whose initial goal is just to rattle and provoke the Jedi into shedding at least a bit of their apathy disguised as serenity and their superiority complex (so, Obi-Wan choosing to help an entire planet of children caught in a horrific war was bad and aggressive, deserving of first repudiation and then probation, but when Knights and Masters order enslaved sentients into battle it’s duty and necessary to uphold the values of the Republic and thus Order?). He’s bitter, he’s angry, and he wants to destroy the Order. Well, the Order as it is. All talk, so little regard for actual decency, and no infrastructure in place to protect the children under their care.

There’d be a semi-humorous scene where Cody (who is... compromised, okay, he knows it, but this evil fallen force user is just different from the other evil fallen force users, okay) comes across Obi-Wan, bleeding from a fresh gash on his head (”What happened to you? - Oh, nothing, dear one; I just tripped.”) one eye clenched shut where the blood is dribbling down, yada yada, they do their usual song and dance about no, you question your allegiance and join my side, and then.

What’s that?

Cody bends down and picks up the thing that’s caught his attention. It’s round, and not quite flat, and ye--- yellow. He narrows his eyes at the infuriating pain in the ass in front of him.

“Tripped, huh? Deliberately, I assume?”

The man’s gaze flits down to the coloured lens balancing on Cody’s finger now, the exact same shade as his one open eye.

“When you arrived, the light of your presence overwhelmed me and caused me to falter. It can be quite challenging when one has delved as far into the dark as I have,” the fucker tries to lie to Cody’s face, voice as serene as the calmest of Jedi Generals fresh out of meditation, and maybe Cody needs to reconsider how trustworthy anything spoken in that tone really is.

Cody throws the lens at him, and the offending item manages to land on his chest, where blood has soaked into the shirt, and sticks to the fabric, staring at him accusingly.

“What kind of nerf-brained idiot fakes being a Sith? The entire Order is after you!”

The nerf-brain winces, then sighs and droops. He rubs a hand through his suddenly tired-looking face. The blood from his apparently actually self-inflicted head-wound that was meant to disguise the missing lens is smeared all over his cheek now, which looks ridiculous and is somewhat worrisome because Cody is used to bloodshed and knows that it’s usually not a good sign when people forget that they are bleeding. It does match the bone-deep exhaustion etched in the other man’s features, though, now that his mask of flirtatious nonchalance has dropped.

“In my defence, I honestly did not expect it to go this far.” He spreads his hands and pulls a somewhat forced-looking version of his usual boyish grin. “I assumed I would get in two, maybe three strikes before the Order went on alert and I got caught. When they didn’t, I decided to... provide further motivation.”

His right eye is grey-blue, as fathomlessly deep as the waters of Kamino, and Cody wonders what can drive a man to pretend to be evil incarnate to catch the attention of an organisation of essentially super-powered sentients in the middle of a war.

Another trickle of blood from the absolutely needless head wound snakes its way down the side of the man’s face, making it clear that, whatever his motivation might be it’s not a healthy sense of self-preservation.

Maybe Cody can get him to take out the other lens, too, so he can check his eyes for signs of a concussion.

And get a closer look at the colour.

...At least now he’s not compromised by a Sith anymore?

[nerdieforpedro]

Watch me and Touch it Querida

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x plus size female reader

Fanfiction is 18+ MDNI

Main Masterlist / Santiago Garcia Masterlist / Oscar Isaac Masterlist

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: You have a crush on your long time friend Santiago. After the events of Columbia, he stays in your spare bedroom. You two make good roommates. Pope decides to ask you a question that you thought was just a throwaway. Turns out he was serious.

Warnings: Teasing, Hair worship (is this a thing? I guess it is now ����), oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap them thangs up), cockwarming, aftercare, bad jokes throughout (another Nerdie staple)

Notes: My first Santiago smut! I think I captured his essence. Maybe, Ya'll will have to let me know. Also, I apologize to anyone who actually plays guitar, I just looked up what Google said were the four basic chords.

The first clue should have been that he asked to stay with you. He had three other men, his brothers, that he could have stayed with. Especially since they don't talk about whatever happened last month. Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia is a flirt of a man, has been since you’ve known him. You pay him no mind, his little compliments don’t phase you - much. He would call and text you in between deployments and later when he was out of the military. He’d also call when he was in the States or overseas consulting. Just checking in on you, he would normally lead with asking about how you were doing. Your mind constantly told you it’s the kind of thing he would do with  the guys except they likely have private jokes. Your heart tells you it might be more, but your mind usually wins with reasoning.

Him moving in went fine. Pope didn’t have much with him. A few duffle bags and a backpack. He took up your second bedroom and things were easy. Just fine. They guys joked that you two should have been roommates years ago since you got along so well. They’re not wrong, you just still need him to move out. Which is impossible to ask considering one of his friends just died on their trip, none of them will say how and even though they all still get along, neither Frankie, Will or Benny will let Pope stay with them. Suspicion is high that there’s some lingering resentment there, but it’s not your place to ask. You weren’t there. You don’t know and you’re not going to.

You haven’t seen any odd habits so far. He cleans up after himself, cooks every once in a while. No women have been in your guest room that you know of and you never want to know if they have. The conversations flow easily and he plays his guitar sometimes, letting you sit on his bed next to him while he plays different chords. Strong hands alternate between picking at the strings and strumming them, Santi softly hums a tune you’re not familiar with.  There was a Die Hard marathon you both watched together the other day. No red flags….which should have been red flag two for you.

He’s your friend. Almost a brother to you. You can’t be looking at how his polo shirts cinch around his waist and slight tummy or how they’re struggling with every thread on those biceps of his. The man has a million watt smile with curls to match, a dangerous five o’clock shadow, plush lips and warm chocolate eyes that focus on you when you speak. When he calls your name, you always exhale, it sounds perfect out of his mouth. Your thoughts haven’t even broached his thighs or that perfect curve he calls an ass when he asks you out of the blue. You’re minding your own business on the couch reading a book. Lying to yourself that you’re going to do less screen time this year.

“You think I should grow it out? I’ve always shaved it.” How long had he been thinking about this? Wait…shave what? Not his head right?! Not those curls. Curls that you’d snuck your hands in only a handful of times copying a noogie that Benny would do and only when the others were around. So silky with a touch of gray….He had asked a question. About his hair, shaving it…

“Santiago. Please don’t shave your head.” You pleaded, harder than you meant it to come out, but you were serious. It warranted your book closing and to look up at him. Why did he have to stand in front of you like that? Sure most people do that, but it’s not okay when he does it. You’re aware of this and the fact that you still haven’t told this man to move in with one of his brothers means you’re the  third red flag. At some point, you became okay with the idea of throwing away your friendship with Santiago. Oolging him when he’s not aware and looking forward when he’s away for a few days so you can think more about his merits and assets. Possibly with a few handheld aides.

He laughed at you and sat down on the couch. “No tonta (silly). Grow a beard. My facial hair grows pretty fast anyway. What do you think? You like facial hair on your men angel?” His shoulder nudged your arm. You chuckled at the thought that he joked about you having men. Pfft. Shaking your head, you playfully swatted his cheek, his rough stubble grazing your fingers. You made sure your hand came down to your knee, the desire to keep in on his face was too strong in the moment. 

“I think you could pull off a beard. You already have stubble half the time. Just don’t let it look raggedy Santi.” You smiled, trying to picture it. The most facial hair you’d seen him with was a mustache in pictures before Delta Force and he looked like a porn star. Hell he looked like one now. You need to stay focused, you’re having a conversation. If he did have one of those nice, maintained beards though…he might turn into an evil villain. They usually had some cool beards before getting thwarted by heroes. His grin at your very apparent compliment and distraction makes you lose the little focus you did have.

“Glad you believe in me. You didn’t answer my other question though.” Squinting your eyes, you’re confused for maybe the third time tonight. “Do you like facial hair on men or do you like them clean shaven?” He leaned in, very clearly expecting an answer. 

Frazzled, your answer matched your current state of mind, “I mean, more hair is always better than less hair. I love some friction, you know I’m used to it because of my thighs but that’s…it’s gotta be a different kinda of sensation when someone's doing it right and has a solid beard…” His wide eyes told you that you’d said too much. Way too much. You stood up and mumbled goodnight, cursing yourself and hoping that maybe he had another overseas contract soon. He grabbed your wrist  and stood with you.

“Is that what you like angel? Something for a different type of friction? Good to know. I take it you haven’t had that from what you said though. Sweet dreams cariño (dear).” Santiago said as he released your wrist. He knew damn well you weren’t going to sleep tonight and you didn’t. The next few days, he didn’t mention it and when you two met up with the guys and their girlfriends, he didn’t mention anything then either. By next week, you were sure it had blown over and he left saying he was going to be gone for two months. That was plenty of time to forget your mistake right?

The time came and went fast. Santiago was back…with a damn beard. It was black with gray strands at its edges. Letting his lips peek out from the oval of hair that formed around them. You looked, then turned and snuck another look. Angry that you did. Maybe he would shave once he got settled in. He greeted you with a hug, nuzzling his nose and jaw on your neck as he embraced you. You wanted to slap him for testing you, but maybe he didn’t remember, you also wanted to touch his face and kiss him to feel the hair on your face. Gazing up at him, his curls had grown out a bit more as well, more pronounced and larger. Pope said he was going to go take a shower and frankly, you felt you could use one too. Get these ideas out of your head. 

The first week is fine. A good amount of time spent with the guys both at bars, their places and in your apartment. The second week however was the kicker - Santiago had gotten some beard oil that smelled of cedar, jasmine and a hint of vanilla. You were thankful that Will wanted Santi to tag along with him this week for more motivational speaking engagements. Pope was out of the house and away from you smelling that damn delicious. 

As it was past 9pm on a Thursday, you were already in your oversized sleep shirt and panties. Not sexy at all. Not that you needed to be, you’re dancing around in your apartment. It’s something you haven’t done too much except when Santi’s out of town. It helped calm you and you could focus on the music and not your various worries, especially your thoughts about your roommate. 

Santiago unlocked the door to your apartment. He walked in and saw you in the living room. Swinging your hips, arms above your head. What should come on next but “Worth the Wait” by Kali Uchis & Omar Apollo. You’re singing along and moving with the music, it wouldn’t hurt to dance with you right? It’s not like he hasn’t danced with you around your home before, though that was usually to some boy bands that you would play because you knew he hated them. He took hold of your hands and interlocked his fingers with yours, his gaze on your surprised face as you stopped moving, but he brought one of your hands down and patted your hip to encourage you to continue to dance. The song is slow and the content is rather sensual. “Keep dancing cariño. With me.” Is the only thing he said as you two moved, your chests mere inches away from each other. He released your hands and placed them on your hips and yours immediately went to his beard. You figured if he’s going to dance with you like this, you may as well touch it. He let out a deep chuckle, leaning forward. Santi pressed his warm chest against yours, he spoke in your ear, “You like it, touch is querida (sweetheart)? I grew it just for you.” 

Your breath hitched when he said your name in your ear and his hands that had been on your hips, roamed your back. “Y-You did Santi? You didn’t have to…I..” His large hand ran up your neck and cupped the back of your head as he sang along to Kali’s next song “All Mine.” Your hands fell to his sides, pressing into his skin, kneading it. It would be embarrassing how moist your panties had become and that your nipples were hard as little pebbles if you didn’t feel the need to jump this man, but dancing is sweet and nice.

We’ll figure it out as we go, just you and me

But we won’t leave each other alone, that’s all mine

All me, all me All mine, All mine, all mio, mio, mi

All mine, all mine, all mio, mio, mi

Both of you continued to rock side to side until the song ended and Santiago stood to his full height. You wondered if maybe you’d gotten too lost in the music and had imagined everything. You hadn’t let go of him yet, if you weren’t hallucinating then that meant this just happened and maybe you could act on what you’d been feeling. “Santiago. What you just sung, did you mean it?” Your eyes scanned his face, you wouldn’t be distracted this time. He had essentially used a song to confess his feelings to you, but it needed to be said outside of a song. Pope took hold of your chin and smiled. 

“Yes I meant it. I know how you’ve been undressing me the entire time I’ve been here angel. I’m not an idiot. At least in that department. I’ll say I’m not great at long term relationships so we’ll take it how it goes, sí (yes)?” He offered. That was all you needed to cup his face, place your fingers in his beard and pull him in for a frantic kiss. He appeared surprised which made you grin as he parted his lips for you, quickly recovering and wrapping his arms around you pulling you toward him as you let him in, his tongue exploring your mouth. The groan you released was loud as you pressed your thighs together, feeling the wetness spread. You pulled out of the kiss and pulled him toward your bedroom. “Cariño, you sure?” He asked with slightly red lips. You answered by  pushing him onto the bed, hands on your hips, you scanned his body. He didn’t need to ask and you weren’t going to answer such a silly question. You smacked your lips at the tent in those damn cargo pants he always wore.

“Too many clothes Garcia. Take them off.” Your hands went to your hips. “Now.” Santiago hadn’t seen this side of you and was enjoying it. He was normally one to take charge in the bedroom. He removed his shirt, exposing his taut muscles that flexed as he fiddled with his belt and removed his boxers and pants in one drop. He kicked off his socks as he sat on the side of bed with his arms out. You stepped up to him but didn’t embrace him. Instead, you just dropped your soaked panties as they hit the floor, heavy with your own wetness. Santi looked down and muttered a soft, “fuck,” next you removed your shirt. Your curves on full display as he attempted to place his hands on your hips but you stopped him. “Up on the bed. I’m due some friction since you keep teasing it with me.” 

“¡Joder! (Fuck) , this is what you like huh? Being in charge? I’ll play along this time.” He slid back toward the top of the bed where you were expecting him in the middle.

“That’s where I’m supposed to be Santi. Move back down.” You motioned as the bed dipped, you crawled next to him and looked down at him. He smirked, damn grin. You wanted to pink he cheek, both sets. 

“No. If you’re going to take charge then you need the right seat angel.” He wiggled his eyebrows as you scratched your chin for a moment. It clicked, he wanted you to…no one’s ever asked that. Pope didn’t give you a choice about settling on his face gently. He turned on his side to grab your knees and pulled you over his shoulders, his breath on your slick inner thighs. “Look at you. You’ll drench me won’t you angel?” He turned his head to the side and rubbed his beard on your thigh, you brought your legs closer together and reached down, taking a handful of his curls while calling his name. 

“Dammit, you know how many nights I’ve thought about this, your curls and this beard? Don’t ever mention cutting your hair again unless I say so.” You growled, his nose tipped upward touching your clit momentarily before he drew back. “Fuck..you damn tease Santiago…” His hands roamed from your knees to your thighs and then your large ass, giving it a squeeze. It made you buck your hips and drop them, making your slick lips come into contact with his beard. Your yelp was sharp and followed by multiple curses as you heard Garcia laugh into your core. It didn’t matter now if he laughed, you were here, sitting on this man’s face. You dropped your hips to stifle him, calling his name as you sat. The sweet grate of his beard against your thighs and mound had you dripping.

Santiago had never seen you so feral. He was throbbing as he watched you cry out his name and felt his cock twitch when you pulled on his hair. He knew he had an effect on you but didn’t expect this. This was so much better than he could have imagined. Now that he could barely breathe, he opened his mouth, kissing your entrance before rolling his tongue around your tight hole. He estimated that he’d definitely need you come at least twice to accommodate him. He then had it pass your entrance to explore within you and he felt your strong pulses. He smirked again, hearing you scream as he went deeper before truly starting. He alternated hollowing out his cheeks to suck what felt like your uterus out of you and having his tongue press against your soft core. He was concerned for a moment that you may pull out a chunk of his hair, the way you were using his head to steady yourself as you grinded into his face. When he was pulling his tongue back to suck again, you screamed his name again and gushed, soaking his face, beard and neck. He drank as if he'd come in from a desert and you were the first source of water he��d come across. When your body relaxed, you fell forward and he slid from under you to lay next to you. Your face was sweaty and some of your hair was sticking to your forehead, one of your hands weakly came up to your face in an attempt to hide it but he grabbed it and kissed it gently.

“You asked me to strip so no hiding hermosa (gorgeous). You had your beloved friction?” He teased and you smiled, shaking your head. He didn’t forget that you said that. He remembers all the wrong things. He set your hand down on the bed and rubbed your back, “Ready for more? I’m going to need at least two more from you.” He explained and your eyes went wide. 

“I might have one…and that’s being generous of me. Why two?” You managed to prop yourself on your elbows but were still on your stomach. His hand continued to rub your back and slowly went to your ass, then a finger slipped into your sensitive sex, making you gasp. “Y-You need to warn someone when you do that…”

“That’s why, you’re a little too tight.” He kissed your shoulder and licked your ear, “those boys you’ve dealt with and your toys don’t prepare you for me querida.” His finger pumped slowly and as it reached deeper he added a second one, making you lift your right knee to allow yourself to open more. The squelching noises coming from your cunt had you whine as you gaze up at Santiago who was watching you, his gaze heavy. “I wonder which chord your pussy plays to angel?” He licked his lips and nibbled on your ear again before speaking again, “Em?” His fingers pumped into your straight, “how about C?” He curved his fingers slightly and your hips snapped, you opened your legs even wider as you began to wiggle against the mattress. 

Santiago stopped his fingers for a moment and flipped you on your back before adding a third finger and curling his fingers even more, “How about G?” His eyes were dancing, watching you pant from just his hand. You’re saying his name, but babbling angrily at him. He finds it adorable that you still have it in you to be angry. You could hold a grudge. He’ll fuck it right out of you. His free hand roams your wide stomach as you pull on the sheets around you and your legs continue to part for him, feet planted into the mattress as you move your hips with his fingers. He leans over you and kisses you gently to which you release the sheets and grab his head, digging into his curls again, biting his bottom lip. He draws back deciding to finish you. He wants to watch you as you climax this time, “let me give you chord D cariño.” Santiago crosses two of his fingers over each other, bends them slightly, hitting your spongy sensitive tissue. Your hands let go of his hair and grasp his forearms, digging your nails into them and you groan with your second climax, it feels stronger than the first as your back arches. He revels in watching your mouth wide open spilling with his name repeatedly, even the pain from your nails is welcome. He’s not normally into it being a bit rough, but he senses that you might not be aware of what you’re doing. He wouldn’t mention it now. Something else to tease you with later. 

Slowly you feel his fingers leave your drenched cunt, you feel like you’re floating but exhausted. Your eyes flutter, but you watch as he licks his fingers, hearing him moan as he does. It had your core stirring again. Having him take you apart, break you even though you planned to be much more assertive, initially you weren’t happy about it, but he’d done nothing except pleasure you since you’d ask him to strip. “S-Santi, do you want me to…” Your eyes trailed down to his swollen and dripping cock which looked thicker than any you’d had, even your dildos. You were understanding more why he made sure to prepare you first. 

“Not tonight. I bet you’re still pissed at me for teasing you. I know you hold onto a grudge like a dog with a bone, angel. You'll be a little less mad after I finish with you.” He rubbed his beard against your soft stomach before settling between your legs, “Ah! Damn it, I need a condom. I’ll have to go to my room, I have some-” His face went from smoldering to panicked, then to confusion as you reached down and gently gripped the head of his dick.

“I have an IUD Santiago. I’m not mad but, you’re not taking your cock out of me until it’s soft. I will be livid if you do.” His eyes were wide as your knees parted further and you brought his head to your entrance. He placed his hand over yours and moved it gingerly. You watched as he looked up at you.

“I didn’t realize you were such a dangerous woman. As my angel wants.” Santiago slid into your wet cunt halfway, watching you to see if you had any discomfort. It was slight, only from the stretch, he was so girthy. You growled at him.

“You’re not all the way in are you? I’m fine. Just move, Please Santi…” That famous grin spread over his face as he pushed forward until his hips were flush with yours. “Yes…that’s it…fuck it’s so much. This was in those damn pants? It isn’t enough that  you have that ass?” You managed a small giggle, reaching your hands to cup his face. “Fuck me while you kiss me with this beard you sexy bastard.”

“You’re so damn kinky cariño. I love it and you, too.” His lips crashed into yours as he started his pace, not bothering with slow as he drew back and gave deep thrusts that kept hitting your cervix. Moans between the two of you had your lips swollen as you kept needing to either bite, suck or release cries. His hands moved from your stomach to your knees, bending your legs back and tipping your hips upward slightly, hitting an entirely different angle. Santiago was up on his knees and had moved out of your reach so you placed your hands over his that were on the back of your knees. Between him rutting into you and the bending you were doing to try and touch any part of him, your insides were quivering again. You were close again already. 

“S-Santi..It’s…” You stuttered, in between your whines. He nodded as he felt you starting to clamp around him, he felt his balls tightening. Dropping one of your knees, he wrapped an arm around your back to bring you close to him, one hand went to his soft curls, now drenched with sweat and the other held the back of his neck as your thumb ran across his temple and grazed his beard. With a few more pumps, Santiago spilled into you, groaning into a rough kiss with you, his teeth nearly colliding with yours if you hadn’t had your tongue run along them. The sensation of him filling your core, had your third orgasm begin. Pope slowly dragged his softening cock along your walls to extend it, he kissed trailed down your neck. When both of your bodies stopped moving, Santi gave it a minute and went to pull out to which you wrapped your legs around him. 

“Not yet. Just inside, a little longer Santi.” You cooed, kissing his shoulder. He nodded and held you, as the both of you soaked in each other’s warmth. When you removed your arms from him, he took that to mean that he could move which he did. He went to your bathroom as you tried to sit up. He looked back to you and quickly motioned for you to stay on the bed. He returned with a warm washcloth after whipping himself off and opened your legs. The cool air had you let out a quiet sigh. 

“Careful, you keep sounding like that, I may have you ride my face again angel.” You laughed knowing you didn’t have the strength to do so no matter how tempting it sounded. He carefully wiped, making you flinch as your cunt was swollen and sensitive. Once he finished, he helped you sit up and helped you to the bathroom. After the clean up was done, you both returned to bed, getting under the sheets, you laid next to Santi  and twirled a finger in his curls. “Ven aquí (come here) cariño. You enjoy yourself?” He pulled your upper body onto his chest, preferring to be face to face with you.

“I did. I’m going to be sore for a few days, but it’s worth it.” A soft smile graces your face as does Santi’s. You peck his lips and lay your head on his chest. His laugh vibrates throughout his chest. His hands are once again on your back, stroking it. It’s relaxing. 

“Good to know I’m worth it angel. I was starting to think all your staring had you rethinking my beard.” You poked out your bottom lip and pinched his bicep. His hands grabbed your hips and jiggled the extra flesh you had on them. 

“You could have just asked you damn tease.” 

“Nah. I had to make you work for it a bit. I’m not an easy man cariño.” He kissed your forehead as his hands traveled back up to your back. 

“You’re near impossible is what you are, Santiago. You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yeah, that I do know querida. I love you too.” A comfortable silence fell over the two of you in each other’s arms, fully exposed to each other finally. 

Music from the fic:

Santi's Peaches 🍑: @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @megamindsecretlair @pedritapascal @rhoorl @dameron-grant-spector @pamasaur @sin-djarin @i-own-loki @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @readingiskeepingmegoing @saturn-rings-writes @yorksgirl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @musings-of-a-rose @heareball @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills @trulybetty @wannab-urs @pedroshotwifey @missladym1981 @agentjackdaniels

[writing-blog-iguess]

Online Matchup 8

Summery: It’s Halloween and y/n’s hosting a party that she doesn’t even want. But not to fear, Jason’s there with an escape plan.

Warning: mistakes, alcohol, tipsy!reader, tired Jason, Ellie’s done with her siblings bullshit.

A/N: So sorry for the wait. I got overwhelmed with how many wips I have and stopped writing for a bit, and it doesn’t help that I don’t have internet. So, that’s fun. Hope you enjoy though! Chapter nine should be on its way soon.

Feedback is welcomed!

ao3

Series master list

——————

October 31

Ellie (7:30 am)

YOU WENT TO A GALA

WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND

AND DIDN’T TELL ME

Y/N

Not my boyfriend

Shouldn’t you be in school?

Ellie

Not yet anyways

Don’t worry about it

So?

Y/N

It was two days ago, Ellie

It was a last minute decision

Didn’t really have time to tell you anything

Ellie

Could have told me after

Or yesterday

But no, I find out from Conner who found out from Clark

Y/N

Who?

Ellie

Clark Kent

Conner’s uncle

Also Bruce Wayne’s best friend but I have doubts

Y/N

How? You’ve never met Bruce

Ellie

True, but the stories Conner told me about

Anyways, we’re not talking about that

We’re talking about you and going out with Jason

Looking all fancy and rubbing elbows with the rich

Y/N

Ew

Did you have to word it like that?

Ellie

Did you meet his family?

Y/N

…

Ellie

YOU DID

Tell me, are they as intimidating as Conner makes them out to be?

Y/N

They’re all dorks and you would fit right in

Trust me

They’re very curious and protective of Jason

But they’re good people

I like them

Ellie

Don’t let Jason hear you say that

Or he might think you’ll leave him

Y/N

Ellie, what the fuck

Ellie

That wasn’t me I swear

Y/N

Fuck off conner

If you want to talk to me use your own phone

Ellie

This is the type of relationship you two have, isn't it?

Y/N

You’ll have no peace, sorry

Ellie

Damn

So, how'd it go?

Y/N

Fine

His brothers hounded me with questions

Bruce made a speech about jason

And then we left to get some burgers

Ellie

You’re the worst at telling stories

Y/N

I don’t know what you want me to say

Ellie

You’re feelings about how in love you are with Jason

Y/N

I’m not having this conversation with Conner reading over your shoulder

Ellie

Boo you’re no fun

Y/N

Suck it Ellie

Jason (1:39 pm)

How’s it going today?

Y/N

I am not the biggest fan of Halloween

I’ve had three different people scare me today on campus

Tripped over some decorations

And my friend is bugging me for a key so she can decorate my apartment once her last class is finished

I don’t know why she needs my key, she has her own

Jason

Yikes

Y/N

Yikes doesn’t even cover half of it

I’m half tempted to hide in the library and not go to the party

Jason

But it’s your apartment

Y/n

That’s the worst thing!

I shouldn’t have agreed to throwing it there

I want sleep

Jason

I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep at a normal time

Y/N

You’re one to talk

You’re up at the oddest hours

I’m not surprised anymore when you text me at like 2 in the morning

Jason

Fair

You can always come sleep with me when you’ve had enough

Y/n

Sir, I’m not that kind of person

Jason

That is not what I meant

You know that

Y/n

Do I though?

Jason

Y/n I swear to god

Y/n

They’re your words, Jason

Do better

Jason

Sometimes, I hate

Y/n

No you don’t

Jason

No I don’t

What I mean is, you can always stay the night at my place.

To sleep, can even have the couch since that’s were you sleep most of the time

Y/n

I want to be offended

But your right

Jason

Aren’t I always?

Y/n

No

With the party in full swing, and friends practically drunk, you hadn’t had the chance to look at your phone.

Now hiding in your room a few hours later, you grabbed it and went through your notifications. Nothing too important until you said Jason’s text asking to call you. But it was sent at five, and you were pretty sure he meant then instead of now.

But curiosity got the better of you, and you called.

“Hey Jason,” Barbara’s voice cut through the line, distracting Jason a little. He grunted in reply, and retreated behind the dumpster. “Someone named Y/N is calling. What do you want me to do?”

“Put it through,” Jason answered, looking around the dumpster to see how many were left. Three were left, shouldn’t be a problem.

“Are you sure?”

“It’ll be fine,” he said and Barbara hummed before connecting the call. “Hey Little Bird. What’s up?”

“I don’t know, you were the one who wanted me to call you,” you answered. Jason furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t think so,” he said, moving to shoot the one standing up. He winced at the sound and hoped you didn’t hear it.

“Mm, pretty sure you did,” you said, and he heard movement from your end. As if you moved the one on away from your face. “Yeah, seven-forty you said call me.”

“That was four hours ago,” he reminded, and smiled when you laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy with a party and all,” you said and he can picture you shrugging. “This a bad time?”

He took a moment to answer as he ducked down when the other two started shooting. “Uh, don’t know.”

“Is that…is someone shooting at you?” you asked and he grimaced at the question. So much for keeping you out of this. “Jason, are you okay?”

“No, there’s no shooting. And I’m fine,” he grunted out, letting out a noise when he felt something hit his shoulder. When did he move? He faintly heard you saying something, but wasn’t quite sure. Ducking behind something else, he took a deep breath before saying, “you don’t do parties.”

“No, I don’t,” you agreed, “but, as I said, my friend is hosting the Halloween party at my place tonight.”

“It’s Halloween?” he found himself asking.

“It is. Jason, are you sure you're okay?” you asked, concern dripping in your voice.

“Peachy,” he said, staying down as the other two started shooting him. Where was the backup when you needed it? “So, how’s the party anyways? Sounds like you're having fun.”

He heard you sniff and could picture you sticking your nose in the air. “I am not having fun,” you said dryly.

“You sure? You sound drunk,” he said and laughed when you squawked.

“I don't get drunk.” Jason hummed and let the silence stretch out before you begrudgingly added, “okay. Maybe maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Thought so,” he said, “just go to bed.”

“I can’t,” you grumble, and Jason can picture you looking at your bed longingly.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Jason, there’s a full blown party out there and I can’t sleep knowing people are trying to get in my room for a hookup.”

“Tell me you locked the doors.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jason. But that doesn’t stop them from trying to get in. Four tries since I called, and each time I tell them that the room is busy.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Okay yeah, but I want to sleep. I’m tired.”

“If you give me twenty minutes I’ll come by to pick you up.”

“Mm, tempting. But I’m also tempted to sneak out and go to the cafe where we first met.”

“You’re not leaving the apartment alone this late at night.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I sure as hell can try.”

“I don’t see how, given that you’re probably across town.”

“I swear to god.”

You could have sworn you heard someone laughing, but in your drunken state you weren’t sure. “Well, I mean I could make you swear for a different purpose.”

There was a choking noise coming from Jason and you smiled. “Who knew you were a flirty drunk.”

“Not drunk, tipsy,” you reminded, and slowly opened your window, hoping Jason couldn’t hear it.

“Same thing in my books,” he said. You swore when the window creaked and stilled. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said a little too quickly.

“That sounded like a window opening,” Jason claimed, “please tell me you aren’t escaping through the window.”

“How do you know what a window opening sounds like?”

“Really? That’s your takeaway from this?”

“I mean, it’s not everyday you learn that someone knows what a window sounds like when someone opens it.”

“Did you open the window?” Jason asked, and you stayed quiet but it was an answer all the same. “Why?”

“Well I mean, there’s a fire escape like right there,” you defended, holding your phone between your cheek and shoulder. With both hands, you pushed open the window. “Ha!”

“Y/N,” Jason sighed out and you could picture him pinching his nose. Kind of like a dad when he sees his child do something stupid and questioning why they are like this. You wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about you, but you don’t care too much about that right now. “If you're going to do something like this, then keep me on the phone.”

“But won’t I disturb your family movie night?” you ask as you giggle the window screen off and slide it into your room. Once placed on the ground, you grab your keys and wallet before climbing through the window.

“I’m not watching a movie,” Jason said, confused.

“But I heard gunshots,” you reminded him, “it sounded like some western film.”

“Oh,” he said like he had forgotten. You paused on the steps, and looked up in concern when he didn’t say anything else.

“So you were getting shot at,” you questioned. Jason made a noise and you continued down the fire escape.

“No, no one was shooting at me,” Jason said, “brothers were playing a game, guess it was too loud.” You hummed as you concentrated on walking down the steps. “So, did you escape?”

“Do you want me to answer that truthfully?”

“You are, aren’t you?” Jason asked, sighing deeply.

“It’s a lot sturdier than you’d expect.”

“You say that like you’ve done this multiple times.”

“I like to sit outside sometimes,” you defended, “and sometimes I am too tired to go to the roof.”

“Why not just open a window?”

“Not the same,” you replied and kept going down the stairs.

“There’s no stopping you, huh?” Jason voiced and you kept quiet. “Just keep me on the phone while you're out at least.”

“I can do that…as long as my phone doesn’t die.”

“Do you ever charge your phone?”

“…yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jason teased, and you stuck out your tongue even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll meet you at the cafe as soon as I can.”

“Might want to hurry, I think I’m going to sleep there if they let me.”

“I have no doubt,” Jason said, laughing.

“Your confidence in me is astounding.”

Your phone ended up dying halfway to the cafe, and Jason wasn’t going to let you live it down. No matter, you were almost there Jason was sure of it.

Quickly tying up the thugs he’s been dealing with while on the phone with you, Jason sent a message to Barbara before leaving.

“What? Done already?” Her basics filtered through the earpiece, surprised. “You’re never done this early. Got a date or something?”

“Or something,” he answered, starting his bike.

“Oh, come Jason!” Barbara exclaimed, “everyone else practically met them. It’s only fair that I know more. I did help you with your dating profile,” she reminded him.

Jason groaned and hung his head in defeat. “Fine! Fine,” he sighed out, ignoring the cheering in his ear. “Yes, I’m going to meet up with them after I’ve changed.”

“But I thought you were going to be out all night,” she said, “given that Y/n’s busy too.”

“Yeah, well. Plans change.”

“Are they okay?”

“Just a little tipsy and isn’t much for party’s. They just left for a cafe near town. Even though they didn’t listen when I told them not to and to wait for me. They insisted they go. So I told them I’d meet them there. Happy?”

“Extremely,” she sang, “and I’ll be even more happy when I get to meet them.”

“I will bring it up. Promise.”

“So, what was it? The motorcycle picture or the puppy that did it for the ?” Barbara teased, and Jason rolled his eyes.

“No idea, but feel free to ask when you two finally meet.”

“I have every intention to and share some stories of my own,” Barbara said and laughed as Jason groaned.

“Oh no.”

“Have fun,” she sang before signing off. Jason shook his head, and rode off back to his apartment.

A short while later, after he dropped by his apartment, he made his way to the cafe.

Parking his bike near the entrance of the building, he got off and looked through the window to see if he could spot you. He didn’t, and frowned hoping you made it safe.

Taking his helmet off, he made his way inside.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” one of the barista’s called when he walked in.

“Traffic,” he explained, looking around. “Is Y/N here?”

He heard a sigh, and a thump from behind the counter. He turned his head to see a barista when her head was on the counter. “You okay?”

“Don’t mind her,” her coworker answered, waving his hand. “She’s just had to sit and listen to Y/N complain about school and how you were taking so long.”

“Right,” he hummed and looked towards the talk he was directed at. And there you were, head down using your arms as a pillow.

“She’s so tired it’s unreal,” May, after a quick look at her nag tag, groaned. “I can’t wait for Christmas break. That way, they can take a fucking break and sleep he break away. Between school and working, it feels like they don’t sleep.”

Jason hummed and made his way towards your table. “Hey,” he whispered once he reached you and gently placed a hand on your head. You stirred, barely lifted your head up. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“But there’s still a party there,” you groaned out, nuzzling further into your arms. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Okay. Counter offer, come to my place. Sleep there, it looks like you need it.”

That had gotten your attention as you lifted your head to glare at him. “Sir, you know just what to say to sweep a girl off their feet.”

Jason laughed and helped you up. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you get some sleep. Promise.”

“Mm,” you hummed, clutching his hand as you followed him outside, waving at the two friends as you passed by. “Bike?”

“What else?”

“It’s cold out,” you pointed out, sticking your tongue out as he set the helmet onto your head.

“Yeah, it keeps you awake though.”

“But it’s cold.”

“Why didn’t you bring your jacket?”

“It was not in the room when I made my escape,” you said, watching as he climbed onto the bike. You followed once he sat, and snaked your arms around his waist, settling your chin on his shoulder.

“You make it sound like you were held against your will,” he said, chuckling when you made a noise, stating that you practically were. “Alright, hold on tight.” That was your last warning, before he started the bike and took off.

You watched the city lights as Jason drove, in awe. You found, since moving to Gotham, that Gotham nights were much more pretty and peaceful then Metropolis. Granted, It wasn’t really safe with all the fighting and toxic gas’s being dispelled by the villain of the week. But it had its charm you fell in love with.

You shivered slightly as the cold air blew past you and felt Jason pick up the speed a little. You couldn’t help but smile at the tiny gesture. He was right though, the cold air does keep you awake.

Watching the lights whiz by, letting your mind wonder. Mat wasn’t kidding when she said you don’t sleep. Between classes, work and your personal projects, you’ve kind of neglected sleep in order to focus on everything else.

Sure, you get a couple hours of sleep, and naps. But it isn’t enough and it’s starting to take its toll on you. Sighing deeply, you tightened your grip and closed your eyes. Christmas break couldn’t come sooner.

You felt the bike slow, causing you to open your eyes. You waited until he parked and shut it off before climbing off. “That was thrilling,” you mumble out through a yawn.

“Would you like another ride?” Jason asked, helping you take off the helmet.

“Definitely,” you answered with a nod, “though maybe when it’s warmer and I’m not prone to fall off your bike due to sleep deprivation.”

Jason laughed, and tugged you into the building. “That’s fair. Now, let’s get you something to drink and eat before getting you to bed.”

“Sounds nice,” you said sleepily. “Is your couch comfy? I feel like it might not be.”

“Now that’s just mean,” he said, stopping short in front of his door. You nearly bumped into him and groaned out his name. “Sorry, but you might need to stay out here for a bit.”

“Did you leave your dirty laundry out or something?” you asked, rubbing your nose. You stepped back all the same instead of pushing it.

“Something like that,” he answered and you watched him unlock the door and stepped in. He closed it quickly, not giving you a chance to look inside. You shrugged and looked around the dimly lit hallway before turning to lean your back on the wall beside the door.

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall with a small thump. It was strange, being at Jason’s apartment for the first time. And to sleep instead of being awake and hanging out. But you were giddy all the same.

Yes, you trusted Jason not to do anything with you. And you liked him enough to be okay with sleeping over at his place. It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same place. And just remembering how warm you felt with Jason’s arms around you sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Alright, it’s safe to come in,” Jason’s sudden voice beside you made you jump slightly. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were sleeping.”

“Not sleeping,” you said, pushing him back in as you walked through the door. “Just resting my eyes.”

Jason hummed and put his hands on your shoulder and steered you into the kitchen. He gently made you sit, before setting a cup of water and a plate of toast in front of you. “Slowly. The. You can have a shower and change out of…whatever costume you have on.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Some would say I’m not.”

“Then they can fight me,” you said, taking a bite out. “And how dare you. Not recognizing the greatest hero of all.”

Jason looked you over slowly, and you tried not to flush. “Yeah, I'm still not getting it.”

“Wonder Women,” you said through another bite of toast. “Sure, it’s not the greatest costume. But it’s the thought that counts.”

“Would you like a change of clothes? I doubt it would be comfy to sleep in.”

“If you don’t mind,” you said with a smile. “I would appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, kissing the top of your head before leaving the room. You flushed slightly and finished the rest of your food. It felt all so normal, like you did this everyday. And that thought made you giddy.

“Okay, the sweatpants might be a little big and so is the shirt. But they should be fine.”

“Thanks Jason. That means a lot,” you said, getting up to hug him. He returned it with a smile and shooed you into the bathroom.

Once showered and dressed, you walked out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. “Jason?”

“In here,” he called and you followed the voice until you reached the bedroom. “This is your room for the night.”

“I thought I was taking the couch,” you question, leaning against the doorframe, watching as he was getting it ready.

Jason snorted and gave you a look. “Please, I would never do that to you. Besides, it’s not as comfortable as the bed.”

“So you’re going to take the couch?” Jason nodded, and you bit your lip in thought. And before you could change your mind, you bit out, “or, now hear me out. We could share the bed. It’s not like it’s happened before.” You're blaming the alcohol for it, and you can't regret it.

Jason looked up at you with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I’m sure. We’re just sleeping right? The worst that can happen is cuddling in the middle of the night.”

“Okay,” he laughed and with that, the two of you climbed into bed. You were more tired than you thought, you fell asleep the minute your head hit the pillow.

For Jason, it took a lot longer for sleep to reach him. He turned over, and looked at you for a moment before slipping his arm underneath you. With his other, he wrapped it around your waist and pulled you closer. And only then he could fall asleep, but not with the thought of how dangerous this could be.

But he found that he didn’t care.

[specialagentartemis]

Fics about SecUnit 3 to Read Before We Get All Our Headcanons Jossed

Three! SecUnit 3! System Collapse comes out in one week and it seems like Three will feature prominently!

Three has been the subject of so much speculation and fascination for the fandom. We have a lot of different ideas about who it may become and who it might want to be.

Before all of that gets debunked by the new book, here's a rec list and roundup of some of the excellent fics that center Three!

-

Ficlets About Three and Murderbot Figuring Out How To Interact With Each Other

"Feedlog" by OnlyAll0Saw. 599 words. NR, Multi.

ART is a bit of a bully on the feed. MB is having none of it.

A well-done codefic that imagines the rocky early days of Murderbot, Three, and ART all figuring out how to get along with each other.

-

"Murder Mode Modules" by FlipSpring. 948 words. G, Gen.

3 what the fuck is ‘Murder Mode Modules, Do Not Touch Except For Situations That Necessitate Lots Of Murder?'

Hilarious, great voice, and surprisingly emotional for such a short space and silly tone :') Two excellent podfics!

-

"Real Things" by ArtemisTheHuntress. 715 words. G, Gen.

Three admits that it doesn't understand the appeal of fictional media.

This one's mine :) Murderbot and Three discuss media. There's a podfic!

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Meatier One-Shots about Three Contemplating Its Identity, Who It Is, And What It Wants Now

"pink and green" by CompletelyDifferent. 5,100 words. G, Gen.

During a diplomatic trip to the university's home system to better establish the newly-formed treaty with the Preservation Alliance, Three tries to figure out who it is. Between exploring new hobbies and its sense of fashion, it attempts to figure out what its relationship with Murderbot 1.0 is, precisely. (Murderbot 1.0 ignores this, until it doesn't).

Hot Springs Episode! CompletelyDifferent @elexuscal writes character interactions SO well.

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"Uncatalogued and Uncategorized" by lick. 3,033 words. G, Gen.

SecUnit 3 discovers that a hot shower is a good place to work out tangled thoughts.

I loooove this one and return to it regularly. The introspectio makes it a fantastic balance of character study, past trauma, and total confusion of what to do now with itself and its life. Includes a podfic by the author!

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"Unacceptable Topics of Conversation" by lick. 4,500 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

Murderbot gives SecUnit 3 a haircut. They discuss the governor module.

lick does it again! The feelings are so fraught, the conversation held so gingerly.

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Long, Plot-Heavy Stories About Three Finding Itself In The Universe

"Heuristic Analysis" by thefourthvine. 11,000 words. G, Gen.

Three makes some choices.

Three travels to Mihira with ART and its crew, gets involved in an AI Rights related mystery, and, as advertised, makes some choices. Well-written with some interesting worldbuilding concepts about the Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland!

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"Seeking Safety" by petwheel. 57,000 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

Three assumes a new identity on Preservation, only to discover someone wants to kill it. To figure out who and why, Three has to delve into secrets from Preservation's past.

A plotty mystery, suspenseful and extremely creative, with some bold and unique takes on Preservation's history - and how Three can fit in.

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"Function" by FigOwl. 65,000 words. Teen & Up, Gen.

"I have worked assignments solo before, and I have gotten used to the absences of SecUnit 01 and SecUnit 02. But I have not reconciled myself to the absence of Murderbot 2.0, though I know it is not logical. 2.0 made its choices, and fulfilled its purpose perfectly, and it seemed satisfied with that. I wish that I had any amount of such certainty and resolve." The continuing adventures of SecUnit03. How does a newly freed SecUnit make sense of everything without having consumed 35,000 hours of media for context?

Three goes off on its own self-actualization adventure after Network Effect.

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Three On Preservation

"words left behind" by torpidgilliver. 4,400 words. G, Gen.

"How do you stand it?" Dr. Gurathin's tone is slow and even when he asks, "Stand what?" - SecUnit 3 shares its feelings with someone who might understand.

Three meets Gurathin. Also, a cat. Delightfully soft and gently sad.

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"Social Competition" by scheidswrites. 2,100 words. G. Gen.

It's been a while since the last attempted murder/kidnapping, and life is good. Everyone is gathered for a celebration on the Mensah Family Farm. The rogue SecUnits invent a new sport. Drs Mensah, Gurathin, and Overse talk about work on their day off.

SecUnit sports! Murderbot and Three bonding without being too awkward about it! I love this.

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"The Tree That Owns Itself" by BoldlyNo. 865 words. G, Gen.

There is a tree in the FirstLanding University Botanical Gardens that Murderbot is not thrilled about.

Murderbot and Three have conflicting feelings about a tree.

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Miscellaneous But Also Worth Highlighting

"As Your Legal Counsel" by i_have_loved_the_stars_too_fondly. 1,000 words. G, Gen.

Pin-Lee informs Three of its options and legal status, should it choose to come to Preservation.

This one is so fun and sweet! Directly after Network Effect, Pin-Lee talks to Three about its options. Three is a little overwhelmed. Two podfics of this one, one by me :) Also @ilovedthestars your AO3 name is hard to type

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"Past the Breakers" by Thylacine_Wishes. 5,300 words. G, Gen.

When Three is badly injured protecting ART's crew on a mission, Murderbot finds itself disagreeing with the safety protocols that it had written. It was supposed to be the SecUnit meat shield, not Three. It doesn't have time to figure out how it feels about that before it's diving in (literally) to rescue Three and maybe coming to terms with some things along the way.

Action! Adventure! Edge-of-your-seat drama written SO well! Almost drowning! Murderbot caring about Three!!!!

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"Team of Three" by Lillow. 5,500 words. G, no category.

How Three of three became Three of many.

The tags say it best: the real team was the friends we made along the way. Or is it the real friends are the teammates we make?

Either way, Three finds a team, and people it belongs with.

[idontplaytrack]

Speak of the devil

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader(+ big sis Regina & Cady ft. The Plastics & Damian)

Warnings: coarse language, fluff

After a wrong move to stay home in Chicago for the remainder of the summer, the gang is on the road again. To the Big Apple.

Read other parts here!

“Excuse me? You said what? We’re going to New York City?”

“Yep.” Regina shrugs, “Quick, you wanna come with or not? Karen and Gretchen are already there so we might as well join them.”

“I mean, sure. But are you…alright?”

“I have to be, my sister’s crying, her girlfriend is about to commit a fucking crime because— whatever. Make sure she doesn’t leave the house until we’re all ready.”

“What is going on?”

“For one we’re stuck in a lease for another three months, and dear June found out the address and can’t stop sending us letters and shit to butter us up. I cannot stand her fucking boyfriend— he just does not seem like a good person and is always getting suspiciously close to y/n.”

“Screw that bitch.” Damian gasped, “Has she been here?”

“Once.” Regina huffed, zipping up her duffel bag, “We’re picking up Cady on our way.”

“Are we flying there? Because —”

“Could not get tickets so we are gonna drive.”

“Sis, that is twelve hours at least.” Damian narrows his eyes at her.

“We’re gonna make stops along the way and stretch our legs, look at stuff, shop, eat. Whatever.” Regina sighs, “I mean, I’m not gonna spend much on myself but if y/n wants anything, she’s getting it. After this trip, I gotta really work my ass off.”

“Reg, let’s just stay home. Why are we avoiding her, running away from our home? Who the fuck cares what she wants?”

“Honey, we have more than two months of summer left.” Regina sighs, “It’s a break. I don’t want us to be here worrying about whether or not she’ll be over here. Once school starts it’s a different thing, we’ll only be home for like half a day, everyday.”

“I don’t want you to keep spending money. On me.”

“We’re driving. Gretchen’s family has an apartment in the city, she’s agreed to let us stay there.” Regina explains, “Are you packed?”

“Yes, but—”

“Good. Janis?”

“Yeah.” Janis walks out from your room with a backpack slung over her shoulder. “All good, not gonna do anything stupid.”

“I’m ready.” Damian shrugged.

“Alright, let’s go, guys.” Regina urged.

You, Janis and Damian sat in the back of Regina’s Jeep, leaving the front passenger seat open for Cady. Once in the car, you immediately leaned onto Janis and nodded off, you simply couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.

“It’s ridiculous that you guys go no contact and only then she’s so desperate to be in contact. Where was that eagerness when you two were wanting her to do that? Actually be there for y’all?”

“She’s always been doing too little, way too late. Been like this for as long as I can remember.” Regina grumbled, “It was little little things at first, but then we grew up and realised how messed up the family was. Then it was…the divorce. Which was the single event that caused things to go to shit.”

“Well, she sucks. And I’m sorry. But I’m glad y’all have a nice little place of your own now. Though we’ve hit a little bump on the road.”

“Exactly. This will just be a bump on the road. We’re doing so much better now. Granted we have shit we need therapy for but still can’t afford, but we’re not in that environment anymore which helps— a lot.”

“Good, that is great. One step at a time. Also, if y’all ever need to, feel free to come over to mine and stay for however long you guys need to. Need help? I’m there.”

“Appreciate that.”

“Look, I can take care of myself. At her age, she’s been through way more than I’d like her to have. Not-so-good things…I hate that. Maybe that’s why I’m so protective of her, making sure she gets the best possible care and things she wants. I know the family has money, but they neglected her. She was rarely ever listened to, she was too nice. She never pushed back. They made her terrified of them over time.”

Damian nods solemnly, “Janis? You good?”

“Yes.” Janis says, “Didn’t get much sleep last night so I’m tired but good. Angry, obviously but there’s no point in that.”

The drive was relatively quiet until Regina stopped to let all of you get out and walk around. You bought some M&Ms and an iced tea since you were feeling a little peckish. You didn’t talk to any of them, though. Not that they minded or bothered you about it, so that was good. Ten and a half hours to go.

“Anybody else need to pee before we get back on the road?”

“Nope.” You all answered in sync.

“Okay, back in the car.” Regina declared.

You shared your snack with them, not feeling like finishing the whole bag of the chocolates. They appreciated it, but could tell something was off. You were still in a bad mood. Now in between Janis and Damian unlike before this ‘pee break’, you could definitely feel him watching you. “Stop staring at me, will you? I’m fine.”

“Sorry, just worried.” He apologizes.

You bit back a sigh and chose to cling onto Janis instead of just properly staying seated in the middle of the both of them. Janis puts her arm around you then grabbed a few pieces of chocolate from you. “Still nauseous?”

You took a peek at Janis and said, “No.”

You didn’t even tell her, but you guessed she must’ve remembered from previous instances. Whatever it was, you were soon out like a light again, leaving Janis to hold onto and finish the chocolates since you didn’t want them anymore.

“Hey, where’s my phone?” Janis asks to no one in particular.

“Here.” Regina said, “In the cup holder.” Damian reached forward to help her retrieve it since she was holding onto you. “Thanks.”

He just smiled at her a little, then went back to reading on his phone. Janis checked her phone for messages— which she did get a couple of, from her Dad. Replied to them, then put her phone into her pocket before falling asleep herself.

“I’ll drive after the next stop.” She heard Damian offer before succumbing to sleep.

————

The five of you stopped at a random fast food place for dinner that evening, you were in a better mood and you had the nap to thank for it. It made you less cranky and forget whatever the hell it was that pissed you off.

“Almost halfway there, you guys.” Cady mentioned, sipping on her drink, “I’ll drive for the next four hours.”

Regina nods, “Then it’s back to me. Though we will arrive in the city at like one-thirty in the morning so that’s a lil…”

“What part of the city are we going to?” Damian asks.

“Chelsea.”

“We knew Gretchen’s family had money, but damn?”

“Well, people surprise you.” Regina shrugged.

“Oh, they absolutely do. Including you.” Damian stifles a laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I’m just saying— I get it now, your attitude that we hated so much. Has a very valid reason for being there. But also, more importantly, the fact that you and Janis are on good terms.”

“Good’s a stretch.”

“Don’t lie. Y’all spent two weeks on vacation in Hawai’i and neither of y’all burst into flames.”

Regina’s laugh came out as more of a scoff, “What I did, was the dumbest fucking thing ever. But then that had to stop, whether or not their relationship came into the picture. But y/n was even more of a reason for me to get my shit together. It’s been just me and her for a long time now, well— it feels like a long time. And she has a chance to be happy, to be loved the way she is now. So, I, as the big sister am not going to let some middle school beef ruin that for her. But, I’ll have to say, seeing Cady walk in on them was hilarious.”

“Oh, stop that.” Cady sighs dramatically, “That was— why’d you have to bring that up again?”

Regina grins, “We’re not any better, baby. If either of them walk in on us, the neighbourhood will hear it.”

Damian cackled, “Moving on.”

“Wow, these two sleep a lot.”

“As long as they’re fine, who cares what they do.” Regina chimed in.

“Was she really going hunt down—”

“Oh, no doubt about. Janis is more than capable of committing such a crime.” Regina replies as though it was the most normal thing ever. “But she definitely didn’t want to actually do anything because y’know, y/n. Which is good, because going to jail for that woman is not worth it.”

As expected, they arrived in New York City right after 1:30 in the morning. But with you and Janis being the most well-rested among the group, meant chaos. “I knew I should’ve woke you two up.” Regina grumbled.

“Oh, we’re way too late for that now.” Damian snickered.

“Hi, G! Come on in.” Gretchen answered the door in seconds, ushering you all inside, “Hey, guys.”

You were stunned by the size of the townhouse the second you stepped inside. If you weren’t wide awake, you would’ve gotten lightheaded. “Me and Karen are in the bedroom straight ahead over there. There’s three bedrooms left, however you guys split them is up to you. Fridge and pantry? Fully stocked. So are the bathrooms. Make yourselves at home, do whatever you want— just don’t burn down this place.” Gretchen explained.

“Thanks for doing this, Gretchen.”

“Of course! Happy to help and have you guys around.” Gretchen smiled, “It’s getting late and I’m pretty sure you guys drove like so many hours to get here. So, go get some sleep, okay? Good night!”

“Thanks, Gretch. Night.” Damian spoke up.

“Okay. Let’s get settled in.” Regina declared, “Let’s go choose our room, Cads.”

“Lucky me, I get a room all to myself.” Damian jokes.

“G’night, dude.” Janis chuckles, walking past him with you to go to the room opposite of his. You stood beside Janis as she shut the door behind you and herself. “So…this is kinda crazy.” You sigh.

“I know, a fucking townhouse? This place is gorgeous.” Janis says, brows raised slightly in disbelief as she nudged you to sit down.

“Can I say something?” You looked at her, hand on her knee.

“Yeah.”

“I’m worried about Regina overworking herself just to make trips like these happen.”

“I get it, but don’t, please. We were talking just the other day and she has like 4 thousand dollars in savings. I have about 2 thousand, we both have a job, you don’t have to worry.”

You nod, “I guess I just feel a little like I’m freeloading.”

“Honey, I get it but we’ve all talked about this, she’s okay if you want to get a summer job or a part-time job to earn some extra cash, but we don’t want you to do it because you feel bad.”

“I know, but sometimes I just get these moments, y’know?” You admitted, sliding down onto the mattress stomach first, “Shit these sheets are amazing.”

“Silk.” Janis felt them, “Impressed.” Her palm rubs your back soothingly, “Are you tired or just, laying down?”

“Just chilling. I slept like, five…six hours on our way here. That’s almost as much as the rest I get every night.” You hummed.

“Mm, yeah. You hungry? She did say we could do anything we want.”

“I could use a drink.” You shrug. Janis smirked. “Not alcohol.” You warned.

“Have you never been tempted to try it?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes, but it’s late. And I don’t want to puke because I don’t know how much I can actually take. And after dealing with you being drunk, I don’t think I’d be confident that you won’t wake up the rest of them. You’re an emotional drunk.” You teased.

“Emotional? I’m not that emotional.” Janis’ face flushed slightly.

“Yes, you are. You literally cried over a teddy bear you chose to donate ten years ago.”

“Ah.” Janis seethed, “Ya caught me.”

You and Janis eventually made your ways back outside and to the kitchen and opened up the fridge. Janis grabs a ginger ale, you grabbed a bottle of sparkling water. “Ooh, bay window.” You noticed, “Let’s sit there.”

Janis happily trailed after you, sipping on her drink. Once you sat down, she followed suit. “Jan? Where are you planning on going to college?”

“Hm.” Janis hums, “I was thinking about community college, costs less, so I don’t have to rely on my Dad or work my ass off to pay for tuition. Unless, I get a scholarship elsewhere…then I might consider it if it’s my ‘dream school’.”

“NYU?”

“Yeah, you remember that?”

“I do.” You chuckled, tapping your fingers on the drink bottle.

“Have you thought about where you wanna go for college or what you want to pursue?”

You laughed humorlessly, “Nope. Which is bad, but as much as a cliché whatever I’m about to say is…I just know I feel at home here in this city. I hope I can be here, for college, maybe work here too and live here after but I also know how expensive it is. So my dream will just stay a dream. It’s so silly because I last came here with Regina and our parents when I was like 11 and I just fell in love with it.”

“Hey, the heart wants what it wants, honey. Can’t help it all the time.” Janis tilted her head as she spoke.

“You know the last time we travelled as a family? It was to Orlando, went to Disney World. I was 13, Regina was 15. They spent like one hour with us and then they just disappoint. They’d left me under Regina’s care with no warning.”

“Okay, that is so messed up.” Janis scoffs.

You nodded and continued, ��We had fun, but it just sucked because they didn’t keep their promise. Seriously, from that day on...my respect for them went away. They didn't explain, they didn't apologize, they didn't give us a heads up. They left us there, assuming Regina and myself knew how to get around, go back to the hotel. Which we did— but, I was so pissed off at them and they could not get why."

"I think...we should go somewhere for a trip when you graduate high school." Janis says, pulling you closer. "But definitely, ignore your Mom. She's not helping with anything— she's been pestering you, if not making plans then canceling on you. She needs to make up her mind and get her shit together. Your sister's not supposed to be your mother, though she's doing a way better job than June."

"I guess I'm holding onto some hope that she actually wants to spend time with me again, but I'm definitely letting that go now. It's hurting me more than it hurts her."

"I'm right behind you on that, y/n. We got your back, we'll be great." "We are doing great, aren't we?"

————

“Any other plans for the trip?” Gretchen asks, looking at you first then everyone else in the group gathered around the table.

“We’ve pretty much did everything touristy, if you will.” Regina shrugs, “Don’t really have a fixed itinerary after two weeks here, honestly.”

“We have kind of seen everything that is a must-see, I hope.” Cady chimed in.

“Reg, can I ask when you’re planning to head back to —”

“Next week, most likely.” Regina smiled at you. Janis narrows her eyes at the blonde, suspicious of the random appearance of a smile. Especially in a setting like this one, in front of everyone.

After a long day of walking around the city, the gang’s decided to get some Chinese takeout and just eat at home, away from the hustle and bustle of the city for a bit.

“Mom keeps texting me. I blocked her but she changed her number, and texted me with the new one.”

“That is so annoying, what’s not to get?” Gretchen exclaimed. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Speak of the devil.” You scoffed when your phone screen lit up. You were going to ignore it when something compelled you to pick your phone up.

“When did that happen?”

“Like, just now.” You groaned, “What— fuck, she’s in New York. She’s coming here— she wants to come here.”

“She doesn’t know where here is, don’t click into the text.” Gretchen urged.

“Does she have any of y’all’s locations?” Damian reminded.

“No, I took myself and y/n off of her Life360 ages ago.” Regina confirmed.

“Then we’re good! Just put your phone aside and finish dinner in peace—”

The landline rings.

“I swear to fucking God if it is who it is, I will take her out myself.” Regina seethed. Damian waltzed over and picked up the receiver.

“Hello? Is this—”

Damian slammed the piece of plastic down. “Holy flying fuck because that is your m—”

Regina quickly stopped him, “Shush.”

“How did she get the fucking number for the landline?!” Janis whisper-yelled, “Is she some sort of crazy psychic?”

“Crazy. Just crazy.” Regina drops her fork, sighing, “y/n, your phone, please?”

You surrendered the device to her. She tapped away and held it to her ear, “You wanna talk? Let’s talk, right now.” After telling June the address, Regina hangs up first.

Dinner was finished in a hurry, and half of you all couldn’t even actually finish eating.

“Guys so what has she been doing that’s like—” Karen started, Gretchen tries to stop her but it was too late.

“Oh lot of things, most memorable ones would be ditching us at Disney World and going drinking. I was 15, y/n was 13. They were lucky we were paying attention and knew our way around.” Regina explained, “But most recently, y/n was sick with a stomach bug. She was so scared and got to the point where she was so uncomfortable and crying for our mom. She left us on read, then her phone was off. The next morning she mysteriously shows up at home but I had enough of her shit— she’d been away from home for a year at that point, leaving y/n under my care.”

“Oh, no.” Karen answered, eyes wide, “That is so terrible.”

“I don’t know what kind of shit she’ll continue to pull so if she winds up contacting any one of y’all, now you know to ignore her. Her very creepy boyfriend needs to be dumped before she can even try to reconcile anything.”

The gang looked at her, expecting her to elaborate on ‘creepy’. You wanted to hide you face in a hole in the ground. But you didn’t want to make things more weird by running away from the table, so you painfully decided to stay anyhow. Janis’ hand squeeze your thigh comfortingly.

“Creepy as in stare at our boobs too long, putting his arm around us and trying to squeeze our sides, trying to kiss us on the cheek even after we said no after the first time he did that.” Regina deadpanned. She then turned to face you completely, “Baby, you wanna go to your room while we settle that shit?”

“That’d be great.” You agreed, taking Janis’ hand and leaving. You avoided eye contact with everyone, even Regina.

You instantly went for the bed while Janis shut the door— French doors, damn.

“I just want this to be over.” You complained.

“Trust me, it will be after today.” Janis promised you. “We’ll be right out there, you just stay in here. I’ll stay in here until she gets here.”

Exhausted from the thought of chaos that was your mother, you sighed loudly. “If you need me call for me. I actually have a lot I wanna yell at her about.”

“Oh, you can count on that. Feel free to interject wherever feels right.” Janis patted your knee.

“But hey, being in New York’s been great, apart from getting cussed out one time the other day for walking on the left instead of the right.”

“Live and let live. We didn’t mean it, sometimes our brains just…glitch. The city can be pretty overstimulating.” Janis shrugs.

You hummed in agreement, “You wanna go back to that bagel place tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, yes.” Janis gasped, “Those were so fucking delicious. The guy working there was funny.”

You chortled at the memory, “He told us, ‘Take your time’, but when those people passing by left because the queue was too long he totally threw shade.”

Janis laughs, “You get what you give, eh?”

Gretchen opened the door and poked her head in, “She’s on her way up.”

“Okay. Honey, relax. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.” She got up, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Gretchen went back out with Janis while you hung around the room.

“Oh, great! He’s here too, very good. Let me just say this one time. Stop being so touchy! We don’t like it, we don’t like him. I don’t like that you’re so touchy with my baby sister. I don’t like that you stare at our chests like we’re some kind of object. So, if you think that kind of behaviour is an acceptable one for a partner and a supposed father-figure for your children, we’re continuing our no-contact. And you, you can’t just show up back at home after such a long time and expect all to be forgiven. You haven’t done anything that shows me you’re here to stay, that you actually care. So the next time you try to contact us and want us to readily agree to meet you. Don’t cancel on her, don’t cancel on me. Prove yourself. Earn our trust. Believe us when we tell you that you want to distance ourselves, why we want to distance ourselves. You cannot just fucking claw your way back into our lives as if you haven’t done anything wrong. Because you have, starting from Disney World when you ditched us! Actually while we’re back in this city, you remember what happened when y/n was 11? You left me to look after her again during that broadway show. You went out not even halfway through the show, disrupting people around you, upsetting her. Upsetting me, time after time after time. Always— zero explanation, Mom. I don’t even think I should be calling you that considering I’ve been playing Mom for god knows how long.”

“She’s done so much more for me than you have.” You ran outside, unable to control your anger, “You pay us some money for bills, so? You have the luxury of time to spend time with us but you choose to avoid your responsibilities. Your obligation as a mother to care for us. She has been working her ass off, keeping her grades up while making time for me! Mom, how could you?”

“Okay.” June nodded, “I hear you, I’m sorry. I will not contact any of you until I get my life together. But Carmelo is not a b—”

“Stop.” Regina stepped between you and June. “Leave, we already said what we needed to say. If you still don’t see the problem with him, just fuck off. Don’t even bother trying to two-face us. Ever since you two started dating, we don’t even exist anymore in your life. If you still think he’s a good person, I have nothing to say. I see how he treats you! Like a toy for his pleasure.”

“We’re engaged.” Carmelo declared. You left the space before you heard more of the yelling, feeling your heart slamming in your chest and your breathing going heavy. Damian noticed first, and while Janis was basically cursing her and Carmelo out for every single one of their wrongdoings, she gets stopped by Damian. He nudges her to go check on you.

————

Janis opened the door to see you trying so hard to swallow your tears. You didn’t want to be crying over these two people. They didn’t have your well-being in mind. At all. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, but your emotions still got the best of you. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Janis instantly pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back, “It’s okay, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

Maybe your body needed this release. So you just let it happened anyway, albeit feeling quite embarrassed for sobbing into her shirt like this. Over people that hurt you, over people who didn’t deserve your tears.

After calming down, you were done. Done with crying. Done with crying over your mother and Carmelo. Her apology was so ‘I had to say it so I did’, so hesitant. So insincere.

Regina came into the room next, though she didn’t knock so you got startled and went into even deeper of a panic. “Shit, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to open the door so quickly.” Regina apologised, crouching down then eventually sitting on the floor.

“Are they gone?”

“Yep.” Regina assured, “Won’t be seeing her again unless she gets her act together.”

You sniffled, sighing as you broke away from the hug. “Okay, I’m don’t crying over all of that. Let’s go out.”

“Go out?” Janis and Regina asked the same thing in different tones.

“It’s seven o’clock.”

“That’s early! And there’s plenty of things to do. This is the city that never sleeps.” You looked at them excitedly, “Please, Reg?”

Regina looked at you and pondered, “Alright, fine. Let’s all go out.”

A few knocks on the open bedroom door caught all of your attentions. “My mom’s here, she got all tickets to see Illinoise.”

“When?” Janis asks, intrigued.

“Tonight, you guys wanna come?” She asks.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, “I’ve always wanted to watch that show.”

“Looks like we’re going.” Regina says, “Let’s get ready and going, quick. We have less than an hour to showtime.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[writingquestionsanswered]

Struggling to Focus on Plot vs Everything

Anonymous asked: I'm currently outlining (whilst still figuring out my plot and everything), but I keep getting sidetracked. My brain is trying to plant seeds to help me figure out the overall story, but it's distracting me from getting the main story line plotted out because instead I'm trying to come up with every possible scenario for why things happen. This method is exhausting, though, and I'd rather have a solid story line first, then flesh it out from there. Ultimately, I feel like I need to figure out my story's timeline and the main events, because I want that all sorted before I tackle how the characters experience it. It's just really overwhelming and when I try to pluck out the big pieces, they crumble into smaller pieces.

[Ask, and subsequent ask, edited for length and content]

So, if I understand correctly, it seems like part of you just wants to get down the actual plot of the story, but when you try, you end up delving into all these deeper background details?

What I'm thinking is this: if you're able to, I would start by doing what I think of as a "holistic summary" of your story... sort of like a brain dump but in general chronological order from beginning to end. It doesn't have to be perfect... you can backtrack, jump around a little, and go on tangents as needed. The point is to just get down as much of the story as you know... and as much as your brain will want to flesh out in real time... just to get it out of your head.

Sometimes, just getting it all out of your head on paper in one single container can help free up your brain to focus on the backbone of your story... the actual framework all of those details need to adhere to.

Another thing that might help, if you haven't done this already, is to look for a story structure template to help you tease out the story. There are loads of them out there from Save the Cat Writes a Novel! to Larry Brooks Story Structure, Three-Act Story Structure, the Snowflake Method, The Hero's Journey, Blake Snyder's Beat Sheet, Derek Murphy's 24 Chapter Outline, Gwen Hayes' Romancing the Beat, Shawn Coyne's Story Grid, The Seven Point Plot Structure, Dan Harmon's Story Circle, The Five-Act Structure, James Scott Bell's A Disturbance and Two Doorways, Kishōtenketsu Structure, Story Spine, and a bajillion others... The key to using a story structure template is to know it doesn't have to be followed exactly. They're not there as molds to cram your story into... they're more like "suggested itineraries" for a road trip. This is an ideal route with some popular stops along the way, but you may wish to alter the route slightly or make some different stops. Many writers actually use bits and pieces of different templates to suit their needs or the needs of their story.

Sometimes, just choosing a random template to tease out your main plot can be enough to help you see exactly what the main plot is, which makes all the other stuff fall into its proper place as character development, back story, and world building.

I hope this helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 12:

Notes: Sorry if this is a bit sloppy. I do, in fact, have the flu. So I’m a bit delusional, but I’m devoted. c:

Summary: Rouge, Sonic, and Shadow discuss who or what Shadow might be.

Chapter Select!

Link to AO3!

Start:

“Welcome to Casa de Tails,” Sonic grins, opening the passenger door of Rouge’s car for Shadow. Shadow climbs out and exits the vehicle to look at the home and workshop..

It looks similar to the one in his universe, but.. slightly off. The workshop is smaller, for sure. Shadow assumes this is because they never made room for Shadow’s bike inside..

Standing next to Sonic, his hand reaches without thought to hold onto the blue hedgehog’s only for the hero to narrowly avoid this by walking towards the door— completely oblivious to Shadow’s near mistake..

Shadow clenches his fist at his side, mentally scolding himself for not having more control than that. He needs to get it together..

It’s obvious this Sonic and his Shadow definitely do not have the same dynamic as him and his own Sonic.. And this Sonic seemed to get very uncomfortable and defensive last time Shadow showed him any form of affection.

So that’s off limits.

Following Sonic towards the home, Shadow spares a glance to Rouge who is looking at her phone. Texting. It was vibrating a lot in the car on the way here— she never answered since she was driving.

He wondered who it was she was talking to..

Back in his world, they aren’t close. They’ve rarely interacted, and from what Shadow does know of her, he wouldn’t trust her as far as he could throw her… which would be pretty far, actually, so scratch that.

The point still stands that it’s hard for him not to want to keep an eye on her despite her and him obviously having some form of relationship in this world.

Sonic unlocks the front door, allowing them inside and shutting the door behind them.

It looks different inside than it does at his own Miles’ house. It’s more messy, for instance.

“Sorry about the mess. Tails is on a trip, so I ain’t been worried about keepin’ it tidy.”

Ah. That explains that.

Shadow looks over to the spot where picture frames typically hang on the walls, finding a few but not nearly as many as the Miles in his own world has.

None have Shadow in them.

“Make yourselves comfy. I’ll grab us some drinks,” Sonic says before disappearing into the kitchen.

Shadow walks into the living room, Rouge following behind. Still on her phone.

Taking a seat on the couch, Shadow looks at the books lining the bookshelf in the corner of the room. All the books Shadow has given Miles over the years are missing. Some Shadow has never seen before are in their place.

Mostly all are about science or machinery.

Looking back to Rouge, she’s still occupied with her phone. There’s a small frown on her lips, a knit to her brow as her thumbs tap away on her screen.

Shadow hates phones.. they seem to take up so much time and attention. And the constant need for communication they implant in society feels unhealthy and exhausting.

He says that as though he’s not close to having a mental breakdown from not being within five feet of his Sonic in too long.

Whatever. Do as he says, not as he does.

Sonic comes back with three bottles of water, Shadow unable to hide the slight smirk that curls on his muzzle at this. Ah Sonic. Never coffee or tea or lemonade. Just bottles of water.

Seems Sonic is a lazy, oblivious host in all worlds.

It’s endearing, and it makes Shadow ache inside.

”Here ya go,” Sonic passes a bottle to Shadow who nods in appreciation, then handing one to Rouge before he takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch with his own bottle.

Rouge finally locks her phone and tucks it away, opening her water bottle as she looks at the two across from her and speaks, “Okay. So let’s chat.”

“Goody,” Sonic drawls sarcastically, “I love chats.”

“We need to establish that our suspicions are correct, first and foremost,” Rouge continues, ignoring Sonic’s typical attitude, “So let’s go over what you remember, Shadow..”

Shadow nods at this, sipping from his water bottle before gathering his thoughts, “Okay.. Last thing I remember, the team and I—“

“Be specific,” Rouge interrupts, “Who’s ‘the team’??”

“Oh, um— Sonic, Miles, Rose, Knuckles, and myself,” once again, Shadow watches Rouge‘s and Sonic’s faces become littered with confusion as he elaborates, “We were investigating a new facility that had shown up on Miles’ scanners. We guessed Eggman was forming another plan of sorts. Our suspicions were proven correct upon arrival..”

“So Eggman sent you here??” Sonic assumes, grinning proudly as if he’s already got it all figured out.

Shadow simply shakes his head, “No.. no, that’s not what he was working on. There was no signs of any sort of multiversal machinery or interdimensional portals. It was just his typical shit— some sort of over the top Eggmanland that he was going to run with roboticized flickies and chao. He just had a ton of firepower ready to defend his facility..”

Sonic frowns a bit at this, opening his water bottle as he speaks, “Well then what did send you here??”

“Did anything happen on this mission that could’ve been the cause of you being transported to another world??” Rouge pipes in, placing her half empty water bottle on the small table next to her chair.

“Well..,” Shadow’s thoughts flash to the team blowing up the facility from all the damage they’d done, Amy, Knuckles and Miles hustling to get out before being caught in the explosion only for Sonic to stay back and make sure all the flickies made it out— insisting he could get out in time.

Shadow hadn’t been so sure and had stayed back to make sure of it. He just remembers seeing a large fuel tank falling right where Sonic had been standing, dashing to him to quite literally kick him across the facility and out of the way of its timber..

Only to realize the explosion the fuel tank would cause would likely kill his team.

So he did the only thing he could think to in that split moment.

“I did use chaos control with a fake emerald..,” Shadow confesses, reaching back to pull out the copy emerald from his quills.

Sonic eyes it with raised brows, “You have one of those too??? Sick.”

“Not sick,” Rouge groans, looking a bit overwhelmed, “That means all this nonsense could very well be because you played with chaos energy that wasn’t organic. And the only two experts we have on chaos energy are Gaia knows where right now..”

Shadow frowns at this, “Miles and Knuckles??”

“Yes,” Rouge sighs, rubbing at her temples with her fingers slowly, “Of all the times for these idiots to decide to go off on some journey of self discovery..”

“Hey!” Sonic snaps defensively, “They earned those journeys. All Tails has ever done is help me with my adventures, and Knuckles has devoted so much of his life to that dumb, big rock. They deserve some adventures of their own!”

Shadow raises a brow, quite confused by all this but choosing to interrupt before they get off coarse, “Can’t we just tell them our situation and have them come back??”

“Easier said than done,” Rouge huffs, crossing her arms with a roll of her eyes, “Knuckles’ signal is spotty. And it’s not exactly easy for him to get halfway across the world in a few hours like some people.”

Sonic just smirks at this, “Not my fault he’s slow in more ways than one.”

“Hm. Cute,” Rouge remarks before continuing, “As for the kid, I’m not sure how to get ahold of him.”

“I can! We talk like— every other day,” Sonic confesses with a little shrug, “Just to check in and make sure he’s doing alright. Safe and stuff.”

Shadow’s smile softens a bit at hearing this. Good to hear Sonic and Miles are still on good terms in this world. He wasn’t so sure, honestly, given how the fox hasn’t been around. At all. But it seems there’s simply more to the story than Shadow knows.

Either way, he’s always admired Sonic’s sibling instincts with Miles.. it made him think of Maria..

“Okay, so we can potentially try and get them here as soon as possible,” Rouge confirms with a small nod, though she seems a bit reluctant of this. Like she almost hates to do it.

Sonic, on the other hand, looks as though he’s trying not to seem too excited by this, shrugging as casually as he can with a, “Sure thing.”

“So we’re concluding I’m from another world then?? Just like that??” Shadow questions, looking from one to the other, “You aren’t going to question other possibilities??”

“Like what??” Sonic raises a brow.

“Like— I could be lying?? Or this could all be a trick from Eggman, or I’m simply a clone??”

Sonic and Rouge blink at Shadow and then each other before looking back to Shadow a bit awkwardly.

“Well when you put it that way—“

“You’re not a clone, though.. right???”

Shadow snorts a bit, shrugging as he looks away, “No. I’m not. It’s just.. odd you’re both so trusting so quickly.”

“Well, I trust you, Shadow,” Rouge says simply, “No matter the world. I know you. And even if you’re a bit… different than the Shadow I’m use to, I.. still see you in there. Same fire in your eyes and grump in your step— even if the grump is a little less.”

“And I’m just here to go with the flow, honestly,” Sonic shrugs with a casual look, “And my gut tells me you’re being honest.”

Shadow huffs at that. Again. Typical Sonic.

“Okay then..,” he mumbles after a moment, looking at the two, “Where do we go from here??”

“We’ll work on getting Tails and Knuckles filled in and back here to help us on a solution. As of now, we have a hunch you’re an alternate dimension version of Shadow, but we don’t know for sure what happened to our own Shadow..,” Rouge frowns a bit worriedly, “Did you two switch places, or did he—…”

She pauses, seeming disturbed even saying it,

“Did he just blow up with that GUN facility he was investigating and was never found..? Maybe this is all the universe’s weird way of trying to fill the void of Shadow not being alive in this universe anymore—“

“That’s not what’s going on,” Sonic says a little too quickly and a little too insistently. Almost like he’s desperate or angry.

It makes the both of them look at him, a bit thrown off by his sudden tension and tone.

“I-.. I just mean- Shadow’s fine. He’s the Ultimate Pain-in-the-Ass, remember??” Sonic grins a bit, shrugging nonchalantly like he’s trying to convince them he doesn’t care that much— even after his little outburst, “No matter how many times the universe tries to take him out, he always bounces back. So he’s probably fine. Just lost in the multiverse somewhere.”

“Well.. even still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep all theories open,” Rouge says with a small sigh, looking more like a realist than an optimist while Sonic is just pure optimism. They clash.

Shadow nods in agreement with Rouge, but he still looks at Sonic a bit sympathetically.. like he knows something Sonic doesn’t.

“I’m sure it’s more likely that your Shadow is fine,” he offers a small smile and Sonic gives a small little nod and chuckle in return.

“Right..”

“We’ll know more when we talk to the fox,” Rouge concludes with a scratch behind her ear, smoothing a hand down the hair on the back of her head, “I’ll get ahold of Knuckles. You get in contact with Tails. And Shadow???”

Shadow’s head turns to Rouge when he’s addressed.

“Lay low. We don’t need GUN catching wind of you being different than the Shadow from this world..”

[just-jordie-things]

Could you do 7 and 73 from the kiss prompt list with Megumi? (It’s ok if you only want to do 1)!! Thanks ✌🏾❤️

(repost!) i'm doing both bc 73 might be my fav <3

7: "I've Missed You" Kiss 73: Height Difference Kisses Where One Person Has To Bend Down And The Other Has To Stand On Their Tippy Toes

**aged up characters!!** ___

you enjoyed traveling for more advanced missions. it made a great sense of pride swell inside of you to know you were qualified to take down a grade one curse currently terrorizing hong kong. you also enjoyed exploring new areas, learning about new cultures and more specifically their food.

since being promoted to a grade two sorcerer, however, the elders have been sending you off on one assignment after another. so much so you've been bringing your school assignments with you just to keep up with the rest of your classmates. it was tiring, spending every minute of your day either exorcizing a curse or studying calculus- the former of which coming easier to you, claws and fangs and all.

but you'd been away from jujutsu tech for three weeks now. nearly the whole month. and you were starting to lose your excitement about your promotion.

and meanwhile at jujutsu tech, megumi was starting to feel the same way.

he was proud of you for achieving the promotion you'd worked so hard to earn, he felt strongly that you'd deserved it, and had worked hard alongside you to help you earn it. and at first he enjoyed hearing about your trips, too. sometimes you'd bring him gifts from the places you went, a little souvenir, or a carefully packaged treat for him to try. while it made his heart stutter that you'd bring him something and not your other classmates, he found it sweet of you.

but three weeks was a long time. yeah, you texted back and forth here and there, but megumi was terrible at starting conversation, and he refused to send a simple 'hey'. he found it lame. even though yuuji bugged him about texting you more to show his interest, he didn't want to send you empty texts. he wanted to have real conversation. like you shared when you were here.

while yuuji and nobara hadn't noticed megumi's fondness of you while you were still at jujutsu tech, it was made abundantly clear to them once you were gone. their sea-urchin-haired friend seemed even grumpier than usual. his frown was his resting face. his patience was always worn thin. he refused their every offer to hang out.

it was obvious he was missing you, and it was obvious you were what brought him out of his shell- even just a little bit.

and of course when nobara and yuuji had pieced this together, they were relentlessly vicious. but they had to be. their resident gremlin had a crush on a ray of sunshine that rivaled yuuji's never-ending joy? naturally they involved themselves.

when you received a call from gojo saying that you were to be sent home from your mission early, you were defensive at first.

"you think i can't handle this? i've already found the source of the curse, i'm staking it out right now. have you not read my reports? i've been tracking this thing for weeks-!"

"megumi's been hurt"

your sensei said more than just that, but the rest of his explanation was an echoed haze in your ear as you made haste in returning to your hotel to retrieve your things. all you really gathered was that your reports have been wired to a student from the kyoto school also looking to make a debut as a grade two, and that you were to take the first flight to tokyo available.

it's not until you're on the plane that you realized in your rushed packing that you'd left your phone charger on the bedside table, and your favorite shampoo in the shower. but the time to chastise yourself for not paying better attention would have to wait, because your anxiety about returning home was poisoning your every thought.

surely gojo had explained megumi's situation to you, but now that you think about it to try and prepare yourself for what you're returning home to, you can't recall what he'd said. an exorcism gone wrong? an attack on the school? an accident in training? you raked your memory for what it could have been that caused megumi to be in such poor condition that you've been instructed to return to tokyo right away, but you can't remember it now.

you're the striking image of worried sick. your foot is tapping rapidly against the ground. your eyes glazed over and unblinking as you stare out the small window at the white-nothingness of clouds you're flying through. there's music playing in your headphones but you're deaf to anything but your uneven heartbeat.

when you land at the airport you'd even forgotten to pick up the bag you'd had checked. ijichi had to convince you to go back for it before he took you to the school.

in hindsight, ijichi probably should have found it strange the way you'd only asked how megumi was doing in that strained, concerned voice you had. when he'd told you that the young sorcerer was doing as well as he could be, he should have questioned why you seemed to wince. but he'd brushed it off as young love being the tricky thing he is and thought he was doing you a favor by not asking any questions. it wasn't his business after all.

you forgot- or left- your bags in the car when you arrived at jujutsu tech. in fact, you'd practically flung the door open and leapt out before ijichi had put the car in park. his hollers at you to be careful and slow down were distant as you raced through the front gates and up the stairs of the main hall at a speed that rivalled light itself.

you weren't even sure if you'd made it in time, or where you should head first, the infirmary or megumi's dorm, and your mind was a twisted haze of nasty thoughts. concern. guilt. love. regret. failure. they all had your heart beating so irregularly that another sprint like the one you'd just sent yourself on would probably knock the poor overworked muscle out and send you to an early grave.

but just to your luck, your heart leapt back to life as soon as you turned the corner to head to megumi's dorm first, since it would be the closest.

your sneakers skid to such a fast stop that their squeak on the linoleum echos through the corridor. a gasp escapes your throat before words can and your eyes are bulging out of their sockets because right there standing in the hallway is fushiguro megumi and he seems to be in the perfect condition of health.

and megumi, the poor sorcerer who had just been taking a walk to the library, is so surprised to find you standing before him- panting so hard your chest is heaving at a concerning rate- that he wears almost your same expression.

"(y/n)?"

"megumi?"

your confusion is displayed at the same time, both of you certain that the other is in the wrong place. but before either of you can ask what you're doing here, you're legs are pushing you again and you're leaping into his arms.

megumi has to scramble to catch you as you crash into his chest, your arms flinging around his neck in a flailing, uncoordinated motion before tightening around him so much he wheezes a bit into your hair. it's a bit of a painful reunion, not to mention confusing, but megumi welcomes your embrace nonetheless. his own arms wrap around your waist and he returns your snug hold with just as much enthusiasm.

the moment is peaceful for a mere few seconds, before you're releasing him, standing flat on the ground and staring up at him with wandering, worried eyes.

"are you alright? you must be, you're standing here, but gojo said- did you get hurt? was there an accident?" you're rambling fast and your words are slurring into one another but megumi's grown used to your (and yuuji's) fast paced speech enough to follow along.

"i'm fine?" he says, and it sounds like a question as his brows pinch together. "i'm just surprised to see you, i didn't think you'd be back until june"

"well i- well i would have been- but- but you were hurt," you explain, still stammering as your heart and mind are playing catch up with the fact that your so beloved megumi didn't seem to be hurt at all. it was like mental gymnastics, trying to calm down as the reality was standing before you, perfectly unharmed. perfectly perfect. "gojo said i needed to come back right away, i thought- i thought..."

you trail off, unable to find the words to explain the heavy dread that had rested on you for the last ten hours of traveling it took you to get here.

megumi shakes his head, a humorless scoff escaping him.

"well i don't know why he would do such a thing," he explains. "i haven't even been given a mission in, like, three days"

while you want to scold gojo for playing such a cruel trick on you, you're too overwhelmed by your relief to care too much about it. it shines through as you finally give him a smile, and a final sigh helps to even out your breathing.

he was fine. he was perfect. he was right there in front of you.

"i missed you," you say, before you can really think about the weight of the words, but even as your cheeks feel warm with a creeping blush, you don't care. it was true. "a lot, actually" you admit softly after a beat passes.

megumi opens his mouth to say something, to tell you he missed you too, or that he was glad to have you back so soon, but before he can commit to the words you're stepping into the space between you and you're on the tips of your toes. his wide eyes fall shut when your hands brace themselves gently against his shoulders and without an ounce of hesitation your lips collide with his.

his shock at seen you had barely worn off before he's shocked again by you kissing him, but just as your presence was, your kiss was welcomes warmly. any lingering nerves or shyness escapes megumi as his hands instinctively reach to your jaw, cupping your face as firmly but delicately as he could as he craned his neck down to deepen your kiss before you could pull away too soon.

your heart is soaring as you shuffle on the tips of your toes to press as close to him as you can, no amount of closeness, of warmth, being enough. his kisses are gentle, his lips soft as they prod and slide against yours, and even though your lungs are running out of air it seems he has no such issue, and continues to lock your lips against his.

you can tell that he's been waiting to do this for a long while, just as you.

when you do finally pull away, and only because you must gasp for air or else you'll pass out in his arms, your grin is unfiltered.

"i missed you too," megumi confesses as you rest down to your normal height. his own grin mirrors yours, and his hands remain on your face, thumbs stroking delicate shapes into your skin. "a lot" he repeats your words.

a breathless laugh escapes you, and he can't help but to lean down to steal one more chaste peck.

"but we have to go deal with gojo now, right?" you hum, and megumi nods at his thoughts put to your voice.

"i have a feeling we'll have to deal with yuuji and nobara, too" he says with irritation.

and while you're both upset about the cause of your reunion, you head off planning your revenge hand in hand. ___

a/n: gojo satoru definitely doesn't understand range when it comes to pranks. if anyone watches new girl he's literally winston bishop. xoxo ~ jordie

[tenderlyrenjun]

Married

(Jisung ver.)

minors + inactive/empty blogs do not interact; fic rec blogs do not reblog without comments

a/n: repost, sorry; if people still hate it, I’ll take it down but please stop telling me that my fics suck; please be nice, i'm having a rough time in life and I wrote this in like 2-3/ish days … I’ve just been thinking about Jisung a lot; I think he’s neat

word count: > 12k (sorry)

married (og, jeno ver)

edit: oppa kink removed.

includes … afab reader, tw jewellery, tw food (not in a sexual way) established relationship, unusually clingy jisung, non-marriage proposals, reciprocal ‘ooooh you want me so bad’ dynamic, better than gold TDS2 in BKK body rolls mention, implied (and wrong) experienced virgins, lots of making out, hair pulling, oral sex (m + f receiving), lowkey exhibitionism, sex in a supply closet, first times, ass grabbing, vague choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, thigh job (m + f receiving), fingering, lowkey size kink/difference, creampie consent – homophobes dni; mark + doyoung are gay

again, minors + inactive/empty blogs do not interact

“Hey, my dad said Doyoung asked you to be the ring bearer.”

Jisung tears his attention from the engineering student portal as you kick your way through the blankets, teetering candy boxes over a bowl of popcorn, path dimly lit by the TV and Renjun’s candles. He offered, about twenty minutes ago, before you stockpiled half his snacks on the couch with him, to gather the food, but you assigned him to pull out the cushions into a kind of bed setting. It only took a couple seconds, as it always does for him, which is why, since the last movie night, he’s had an inkling suspicion that you keep having him unfold the couch. That, or you want to keep him out of the kitchen, on account of all the times he dropped and sprayed soda all over the floor. He makes up for it!, he hopes, like earlier when he got all the snacks from the convenience store downstairs – at 10 PM, if he might add. Granted, his long legs make the trip shorter than if you went, with or without him. Actually, once, or twice, or a few times really, whenever you go with him on those allegedly short walks across the road, it extends an hour, two hours, past midnight, not that he minds. Jisung never minds; he uses it as an excuse to take a break from the studying he scarcely does – on the surface, of course. His more romantic side holds your hand and tells you that he just likes spending this time with you because you study too much at the lounge in Square Garden.

“Yeah,” Jisung answers, “Doyoung asked his morning.” He takes the candies from you first, then the popcorn, helping you settle comfortably below the thin throw blanket next to him. A soda can slides down with the new incline and he catches it with his foot, placing the bowl between your thigh and his, beside the other snacks. “Apparently, his fiancé didn’t confirm anything, and they were a party member short,” he shrugs. “Are you still the flower girl?”

You nod, “mmhmm,” then crack open the soda he caught; you put two straws inside, pulling the blue one (his) a little bit taller. “Jeno thought I was going to be a grooms-woman though and asked if we were walking down the aisle together.”

Jisung scrunches his nose. That doesn’t even make sense. You all – him, Jeno, you, Renjun, Jeno’s girlfriend, etc. – are attending the wedding from Doyoung’s side of the family, at an unequal ration (he and his fiancé have three grooms-people each; you wouldn’t be able to walk with Jeno). But he makes no corrective comment, instead slowly unwrinkling his mouth. “I don’t think his girlfriend would like that.” Because he wouldn’t like it very much, no matter how many times he tells you that he’s not a jealous guy.

Jisung quickly takes a small sip of Cola while you still have it in your hands, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

He slurps a little too hard, choking on the sudden rush of soda down his throat, and pulls off. “No, that’s not – of course, I do –“ Then, you start laughing, and he pushes your chest, another smile widening into his cheeks. “Ah, you’re so …”

“So what?” you bounce back, knocking your shoulder into him. “So lovely? So pretty? So Park Jisung’s girlfriend?”

Jisung catches you with both hands, an arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers grazing your cheek. He pulls a serious frown that doesn’t quite meet the curve in his eyebrow. “Mmhm, yeah,” he answers the last one, leaning in tighter. “You’re so Park Jisung’s girlfriend.” His lips almost touch yours, thumb tilting your face upward, breath a poor, poor substitute for your tongue. “Don’t forget it.”

You wrap your hand under his wrist, pushing his arm up a bit further. He casts his eyes toward yours for a second but sees you staring at his parted lips. Your tongue peaks its tip, briefly catching his most prominent tubercle. “Never.”

You make the first move, for him, thankfully, because he debated, too long, how to proceed with you still carrying the soda in your lap. His broad shoulders envelop you when you fist his hoodie, dragging him and the collar down, zipper chafing his bare sternum. Jisung braces a hand on the couch, somewhere near your hip that his index finger feels, steadying the both of you upright. It only lasts a second, before you both fall into the pillows, and the cushions barely support you two, so you cling to each other. He readjusts your hips under him, your knee bending to avoid the popcorn bowl, which probably already spilled. Your hand slips into the split ends of his hair and pulls, drawing out all his breath, making his hand slip under your ass.

Then you pull harder, and his breath becomes audible, becomes a moan.

You – and he – learned this evil little fact somewhere around the seventh month mark – his hair pulling kink. Jisung met you after a particularly long evening class, holding a thin bouquet of pink tulips and couple bracelets in his trench coat. He kissed the top of your head, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, hiding you and your backpack in his large jacket, on the way to his car. You made it to the restaurant about 10 minutes early, but the table ran late, so the both of you sat in the backseat, pointing out the moon in mirror’s reflection, talking and talking until you were no longer talking, kind of like now. And you pulled the ends of his hair, nails grazing into his scalp, to get him on top. You ended up being late to you reservation.

“J-Jisung,” you whisper, cut off by the harder he presses his lips.

He shifts around the couch, aligning you perpendicular to the snacks, better lit by the candlelight, straight against the original layout, your head on the arm rest now – all without breaking the kiss. And his hands get more frantic, taking away the soda, mauling your hips, flipping his fingers repeatedly over your waistband.

“Is this too far?” Jisung asks when his thumbs sink above your underwear. He can feel the tiny organza flowers bulging into his finger pads. You both have gone through most of the bases, with each other – been making out, hot and heavy, since your fourth date; groping each other over and under your clothes since the second month; touching each other a little more south since that seventh month mark. He has seen you naked, too! Well, mostly naked; sometimes you wear his hoodie or only your underwear, which leaves little to the imagination, but still, he hovers and asks.

Your eyes blink slowly, opening just a crack but so obvious in the dark. He waits for you to look at him, following you up his neck to his face. You bite your lip a tiny bit, right in the middle, almost imperceptible until you let go, and he pecks you once, pulling away just as quickly even though your lips trail after him.

“No,” you mumble, also fast, jutting out your chin to kiss him again, sliding your arms around his neck, hands down between his shoulder blades. “Jisung, please, keep going. I want – I want to –“ You suck in a breath and center yourself (and him). “I want you.”

Jisung grunts your name, popping his chest like a dance move before he locks himself onto you, rolling your torso with him. He presses your hips down, deeper into the couch. Your shins stand up, outlining him, giving his dick a small crevice between your pants against which to rub. Instinctively, he bites his lip – and yours, and you yelp, prompting him to apologize, but you yank him even closer, nails clawing into his cheeks. You slip your plump tongue into his mouth, drawing his out, and your lips feel even softer on his tongue as you kiss around it, kind of like that time you gave him head, back when you still lived in the dorms on campus. He barely fit those days, and each thrust would drag your lips back into your mouth with him; he basically trained you, since then, to take his entire length in one stroke. Same with his long fingers beneath your panties, which now unbutton your trousers. He crosses your leg one on top of the other, pausing, on his knees, to grind against your ass. And you both roll your eyes shut, incoherent mumblings spilling down both your tongues without the other to mash them away. Jisung dives down again, both hands shimmying off your pants while he kisses you, equally fervent.

But once he gets them down your ankles, your feet prepared to kick them off, the lights turn on.

“Oh!” Renjun groans from the entrance, a brown grocery bag covering his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen behind the couch. “Could you not do that on the communal furniture? Please?”

Maybe Jisung takes Renjun’s words a little too closely to heart, or maybe he wants to save money by booking a multiroom suite with his friends, or maybe he really wants to make love to his beautiful girlfriend who he has known for years now, because he agrees with his friends on the shared unit, like his apartment with Renjun, for Doyoung’s weekend wedding in mid-Seoul near the Han River. Jaemin convinced everyone that they would need a place to rest and get dressed without having to make the hour/hour and a half drive back to their apartments in upper Seoul. The hotel also gives Jisung the excuse to sleep next to you (just sleep, Renjun glared, traumatized after your date night), which he absolutely loves, in a different way, laying on your chest, matching your breath, siphoning off some of warmth to you.

It was the first thing you both did when you got to your rooms – sleep.

Jisung dropped your duffel bag and his – both couple items – in an open armoire while you settled his smaller backpack on the vanity. Neither of you opened any bags, wordlessly and simultaneously collapsing on the singular king-sized bed. You sprawled out for a couple seconds, then searched for each other’s hands in the sheets. He turned to you first, after you intertwined your fingers, and kissed your knuckles, one at a time, doubling back on your ring finger. It made you giggle, which made him giggle.

“Ah, I like being here with you,” he confessed, flopping against the mattress again, brushing away his bangs from his forehead, a dumb, gummy smile spreading up his face.

He never told you this, but a few months into dating, when you accidentally stayed the night at his apartment for the first time, falling asleep on his full-sized bed while he finished a last-minute assignment, Jisung had this epiphany where he realized that he likes this, likes sharing a bed with you (he almost asked you to move in, but that would have been way too soon, especially for a couple of kids). Then, after he fixed your hair, tied it into a ponytail sometime before sunrise for a hiking date along the Yeongbong Peak Trail, he realized that he likes the intimacy of being with you, his girlfriend. And he finds himself, this weekend, on the second evening staying at the hotel, looking for all those moments of intimacy.

Like now, he sits on the end-of-the-bed bench, watching you fix your eye makeup in the mirror according to Doyoung’s navy and gold rehearsal dinner, matching a shimmering highlight with the trim in the slit of your maxi dress. You wore this same dress – and him the same matching suit – to some European restaurant with him a couple months ago. No special occasion that time; you just met him at a restaurant for date night after not seeing him all two weeks of midterm season. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, people said when he was younger and naïve and didn’t quite understand them enough to believe, but he got it instantly, in that moment, and essentially made a vow never to be that far from you again – probably why he seeks and prolongs these moments of intimacy, and why he likes your dress so much, among a few other reasons.

“Are you finished?” you call, a little garbled as your mouth hangs while you apply mascara.

“Almost.” Jisung looks down at the loose tie around his neck. “Just need to fix one last thing.” He looks back toward you, and you look beautiful and mostly finished, not that he knows, entirely, what look you will be completing. He just thinks you are always pretty. “Are you almost done?”

“Not really.” You pull away from the bathroom mirror, blinking a few times, then turn to him. “How does this look – Oh, are you not wearing the couple watch tonight?”

“No, I am.” Jisung points to his silver watch on the table at the other side of the room with his black blazer. “Are you wearing yours?”

You nod. “Yeah, I just need to add some lipstick and jewellery, and I’ll be done.”

Jisung stands up and crosses the room to get behind you. He lifts your hair in an impromptu ponytail, making sure to grab lowly as not to ruin what you have done so far. “I'll help you,” he half-requests, gently, already pulling your long necklace into place and clasping it at the perfect length. He spins you around to add the bracelets and watch, but you have yet to finish applying makeup, so he holds your hands and kisses you slowly, like the scene of a movie (or an artsy porno).

You put a hand on his arm, jerking him forward, leaning on the door frame. He tilts his head a little bit left, nose brushing into your cheek, and you copy him enough for him to feel your breath on his face. Ever since the first time he kissed you longer than a simple peck, Jisung has been obsessed with all the ways he can elongate a simple kiss. One way you do, and this doubles as giving him consent, is by wrapping your arms around his neck, which you do now, hiking your leg, through your slit, around his waist high up, practically sitting on the sink counter. It gives him a better angle, more comfortable, against the height difference, to bend his neck. Jisung hikes your other leg around his waist, sandwiching you between him and the wall, thigh supported by the sink, an ass cheek supported by his large hand, his pelvis pressing too tightly into yours. He brushes your hair to the side and presses a trail of quick kisses down your jaw that have your breath elevated, turning into whispered moans of his name that he has to kiss quiet.

You hold his chin still, about to return the trail of kisses, when three knocks hit the bedroom door.

“Are you guys do – Oh, come on,” Jeno groans, throwing his hands in toward the exit, swinging his entire body away from the bathroom (a private bathroom, Jisung mentally adds). “Wrap it up, people. Jaemin is one perfume spray from being ready, and we’re already five minutes late for the rehearsal dinner.”

Jeno leaves as quickly as he entered, but Jisung still scrunches his nose, making a small annoyed face at the door. You tap his arm quickly a few times, and he steps back, helping you hop down the counter.

“So … do you still need help?”

You deadpan at him. “Out.”

“Is it always that bad or am I just noticing it now?” you call from the bathroom again.

Jisung laughs and pauses the TikTok on his phone. “What? You don’t want to marry me?”

You point a half-used wet wipe at him, brown eyeliner smudged past the corner of your eyebrow. “You proposed to me twice!”

Jisung rolls his eyes and onto his stomach over the bed. “One of those doesn’t even count!” During your two-year anniversary picnic at the Han River, a few months ago, he proposed the idea of proposing when he saw a kid with a red candy Ring Pop. You didn’t turn him down, citing that you both already had platinum couple rings, and he proposed on the spot with his, even getting halfway down on a knee before you toppled him into the grass. Okay, maybe that one counts; Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “But all the aunties thought we were cute!” During the rehearsal dinner, they kept bringing up a follow-up wedding with all the couples – you and Jisung, Jeno and his girlfriend, Mark and his boyfriend. All of you treaded around the conversation, as if none of you have had The Talk with your partners yet, even though Jisung knows that Mark has a ring ready and Jeno has a date planned (and he has a proposal in mind).

You turn off the bathroom lights and quickly jump into the bed, hiding your bare legs under the blanket without him, fluffing his extra-large hoodie over your head.

Jisung frowns and scoots into bed with you. “Did it really bother you that much?” He knows that he jokes about marriage from time to time, probably brings it up one too many times, but he is serious about it. If you said yes, he would marry you in an instant. You would wait anyways, for a big ceremony, until the both of you finish your degrees and have jobs, him delayed a few semesters due to military service before school, but he would marry you in an instant. “I can talk to the aunties tomorrow, so they don’t bring it up again.”

“No, Sung,” you backpedal. “It’s just that I never noticed it before. Of course, I want to marry you. We’ve just never really talked about the details before. We don’t even live together.”

Jisung settles into the pillows, dragging you down with him, into his arms. “We could,” he whispers. And you look up at him, eyes wide, a hand over his on your stomach. “Move in, and talk about all the details. We could move in together, you know. Maybe not on Monday or anything, but, like, next semester or next year, or something like that. We could wait until after college, too, if –“

“Jisung?”

“… Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Jisung sighs, in relief this time, melting a little bit deeper into the mattress, free hand taking his forehead temperature. “I love you, too.” He rolls on his side and buries his face in your neck, curling his long leg over your bare thighs. You comb his hair behind his ear a few times before he starts kissing your neck, sneaking into the hoodie with you – there’s enough room for two people if he squeezes.

“Jisung,” you sigh quietly. He looks up, catching you close your eyes, mouth parting enough for your tongue to peek out a bit, flat with the way you bite it. And he kisses your neck again, a quick, wet one, licking his lips so closely that his tongue catches your skin. Sometimes he doesn’t have exactly the right words, so he rambles through the entire dictionary until he finds the right one. He also really likes kissing you. “Jisung,” you sigh again, a little bit louder, more enunciated over the wet smacks that he tries to make chaste, given the brief conversation about marriage. “Mmm, Jisung.”

But like he said, he would marry you in an instant.

Jisung kisses your neck a little longer, a little harder, slipping around the column to find a perfect vein that makes you whimper his name exactly the same again. And pliantly, your head lulls into his palm, kissing his life lines almost deliberately. Jisung turns you back to him with the same palm, pyjama pants rolling your legs open, wide enough for him to slip between. He grinds down, the first kiss to your lips, fingers coiling in the hair behind your head, freehand pulling a thigh up his back. You seem to get the hint, tying your feet on his spine, pushing your heels down to trap him.

“If we – if we move in together,” you breathe, eyes closed, lips pursed, “I don’t think we’ll get very much sleep – Jisung – ah!”

Jisung coasts his throbbing boner through your lips, milling his pants against your underwear. His waistband starts folding over itself, exposing his Adonis belt further and further and further, until his ass is half out, almost matching the way your underwear tangles between your cheeks. He brings you up closer, pulling your head off the pillows, fully kneeling, making indents in the sheets.

“I want it,” he tells you, hauling you into his lap, making you straddle him backwards, “I want to move in together, to sleep together, to sleep together.” He squeezes you against the headboard, quietly banging it against the wall just once, then louder a second time as you meet him, equally, trying to fuse your bodies together. His hands start roaming, and your hands start roaming, only settling on the best place to knead each other – his broad shoulders and your ass. “I’m not just saying it, I promise.” You stare at him a few milliseconds, searching his eyes, then kiss him even rougher, making him lose balance, and he accidentally kicks the headboard harder.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you tell him, mouths misaligned, kissing around his cupid’s bow specifically. And Jisung sucks in a huge breath, holding it right there in his chest, gravitating the entire Earth’s rotation around his, well, his penis, the lifeline, right now, to his brain and heart. Then you whisper, “I want it, too. All of it,” and he exhales and flips you on your back, making you yelp and giggle, which makes him giggle.

“Right now, I want you.”

Jisung leans down again, half a centimeter from your lips … when a loud bang comes from the adjourning wall, accompanied by your names. He looks up at it, mouth still puckered, hoping that the sound came from you two. Sensing nothing, he kisses you again, and a moan escapes him, and the banging comes back.

"Jisung," Jaemin shouts. “I can’t tell if you’re just watching porn too loud or you’re trying to have sex in a hotel room that you share with your best friends, but it’s 3 AM, and we have to be up at 7 for the wedding, so, for the love of God, please go to sleep.”

You laugh out loud, and Jisung covers your mouth with one hand. Then, as expected, Jaemin hits the wall again.

“Hello?? What did I just tell Jisung?”

“Yo!” Mark wanders into your room, eyes covered his long blond hair and a single hand. The other blindly feels around the air, as not to bump into anything, but he still hits the end-of-the-bed bench where yours and Jisung’s clothes are neatly packed in black suit protector bags. “Are you decent?” he asks, stopping in place, “The guys sent me to see if you’re ready yet.” He spins his wrist in the air. “Something about not wanting to deal with –“ Mark takes a chance and peaks through his fingers … only to find you and Jisung sharing wired earbuds, laughing at a stupid, silly, little TikTok. He breathes a quick sigh, petting down his chest, then deadpans and grabs a pillow, throwing it at you two. “Hey!” He snaps his fingers. You both finally look up. “Time to go, losers. My boyfriend’s already pulled the car around; Jeno left 30 minutes ago; and the makeup artists started on the Doyoung's fiance’s groomsmen.”

You and Jisung make no move to get up.

“Hello? Now, please,” Mark practically orders.

“Um,” Jisung squeaks. He scrunches his nose, pressing his tongue on his bottom lip, in lieu of biting. It’s still a bit swollen from last night, when you both kept kissing each other through messy hand jobs, wanting the first time that you actually have real, penetrative sex to be more freeing. But still, he did have sex last night, and the reminders show, under the blanket, where you don’t wear pants. “Can you give us, like, two minutes to get dressed?” He gestures to the heap of blankets.

Mark throws his head back. “You’re not even dressed? Of course, you’re not.” He groans. “Okay, you have five minutes to be downstairs, or you’re driving yourselves.”

The moment Mark walks out the door, Jisung asks, “Should we just Uber there?”

You smack him with a pillow. “The makeup artist has to get both of us ready. We’re in the wedding party.” Jisung flails over that pillow, making you drop it, and you roll your eyes, getting up like Mark requested.

“Ugh.” He hugs the pillow tightly, covering the dick imprint in his boxers. “The wedding doesn’t even start until 3. We could have time to just …” Jisung watches you take off your sticky black panties and pull on even smaller ones, words trailing off, because now his 7 AM boner remembers how he kissed you until 5 AM; how your hands squeezed above his balls, while he slid his entire length in the crevice of your thigh; how he fingered you with three long digits, thumb pinching down on your clit. Then you catch him staring a little south of the hoodie you stole from the last time he did laundry (Thursday, when you slept over), and he finishes his sentence. “To – to just re-relax.”

You roll your eyes again and put on the Adidas sweatpants that Jisung bought you a few months ago. “Let’s go, Jisung.” And he rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out his jaw.

"Fine, but you owe me a kiss."

Jisung accepts, or, really, takes his kiss, outside the hotel. He stops you a couple steps down the short perron, dress storage bag, hitting his thigh from how fast he moves. And - while Mark leans against his boyfriend's car, calling Renjun and Jaemin down, who are also late - Jisung gives himself the time, the moment, to pucker his lips.

But it turns into a longer kiss, backing up Renjun and Jaemin, who were not as late as he thought.

“Two and a half years, and you still suck face? Are you two even dating or just making out all the time?” Renjun shakes his head sarcastically. And Jisung pushes him into Jaemin, who catches him easily.

“Ay-yo??” Mark calls from the street, hand over his eyes like a visor. “We’re late, let’s goooo.”

In the car, Mark and his boyfriend take the driver and passenger seats, obviously, and Jaemin and Jeno’s girlfriend sit in the pop-up row in the trunk, leaving you, Renjun, and Jisung – the smallest and tallest of the group – in the middle, much to Renjun’s protest. Though, he only jokes about this stuff; he actually thinks that the both of you are “so cute” if his cuteness aggression is anything to go off. Sometimes he throttles you two, and Jisung is scared that he might get bitten (by someone who isn’t you).

The drive to the venue (re: other hotel) is only 15 minutes, so everyone tries to stay silent, on their phones, still waking up, not even properly dressed, but Jisung, of course, breaks it, laughing and mouthing stop through his gummy smile after you respond to his TikTok.

[Boyfriend ♡, 7:13 A.M.]

hey, look at this

[Boyfriend ♡, 7:13 A.M.]

https://tiktok...com

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 7:14 A.M.]

Are you trying to tell me something?

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 7:15 A.M.]

Andy Park? 🤨

“Ah, stop,” Jisung blushes. He rubs up your thigh and buries his face in your neck, lips curling into your skin prominently enough to act like another kiss. You sneak your hand around his head, combing out his bed hair.

“What?” you whisper in his ear, brushing away the longer strands. “Not going to propose a third time?”

Jisung covers your mouth and presses a quick kiss to your neck. “Someone’s going to hear you.” If it were any other situation, he would take you on the suggestion, half-jokingly proposing with whatever couple ring he happened to be wearing at the time. Mostly, he wants it to be an intimate proposal, just the two of you, eyes on each other; the after party, when you tell everyone, can be the bigger affair, but Jisung wants to see the ring slide down your finger and hear your answer clearly with his own ears. He peeks an eye and finds you already staring at him, cooing. “Why? Do you want me to propose again?”

Dramatically, you take off your ring and plop it in his palm. He laughs, audibly, breaking the silence again, but slips it down your finger regardless.

“Ehhh,” you grimace at it, playfully, twirling your hand in the sunlight, “Same ring.”

Jisung grabs you by the neck and kisses you quiet this time, only pulling away to peck your lips repeatedly. His thumb brushes into your cheek, fingers drawing you in, tilting your head at the perfect angle to slip his tongue down your throat. Your head falls pliantly, supported by his wrist that you hold, following every twist and turn he makes to kiss you harder.

“Okay! Here! Everyone out of my car!” Mark’s boyfriend shouts, loudly shifting the car into neutral a few steps from the Grand Hyatt Seoul. He looks pointedly at you and Jisung breathing heavily through the rearview mirror. “Especially you two.”

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 12:14 P.M.]

Meet me in the lobby

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 12:14 P.M.]

I have a surprise for you ^^

Jisung waits on a cushion bench, fully dressed in his navy tuxedo, silver accessories hidden under his sleeves and high collar to accommodate Doyoung's wedding theme. He scrolls back through your car ride conversation, since he has the time, smiling to himself, curling into himself, covering his mouth as he kicks his feet forward like a middle schooler with a crush.

You are continuously cute in his eyes, and, as he relives this reminder of just how cute you are, Jisung doesn't know how he got so lucky. Sure, yeah, you two make out ... a lot, as Renjun pointed out, but he also finds you incredibly compatible. You send him pictures of the moon at night and the sun in the morning; you go out with him at 1 in the morning to the good fish-shaped bread cart (the one by Jamsil stadium after all the concerts neither of you attended); you cheer his name after all the physics exams on which he tries his best.

Really, Jisung could go on forever and ever, gushing about pretty much every aspect of your relationship. He loves you so much. And he used to, back when you first started dating, and he still does during your anniversaries (100 days, 6 months, 1 year, etc.). All his friends complain, especially the bitchless ones (Renjun, Haechan, and Jaemin), but he wants you in his life for as long as you'll have him.

“Were you going to text me?”

Jisung jumps in his seat, automatically locking his phone. He relaxes though, the next second, when he sees you, and scoots over enough for you to sit with him.

But you keep standing.

And he raises an eyebrow.

“What are you –“

You kick your foot up, through the slit of your dress. Jisung thinks you wear these dresses often, which he likes, never mind that Doyoung picked this dress out - a fact he tries to ignore, even though he's pretty sure that he confided this secret to his friends and Renjun probably let it slip after a few drinks.

You catch your ankle, showing off the white bottoms under your heels, below the pretty, silver watch that you will have to take off before the ceremony. Jisung, on instinct, hold you steady first, seeing signs of imbalance in your face. He waits until you lean on him more before looking at your foot.

"Why are - Andy?" he reads, vertically down your foot. It takes him a second to react, chest pounding fast, first, mind going blank, eyes flying to search your smiling face. Then, he returns it - your smile. "Ah, you're so cute."

Jisung pulls you into his lap, like a princess on his knee, and kisses you fast. He might have you repeat this when you actually get married, already filing a mental note to save the TikTok for inspiration. For now, though, he can just pretend - pretend that you did this for your wedding, pretend that you will talk down the aisle for him today (well, you go first, so he will meet you at the first row in front of the alter today), pretend that your white-ish dress is for him, pretend that your current rings carry even more permanent meaning than they already do.

You laugh between the repeated pecks, trying to pull away, but he has you vice gripped close by his chest. “You’re so clingy this weekend, Park Jisung.” And he draws back first, briefly looking at you before burying his face in your neck, arms dropping down your waist. “Someone might think you actually like skinship.” You laugh again and comb his hair.

Jisung squeezes your waist, just once, breathlessly laughing with you. He knows – he knows that he isn’t really known for skinship, having waited days, in the beginning, to hold your hand, not even kissing you until your fourth date; and he knows that he has been obsessed with you these last few days, so he kisses your neck again and confesses, “I just … I just …” He sucks in a breath. “Ah, I just want you,” he finishes lamely. “Can we stay a little bit longer? Here, at the venue, without … everyone else?”

You pinch his cheeks upward, puckering his lips at which you coo. “Did you want to get married today, too?” you giggle. And he almost hides behind your hair, if it weren’t neatly tied up, braided forward to your temples, but also, you hold him as steady as he hugs your waist. He wouldn’t mind, you know, getting married today, after Doyoung; the only people missing, right now, are his siblings (and a few other people); he might want to buy you a new ring really quick though. “Hmm? What’s up, babe?”

“Everyone will be gone,” he says simply, and you relax your fingers curiously onto his shoulders, fumbling the lapels. “From the hotel, they’ll be gone. Most of them are leaving during the dinner, and Mark’s already packed up his boyfriend’s car with their bags. We’ll have an entire suite to ourselves; we won’t have to check out until tomorrow morning.” Jisung swallows and licks his lips, giving himself a beat of reprieve before his tongue goes numb, making it impossible to voice the reason for his request. You stare at him, wide eyed and nodding, urging him to go on, even though it looks like you already know what he wants to ask, even though he feels too scared to ask. “We could, um, we could – oh, God.” He likes to think that, since you’ve been dating for almost three years, he has gotten past most of the nervous, honeymoon stuttering, but he (loves you so much) takes a deep breath and starts again, rushing through, “Wecouldhavesex.”

And you giggle.

He wishes you wouldn’t. It sets a bad precedent for the activity he wants to do; albeit, you didn’t laugh those other first times – when he kissed you, when you sucked him off, when he fingered you. So, really, Jisung has no reason to worry. He just needs to suggest it again, calmly.

“We could use the hotel room, later,” he alludes, monitoring your reaction closely, involuntarily stiffening his fingers through your silky, pale gold dress. You give him more encouraging tiny nods, leaning in with each micro-adjustment, and he copies you, nodding to himself, giving himself the same support. “To have sex,” he whispers, then repeats, louder, “Make love. Do you … want to …?”

You exhale shakily, and he hadn’t realized you were holding your breath. “Yeah,” you sigh. “Yes, definitely.” You grab his face, and he wants to propose again, possibly for real, to see you react like this again, possibly more enthusiastic. “Jisung, I love you,” you say obviously, honestly, “Of course I want to have sex with you,” you whisper the last bit, like him, and he kisses your shoulder, suppressing his gummy smile briefly.

“Give me your ring.”

“Whoa?” You blink. “Just because I said yes? Park Jisung, I never thought of you as a player.” You giggle again and hand over the mismatched ring regardless, probably already knowing the question he has written across his face.

He almost apologizes, for not having a new present, a new ring, something new to give you for another relationship marker, but he changes his mouth to say your name and holds out the jewllery between his thumb and index finger, which are shaped like a heart, nail pushing the center design at you. “Will you,” he pauses, dramatically, muffling a sheepish laugh. “Will you,” he restarts, “make love to me tonight, in the hotel room – our hotel room, after the wedding?”

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder, but he stays still, keeping himself upright to drag an answer out of you. And you answer again, definitively, “Yes, Park Jisung, I will make love to you tonight in our hotel room.”

Except, after the wedding, past the foyer at the reception hall, you almost fuck your boyfriend in a supply closet. He’d only been dancing in the makeshift mosh pit with his friends, jacket fallen down his shoulders, mostly sheer white shirt exposing his toned humerus. They kept cheering him on through the popping and locking and body rolls as he wore a pair of cheesy, blue party glasses that Doyoung placed on all the tables with dessert. Then, the DJ – Doyoung’s friend Johnny from high school – slowed the melody, pulling all the couples onto the dance floor.

All the couples except you because you stole Jisung’s hand and dragged him out one of the smaller doors behind the furthest unoccupied tables. He tripped over a few chairs on the way, praying that no one heard him, trying to catch up the half-step you have on him, wondering what dastard plans you have on your mind.

“What are you –“

“It’s such a crime,” you tell him, shoving him against a poorly lit shelf, inhaling his lips, running your fingers along his torso, finding the best place to hold him. The door slams loudly, which is oddly comforting, to give you both some privacy. And he drops his hands from surrender onto your shoulders, relaxing you enough to continue talking through the kisses. “You look so good, too good, Park Jisung, and you dance so well. God,” you moan into his mouth, ridiculously close that he can feel your boobs squish on his chest. “I know, we’re waiting for tonight and tomorrow, and – and –“ You pull back swallowing, realigning your breath. Jisung licks his lips. He’s been the one to kiss you all weekend, to initiate it all weekend, so he gets hard, instantly, when you return the same energy, finding him as hot as he finds you. “We’re waiting,” you reiterate, and he presses his forehead against yours, “but – but can you do that dance move again – that body roll again,” you glance at him through your lashes, “on me?”

“Here?”

You nod, biting your lip. “If you don’t – we don’t have to; we can go back. I just – Jisung, ah, fuck.”

You rarely swear, never finding a reason unless you’re frustrated or really turned on, and Jisung always wants to hear it, claiming that you sound really sexy when you say things you’re not supposed to, especially, like in this case, when you are doing things you’re not supposed to. So rather than responding, he complies, pulling his face down, legs pliéd to accommodate your height, then rolls once, thigh grazing through the slit in your dress, dragging it up and behind your waist.

Jisung groans, deeply, pausing to settle his nerves. He repeats, even closer, grinding across your chest, twisting your dress around the buttons of his shirt. And you fall into him, a hand braced on the shelf behind his elbow. Jisung bites his lip. Something juxtaposes deeply in this moment, but he cannot place his finger quite on it. He feels like a middle schooler again, waiting to kiss the prettiest person at the party; he also feels like a teenager with raging hormones, back to 19 right before his military service, jacking off in his room with lotion and a box of tissues; but he also feels like an adult (or the most adult a person in their 20s can feel) in an adult relationship doing adult things. So he does it again – the body roll, breathing into your mouth, chasing your lips down for another kiss.

“I don’t want to make love to you in here,” he whispers, despite rolling his fully hard dick in the crevice between your thigh and vulva. Jisung fists your dress at your waist, bunching it higher. Your panties expose, thin and transparent. His resolve nearly falters, almost completely fucking you in this supply closet with his family and closest friends a few meters away. He kisses you again and again, burying his words with his tongue down your throat, exhaling shakily. Then, he shakes his head, slowly pulling away, holding your face in place, hand around the front of your neck. Jisung opens his eyes and finds you already looking at him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist one by one. “I want you –“ He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, that fell out of a tight braid. “– so bad, you have no idea.” He grinds his dick up your leg as proof. “But not here, not like this.”

“I know. I don’t want it like this either,” you tell him, smoothening the wrinkles in his shirt, staring down his chest. “I just … You looked so hot out there, and, God, Ji, I want you so, so bad, too.”

Jisung brings his hands down, fumbling this thumbs back and forth across your hips, your dress bunched up as you practically sit on his lap while he barely sits on a half-empty shelf. You snake your hands behind his neck, fidgeting with the tag in his coat. He tries to fight the smirk that appears in the corner of his mouth, sweeping his long hair in front of his eyes, but you catch him and bury your face in his neck this time.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine, voice going up an octave at the last syllable. You tease him more than he teases you, verbally at least (he likes to think that he does more than you in bed), so he’s not entirely accustomed to his whiny girlfriend, and he kinda likes it.

“Never,” he tells you, sarcastically, chuckling a hair away from your lips before he kisses you again. “I like that you think I’m sexy.” He smirks, inhaling a deep embrace, literally taking your breath away with a slow and gentle kiss. You moan into his mouth, mumbling his name between colorful expletives. It lets him slip his tongue inside, confidently, crushing his lips harder and harder, needing you to come equally closer, to ease the pressure on his dick. He knows – he knows what he just said, but, “We don’t have to … have sex in here,” he tells you, whispering like it’s a bad word. “There are other things we can do.” He groans, throatily, chest rising faster.

You’ve done worse, honestly, in worse places than dry humping in a supply closet at a family friend’s wedding. He can think of several blow jobs in the library’s reference section (which has no cameras, by the way); or that time he held a vibrator on you the entire Starbucks drive-thru, resulting in him plastering his failed differential midterm over the windows as a cover up while he ate you out in the back seat. Actually, just last Tuesday too, at the gym, after he locked the door to a communal weight lifting room, you bounced on his long, agile fingers. Granted, it was 4 AM, so the place was already empty, save for a couple employees, thus easing his anxiety. And you could do it again, right now. You don’t have to take his dick inside your cunt, but you could give each other sloppy hand jobs, using spit as lube (or not; he's probably leaking so much pre-cum). The thought makes his knees buckle, making the both of you stumble.

“Sor –”

You cut him off with another kiss, your fingers flying to his pants, undoing his fly quickly. He grunts, involuntarily thrusting up. His dick was already pointing tip-up, the entire length, even flaccid, unable to sit snugly otherwise in his pants. You curl your nails in his waistband, scratching under his boxers. He nods his head, mouth parted, gasping, giving you all the green lights to touch him more, which you do, sliding one hand down his pants and the other onto his cheek, allowing you to deepen the kiss. Jisung grunts, again, plump lips biting your tongue, and he copies you, one hand behind your neck, under your head, anchoring himself to this moment (also, before he completely evaporates).

“Shh,” you whisper, mouthing across his jaw. “We have to be quiet.” But you make it hard for him (pun intended), holding your thumb on his throbbing slit, breaking his pre-cum into uneven globs down the sides. “Everyone keeps interrupting us, baby," you pout.

You take your hand off his dick and bring it to your mouths. He watches you, intently, lick your palm, pink tongue peeping just above the web in your hand, and he falls – not literally. Jisung bends in half, lowering himself to your boobs, silently thanking your heels, which have his name branded on the bottom. He kisses the highest part on your dress, halfway down your chest, then slides the straps down your pretty arms. You repeat his name, verbally – his proper name, after he takes a nipple in his mouth, tongue flat against it, massaging the entire areola. He sucks lightly, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing up and down, opposite hand enveloping under your unattended tit, but he’s too big, as is everything about it, and his palm rests on your ribs. His thumb and index finger pinch repeatedly, automatically, increasing hardness each time a digit swipes over your nipple. You have to bite your hand to stop from moaning too loud.

“Jwiseong,” you stammer, accented by the muffle.

You edge a little closer to him, pushing the shelf into his lower back, and he yelps. But it comes out as groan, vibrations making you match him. Jisung stands up fully again, taking a wide step on the outside of your thighs. He grabs you by the face, kissing you in the way he has been all weekend, a hand behind your neck and another supporting you by the ass, this time dipping you toward the ground. His cock flops completely out the fly of his pants, balls still trapped behind the slit in his boxers. The heavy air hits the veins in his dick first before it rubs against your inner thighs, and you squeeze them around him, both of you groaning, your skimpy underwear adding friction for both of you. Jisung moans your name, accidentally biting your bottom lip. But you say nothing, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, doing your best to slide his cock between your thighs. And he grunts. He can feel his cock pulsing to release.

“Jisung,” you mumble more coherently, “Jisung, Jisung,” you half-chant between kisses, but every time you open your mouth, he slips his tongue in farther, twisting inside your mouth, licking behind your teeth, goading your tongue inside his mouth to suck on. Your panties twist at the crotch, like a substitute thong, and his long cock, ridges and all, rubs your clit to ass and back again. “Jisung,” you moan again. “Jisung, you can’t cum – you can’t – oh, my God, Jisung,” you whisper-shout, forcing him to kiss you harder. He can’t cum on your clothes.

“I know,” he mumbles, giving your tongue one last suck before he pulls back, sitting on the same half-empty shelf, you back on his lap/ish. He lightly fingers away the hairs curtaining the front of your face, tucking the thicker ones behind your ear. “I know,” he repeats. You’ve given him thigh jobs before, humping between his legs, which landed cum on your ass, and letting him hit doggy style, which landed cum on your stomach. So, here, in the random supply closet, it – his cum – would ruin both of your outfits, something you wouldn’t be able to explain on your goodbye rounds. And he cums so much (it was embarrassing the first time, then he found out how much you liked it). Jisung glances at his cock, shortly, jumping between it and your face. He steadies his breathing and takes off his jacket; he undoes more buttons down his pecs and rolls up his sleeves. “It’s so … hot in here,” he justifies.

You nod, pulling at your dress. And he sees it – the wrinkles in the skirt, the slit pushed toward your strapless bra, your panties even tinier.

“You can cum in my mouth,” you whisper thickly, “so – so you don’t stain your tux.”

“We could just go back to our hotel,” he offers instead, really feeling the need to cum elsewhere.

“You’re fine walking out with this –“ You slide your hand down his penis, fingers not entirely touching despite getting tighter at the base. “– poking everyone in the eye?”

“N-no, yeah, you’re right. Please let me cu-cum down your throat.”

You rearrange your dress comfortably folded beneath your knees, hit jacket adding extra padding. Jisung sucks in a breath, then even more when you swallow the entirely of his dick, or whatever you can, stuttering halfway down. It seems he got bigger, all his cum girthing at the tip, waiting to flood. You skip the foreplay, the teasing, immediately hollowing your cheeks around the bit you can get in your mouth without destroying your esophagus (again, you still have to say your goodbyes), but he still grips the shelf behind him, knuckles turning white. Jisung bites his lip, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, to watch his sexy, sexy girlfriend blow him, so that he cums fast. In almost any other scenario, it would be embarrassing how fast he cums, especially with how much volume he expels, but you make it so difficult not to overflow the crevices of your mouth. You press your tongue under his cock, sucking in your lip over your top row of teeth, feeding his cock down your throat, and massaging the half you can’t take. He feels a vein scrape the corner of your mouth and twitches forward, pushing more dick inside. Your eyes water a little bit, lashes blinking them away, so he takes over, slowly thrusting his cock to gauge how much teeth with graze it on the drawback. Once he finds the perfect length, he sets a faster pace, squeezing cute little dimples in his ass until he grunts erratically, incredibly close to cumming.

“Almost there,” he whimpers. He knows that he sounds frustrated, but it’s not at you, never at you. He just wants to make love to you in your hotel room right now. “So close,” he pleads, again not at you, more at himself.

You pull off his cock and open your mouth wide, as circular as possible, and he grabs his dick back, rubbing your spit and cum and his pre-cum up his length, pointing the tip inside your mouth. The first rope shoots down your throat perfectly, then the next rope lands on your tongue. It keeps sputtering out this way, like a spray bottle, until it doesn’t, and his cum clings to his cock, dribbling down his veins, prompting you to lick him clean.

And you make eye contact the entire time, which makes his cock twitch. After you finally finish cleaning him off, you stand up and show him all the collected cum in your mouth, holding your tongue still like a cup. Jisung grabs your neck, holding your pliant head as you swallow what you can, in two breathy gulps. He wipes a little excess bubble from the corner of your mouth to inside, then presses a kiss on your neck, squeezing your collarbone, tighter with his thumb.

“Mmm,” he grunts. “My turn.”

Jisung sinks to his knees, pushing your hips against the shelf. He slides your skirt to the side, making a bigger slit for him to get under, and raises your leg over his shoulder. Slowly, your fingers tread into his hair, pulling at the top. He falls forward, closer to your wet pussy, lips ghosting a breath on labia. Jisung tilts his head to the side and wraps his tongue around the crotch of your panties, a teasing excuse to pull them out, to give him better access, his wide tongue swiping your skin briefly.

“Jisung,” you whine, shaking your butt on the shelf. “Hurry.”

He laughs. “Shh, no one can know we’re in here.”

Jisung pushes his middle finger inside your cunt, gradually making the interphalangeal creases disappear, moaning when you do. Outside, he kisses your vulva, jaw coming up, raising his tongue to your clit. He flicks it with his entire tongue, desperately sucking the little knob between his lips. You tug his hair again, and he swears that his dick twitches – not a good sign, so he works faster, adding a second finger. He sucks again and again, releasing your labia with suctioned gasps, working his nimble digits knuckle-deep repeatedly. In, out, in, out, halfway in, out, all the way in, out, in again.

His knuckles hit your pussy harder and harder, confining him to the small space as your leg wraps around both of his shoulders rigidly, his hot breath sighing back in his face. Jisung hums again on your clit before sucking harsher, lips biting every time his mouth turns into the flat part of his tongue to the tip to nothing, then back again. When he feels your feathery walls squeeze his fingers, he adds a third, despite the taut stretch. He presses all three to the roof of your vagina and curls, flexes each one in different directions, tickling that spongy little spot if two happen to land on it simultaneously. Your legs stiffen and shake side-to-side, but he keeps going, goes faster, not slowing down.

Until you relax.

Your legs go numb, and you almost fall off the supply shelf, so he holds you up, still licking your vulva clean as you cum and cum and cum across his lips.

It takes you pulling his hair again to stop him. And Jisung stands up, breathing just as heavily. He hugs you closely, around your waist, and you bring your hands to his arm. Both of you stabilize your breaths to each other.

You move first, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “We should go say bye to everyone.”

Jisung nods, blindly, not fully coherent enough to process the suggestion. He is trying to lengthen his refractory period, make his partially hard cock go back down. You’re so sexy, too sexy right now, and he desperately needs a bed to make love to you.

“So we can get back to the hotel,” you clarify, voice light.

And suddenly, Jisung is halfway through tugging on his jacket and ordering an Uber.

It takes every nerve, every ounce of self-control for Jisung to make it through goodbye rounds.

The first thing you did, before the rounds, other than sanitize your hands or fix your outfits, was drink water and pop a breath mint from the dessert table, then he kissed you quick, mumbling some random excuse about a mouth check, which turned into a five minute make out session halfway out the door that Jaemin commented on, on his way out. Even one of the groom’s cousins mentioned how he – Jisung – is always touching you, always has a hand attached to you, despite not even really liking to share food.

Chenle, he thinks, was the sole person to explicitly say something, catching onto Jisung’s mismatched buttons and your new ponytail, frizzy curls hanging loose. Jisung prayed his hands together, begging his best friend not to say anything. So he didn’t. But Jisung knew that he would hear all about it on Monday, from everyone in his friend group.

Jisung could only get through two or three more conversations, suddenly feeling like a kid trying to leave the Chuseok dinner, before his cock (which never fully went down, by the way) started straining his pants again, the idea of getting you in his bed as the single motivator to leave as soon as possible. He ended up pushing you, by the waist, in front of his crotch to protect his decency, no longer carrying his jacket because you wear it, because Chenle pointed out some discoloration, another bump low on your neck. You spoke for him, lying to all the aunties that he drank too much or danced too hard. They believed you, especially after he giggled into your shoulder, snapping his body in half to lean on you. It hurt his ego that they believed you so easily, but he’ll deal with all those feelings later. Everything else drowns into white noise, going in on ear and out the other, almost forcibly removed by the horny hormones his hypothalamus orders.

Also, he really wanted to avoid clean up duty. His hands need to be clean for post-nuptial activities, you know.

You have to know by the time he gets you in the elevator to your hotel room, your shared hotel room. He backs you into a corner under the camera, at the blind spot. You look up at him, wide-eyed, gasping when he rubs his thigh between your legs. He grunts, deeply, softly, and kisses you quiet. And he thinks, there have been way too many situations this whole weekend where you were required to be silent. But still, you moan and raise your arms around his neck (and he hopes that the security cameras are old and have no sound). Then, in his next move, your elbow accidentally hits an extra button.

“Are you sure about this?” Jisung breathes as the doors open to the third floor. Your room is on the seventh.

“Yes, of course.” You frown, brushing your hair through the middle, resting your arm on his broad shoulder. “Why?”

He scrunches his nose. “Just making sure you’re not looking for a way out or anything.” He tilts his head to the going up sign, and you hit his arm.

“I told you not to make fun of me,” you pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, then kisses you again.

And he doesn’t stop kissing you all the way to your room. Just changes the location. You stumble out of the elevator, tripping on your dress as you pull away from him, and he catches your hand, giving your knuckles a princely tap. He pushes you on another wall, hissing – because he dick points toward the ceiling and, every time he presses up against you, it bends to meet you, practically drawn to your pussy – hissing something about wanting you so bad, right now, just another reiteration. He doesn’t know what else to say. Most of the time, you just moan into each other’s mouths, just mash your lips together, trying to keep quiet, so his dirty talk skills are … lacking. He just hopes that he makes up for it with body language.

Jisung kisses and hisses all the way back to your room, both of you knocking into the furniture. “Sorry, I just need you right now,” he keeps saying, excusing the way he practically rams you against the closed door to your bedroom. He protected you from sharp corners and your head from the impact, but he just hurts his hand. Jisung inhales. His hands cup your face like flower petals, bringing you taller, even more on your tippy toes. You steady him by his shoulders, relaxing your jaw, accepting his tongue, and he kisses you chastely, thumbs rubbing into the apples of your cheeks.

And he’s the first one to pull away. Well, you can’t exactly open the door without making the both of you collapse, neither of you balanced correctly on your feet. You’d crash to the floor in an instant.

“I love you.”

Your lips twitch at the corners, curving up your smile wider than it already is. “I love you, too.”

Jisung remembers when he had a crush on you like three years ago. He doesn’t remember when his feelings started, but based on the way everyone teases him, you included sometimes (if you’re not kissing him appreciatively), he’s always had them, from the moment he laid eyes on you reading at the café . And this feels a lot like that – the-the fluttering in his empty stomach, the tingling and hyper-awareness of his limbs, the rush to say anything, just to see what makes you laugh or what makes you stay. He even doodles little hearts in your cheeks with his thumbpads.

“I –“ he swallows. “I –“

“Jisung?” you interrupt, breath shaking out your nose, “Can we have sex now?”

“God, yes.”

Jisung kisses you again, having regained some balance in the beat. He thrashes a hand behind you, fumbling for the door knob, and when he gets it open, he dips you back again, walking you inside the room, supporting you mostly by the ass, hanging you around his neck like jewellery; he should really buy you a new couple ring later. Honestly, he’s mostly surprised by his – and your – breath control and not his core strength (that is what the gym is for!), never getting winded between all the kisses or tongues or teeth. And you – God, you – keep leaning backward, hauling all his 180 centimeters toward the bed, making him more and more impressed by your commitment to zero space for Jesus. You suck his bottom lip inside your mouth, sealing your top lip inside his, and he whimpers, knees buckling again, so he lifts you up and pushes you on the bed, kicking away the stupid bench that slows him down.

“I’m gonna eat you out,” Jisung decides, towering over you.

“Ugh, no,” you whine, squirming the bed into another mess of sheets.

“No?”

“Jisung, I need you to please, please fuck me now, cock inside. We did all the foreplay already, and – and I’m ready, I promise. I want you so bad. You’re so sexy. I –“

He returns his lips to yours, this time softer, sweeter, slower, cutting you off, this time, before you ramble yourself into oblivion (before he has the chance to take you there himself). And you relax again, shoulders slumping into the mattress as he crawls over you, showering you with attention from lips to feet. Jisung builds up his momentum again while you gradually undress, starting with his blazer, pulling one arm out, then the other, redirecting your hands down to his waistband again, starting with the zipper. You creep your nails over the tip of his cock, and he thrusts upward, pushing your hand into a claw around the girth, fucking your hand a few times. His length is too big, you both know, so it bounces over your stomach, almost like a premonition for how deep he’ll go. Jisung tries to get more comfortable, but he slips on your silky dress, the skirt flailing out to the side. The way he falls moves you on your obliques, and he brushes your hair behind your ear, away from your neck. You throw your leg over his, tangling your limbs lackadaisically.

“I – my – it’s too big.”

“A huh,” you nod all the way through your chest, toppling him, straddling one of his thighs. “I know. It’s hot.” You don’t grind him (much to his disappointment), because he is still wearing his tux and your panties are just way too thin and wet at this point (he hopes), but if you ask, and maybe even if you didn’t, he would make this the designated sex suit and fuck you in it whenever he wears it, regardless of the function (actually, there’s a charity gala coming up, when he has to wear this ensemble again). But he wants the intimacy of closeness, of vulnerability, of nakedness this first time.

“No, I just,” Jisung whines, “I need to prep you before you can take it – t-take me.”

You inhale sharply, and he feels it. He trails his eyes up, wide, to meet you, staring at your face, noses touching. Jisung waits for your answer; he knows that you want this too, so he gives you both a moment to collect yourselves, mentally preparing himself, too, for the next step. And a beat passes. Then, he unzips your dress at the back; it’s not long, the zipper, so he doesn’t have to wait even more, but the drag slows time and you squeeze his biceps, encouraging him to go faster. He slides the entire material off you, stripping you down to just your panties. When he goes to do the same for himself, standing at edge of the bed, you kneel, still shorter than him, on the blankets, and do it for him. You start with the tie, slowly loosening it side-to-side. It pulls him forward, and he braces himself on your hips, fingers twisting in the waistband of your panties. You get shirt and under-shirt off quickly, but stop at his pants, the top button already undone and fly down.

“Is – is something wrong?”

“I really want to suck you off again,” you confess, jumping from his dick to his eyes.

Jisung pecks your lips. “You can do it later. We have all night.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah,” you nod, kissing him languidly, leaving him to take off his pants.

“Turn around,” he mumbles on your lips. And this time, you comply, standing on your hands and knees, all fours. Jisung copies you, kneeling eye level with your pretty, glistening lips. He grabs your ass first, in both hands, pulling your vulva apart, panty crotch to the side, two fingers each, middle digits dipping inside, just an interphalangeal crease deep. “Don’t cum yet.”

“Jisung, ple –“ You squeal, falling on your forearms, when he cautiously licks outside, around his fingers, up your slit, and you shudder an exhale. “What h-happened to prep-ping me?” you stutter and whine. “You’ll feel so good inside me, Jisung – ah.”

Jisung drags his thumb down the line of your makeshift thong, rubbing round your asshole tentatively before slipping two long and flexible fingers knuckle deep inside your cunt. His other hand pushes your cheek into the pillow, giving you a head rest, making you ass pop up. And slowly, he draws his fingers out, then pushes them back in three-quarters of the way. He does it again, pulling out, extracting your moan, and pushing in, all the way this time. Jisung sets that steady pace, slow and controlled, and he kisses your ass, leaving a bite mark. It makes you yelp, and you squeeze your pussy, accidentally pulling off. You grind back down, meeting his rough knuckles. And soon, he’s finger fucking you harder, with three fingers, and you’re bouncing on his hand, your panties hooked on his thumb.

“Ah, Jisung, fuck, Park Jisung, that feels so good.”

Blindly, he finds his cock and holds it by the base, squeezing his hand like a cock ring to keep from cumming without you.

“I think,” he pants, “I think I need to fuck you now.”

You nod, enthusiastically, turning on your back. “How do you –”

“Missionary,” Jisung answers too fast, already dragging you into position. “I want to see your pretty face.” He hovers his cock above your pussy, between your plushy thighs, hand around the top. The thrusts once, heavy tip dipping to your stomach, that bulging premonition hitting him all over again. His knuckles rasp, kneading your folds, rolling your clit in the wetness, and your knees fall in, so he has to spread them again. “What if it’s too big?” he wonders out loud, shifting his cock to your entrance.

“I can take it,” you promise, bobbing your head. “I can take it, plea –“

He cuts you off with a firm kiss, smashing his lips ungracefully on yours, and slips the first quarter inside you. The kiss is less to muffle you, since neither of you have to be so quiet right now, more to share this intimacy with you. He adds another inch, shallowly thrusting to get his dick wet.

“Ah, you’re so tight,” he hisses. “I could fuck you like this.”

He thought he prepped you enough, but halfway deep, his cock already hits an impasse, so he tries something that he saw in a porno. Jisung moves your right leg over your leg, giving him access to your ass, jiggling your boobs. The motion pulls his cock out a little, and he pushes it back in, pushes more in, making you both groan.

“Full, so full, Jisung.”

“Oh, God, I’m going to cum if you keep talking.”

You grind your hips down. “You should.”

“I’m not wearing a condom,” he reminds you, gritting his teeth. You pull your ass, showing off the way you take him so well, and he rips your panties, exerting his lack of self-control elsewhere. He throws the tiny material at the wall and falls on your lips, repeating, “I’m not wearing a condom, and I – I cum so much.”

“I know. It's hot, you're so -” you moan, fucking yourself on his dick, slapping his thighs, taking him completely. “F-fill me up, Jisung. I want all of you.”

“I want – I want you, too,” he stutters, brain struggling to multitask between answering you and fucking you.

So, he pushes his palms into the mattress, squelching the rest of his dick inside your pussy, basking in your moans. You boobs bounce circularly every time he bottoms out, and he doesn’t know where to look – your cunt sucks him in, contracting around him without reprieve; your nipples taunt him, showing him something to bite and lick and suck; your lips part perfectly for him to shove his tongue down your throat, expelling a series of staccato moans mixed in with his name. Jisung settles for your collarbone, burying himself in the scent of his cologne marking your skin from earlier. His lips bite the bone, groans getting louder and louder.

“God.” He clutches your knees, dragging you so close. “Is this – is this okay?” he asks, despite not letting up, going faster actually, driving you higher up the bed, making him climb even more on you, chasing you.

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop,” you cry. “I’m gonna cum, Jisung, I’m gonna cum.” And you choke on your words, babbling incoherently, talkin’ nonsense.

“Come on, baby, you can cum,” Jisung encourages you. He stands up straight, thrusting in, and in, and in, bottoming out. He holds his cock fully sheathed, deep, circling his hips over your labia, naked thigh sliding up and down your clit. You claw his arm, dropping into his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You squeeze his hand, and your pussy clenches on his cock. Everything starts choking him, and he loses his breath, inhaling and inhaling, mouthing at your neck.

Then, you cum, back deflating into the bed, lulling pliantly in his hands, toes releasing the tension.

Jisung picks up his pace, brutalizing your cunt, and you whine and squirm, moaning. He feels the veins in his cock catch more prominently in your pussy, like you don’t want to let him go, so he just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing, your canal practically wringing him dry, and he cums too. Thick ropes control the way his cock jumps inside your uterus, bouncing on your spongey, little G-spot before more spills out, forcing him to remove himself. He planks above you, head hanging low, sweat matting down his hair.

You raise both your hands, brushing it back to see him better, and you prop yourself on your elbows, raising yourself high enough to kiss him, slowly but deeply.

Jisung sighs dreamily, flopping down next to you on his oblique. He tilts your chin up at him.

“You,” he starts, pecking you quickly, “are so perfect.”

“Then,” you giggle, taking his left hand. You run your thumb and index finger down his ring finger. “Will you marry me, Park Jisung?"